Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1884 — Page 6

MK SONG OF THE WORKERS. BT EDWARD WILLETT. I stag the song of the workers, the men of the brawny arm. Who gire us our'daily bread and keep ns from hanger’s harm; Who labor afar fa the forest, who leaven the fields with toil; Who take no heed of the sunshine, and mind not sweat or toil. I sing the song of the writers, who harvest the golden grain. And bind it, and thrash it, and sift it, nor care for the sting and stain; Who load it in creaking wagons, and stoutly their oxen drive. And bid them good-by as they go, like the bees fiying home to the hive. I sing the song of the workers, the men who struggle and strain, Who give us their muscle and nerve as they guard the loaded train; Who give us their sinew and brain as they watch the prl-oned steam. And run the risk of their lives as they pass the perious stream. I sing the song of the workers, the men who labor and strive. Who handle for os the honey that comes to the human hive; The patient and tireless workers, with muscles tough as steel. Whs carry the heaviest burdens, and lift, and trundle, and wheel. I sing the song of the workers, demanding for every one His just and rightful due for all the work he has done: For all the work of the workers, no matter whom or where, To each fiom the grand result'his honest, proportionate share.

A MATER DOLOROSA.

A Chinese woman has no identity of her own. She is simply of consequence as the wife of some man, or the mother of a son. If this phase of existence sheds but little glory upon her, it also relieves her of many responsibilities, and gives to her obscurity the value of contentment. Aunt Nancy was the wife of Uncle 'Lisha. It would be impossible to give a biography of Aunt Nancy without including Uncle ’Lisha, or to eliminate her individuality long enough to serve her up alone. And I doubt if the dear old lady would like such marital independence. Nor do I think she would recognize any picture of herself that was not a reflection of him. Like the moon, she shone by borrowed light. Uncle ’Lisha was a living illustration of the old adage, “It is better to be born'lucky than rich.” His property was inherited, and he never did a day’s work in his life. But everybody else in his family worked, Aunt N ancy, his wife, more than any of them. Uncle ’Lisha didn’t work because he enjoyed poor health. A partial list of his complaints would read about like this:

~ Fever and ague. Chronic indigestion. Paralysis of the heart. Paralysis of the liver, i Inflammatory rheumatism. ■ Lameness in the left knee. Lameness in the right knee. Ossification of the joints. hereditary consumption (On the mother’s side.) Hereditary apolexy. , (On the father’s side.) These were just a few of the ills which beset the poor man, and made him exceedingly careful of himself. He couldn't stoop for fear of apoplectio symptoms;he was afraid to lift anything, on account of his spine; he never dared hurry, as his heart had a habit of beating, and, in fact, nothing agreed with him except—doing nothing. He was the very same boy referred to in the following incident. lam aware it is credited to the Beecher family, but they never had a monopoly of lazy boys, if they did of bright ones. Uncle ’Lisha’s father, the good doctor, had one time been away from home a few days, leaving his two boys, Elisha and Ezekiel, to do the chores. When he retrnned, nothing had been done, and he discovered the boys in a hay-mow, read- . ing stories. “Zeke!” thundered the Doctor, “come

There, sir.” Zefee Came and stood shame-facedly doefore him. "What have you been doing since I was away?” “Nothing, sir.” “Elisha, come here, you, and give an account of yourself. Tell the truth, now. What have you been doing ?” “Helping Zeke, sir.” This faculty was Uncle ’Lisha’s stock in trade, and he steadily improved it and made others believe in it, until they really considered it wrong to expect him to do anything. I can see him yet putting on his boots of a winter’s morning. All the cattle had been foddered, water drawn, and wood carried in. Aunt Nancy had been up hours, getting breakfast and hushing the children, and telling them not to make a noise and wake “poor father,” who f&in’t slept a wink all night. Gentle ssoul! It is possible that she believed it, for she was too tirjd herself to lie Sftake to see. And when he came down they all waited on him and handed him his boots, while he lingered patiently in front of the hot fire. Then he would cough feebly, put his hand to his heart, sigh —and warm the inside of his boot. After resting from this exertion he would take a strap in each hand and with several attempts get it on. Then a long rest, before a similar process with the other one. A drink of reviving water was then handed by one child, while another stood by and looked at him as if he had been a tenhorned wonder. “ Poor father ” was only afflicted with spring fever, which lasted him the year round—in other

words, chronic laziness. “I shan’t last long,” he would say, in that whinv-piny voice which exasperated all who knew him as he really was. “Then, Nancy, you and the children can have it all your own way.” And'Aunt Nancy would cry, and the children howl, and there would be some added delicacy at the sufferer’s plate for the next meal. “There’s only a dozen eggs in the house,” that saintly woman would observe. “Now, children, I’m going to cook those for your t poor father—don’t one of you ask for eggs.” But when he reached the last egg one of the tempted children would pluck up courage to hint for it. Uncle WStik* would look at that child with a CMUttenance of meek reproach, and say: “lea, take it, take it, and let your jpeor Sick father starve.” These was no chance for Aunt Nancy

to have any pet ailments. If she was sick and complained, Uncle ’Lisha would say: “I’ve felt just so, mother,” and that settled it If he was going anywhere, he would put in the saving clause: “If I live, and Nancy’s well.” Her headaches were mere chimeras of the imagination. “I’ve suffered worse and never mentioned it—suffered like a wintergreen, ” he wonld add, as if that were the plus ultra of misery. Every year or two he made a new will, and every day he advised Aunt Nancy what to do when he was gone. In their early married life, when the children were small, he had dreaded that she would marry again, but in later years this fear had no place in his thoughts. The children themselves were married and gone, and Aunt Nancy was an old woman with a white, placid face, and bands of iron-gray hair—not really old, hut worn out—her life had been such a perpetual echo of Uncle ’Lisha. He didn’t like company, so she didn’t nave any. He never wanted to go anywhere, so she stayed at home. If she ever went to church she had to go alone, and that was so dreary, and she had so many inquiries to answer about his health that she seldom w r ent. “You’ll miss me when Pm gone,” he would say, cheerfully, and so she would. And she would have missed the old clock in the corner, too, if it had suddenly disappeared. “ What does the doctor say about me ?” he asked her one day when the village physician had gone out, first calling her to one side. Perhaps Aunt Nancy was a little worn out that day, or believed in heroic treatment, but she deliberately answered: “He thinks yon haven’t a disease in the world, Elisha, and that if you would take more exercise it would be better for you.” He was wounded to the quick, and did not speak to her for twenty-four hours, and he discharged the impolitic physician the next dav. Uncle ’Lisha was fond of lachrymose hymns, and when not singing “Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound,” lie would tip back his chair—the easiest in the house—close his eyes aud chant by the hour:

“ I’m going home No more to roam. No more to sin and sorrow, No more to wear The brow of care, I’m go:ng home to-morrow.” But to-morrows came and went, and Uncle ’Lisha did not go home. There was a shelf in the closet which was especially devoted to his medicines. In his early days he had dosed mildly with rhubarb and sarsaparilla. Then quinine became the fashion, and he dissipated on that. Liniments for rheumatism, patent nostrums and alterative pills completed the list, except that there was no end to the domestic remedies, such as mustard and ginger, and other alleviating agents. “When I am gone,” he would say, mournfully, “give my medicines to some deserving poor person. There’ll never be another such sufferer in the family as I have been.”

t But there came a day when even Uncle Tiisha’s ailments were of little account. Aunt Nancy was sick, very sick. She had been breaking down all summer, but no one had been concerned, least of all her husband, who had developed new symptoms that were very alarming—to himself. Finally, she went to her bed and sent for the children. They at once called in a Doctor, who on liis first visit looked exceedingly grave. Upon the second he asked for a private interview with Uncle ’Lisha. “Your wife is a very sick Woman,” he said, abruptly. “She does seem ailing,” said Uncle ’Lisha, rubbing his lame knee, and forgetting at the moment which one it was; “but, bless you, Fve had the same symptoms so long I’m used to them, Doctor. She’s well, compared to me, actually well. H The doctor looked at the old man with some contempt. “Threatened lives last long,” he said, bluntly. “But have it your own way. I’ve tried to prepare you —that’s all.” The doctor took his leave, and Uncle ’Lisha went into the sick-room. All was calm and serene. Most of all, that pale still face on the pillow. The patient eyes held the same kindly light in them that had been there for thirty years when they met his. The pinched, white cheeks were only more sunken and withered.

“Having a kind of spell, ain’t yon, Nancy?," said Uncle ’Lisha. “Now, don’t git discouraged. I’ve felt jest so hundreds of times! It’s nothing new and nothing to worry about.” “I’m not worrying,” said his wife, faintly; “I am dying, ’Lisha.” “Nancy, you oughtn’t to talk about such a serious thing as that so lightly. It—it—makes my rheumatiz worse to hear you. You ought to have some consideration for me. I can’t stand every tiling. ” “Poor old boy,” said Aunt Nancy, shaking his plump, strong hand. “Poor’Lisha! you will miss mo for awhile. ”

“There, there, now,” said Uncle Tisha, soothingly; “I’ll give you a spoonfull of my tonic in the morning, and 'you’ll come out like a lark in the spring time. Go to sleep, Nancy; it’ll help you wonderfully. It always helps me. ” The next morning Aunt Lucy had taken the tonic of a new life. “I’m going home first, after all,” she said with a smile, and died. This upset all the calculations of a life time with Uncle ’Lisha. He had nobody to complain to, no one who cared in the least whether he had twenty ailments or one. He i was not encouraged to be lazy, and holpless, and selfish, and he fell into complete ruin. He had enough to live on, but nothing to live for, as he could not complain to himself, or discuss with himself his own symptoms. He never talked of dying or sung “I’m going home” again. In fine weather he went up to his wife’s grave. Doubtless it would have distressed her had she known that she was deaf to his complaints, In his room a dress and shawl of hers hung near his chair. When he finally became ill in earnest he made light of it. Fox'their mother’s sake the chil-

dren tended him dutifully. One night he stretched out a wasted hand and touched his wife’s dress. “Nancy,” they heard him whisper, “Pm going home, I’m going; home tomorrow. ” They buried him beside her.— Mrs. Payne, in Detroit Free Press.

A Live Commercial Traveler.

Sheriff Wiggins, of Dallas, Tex., made it a prominent part of his business to ferret out and punish commercial travelers who traveled in Texas without license; but one morning he met his match, a genuine Yankee drummer. “What have you got to sell? Anything?” asked the Sheriff, as he met the Connecticut man on the streets. “Oh, ves, I’m selling medicine —patent medicine. Selling Rattail’s Beady Belief, and it’s the best thing in the world. You ought to try a bottle. It will cure your ague, cure rheumatism, cure anything.” “And you will sell me a case ?” “Sartinly, sir; glad to.” Then the Sheriff bought a case. “Anything more?” asked the drummer. “Yes, sir; I want to see your license for selling goods in Texas. That is my duty as the High Sheriff of Dallas County.” The drummer showed him a document, fixed up good and strong, in black and white. The Sheriff looked at it and pronounced it “all right.” Then, turning to the commercial traveler, he said: “I don’t know, now that I’ve bought this stuff, that I shall ever want it. I reckon that I may as well sell it to you again. What will you give for it?” “Oh, I don’t know that the darned stuff is any use to me, but seeing it’s you, Sheriff, I’ll give you a dollar for the lot, if you really don’t want it.” The Sheriff delivered back the medicine at $4 discount from his own purchase and received his change. “Now,” said the drummer, “I’ve got a question or two to ask you. Hev you got a drummer's license about your trousers anywhere?” “No; I haven’t any use for the article myself,” replied the Sheriff. “Hain’t, eh? Wal, I guess we’ll see about that ‘pretty darn soon. If I understand the law, it’s a clean case that you’ve been tradin’ with me, and hawkin' and peddlin’ Battail’s Beady Belief on the highway, and I shall inform on you—darn’d es I don’t neow!” When the Yankee reached the Court House he made his complaint, and the Sheriff was fined $8 for selling goods without a license. The Sheriff was heard afterward to say that “you might as well try to hold a greased eel as a live Yankee.”— Eli Perkins.

Opposite Natures.

There seems to be a popular belief in the law of attraction of opposites as applying in the matter of love and friendship—a law supposed to be based on induction, according to the true method of science. But is it not simply one of those formulae which is true when it is true, and no oftener? Opposite natures do attract each other, there is no doubt; a man of phlegmatic temper sometimes finds an irresistible fascination in a woman whose gay vivacity cheers and stimulates him'like sunshine and the birds’ song; or, again, it is the sanguine, buoyant-natured man who is mated happily with a wife whose serious and discreet mind is the balancewheel insuring the safe running of the household machine. Indisputably, there is an attraction, sometimes difficult to account for, between persons of contrasted natures; nevertheless, a nice observation will often show, I think, that dissimilarities between husbands and wives, or between intimate friends, are superficial, while the strength of the mutual attraction resides in an underlying likeness. A marriage which is truly such, or a serious friendship, involves a very close intercourse, which to be sustained must rest on certain deep moral affinities, the union of communion will be stronger still; but such are not necessary, as the former are. Circumstances may play their part, and an important one, in the formation of our friendships or the selection of our life-mates; but among persons of any depth of character, choice as well as chance has to do with the matter, although the choice be often rather instinctive than deliberate. — Atlantic “ Contributors ’ Club”

Impecunious Great Men.

A considerable number of public mem have received testimonials from their friends. Daniel Webster was tendered and received for many years the earnings of SIOO,OOO, which was put at interest for his benefit by his friends in and about Boston. Had not this provision of $6,000 a year been made Webster would have retired from the Senate, for he declared he would not give his life to his country for $8 per day. “Tom” Corwin had his debts paid once at beast by his friends. He never laid up anything while holding Federal offices. He retired from the office of Secretary, of the Treasury comparatively poor. The mortgage on Corwin’s homestead was once taken up by his political friends. Henry Clay had the same service rendered him on the part of his political friends. He had been for a whole generation in Congress. He sometimes lived beyond his means. He was hospitable and even generous. He had little tact in managing his private affairs. His homestead at Ashland was mortgaged, and would probably have 'leap foreclosed had not his Whig ft' ends, just after his defeat for the Presidency in 1845, stepped in and privately canceled the mortgage. Thomas Benton was thirty years in Congress. Yet in all that time he never became rich, nor did he improve any of the opportunities for making money while holding a Federal office. — Seen Francisco Bulletin.

Alas ! it is not till time, with reckless hand, bas torn out half the leaves from the book of human life, to light those fires of passion with, from day to day, that m n begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.—Hyperion.

HUMORS OF DUELING.

Some Amtuing Episodes on the Field of Honor. A certain mathematical tutor at Cambridge, who . had been confidentially made the recipient of information to the effect that a graduate and a pupil had about completed preparations for a hostile meeting, sought out the latter and inquired: “What is this all about —why do you fight ?” “Because he gave me the lie, ” frankly and promptly replied the young man. “He said you lied, eh?—well, let him prove it; if he proves it, then you did lie, of coarse; but if he does not prove it, why then, it is he who has lied. Why should you shoot one another?” In the gallery of Dnsenne, one time, a crack shot was affording a good deal of entertainment to himself and others by shattering one after another the puppets set up to be fired at. There was one man present, however, who could not laugh. That man was the proprietor of the puppets. At last they were all down but one—that was Napoleon. The marksman took quick aim, and down went the first consul. The proprietor gave a wild scream, and exclaimed: “You cannot fire as well upon the ground!” “Come out and see!” “Bang!” and down fell the proprietor. “He could fire as well,” groaned the prostrate one. Croquard was not unlike St. Feix, in many respects, although not so gallant and proficient in the use of the sword, and was always without a sous. One day, at the instance of the Count de Chambord, he called upon a contractor and challenged him, at which the latter picked Croquard up and held him under a pump and pumped water on him until he was completely drenched. He fence challenged a linen draper, whose wife informed Croquard that her husband was ill and would not recover before six months. In precisely six months from the day of his first Croquard again called, and was again met at the door by the wife of the linen draper, who invited the nomadic duelist to breakfast. He declined, although hungry, saying that he wanted to fight more than he wanted to eat. “Won’t monsieur try a glass of Madeira?” inquired the diplomatic woman, with well-affected affability. “ifraderia!” ejeculated Croquard, with a smack of his lips like the crack of a whip. “Oui, oui, my dear madame; and your good husband shall remain ill for another six months. ” Croquard once got enraged with an actor named Mouton, and was about to challenge the Thespian, when he remembered that he owed him five francs. “How unlucky, mon Dieu!” he cried, after having unsuccessfully attempted to borrow that amount from others present, “that I should owe a man money whom I want to fight. ”

Saint Beuve once fought a duel holding an umbrella —during the preliminaries of which he said that he had no objection to being killed, but that he was determined not to get wet. When the Duke of Wellington wanted the Tenth Regiment kept at Dublin, he admitted that lots of duels would grow out of such action, “but that’s of no consequence,” he added. Some years ago two inexperienced shooters met in the woods near Paris, and at the first discharge of their pistols a cry went up at a point only a few yards away, and it was quickly discovered that a wellknown attorney had been hit. “If it is only a lawyer,” cried xAe of the combatants, “let us fire again.” During the progress of a duel between Senator William M. Gwin and Representative J. W. McCorkle, in 1853, a poor donkey nearly half a mile away was shot dead —and the donkey was not even a spectate*; Sterne once fought a duel about a goose, and Raleigh one concerning a tavern bill. An Irishman once challenged an Englishman because the latler declared that: anchovies did not grow on trees. A member of Louis the Eighteenth’s bodyguard challenged three men in one day —one because he had stared; at him, another because he had looked at him askew, and the third' on account of his passing by without looking at him at all. A Liverpool sea captain was once challenged, and named harpoons as. weapons. A Frenchman who had been called out named twenty-four loaves of “seige bread”—“we shdll eat against each other,” he said!, “until one of usshall diey for one of us is sure to die.*’ Many who have reeeived challenges have accepted and named horsewhips or cowhides. Two Tennessee editors, who had long quarreled, repaired to the field to fight, but settled their difficulty after firing one shot by agreeing to merge their papers- into one concern and enter into partnership with each other, which they carried, into effect after their return. In 1858 M. de Pene, suParsian journalist, was challenged by a whole regiment. Dumas fought with Gaillardet, near Paris, over a controversy concerning the authorship of “Lai Tour de Neale.” Marshal Ney once challenged every man in a theater. In his fatal duel with Lieut. Cecil, Staokpole, after firing, said, shaking has head and smiling : “By George! I have missed him. ” — B. C. ‘Truman, vm Alta California.

Mr. Lincoln’s Religious Belief.

There has been discussion as to Mr. Lincoln’s religious belief. He was silent as to his own preference among creeds. Prejudice against any particular denomination he did not, entertain.. Allied all his life with Protestant Christianity, he thankfully availed himrself of the services of an eminent Catholic prelate—Archbishop Hughes, ei New York—in a personal mission to England, of great importance, at a crisis when the relations between the two countries were disturbed and threatening. Throughout the whole period of the war he constantly directed the attention of the nation to dependence on God. It may, indeed, be doubted whether he omitted this in a single state paper. In every message to Congress, in every proclamation to the people, he made it prominent. In July, 1863, after the battle of Gettysburg, he called upon the people to give thanks because “it has pleased Almighty God to hearken to the supplication's and prayers of an affiicted people, and to vouchsafe signal victories to the Army and Navy of the United States,” and he asked the people “to render homage to

[ the Divine Majesty and to invoke th v influence of His Holy Spirit to anbdu the anger which has produced and s long sustained a needless and cruel re bellion.” On another occasion, recoun ing the blessings which had come to th Union, he said: “No human counse hath devised, nor hath any mortal ban. worked out, these great things, The are the gracious gifts of the Most Higi God, who, while dealing with us in an ger for our sins, hath nevertheless re membered mercy.” Throughout hi entire official career—attended at a times with exacting duty and painfu responsibility—he never forgot his owi dependence, or the dependence of the people, upon a Higher Power. In his last public address, delivered to an im mense crowd assembled at the Whit. House the 11th of April to congratulate him on the victories of the Union, the President, standing, as he unconsciously was, in the very shadow of death, said, reverently, to his hearers: “In the midst of your joyous expressions He, from whom all blessings flow must first be remembered.” —Blainfa Twenty Years in Congress.

Paddling the Well-water.

A neighbor returning from the summer vacation found the water in his well had become putrid. Of course it was a dead cat. John was sent down to examine. He reported a bad smell, but no cat. Another descent, this time a good light. He bawled up,“l can see every part of the bottom, and all round, and I tell you there ain’t no cat nor nothin’ down here!” A consultation among the neighbors was now held. Two rheumatic old men, leaning on canes and squirting tobaccojuice, enlarged luminously. The universe seemed to be rather their pet theme, but finally they got down to plain work, and explained very clearly how things went on under the ground. They showed by various gestures aud illustrations, how the gases and the substances worked upon each other all up and down and through the various passages and crevices and caverns of the earth, and how sometimes, in spite of everything you could do, the water would turn bad, and then no power on earth could turn it back again. Each voted that this very thing had happened to the neighbor’s well, and that nothing could be done but to fill it up and dig another. When this conclusion had been emphasized by various punchings with their canes in the ground, our blind neighbor, having felt his way to the spot where the committee had just pronounced its verdict, and having only heard the dead-cat theory, enunciated as follows: “The water has turned putrid from stagnation; that’s the dead cat. You stir it up well for two hours, and the water will be just as sweet as ever.” John was sent down to try it, though the old men advised that he should first look up a putrid carcass of some kind, and stir that awhile, to see whether stirring such things would sweeten them. But the man took his paddle down and began. At the end of half an hour, he bawled up, “She’s all right now. Send down your backet and try it.” The water was a little stale, but not bad. Another good stir, and the water was sweet. Since then we have advised the “Movement Cure” in a number of sick or putrid wells and cisterns, and with success.— Dr. Dio Lewis.

Broadcloth an Enemy of Health.

Professor Hamilton, in an address on hygiene, denounced broadcloth as an enemy to- exercise, and therefore to health. He says: “American gentlemen have adopted, as a national costume, a thin, tightfitting black suit of broadcleth. To foreigners- we seem always ts- be in mourning; we travel in black. The priest, the lawyer, the doctor, the literary man, the mechanic, and even the day-laborer, choose always the same black broadcloth, —a style that never ought to have been adopted out of the drawing-room or the pulpit, because it is a feeble and expensive fabric, and be- : cause it ie at the North no protection • against the cold, nor is it any more suitable at the Sr#uth. It is too thin to be warm in winter, and too black to be cool in summer; but especially do we object to.it because the wearers-is always soiling it by exposure. Young gentlemen will not play ball), pitch quoits, or- wrestle, or tumble, or any other similar thing, lest their broadcloth should be offended. They will not go out into the storm, because the- broadcloth will lose its luster if rain falls upon it; they will not run, because they have no confidence in the strength of their broadcloth; they dare not mount a horse or leap a fence, because broadcloth, as everybody knows, is-so faithless. So these young men and these olden- men, these merchants, mechanics, and all, learn to walk, talk. and think soberly and carefully; they seldom venture; even to laugh to the full) extent of theur sides, because of their broadcloth.”

How to Be Pretty.

A tablespnoonful of surphur taken every other naorning for a. week, then omitted threemornings and taken again, will clear the complexion in a couple of months, budt will probabSy make the black specks more numerous for a week or two A mixture of powdered brimstone or sulphur in diluted glycerine,, rubbed on at night, in connection with the other treatment,, will soon cause them to disappear. Wash off carefully in the morning with soap and water in which there is a little ammonia. After this, if the face seems oily, wash it at night with spirits of camphor, reduced with half as much glycerine and a few drops ol ammonia. In the morning bathe the face as before with a little ammonia in it, and after wiping it carefully, sponge it over with camphor and water, and in a short timb the fairness of your skin will delight yourself and surprise your friends. —Lilly Langtry.

Served Throngh the War.

“Oh, yes,” said the tramp, as a tear glistened like a gum drop upon his sunstained face, “I served through the entire war.” After stowing away the comfortable breakfast that was given him he finished the sentence-—*! was a waiter in a Canadian reatawaut.”— Boston Globe*

HUMOR.

TOurt happy day* to farm-Hfe spent] We didn't mind the weather. Bat yoked the wildest steers we had, And tied their tails together. —Newman Independent. An lowa family has a cradle rocked by wind-power. It is unnecessary to add that the children are ready-made Congressmen.— Paris Beacon. , “Oh, yes, it was a horrible situation ! My husband had disappeared for two years and I did not know whether he was living or dead.” “It was, really, horrible!” “dust think, it was impossible for me to marry again!” A good old man up in Epping, N. H., went to prayer meeting the other night, and unwittingly fell asleep. He was called upon to offer prayer, and, being dutifully punched by his better half, bellowed out; “Goldam it, kindle it yourself.” London is building seven new hotels, each with 1,000 rooms. And there are some men so unlucky that if they went to the whole seven of them in the same day, they would be sailed off to the seventh floor and chucked into No. 999, three in a bed and two cots in the room. —Haw key e. Little Harold awoke very early one morning, quite to his mother’s disgust. “Oh, Harold,” she said, “do lie still and go to sleep again.” “Mamma,” called Harold, after some time vainly spent in endeavoring to do what she had bidden him, “I don’t like to go to sleep—l like to fall asleep. ” THREE NEGATIVES. Said I to Chrissle: “Kiss ma Chris," But with indignant emphasis Said she couldn’t. . ’Twas plain my method was remiss. So then I boldly stole a kiss — For wait I wouldn’t. That she did not taka amiss. And no complaint she made, but this, “Oh, Hal—you shouldn’t" —Texas Siftings. Mamma—“Now, Katy shall choose a wedding present herself to send to Cousin Abbie from all these little pieces of statuary. Which one will Katy choose? Some of *these figures of little girls?” Katy (in tears) —“I sha’n’t have any of ’em. There isn’t a single one that has tucks in her skirt. ” Together they were looking over the paper. “Ob, my, how funny!” said she. “What is it?” he asked. “Why, 'here’s an advertisement that says, ‘No reasonable offer refused.’ ” “What’s so odd about that?” “Nothing,” she replied, trying to blush, “only those are my sentiments,” It might be supposed that young men, in seeking an education, would prefer Michigan University over all other institutions of learning, because it has an Angell for a President; but, all the same, Yale College has the preference. The latter has a Professor Beers, and too many students think that beer’s more elevating than angels.—Noi'ristown Herald. A Buffalo janitor kicked a can of nitro-glycerine, and right then, for the first time in his life, became a really active man, inaugurating proceedings by turning a double somersault and knocking out a hodful of mortar and brick with the back of his head at one end of the room. He continued the performance by kicking down the stove, pulling down the chandelier, and plowing up the plaster with his nose. When the nitro-glycerine let the old man sit down and take a rest he looked mournfully at the remnants the fragment of tin that once held the chain lightning, and said to the doctor: “Wal, if that ain’t the quickest-temperedest stuff 1 ever saiw.”— PhiladelpAia Republican.

Pugs Which Are Pampered.

“Hav® you a silver dog collar?” inquired a fashionably dressed young lady as she entered a Washington street store. She bore in her arms a blacknosed pug dog of good proportions, which she deposited carefully on the floor as though he were in danger of breaking, “W ould you like a. collar or a harness ? Harnesses are very fashionable and they cannot slip over the head as collars aare apt to do in» the ease of png dogs. You see the neck is as large! around.as the head, and it is almost/ impossible to keep a collar on.” “Oh, that is delightful,” exclaimed, the young lady as the straps were adjusted. “What is the-price? Only $26.. How clueap.” The money was paid and. girl and dog; went tllieir way rejoicing.. “Doiyou have many such customerai as that?” inquiredtiie reporter. “We;have them constantly,” was the reply.. “Frequently we sell collars foir dogs that are not themselves worth half the price of the-collar. We havefifteen hundred patterns of dog collars, but even at that we frequently have customers who are too fastidious to* be suited from the stock, and we have to make something; to order. The other day- a lady came- in and showed a silver bangle bracelet and wanted a collar made for her just lake it. There is no knowing what a» woman will do when she fairly gets* the dog fever. Why, a young woman earns in here the* other day lugging a dog in her arms, and the* animal had aroaud his neck a collar of satin, ornamented with violets and primroses, hand-painted. One woman has bought at least SIOO worth of dog collars within a year past. On the other hand a sporting man came in the other day -with a fine bird dog, worth! at least SI,OOO, but his collar was not worth sl. It is the same principle as a man carrying a watch worth SSOO with a shoe-string for a chain. Collars are no protection against dog-thieves. They rather increase the liability of theft, especially when the collar is worth S2O and the dog 20 cents.”— Boston Globe.

Evert child should he taught to pay all his debts, and to fulfill all his contracts, exactly in manner, completely in value, punctually at the time. Everything he has borrowed he should be obliged to return uninjured at the time specified, and everything belonging to others which ho has lost he should be required to replace.— Dwight.

Lady Bipon and Lady Hobart, Miss Rye and Miss McPherson have aided, upward of ten thousand men, women, and children to emigrate from England to the colonies or this country.