Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 March 1884 — Page 6

WK SHALL KNOW. When the mists have rolled in splendor From the beauty of the hills, And the sunshine, warm and tender, Falls in splendor on the rills, Wc may read love’s shining letter In the rainbow of the spray; We shall know each other better When the mists have cleared away. . We shall know as we have known. Never more to walk alone, In the dawning of the morning, When the mists have cleared away. If we err in human blindness, And forget that we are dust. If we miss the law of kindness When we struggle to be just, Snowv wings of peace shall cover All the pain that clouds our way. . When the wearj- watch is over, And the mists have cleared away. We shall know as we are known. Never more to walk alone, In the dawning of the morning, When the mists have cleared away. When the silvery mi-ts have veiled us From the faces of our own. Oft we deem their love has failed ns, And we tread our path alone; We should see them near and truly. We should trust them day by day, Neither love nor blame unduly. If the mists are cleared away. We shall know as we are known, Never more to walk alone, In the dawning of the morning. When the mists have cleared away. When the mists have risen above us, As our Father knows His own. Face to face with those who love us, We shall know as we are known. Love, beyond the Orient meadows, Floats the golden fringe of day; Heart to heart we hide the shadows. Till the mists hpve cleared away. We shall know as we are known, Never more to walk alone, When the day of light is dawnin r. And the mists have cleared away.

HE BROKE UP THE SCHOOL.

“That is the new schoolhouse, is it?” inquired Miss Alice Ray, the “new teacher,” as the farmer’s plodding little team passed by a little white house standing endwise to the road, inclosed in a rather dilapidated fence. “Yes, that’s where you’ll hold forth,” remarked Uncle Zeke Woodburn, “but I’m afeered you won’t hold out long, fur we’ve got the toughest set of boys in the State,” and Uncle Zeke gave a kind of cackling little laugh as he thought of the timid, demure little damsel at his side controlling the boys of Bear Creek School. “But don’t the directors expel them when they are beyond the control of the teacher?” asked Alice, her heart beginning to sink at the prospect before her. “Expel ’em! no, we never expel nobody ; if a teacher can’t boss the school we just let it boss him; it ain’t our fight, an’ the school here generally bosses the teacher, and thar’s been some pretty good men licked in that schoolhouse by the boys. “I did not know the school was so unruly, ” said poor Alice, wishing heartily that she had hired out as a washerwoman instead of trying to teach the savages of Bear Creek. “Oh, well, mebbe it won’t be so bad this winter; thar’s Jim Turner, he’s one of thelongest of ’em; he’ll be 21 in a month, and you’ll get rid of him; but thar’s the Brindley boys, they’re mighty nigh as bad.” Poor Alice listened with a sinking heart. The cold, hard duties before her were dreary enough at best; but to go alone and unknown into a strange neighborhood to teach her first school, and to be met at the outset by such dark prophecies, made her feel homeless indeed. She was naturally a timid, shrinking little thing, and if she had possessed anywhere on the whole broad earth a roof to shelter her she would have turned back from Bear Creek school even then. But she had no home. Her mother had died when she was but 14, and she had kept house for her father two years, when he died, leaving her alone. Before he died he advised her to expend the little sum he would be able to leave her in fitting herself for a teacher, and Alice had fulfilled his directions so literally that when she had completed her course of study at the normal school she had hardly $lO left, and when she paid Uncle Zeke for hauling her and her little trunk from the nearest railroad town to the district where she was to teach, she had but $5 left. On Monday morning as she started dor the schoolhouse she felt as if she was going to the scaffold. Her course ■of pedagogics in the normal institute had included no such problem as this

school promised to be, and if it were not for very, shame she would have given her single $5 bill to any one to take her back to the railroad and pay her fare to L., the town where she had attended school. When she arrived at the schoolhouse about twenty or thirty pupils were grouped around talking, but a spell of silence fell upon them as she walked up and saluted them with a “good morning” which was more like the chirp of a frightene<Lbird than anything else. As she unlocked the door and entered what she had already begun to regard as a chamber of torture, two or three slowly followed her into the room, and, depositing their books upon the whittled desks, took seats, and fixed their eyes upon her with a stare that did not help to strengthen her nerves. All the rules and regulations of her “Theory and Practice of Opening Schools Upbn the First Day” seemed to vanish and leave her head whirling in dizzy helplessness. She tried to think of some cheerful remark, but her brain refused to form the thought and her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She could see in the faces of he? pupils, most of whom were now in the school-room, that they were aware of her fright and enjoyed it thoroughly. By a strong effort she partially recovered herself and bravely resisted the temptation to lean her head on the desk and have a good cry. She felt that she must do something or faint, so she rang bell, though it lacked fifteen minutes to 9. She began taking down the names and ages of her pupils, and by the time this was completed she began to feel more at ease. She then began examining the pupils in the different branches in order to assign them to their proper classes. She had finished the examination in all the branches except the advanced reading class, which was principally composed of grown girls and young men, among whom was the terrible Jim Turner, of whom she had been warned. Several of the members of the class had read, and it was now the turn of Moses Bradley, a huge, heavy-set fel-

low, with small, malicious eyes and a general air of ruffianism. * When he was called upon to read he did not rise from his seat, but began to read in a thick, indistinct voice from a book hidden in his lap. “Mr. Bradley, will you please stand up when you read?” asked Alice. “I can read just as well settin’ down,” replied the fellow with a dogged air. “But it is one of the rules in a reading class to stand up to read,” said Alice, her heart quaking with fear as she foresaw the incipient rebellion. “I reckon you will hawe to make a new rule for me then,” impudently answered Mose, glancing sideways at his companions with a grin of triumph. “If you do not obey me I shall be obliged to punish you,” said Alice, bravely, though she could scarcely stand up. “I guess all the punishment you could do wouldn’t break any of my bones,” replied the ruffian, leering at her impudently. “But I can break your bones for you in half a minute, and I’ll do it if you don’t stand up and read as the teacher asked you to,” said a voice at the other end of the class, and Alice looked in the direction and saw Jim Turner step from the class and Lee the astonished Mose. Mose’s insolent manner abated in an instant, his face turned pale, and he muttered something about not being “bossed by other boys, ” but he stood up as he was commanded.

Alice could have kissed her young champion for very gratitude, but she mustered all the dignity she could command, and said: "Mr. Turner, I cannot allow you to interfere in the management of my school; take your seat.” The youth obeyed without a word, but kept his eye on Mose, as if watching for any delinquency. After this little episode the exercises proceeded without interruption till noon. Alice had no appetite for dinner. She leaned her throbbing head upon the desk and wondered wearily how long she could endure this. She was aroused by one of the little girls running up to her, exclaiming: “Teacher, teacher, the big boys are fighting!” She followed the child, exclaiming: “Oh, why did I ever come into such a den of wild beasts ?” At the rear of the schoolhouse stood Jim Turner engaged in a hand-to-hand combat with Mose Bradley and his two brothers, both of whom were grown. As Alice stepped around the cornet Jim sent Mose reeling to the earth, ana then turned like a lion upon his two remaining assailants. They rushed at him from two sides, but Jim was as active as a panther, and Bill Bradley fell as if shot, from a left-handed .blow, and his brother Tom followed hfn in an instant. By this time Mose had secured a ball bat and rushed upon Jim, ’ but the latter evaded the blow, and, wrenching the bat from his hand, knocked Mose headlong with a blow of his fist. As the discomfited trio arose Jim laughed lightly and asked them “how they liked it as far as they had got,” picked the bat he had taken from Mose, and called out, “Come on, boys, let’s have a game of ball.” The combat ended so quickly that Alice had no chance to interfere, but she felt that it would not do to let this open violation of school rules pass unpunished, so she rang the bell. When tire pupils were assembled she called the culprits up to the desk, and asked what the fight was about and who began it. The Bradleys stood sullen and silent, but Jim answered, “I would rather not tell what it was about, but I began it by knocking Mose Bradley down.” Alice knew the fight was the result of Jim’s espousal of her cause in the reading class, and her voice faltered as she said: “Then I shall have to punish you; hold out your hand.” Jim obeyed her instantly. She took up the ruler with a trembling hand and began the punishment. Jim’s face never changed a muscle. The look upon it was one of quiet obedience in which there was no trace of either bravado or sullenness. As Alice inflicted the blows upon the hand so quietly held out to her, the thought rushed upon her mind that she was smiting the only hand that had been raised to befriend her in that lawless region.

Her face grew pale, the blows fell falteringly, the tears began to rim down her cheeks, the ruler fell from her hand, she sank into her seat, buried her face in her hands, and burst into a storm of sobs. Then Jiin’s countenance changed. His lip quivered, he dashed his hand across his eyes to clear them of unnatural dimness, and the great lump in his throat seemed to choke him. A chuckle from Mose Bradley recalled his self-possession, however, and he took a step or two toward the latter with eyes that fairly blazed with hot indignation. Mose rapidly retreated a step or two, and his chuckle died an untimely death, and for-, a full minute silence reigned over tiie school-room.' At last Alice raised her head and in a broken voice dismissed the pupils to the playground. As the children passed out she heard some say, “So you got a whipping after all, Jim,” and Jipi’s reply, “Yes, and I got enough to pass some of it around if anybody is anxious about it.” At 1 o’clock Alice rang the bell with a feeling of utter dospafr; but no school ever moved more smoothly than did her school that afternoon. Quiet obedience, study, good lessons, and respectful attention were universal. But Alice had determined to quit the school; she felt as if she would rather be the poorest washerwoman than to be badgered, bullied, and tortured for months at a time by a set of brutal nifiians, whose parents employed her for the sole purpose of enduring this martyrdom. So when Alice locked the schoolhouse door that evening it was with a mingled feeling of relief and humiliation that she started toeoffer her resignation to the directors. As she left the schoolhouse she saw Jim Turner a few yards ahead ojf her, walking rapidly toward homq. she called his name, and he stopbed and respectfully waited until she had overtaken him. “Mr. Turner,” she said, “I am going

away in the morning, and I wish to thank you for your brave defense of me in the school to-day, and to ask your forgiveness for the punishment I so unjustly inflicted on you,” and in her earnestness Alice held out her little, trembling hand, and Jim instantly grasped it. “I have nothing to forgive,” said he; “you could not do otherwise, and neither could I; but you are surely not intending to quit the school ?” “Yes.” answered Alice, “I would rather die than pass through tliree months of such scenes as I have today.” “But you will have no more trouble; there is no one in the school that would give you trouble, except the Bradley boys, and as long as I am there I will answer for their good behavior.” At last Jim’s eloquence prevailed, and Alice finally consented to teach a week longer, and at the end of that time she decided to stay, for never did a school move along more smoothly. At her request Jim was allowed to remain during the term, and as soon as it closed he went to college. Alice taught the Bear Creek school successfully for three years, but in the end Uncle Zeke’s prediction was verified, for Jim Turner came back and broke up the school. He married the teacher.

The Cost of Dinners.

It has been estimated by an American authority that a party of two persons can dine “moderately” at Delmonico’s for $5, —that is to say, for £1 sterling,—the entertainment including a bottle of claret, very drinkable, although the cheapest in the list of wines. At a first-rate Parisian restaurant a dinner for two which cost 25 francs, including a bottle of medium Bordeaux, would be a far from “modest” repast. Indeed, it would be a very plenteous repast, and Parisian restaurants are always expensive, owing, first, to the extravagant rents of houses on the fashionable boulevards; next to the enhancement, through the “octjpi” duties, of the price of provisions; and, thirdly, in consequence of the rapacity of the proprietors. There is no “octroi” in New York; the market prices for fish, meat, game, vegetables, and poultry would be considered wonderfully cheap by a London housekeeper; but house rent is as extravagantly high, and the rapacity of the fashionable New York restaurant-keeper is as insatiable as that of his congener on the Boulevard des Capucines. At the same time, it must be conceded that there are plenty of places in Manhattan where a dinner or luncheon of a varied and substantial and even of a semielegant kind can be obtained at a comparatively moderate tariff. Five • dollars a day is the maximum charge for full board at a first-class New York hotel, one, at least, that is conducted on the “American system;” and a guest, for his $5, is entitled, in addition to his sleeping accommodations, to four, and in some cases to five, meals a day, the bill of fare of each of which is as long as Leporello’s schedule of the gallantries of Don Giovanni. To be sure, at these colossal tables d’hote, considerably more attention is paid to quantity than to quality. But the visitor may eat and drink as much as he likes; he can be nearly always eating and drink- 1 ing if his taste lies in the direction of gormandizing; he is not expected to drink fermented liquors “for the good of the house;” there is no charge for service. Thus, for a total abstainer with a teetotal appetite—which is ordinarily a voracious one—the United States must be a kind of terrestrial paradise. The Elysium is said to be haunted by the demon of indigestion, but there is an abundance of drug stores where pepsin and liver pills can be purchased.— London Telegraph.

Novel Use of Greenbacks.

“What becomes of all the greenbacks and bank-notes after they have served their few years of usefulness ?” is a frequent query. A bank-note has its life just the same as all other things useful. What an interesting story the travels of a greenback, from the moment it leaves the press, until it returns to the macerating macliine, would make! The average life of a bank-note is about three years, perhaps a little ' longer. After serving its purpose as currency, it is metamorphosed into rabbits, birds, and other figures. The process of the destruction of the notes is an interesting one. The readers will often see in the daily papers a paragraph something like this: “National bank notes received for redemption to-day, $500,000.” The next day these notes are carried to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, and placed in a machine containing immense knives, which chop the notes into fragments. This operation is conducted under the supervision of three officers of the Treasury Department, especially detailed for this business. No one is allowed to be present at this daily maceration of the notes except the officials and the men who run the machine. They are compelled to remain in the room until each separate note is destroyed. They must account in detail afterward to the redemption bureau of each note; and, should one become lost or mislaid, and afterward find its way into circulation, the result would be the immediate discharge of the three gentlemen who daily have in their custody from $500,000. to $2,000,000 or $3,000,000 of notes and bonds. The shreds are reduced to pulp, and then, by a patented process, this mass is molded into figures of birds and animals and sold as mementos to visitors. Oftentimes it will happen that one little object will be composed of what once was SIOO,000,000 worth of money.— Hartford Globe. ‘ Rabbits have been born with one ear and stags with one horn; the rattlesnake has but one lung; both eyes of the flounder and halibut are on the same side; the claws of the lobster differ, and the valves of the oyster are unequal, yet all the animals and their organs are perfectly symmetrical in the embryo state. A grief, a disappointment, a success is a new lens to the eye, changing the entire aspect of nature.

THE BAD BOY.

“Get out of here now, pretty lively,” said the grocery man to the bad boy, as he came in rubbing his hands and trying to be pleasant “A boy that will loaf around here and eat things, and kick when I ask him to help me sort over potatoes, can’t stay in my store. Git!* and the grocery man picked up a link of sausage and looked mad. “O, go hate yourself,” said the boy as he drew a knife and cut a slice oif the grocery man’s weapon, and began eating it, as unconcerned as possible. “When you want work done, say so, and I will help you, but when you say ‘let’s go and have some fun’ sprouting potatoes or carrying in coal, that is too thin. When you say that, you are a gay deceiver, and you are guilty of false pretenses. But quit lying and call it by its right name, work, and you catch Hennery, but not with funny chaff. But I have got all the work I want on my hands now. I have been appointed pa’s guardian, by ma, and I am straining every nerve to keep pa out of politics.” “Good gracious!” said the grocery man in alarm, “I am sorry for your pa, if he has got his head set on going into politics. I was in politics one year myself, and it has taken me five years to get out and pay my debts, and now every ward politician owes me for groceries. You see, they came to me and wanted me to run for Supervisor. They said I was just the man they wanted, a man with a large head, one who was a business man, and who would not kick at the expenditure of a few dollars when he could make a barrel of money. They said if I was on the Board of Supervisors I could be placed on a committee that handled the funds, and I could make the purchases of groceries and provisions for all the county institutions, the poor-house, house of correction, insane asylum, hospitals, and everything, and I could buy them at my own store at my own price, and in two years I could be rich as any man in town. Well, I never had a proposition strike me so favorably, and I went in head over appetite. For a month I went around our ward night and day, spending money, and the politicians came to the store and traded when I was out, and had it charged, and when the caucus was held I only got one vote for Supervisor, and voted that myself. Well, the politiciaps tried to explain to me, but I bought a revolver, and they kept away. Do you know, the next day after the caucus I didn’t have twenty dollars, worth of groceries in the store, and the clerk was dying of lonesomeness? Whatever your pa does, dont let him go into politics, for he will bring up in the inebriate asylum, sure.” “Well, pa has got it bad, but he is too numerous. He has been yearning for two years for a political campaign to open. I don’t suppose there is a citizen who enjoys politics as much as pa. He stays out nights till the last place is closed, and is the first man on deck in the morning. He has drank with more candidates, more different times, than anybody, and when he is so full that he can’t drink he takes a cigar, and brings it home. His guests have been smoking up old election cigars ever since the Hancock campaign, and some of them are awful. But this time they are going to run pa for aiderman, and he has opened the campaign with a corkscrew. Pa thinks that the position of aiderman is greater than governor, because aidermen wear a badge, and have influence. But pa is overdoing the thing. He wants to please everybody, and he has promised to put ninety-seven men on the police force, has promised forty-four men the position of bridgetender, and there is only one bridge in his ward. He promises the saloon keepers to reduce the price of licenses, and allow them to keep open all night, and he has promised the prohibition temperance people to raise saloon licenses to a thousand dollars and close every saloon in town. The result is going to be if pa is not elected he will kill himself, and if he is elected the people will kill him, so somebody has got to save pa. ” “You can’t do it as long as the fever is on,” said the grocery man. “You have got to watch him, and when he meets with def sat or reverses in politics, then fire some sense into him. But as long as he is red-hot in a campaign, nothing will stop him. I have seen a politician who was full of enthusiasm and beer, fall into the river and drown, and the police pulled him out and then rolled him on a barrel, and pretty soon he came to and the first thing he said was ‘ Bah for Tilden. Set ’em up again! ’ You would have thought that man would quit politics, and try and lead a different life, but the next day he was going whooping around, electioneering in the saloons and on street corners, with a cork life preserver strapped around him. He is alive yet, and is an aiderman. When a man gets into politics it takes possession of him, and wherever he is he is getting in his work for his party. There was a ward politician that I knew once that used to make a specialty of laboring with the working men. One day he was on top of a building that was being erected, arguing with a bricklayer, when his foot slipped and he fell off. As he was going down he passed a hod carrier going up with a load of mortar. You would think that man would forget politics, as he was falling, and say his prayers, or pick out a soft place to strike on the sidewalk, but he didn’t. As he passed the hodcarrier he yelled to him, ‘ Don’t forget the caucus to-night in your ward, and get out all the boys.’ He stuck in a bed of soft mortar, which saved his life, and as they took a hoe and pulled him to the surface, he scraped the mortar out of his eyes, and as a doctor came up to set his bones he asked the doctor if he had made np his mind how to vote this year. No, sir, there is no room in a politician for anything except politics. I was never so annoyed in my life as I was once in church when they put a politician in my pew, and when we got up to sing and opened the hymnbook, the politician had a Republican Presidential ballot under his thumb, and I had to read it all through. Dear me, if jrou can get you pa out of politics do it, if you have to scare the life out of him.” ' “Let ma and me alone for that,” said I the boy. “We are experimentig withn

phosphorus, and some night when the campaign is fairly opened, and pa comes home late at night acting crooked, he will see the handwriting on the wall of a dark room, and the skeletons and snakes and animals and things that will visit him will break him up. If every politician had a good little boy to look after him he might be saved or killed, which would be better than lingering in politics to be cut down like a flower after he had gone through his property and lost his health,” and the boy went out to learn to draw a skeleton on the wall with phosphorus, and the grocery man sat and thought of his own experience as a politician.— Peck’s Sun.

Beses at New Orleans.

I don’t believe there is any region on earth where roses grow in such abundance, variety, beauty, and sweetness as they do in the New Orleans country. A Mississippi gentleman to whom I have been indebted for information on various subjects, tells me that there is growing and in bloom at his home at this moment a Lamarque rose vine eighty feet long. The stem is eight inches through in the thickest part. It was planted seventeen or eighteen years ago. It is twined around a veranda, and its gorgeous clusters of cream-tinted roses are splendid to behold. At New Orleans the Marechai Neil roses cause the Northerner to stare in speechless wonder. I saw one of the plants that must have been fifty feet long. I have seen vines of the same rose that long in the North, but they were scraggy and lean-looking and in the florists’ green-houses. At New Orleans they run wild and revel like a midsummer night’s dream. The blossoms grow in gorgeous clusters of half a dozen or more, and the flowers are so large that they would more than cover the top of a large-sized coffee cup. A single one of the pale gold beauties will fill a room with perfume. They are as plenty down there as “white top” in a Northern meadow. And they sell for $1 a bud up North. In some of the private citizens’ yards in New Orleans there are as many as a hundred diderent kinds of roses all in bloom at once. They do not require protection from cold at any time. They all stand outdoors in the open ground, and many varieties bloom more or less all the .winter through. The rose is a favorite flower at New Orleans. At the Jockey Club races we saw dozens of handsomely dressed ladies with exquisite bunches of rosebuds at their belts and elsewhere in their dresses—the sweet lovely flower that nature made, none of your abominable artificial things. The rose the French inhabitants of New Orleans are fondest of for decoration is called the “Gold of Ophir.” Northern florists - have it, but it is not common. The bud is especially prized for its" beauty. It is a smallish rose, of a very pale pink, shading on toward the heart into a deep, rich gold color. Faint streaks of crimson touch the outer petals. It is one of the loveliest roses I ever saw.—Commercial.

The Nativity of Flowers.

But few persons are aware that the dozen or more plants growing in their flower beds are probably representatives of as many different parts of the globe. Some of the worst used and most neglected of our flowers have the most interesting histories, and have traveled farthest from their native soil. For instance, the campanula Carpathia, or Canterbury bell, grows spontaneously on the slopes of the Carpathian Alps, travelers are surprised to find patches of it growing rankly in almost inaccessible spots. From the Bulgarian Mountains comes the Pentagonia, a rich purple variety of this family. The Tagetes, or common marigold, has a most interesting history. Tageti, a Spanish botanist, found it upon the table lands of Peru. He carried the seed to Europe, where the plant became valued for its medical properties. The removal from a tropical to a temperate region developed some eccentricities; the plant produced double instead of single flowers. And after a second removal to Africa, its deep golden yellow changed to a lighter hue. French florists observed its susceptibility to variation, and by selection soon produced the variegated bloom. The marigold came to us from Africa and France. The little sweet mignonette is a native of Barbary; the niggela, or Johnny in the green, comes from Palestine and Spain; the amaranthus is from the East Indies, and the larkspur from Siberia; candy-tuft is indigenous to the Isle of Crete, and is said to be propagated there for sheep pasture; the aster was discovered in China; and soon through a long list of our most common flowering plants. The subject of the nativity of plants is almost exhaustless, and is extremely interesting and profitable.— Indiana Farmer.

Do You Know the Plants?

It is not only a pleasure, but very useful, to know the names and qualities of trees t plants, herbs, and flowers. All this you" can learn only by keeping your eyes open. Many a time you will need such knowledge. A vessel was once wrecked in the English Channel. Only four persons were saved. No one could see them for the darkness, nor hear them for the noisy storm. They climbed from rock to rock till they could get no higher, but just then one of them, by a flash of lightning, saw a samphire plant. By this he knew they were safe, lor it never grows in a place which the tide can reach, and then they could -rest. So life might often be saved if you knew certain common herbs and plants that are cures for diseases. Keep eyes and ears open as you pass through life, apd you will learn much that may be useful to you. Then, too, such knowledge is, in itself, a pleasure, even if you never need it.— Floral World. Love does not ask for perfection; it asks only for its own. You cannot propitiate it with gifts nor satisfy it with all the virtues, if you cannot pay it back value for value, in its coin; and if this tribute be paid it will forgive every weakness. ' Music does not change the disposition of our soul; it makes us feel what we think.

HUMOR.

Aix miners are not successful, but many dig in vein. Ups and downs in high-school life—the stairways. In spite of all that can be said in favor of Adam and Eve, they were undoubtedly a shiftless pair. An Eastern editor says: “The devil is not as black as he is painted.” DownEast editors are always “puffing* somebody for a reserved-seat ticket —Newman Independent. Bkwabk, proud world, how thou despises* The humblest of thy creatures, and lookeet With disdain upon the man with battered Hat and mud-srained pantaloons; For it has often been found a truth That though a man wear ragged clothes. He yet within his coat sleeve wivi An arm with muscle great, whose Blows will weigh a ton, and perchance, When he is very mad, a few Hundred pounds additional. ■ —CHI City Derrick. A countby girl, coming from tbe field, being told by her poetic cousin that she looked as fresh as a daisy kissed with dew, said: “Well, it wasn’t any fellow by that name; but it was Steve Jones that kissed me. I told him that every one in town would find it out.” That was a fine piece of irony of Pugin’s, when he had got out the designs for a magnificent cathedral, to cost £30,000, and the committee of the building fund wanted him to reduce the price to £IO,OOO “Say 30 shillings more, gentlemen,” he wrote, “and have a nice spire!” “Now, you must converse in nothing but French,” said Monsieur the Professor to his pupils. Silence immediately fell on the class for the space of a quarter of an hour, when the Pro* lessor exclaimed, “What? Nothing but silence? Zat is the very opposite of French. ” “Anu did the man get off, Pat?” says his friend. “Shure and he did that,* says Pat; “he proved an alibi, ye know. ” “No! Phat’s that, now?” “O! ye haythen! Shure, and wasn’t he in the alley by Mickey’s saloon, all the while, now? and wasn’t in the fight at all, at all!”— The Hoosier. There is a luminous paint which renders objects visible in the darU And now the Chicago belles will Ire putting it on their cheeks, as a sort of guide when the gas b tipis low, so that now when a youth sees two spots of light, about two feet apart, he knows there is a Chicago mouth between ’em somewhere, and don’t need to waste any time, except that required to make a detour about her fairy slippers.— The Hoosier.

A Lesson in Good Breeding.

The following story has its moral: An elderly gentleman started across a broad street. Three young ladies, all abreast, started at the same moment from the other side. The sprinkler had made pools of mud on either side of the crossing. The old gentleman stepped clear to the edge, but the young woman in front of him literally bore down on him with no idea that he would not plunge his fresh-polished gaiter into the slop on the right of the dry crossing. The old man looked at the mud, he looked at the young lady, and then he waited until she was within easy reach of him, when he gently but firmly taking her hands in his, held her, and said, in a low tone: “My dear young lady, I cannot step into the mud. I would give you the way if it was necessary—any gentleman would. But it is not necessary, because you and your companions could walk single file and not force anybody off. Always remember that while it is the duty of a gentleman to be polite and chivalrous to ladies, it is a woman’s duty to be considerate, and not make his deference a self-sacrifice.” At first the girl was amazed, dumbfounded. Then she tried to twist herself, loose, but the gentleman was firm as a rock, and held her perfectly still until he had finished his neat and needful little address. At its close the lady rushed off through the thin mud crying with mortification, elbowing herself through the small crowd who had been detained on the crossing-stones at their sides.—Terpsichore.

A Demigod Even in His Night Clothes. It seems that the first patient of Dr. Holcombe, of New York, was Daniel Webster. Stopping at a hotel in the White Mountains, he was asked by Fletcher Webster to call at a certain room, as his father was sick and wished to see a physician. Entering the room the doctor found this extraordinary man wrapped in a sheet, sitting in a large arm chair, and apparently absorbed in deeply meditating a bronze Napoleon at St. Helena. This colloquy followed: W.—Are you the doctor ? H.—l am, sir. W.—You look very young. H.—l am very young. W.—Where were you educated?* H.—ln New York and Berlin. Have just returned from abroad. W.—Were you among the mountains? H.—Yes. I traveled in Switzerland. W. —Did you ascend Mont Blanc? H. —Half way only. It reminded me of you. W.—l’m suffering greatly from rheumatism or gout. Can you dp anything for me. H. —I know nothing whatever about either disorder. Have a case. W. —I like your candor, young man; you may try what you can do to relieve my pain. The solemnity and sepulchral tones of the great expounder must be remembered to make this interview impressive. Dr. Holcombe had never seen so grand a man. He was a demigod, even in his night clothes. It is a good lesson—though it may be a hard one—for a man who has dreamed of literary fame and of making himself rank among the world’s dignitaries by such means, to step aside out of the nan»w circle in which his claims are recognized, and to find how utterly devoid of significance, beyond that circle, is all that he achieves and all he aims at. —Nathaniel Hawthorne. We can best destroy slanderers by [ living lives whose luster dims their disparagements,—Dr* Monro*