Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1884 — Page 6

SEVEN TIMES ONE. BT JTKAN INOKLOW. there's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There'* ro rsln left in heaven, Tve said my “seven times" over and over. Seven times one are seven. tam old. so old, I can write a letter; tiichday lessons are done; .. The lambs play always, they know no better; They are inly one times one. O moon! in the night I*ve seen yon sailing And shining so round and low; Yon were bright! ah. blight! but your light i 3 failing— You are nothing now but a bow. Yon moon; have yon done something wrong in heaven That lied has hidden your face? I hope if you have you’ll soon fce forgiven. And shine again in yonr place. O velvet bee. yon'rc a dusty fellow. ■ You've powdered your leg* with gold! 0 brave marsh marybudp, rich and yellow. Give me your money to hold. O columbine, open your folded wrapper, ■Where two twin turtle doves dwell! O enckoopint, toll me the purple clapper That hangs on your clear gieen bell! And show me your nest with Ihe yonag ones In it; I w iH not steal them away; lam old! you may trust me, linact, linnet— I am seven times one to-day. CASTLES IN THE AIK. ■f BT MAY FOEBEST. Oh. visions that hannt me. waking. How swiftly do ye speed! Like a ripple over a lakelet Or a shadow across a mead. Ye. dance, and gleam, and glitter— Though fleeting, wondrous fair— I would dwell in your cloud-built palaces, My castles in the air. I would stand on your golden towers Anti gaze at the gleaming west. Or Jay my head, at evening. On a pillow of cloud, to rest; Ana through the purple shadows Bhould floav a seraph band, And my soul should drink the music Of the tar-off spirit-land.

RUNNING THE FORTS.

Alex W. Pearson, of Vineland, N. J., writes a story of how Porter ran by Vicksburg. Mr. Pearson was paymaster on the steamer lied Bover, attached to the Mississippi squadron. He tells how the gauntlet was run in tiiis manner: Tho ironclads were anchored in the Mississippi, just below the mouth of the Yazoo, in the order of procession they were to take in passing the blockade. All seemed ready, and everybody was on the qui vive for the start. Past 10 o'clock that night we heard the deep tone of the boatswain’s mate, of the Louisville (he had a voice like a lion) calling; “All hands! Up anchor!” “There! They are off!” was the word, and wo hurried on deck to get a parting glimpse of our “forlorn hope." We breathlessly listened to the rattle of the chain cables as they came in, and oould distinguish the dark outlines of the iron-clads as they swung in the stream. Then there was a signal from the flagship, and again we heard the boatswain: “Let go anchor!” The cables rattled out again, and all was still. We drew a long breath. “They’re not going to-night!” “Something has happened!” Sd all hands turned in. Thus, upon successive nights, was the fleet practiced in the preliminaries of departure, pntil all became so used to the performance that the movement YLjjf as mechanical as auy other drill, ami spectators ceased to regard it with ©special interest. Meanwhile the three transports which were to go below were getting ready. It was decided to economize life by removing the crews, from these steamers, leaving only two pilots at the wheel and two engineers to handle the engines. The duty of guiding these large and defenseless steamers through the tempest ‘of fire they were .destined to traverse seemed extra hazardous. The post of the pilot particularly, perched up in the sky-parlor, was uncomfortably isolated and distinguished when 100pounder shot and shell were flying about regardless of consequences. The loneliness in itself was kind of “pokerish. ” Danger, like misery, loves company. To avoid the disagreeable responsibility of ordering chosen individuals to occupy these perilous positions, Admiral Porter called for volunteer pilots. Every pilot in the squadron volunteered! Even the two old Nestors who presided at the wheel of the Red Rover got me to write ab application requesting that they might be “permitted to have the pleasure” of taking one of the steam transports past Vicksburg. THE PILOTS OP THE MISSISSIPPI. Here was another difficulty. All were BO eager for the post of honor that it was a delicate matter to make selection, I cannot forbear digressing here to place on record my humble tribute of respect and admiration for the pilots of the Mississippi river. Taken as a class, their gallantry outvies comparison. Accustomed to grave responsibility in fiudden emergencies, bred to decide and act instantly, when upon such action may depend the safety of hundreds jponfiding in their care, in the face of imminent peril deliberate yet prompt, with a courage which has stood all tests, their seeming recklessness spr.ngs Biot from regardlessness, but from a heroic contempt of danger and in the performance of what 1 hey understood SO be legitimate duty. I verily believe 4h&t the pilot, if the Mississippi squadron would hive volunteered to take ihe tieet of steamers over Niagara falls. Those who were so fortunate as to be “permitted the pleasure” requested to «frapge their surroundings according to their judgment; that is, they didn’t want any surroundings. Reasoning philosophieally, that a cannon shot often does more harm by the splinters it Shatters than by itself, they had the mpot house, which shelters the wheel on the lofty decks of these Western * raceme rs, removed, leaving the wheel Sid themißelves exposed. This settled l the' splinter business, except such as gßtight come from a shot striking the Bpokes of the wheel. One of the pilots ttS&Baarked to me when inspecting his post of duty and honor, “They’ll have to take oenter shots to ‘raise’ the hair US now!” Still, there was an unusAl nakedness about the elevation calAMated to make one feel as I once felt when topping out a tall hay tack in the Bg|font rtf ft vindictive thunder-storm. I ijgjjy “bead oenter” just then, and HHHillk

A CONSIDERATE ADMIRAL. When Admiral Porter was ready to start on his excursion past Vicksburg we learned it 6n the hospital ship. Porter always had a fatherly care for and interest in the comfort and satisfaction of those of his comrades who had suffered by the fortune of war. He knew that the poor wounded and helpless heroes languishing in the wards of the Red Rover felt a keen sympathy with him and with those he would like with him in this desperate undertaking, and he knew that all eagerly wished to see what might be seen of a spectacle which promised to be one of tremendous import and excitement. One day he intimated to Dr. Pickney that he might take tho Rover down to the bend above Vickburg toward evening (just for an airing) and anchor there for the night. We knew what that meant. And all the weary sufferers on board soon knew it, too. It was better than a dose of quinine. There is no tonic like going into action, or seeing yonr friend go in. At sunset we weighed anchor and stood down the river and took “orchestra seats” as spectators and auditors of a drama which would be lit by the lurid blaze of artillery and accompanied by the music of its thunder. It was a clear and splendid evening, but as the shades of night closed in the sky, though starlit, became hazy, and a gloom settled over the river, which rendered almost undistinguishable the outlines of its shores. As the darkness th.ckened I heard the remark often repeated among our invalid boarders; “It is just the night for it.” It was touching to see wounded veterans who that morning would have thought it impossible to leave their cots, straining their crippled sinews to clamber up to the hurricane deck, where they might have the best view of the scene to be enacted. There was little conversation on board that evening. Anticipation was too busy for words. We were oppressed with that sense of expectanoy of something undefined and fearful which engrosses the attention and renders language mute. The time seemed interminable. We thought the devoted squadron would never appear. We strained our sight to pierce the thickening shadows, and held our breath to listen for the pantings of the steam. At last we tired of watching and waiting. Midnight was at hand and we began to fancy that something had caused a postponement of the movement. A SPECTRAL PROCESSION. Just then some one in the pilot house exclaimed, in a stage whisper, but which was heard by all, so intently silent wore we: “Thore they cbmo!” We gazed up the channel and saw the dark town of the Benton evolve itself out of the invisible. Like Banquo’s line! of the others followed. There was no gleam of light, no wreath of vapor, no pulse of the paddle wheels, and no respiration of the steam. The long column swept by us in majestic but horrible silence. There was a weird ghostliness about this death-like apparition more impressive and appalling than if it had shone with the flashes and shivered with the roar of the grim monsters we knew were frowning from those dusky portholes. I have witnessed wild and thrilling scenes,,but all fade beside the memory of the awe-inspiring passage of that spectral procession. The transports oame last, and defined against the glimmer of the sky we could distinguish the outlines of our friends the pilots, statue-like, at t ither side of the naked wheels. Not a man aboard ship but envied them the rapture of the fierce experience before them. As the shadowy sqnadro \ appeared so it vanished. It glided out of the night and departed into it again. It left us breathless, awe-struck. We rubbed our eyes and w ondered if the vision had been real. Then there was another interval of excruciating suspense. We waited anxiously. The last scene was about to open. THE THUNDEROUS ERUPTION. At length we saw a single flash. Then anothef and another and another, then a whole sheet of flame, followed by the deep crashing thunder of the “dread artillery." The sky lit with the light of a conflagration. The §nemy, provident for this event, had' filled vacant buildings with oombustibles, and now fired them to illuminate the river and give their cannoneers a better chance for aim. But the night was still, and the dense smoke of the burning structures and of the busy batteries hunglike a lurid sheet over the surface of the stream. Everything was enveloped in a vapory veil, through which could only be descried the quick eruptions cf the volcano of guns as they hurled their iron tempest at the passing squadron. So bewildering was the storm that the pilot of the Tuscnmbia lo this bearings, and finally turned his ship completely around, heading up the stream! While in this position, but without yet suspecting it, her commander, who was on deck, told me that he looked up rind; saw close above him the upper works of one of the steam transports as she swept by. The pilots, standing at the naked wheel, loomed out like gigantic specters! He hailed them to know how they were getting on. “All right, by G—d!” they shouted back, ancl on.they went. The passing of Yioksburg took not many minu ;es, but thef were capacious, and had a good deal crowded into them. We lost, ohe of “the transpoi ts (the Henry Clay) and had another so disabled that She had to be towed out of range, i Otherwise the damage was less serious than had been expected. Most of thle enemy’s shot were thrown away. Acburacv in shooting on the wing with 100-pounders when all hands are in a Inirry is not easy. Boon the glare of tl|e conflagrations failed again into darkness; the last echoes of artillery thunders rolled away over the Warrenton hills; the quiet of a summer midnight descended once more upon the troubled bosom of the river, and we knesr that the gauntlet Of Yicksburg defenses had been run.— Philadelphia Times. | . !.S ■ Old putty can he removed without injury to tile sash or glass by passing a hot soldering iron over it. The heat of the iron sffltens it readily, and permits its removal with a knife or chisel without much trouble.

SOME LAW DECISIONS.

Debt in Mortgage. —ls a mortgage is given to secure an ascertained debt, the amonnt of that debt shonld be stated, and if it is intended to secure a debt not ascertained, such data shonld be given respecting it as will pnt any one interested in the inquiry upon the track leading to its discovery. If it is given to secure an existing or a future liability, the foundation of such liability should be set out.—Bullock vs. Battenhausen, Supreme court of Hlinois. Hoys stead. —A husband and wife lonvoyed an undivided one-half of the homestead premises to a third person, who, at the same time and as a part of the same transaction, conveyed the interest to the hnsband. that there was a-period of time, however short, during which the title to the undivided one-half was vested in the third party, and the homestead right was destroyed. —Carroll vs. Ellis, Supreme court of California. Mechanic’s Lien. —When the owner of a building has paid a sub-contractor, lling a mechanic’s lien, a sum of money tn account of his work without directng its application, the sum will be applied to those items for which the property of the owner might have been rendered liable by a lien.—Nelson vs. Partridge’s administrator, St. Louis Court of Appeals. Mortgage of Stock. —A mortgage upon shares of stock in a corporation is not within a statute authorizing mortgag( s upon real and personal property td be recorded, and the recording of such an instrument is not constructive notice to a suseqnent purchaser.— Spalding vs. Painl’s administrator, Kentucky Court of Appeals. Insurance. —A policy provided that it should become void in case of failure to make prompt payment of premium, but upon a surrender within thirty days thereafter a proportional paid-up policy would be issued. The agent at the time of issuing the policy represented that it was non-forfeitable, and the insured, in reliance on his representations, failed to apply for a paid-up policy within the specified time. Held, that tho insured had no legal right to rely on what was said by the agent at the time he took the policy. If the loose expressons used by tho agent at the time imported more than was contained in the policy, all negotiations between the parties, and all that was said at the time, are conclusively deemed by the law to have been merged in the written contract. That expresses the exact contraot made between the parties at the time and the whole of it.—The Attorney General vs. Continental Life. Insurance Company, New York Court of Appeals.

Photographing Dogs and Babies.

The artist was a heavy-eyed man; his hair was nnkempt, hi 3 scarf was disarranged, and his coat-sleeves were turned up. He looked weary. “I have just been attempting to fix a baby’s attention,” he said, in an explanatory tone, “by throwing handsprings behind the camera. When I showed the negative to the mother she made the inevitable observation that the face laoked expression. Can you put expression on the surface of a lump of damp putty?” "Is it easier to photograph dogs than babies ?” “Oh, a thousand times. Yon can fix a dog’s attention and hold it for a time without difficulty. Then,, dogs’ faces are more or less expressive. None of them has the look of stupidity that the average baby wears except the pug. Pug dogs, by the way, are the easiest to take. All you have to do is to put them in front of the camera and they go to sleep at once. The most difficult dog I ever struggled with was an Italian greyhound. It was a delicate and extremely sensitive little creature, and endowed with almost human intelligence. It couldn’t keep its shadowy legs still half a second to save its life. We worked half a day, and succeeded at length in making a picture that was half satisfactory." “Do you photograph many dogs ?” “About2oo a year. The work is done by a few specialists. The big photographers won’t bother with dogs. —New York Sun.

A Good Word for the "Bullhead.”

The United States Fish Commissioners, while doing all that they can to distribute German carp among farmers, recommend, at the s me time, the stocking of ponds, natural or artificial, with native fish. Among others, they speak very favorably of the “bullhead” —horned pout or small cat-fish. It is well adapted to shallow and somewhat warm water, is perfectly hardy, not liable to disease, and propagates very rapidly. Its food consists chiefly of acquatic plants that grow without cultivation on the borders of streams and ponds. It also devours many insects that are liable to be a source es annoyance. It costs very little to prepare a pond for raising these fish, or for stocking it. Tho flesh of the cat-fish is regarded as a great delicacy in places where it is difficult to obtain it, and is now becoming popular in several Eastern cities. It resembles the flesh of eels, winch is far more nutritious than the flesh of mo 4 kinds of fish. It requires to be cooked for some time in an abundance of hot fat. Many condemn this fish who have never eaten it or, held it in very low esteem, because it is common. — Chicago Times.

A Lawyer’s Removal.

“Say, you all—oome here, quick !** “What’s up?” “Fun! Here’s a lawyer going to move!” The boy was correct. A lawyer was changing his office. Some men who had never seen a lawyer remove gathered around with the boys to watch proceedings. An old man with a lame back and a woman blind in one eye constituted the force. They first brought down a table, inKstained, sci atohed, cut and one leg broken. A second-hand man remarked that it might be worth 30 cents. Next came a book case, one drtiwer gone, all the glass broken, and one: door hanging by a single hinge. Th 6 value of this was set down at $3.26,

Then came articles described and valued as follows; ftsarpet $ 1.28 A lounge as A store 1.T5 Pictures „ 15 Ink 02 Legal tap.... 10 Alpaca coat : 15 Ten straw hats. 60 Spittoons 21 Chairs W State laws 6.00 State maps .60 Total SII.GO After the second-hand man had sharpened a pencil and made some figures on a piece of brown paper a boot-black inquired the sum total. “I make the whole thing $15.45,” he answered. “Is that all? And is he a first-class lawyer ?” “I believe be is. ” “Woof! that settles me! I’ve gots2o in the bank, and to-morrer I’ll shake this kit and set up a law shop!”— Detroit Free Press.

The Unfinished Manuscript.

Literary men have, somehow, re ceived a kind of social black eye; that is, no one believes that they are quite as good husbands or as good fathers as they should be; and, from the observatory of a casual view, this is correct. Few people know to what extremities literary men are reduced. Few, very few indeed, know how they court the so-called muse of inclination. The man who handles the drawing-knife or plane can, if he be in good physical condition, do his work creditably; but the literary man, though he be in robust health, and though he may not have an ache or a pain, is frequently unable to do acceptable work. This is a curious freak which no student of metaphysics can explain, for the mind of man, although it is constantly becoming clearer and more capable of comprehension, is still something which a Newton cagpot define, nor a Bacon perfectly explore. A man’s, mind seems to have but little to do with his affections, for, although his heart may be warm, liis words are sometimes cold. “I want you to go to bed,” said Mr. Mecklamore, tho well-known novelist, to his little girl. “Every night when I sit down to work you persist in snorting around. Go to bed; I’ve got work to do.” “She can’t understand yon,” said Mrs. Mecklamore; “I don’t think that she is well. ” “She’s always ill when I want to work. She seems to study the time. What do you want to snort that way for ? You are enough to drive a man crazy!” “Robert, I don’t think the little girl can help it,” the wife replied. “She is too young to know anything about the importance of your work. ” “Well it’s time she was learning," the author exclaimed, turning, with an angry air. “Other people can work without interruption. I don’t see why I should be imposed on. I’ll go down town, I can write there without interruption,” and he gathered up his papers and left the house. Quietly, and without interruption, he worked for several hours. Occasionally, when his mind was deep in the molding of a character, he would see a little anxious face, and hear an exclamation of gladness; but he waved aside the vision and worked on. Late at night a boy came with a note. The message ran: “I am very uneasy about Dora; I think she has the diphtheria.” “My work is done for to-night,” he mused; and, arranging his papers with a discontented air, he went home. He found the doctor there. The little sufferer smiled at him when he entered. She tried to say something, but “papa’s come,” was all he could understand. An unfinished manuscript stared at him. “Is it a very violent attack?” he asked of the physician. “Yes, very.” The mother sat on the edge of the bed. The father approached. He could not see the lines of the manuscript now. The little girl choked, and they lifted her up. The father put his arm unde r her head. The unfinished manuscript was dim. “She has been ailing for several days,” said the mother, “but we did not think there was any ting serious the matter with her. She has been so gay and so full of frolic that we didn’t think anything could ail her.” The sufferer looked at her father and tried to speak, but failing, she put her hand into his and smiled. The unfinished manuscript was aim. With a struggle she said: “Am I bad?” “No, angel,” whispered the father. “Do you want me to go to bed ?” “No darling.” The unfinished manuscript was fading more and more. “She is past all help, ” the doctor said. The mother hid her face in the window curtain. The father took her in his arms. She looked at him and was dead. The unfinished manuscript had faded. —Texas Siftings.

Marlowe.

Do we not too much neglect Marlowe in our reading, of late years? going to Lamb’s selections rather than to the original works of the free souled Christopher ? Marlowe was the one poet of Sliakspeare’s time worthy to be named with him; and the greatest loss English literature has had in so young a poet until Keats and Shelby died in our own century. Like them he was under 30, having been born two months before Shakspeare (Feburary, 1504), graduated at Cambridge m 15»3, and began to write plays .so <n after he left the university. He was killed in a tavern brawl by Francis Archer in June, 1593, when in his 30th year, and before Shakspeare had written many of his plays. They were not schoolmates, for Marlow was born and educated at Canterbury before he went to college, while Shakspeare, who never went to college at all, pioked up what Lat n he had in a little school at Stratford, which ho may have attended, though we do not know that he did. But they met in London theaters, no doubt, in their hot youth. Boston letter in Springfield Bepbulican. Light-houses, from a theatrical point of view, always indicate breakers ahead.

The Wrong Man Baptized.

| Stammering or stuttering is one of j the most unpleasant things at times j that a man can be afflicted with. A I man may be troubled with almost any other malady and be cured or helped, but a man who stutters, though he may at times be free from the habit, never has confidence in his talking utensils. They may run all right for a time, but just as he expects the most from hiß vocal organs, and wants to do his beet, they go back on him, and he flounders around, and can’t express his thoughts to save himself. A stutterer is usually the best-natured man in the world. It seems as though nature joicked out the jolliest fellow as a watch "case to put poor vocal works into, so there won’t be any kicking. There is a gentleman living in this State who stutters just when he don’t want to, but who can talk right along all right when there is nothing particular to be said. If he gets excited or interested and wants to orate, he gets stuck and lias time to walk around the block before he can get things to working again. He was out in lowa recently, and at a hotel where he was stopping, the traveling men were getting up a party one Sunday to go to a town a few miles distant, where a camp-meeting was in progress, and where there were to be a number of converts baptized, and they invited our friend, the stutterer, to go along. “Not m-m-much,” said he, as he worked at untangling a fish line, while a boy brought in a tomato can full of angle-worms, “If I know m-m-my own heart, I don’t go to no k-k-k-eamp-meeting where they b-b-b-baptize. I at-t-t-tended a baptizing scrape once, and my k-k-k-clothes have not got d-d-d-dry yet. ” “What was the matter?” said a drummer for a Chicago grocery-house. “Didn’t fall in the water did you?” “N-n-n-o,” said the stutterer, as he stuffed a wad of paper down on top of the angle-worms to keep them from crawling out, “I didn’t f-f-f-fall in, but I got in all the s-s-s-s-same. I was sna-sna-snatched in. If you won’t tell any one, I will t-t-t-tell you about it.” The boys swore they would never give it away: and the stutterer went on. “Well, about twenty years ago I was editing a p-p-p-paper in Wis-k-k-oonsin, and there was a revival at the town all winter, and in the spring they advertised to b-b-b-baptize all of the k-k-k----converts. Everybody went, and I w-w----w-went down to the k-k-k-creek to see them s-s-s-soak. They had a presiding elder, a stranger to me, to d-d-d-do the baptizing, and when they had dipped a f-f-f-few, I noticed the elder looked s-s----s-sort of tired when he pushed the last woman ashore, and I th-th-thought he wanted to come out of the w-w-water, so I reached out my h-h hand to help him up the b-b-bank. Do you know, he thought I was a k-k-k-candidate for baptism, and he took hold of nay hand and was p-p-pulling me in, when I said, ‘elder, don’t p-p-p— ’ and before I could say any m-m-more he said, ‘Have no f-f-fear, my young k-k-christian friend,’ and he pnt his arm around me and was pulling me right in. I wasn’t as st-st-strong as I am now, and he had a g-g-grip like a prize fighter, and before I knew what he was abont he was saying, ‘I b-b-baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy G-g----ghost,’ and I was as weak as a k-k-cat. I tried to get away from him, and tried to explain that I w-w-wasn’t the feller, and that I had n-n-never been converted, but the naturally pious look on my face betrayed me, and I stuttered so I couldn’t get in a word in time, and he put me under. As I went down I could see the crowd on the b-b-bank laughing, because they all knew I was b-b----bad, and that it was a mistake of the strange preacher. I came up strangling, and the first thing I said was, ‘Elder, you have made the d-d-darndest mistake of your life,’ and went out on the bank and shook myself. You may talk about m-m-ministers not joking, but by gracious, I shall a-a-always think that Presiding Elder knew I was no k-k-christian. It was a picnic for the crowd, and they laugh at me to this day. No, gentlemen, I k-k-can’t go to the camp-meeting, for I shouldn’t feel s-s-safe there,” and the stuttering man took his fish-pole and angle-worms and went down toward the pond, while the traveling men went to the camp-meet-ing.—Peck’s Sun.

Poultry Notes.

Cuckoo clocks are striking machines. “Poe’s Raven” must have been a raven-ous creature. Prairie chickens are easily raised—with a bird dog. Tho wild goose does some turning while flying, but it is not a crank. Chicken-hearted people axe numerous ; but then some of them are tough chicken hearted. It is unnecessary to mention that the entire race of poultry stands as a unit against decapitation; therefore we will not mention it. Even chickens believe in advertising, for they cackle long and loudly over each eggstra affair happening in their business circles. “This is the way I long have sought,” sang the poultry-thief, as he clambered hurriedly over the fence, and just in time to save his trouserloons from being ventilated by a wild-eyed bull-dog Crows and parrots can be educated to talk, but what’s the use? Isn’t there about 13,000 times as much talking done in the world nov as is really necessary, without educating the buds to jabber, also? If a rooster crowed every time some man told a lie—as one did for the Apostle Peter—there would be such a constant din in the land that folks would have to plug their ears up with putty in order to think in a sane, sensible way. The Canary islands are so named because that’s where canary birds grow thickest on the trees. The cages, however, grow in America. If canary birds were invented to be oaged up, it seems to us the cages ought to grow on trees, too. “Birds that always fly in flocks never fly singly.” This wise observation was made by a great-grand uncle of Herodotus in years long since gone, and has been tieasured up, even unto this day. Groat, yea, very great, philosophers used to inhabit this old ,mu£l bullet.— The Toothpick.

HUMOR.

A. tailor's goose—The dude. - A frame of mind—The skull. “What does Tux’ mean?” asked Brown. “ ‘Lux’ means light,” replied Smith. “That’s what I thought, said Brown. “But I wasn’t certain. I know my luck’s light, however.” A difference: A friend of mine, when told of the death of a well-known stock dealer, replied: “Why, he’s worse off than I am. I’m dead broke; but he’s a dead broker.” “What are you laughing at, my dear ?” asked Mrs. Jones of her husband, who was chuckling over his morning paper. “Something I saw here,” he replied, “but it’s hardly funny enough for two.” One of the greatest unexplained physiological mysteries is why a plow handle blisters a boy’s hand in such a short time, while a base-ball olub never does. Another is why a boy will walk seventeen miles in the hot sun hunting a few doves, without becoming exhausted in the least, and yet that same boy will groan like a horse with the colic if he is asked to fetch a glass of water from an adjoining room.—Texas Siftings. A Beaufort bachelor so greatly admired the way in which his housekeeper prepared coffee that he proposed and was accepted, only to Und that the coffee was made by the hired girl.— Texas Siftings. There is very little difference between an inmate of a penitentiary and the average husband. The latter is always found out, and the former would like to be. — Carl Pretzel’s Weekly. Did you ever see a woman throw a brick at a chicken ? It is just lots of fun—for the chicken. The woman usually hits herself on the foot, and gets so mad she hardly talk straight, while the chicken holds its head to one side, clucks softly, and looks as though it wondered what under the sun the fuss all meant any how. — Toothpick. Wife —“ What are you doing, dear?” Husband, in a reflective attitude — “Thinking.” Wise —“Are you thinking of your little wife, love?” Husband — “No, I was thinking of something.”— Merchant Traveler. Little Aggie’s sister had invited her best young man to tea. There was a lull in the conversation, which was broken by the inquisitive Aggie; “Papa, is dose fedders ober Mr. Wobinson’s mouf ?” “Have you made your peace with the world ?” asked a minister of a dying man. “There’s only one thing, sir, I’d like to do and I could die happy,” was the faint reply. “What is it, my friend)? Speak quick, for you have but a few moments left on earth." “Well, Pd like to kick the stuffin’ out of Zeke Brown for heatin’ me in the last hoss trade. I—I—” But the spirit went out into the blank unknown, leaving the work of the flesh undone. — Merchant Traveler. “Why don’t you feed that dog?”, was asked of an old negro. ” “W uy doan’" I feed him ?” “Yes, why don’t you feed him?” “Why doan’ I feed myse’f ? I’se as hungry as de dog is, an’, ’sides dat, he’s got de ’vantage ob me. He ken go out an’ pick up a piece ob meat an’ go ’bout his business, an’ de white folks doan’ say nutliin’, but es I picks up suthin’ ter eat da wants ter slap me in jail, sah. A nigger ain’t got de chance ob a dog, nohow.”— Arkansaw Traveler. Jones’ wife was not a very bright woman, but she sometimes said th ngs which were worthy of a wit. One day, after doing or saying something silly, her husband snapped out: “Well, you are a little the worst I ever saw.” “Why, what’s the matter now? Have I done anything wrong?” “I should say so. You don’t know the difference between a horse and a donkey, I don’t believe.” “I didn’t say you were a horse, did I?” she replied, meekly, and Jones said no more.— Merchant Traveler.

Evolution in Buckwheat Cakes.

“Buckwheat cakes!” said a man in a down-town restaurant. “Wheat cakes!” said another man by his side. In a short time the waiter brought three broad, thin disks, that were white within and crisp and brown without, to each man. In looks the cakes were exactly alike. A man with a sensitive taste could have determined after 1 one or two trials that they did not taste alike. “I ordered buckwheat just because the name brings up pleasant memories,” said one. “Here is a case in which evolution has ruined the thing evoluted. When I was a boy my father used to carry buckwheat to mill and bring back a grayish flour. My mother mixed it up at night, and the next morning I sat down to breakfast before a heap—but no matter. We won’t talk about it.” “Yes. but you said something about the evolution spoiling the thing evoluted ?” “The buckwheat flour; The buckwheat of my youth was cleaned and then ground between the stones like any other grain. Not long ago a man who wanted to make a beautiful flour to look at, concluded that he could do so if he could entirely remove i;he shuck from the kernel of buckwheat. To do this he made a machine that consists of four serrated or corrugated rollers. Two are placed at the end of a screen over which the grain passes, and as the grain passes between them it gets a nip that breaks it up and separates about all the meat frqm the husks. Then the meats drop through a short Bcreen, and the husks pass on through the seoond set of rollers. They are further broken up and the remaining meats are separated. The meats are ground and this white, tasteless stuff is the result.” “That was only the complaint of a man who thinks there are no times like the old times, ” said a flour-dealer to whom the above was related. “If he wants ground husks instead of clean flour he can get it, and for less money. Few mills now grind the shucks and all together, but the flour is to be had. If the new-process flour were not better than the old, it would not now be taking the lead.” —New York Sun. There is less and less epicurian enthusiasm over venison every year.