Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 June 1884 — Page 6

BENEDICTION. BT PKRIC. It was a pleasant summer's day. And Farmer Cone had gone to mill. The house was closed, and all about There was a silence calm and still, Except when Kyser, noble dog, Let out a sullen, vengeful roar; For, be it known, the farmer had Chained Kyser to his cellar floor. And Kyser was a grand old chap. With teeth that were as clasp-knives sharp. And woe betide the caller bold Who neared the farmer’s after dark. But why, you ask, was this damp spot E’er thought of for poor Kyser’s lair. Doubt not, I nrav, the farmer’s wit. There was a cider barrel there. For in that quiet neighborhood The benzine flowed as water free; Bum blossoms were the favorite flowers, And each man in the town “took tea." Now often had the fellows watched The cellar door of Farmer Cone; But ever when the folks were gone They heard the watch-dog’s threat’ning tone. But Ajax Brown this morning had The little cellar window gained, And, peeping closely, he had found Poor Kyser was securely chained. Then, running swlttly back again, His gleeful t»le he told Tom Glugg, And in a trice that cell r held Ajax and Tom and a gallon jug. •Twas vain that Kyser showed hi’ teeth. And filled with growls the sounding cellar, Tom Glugg, he filled the jug full up. While Ajax laughed and coaxed, “Good feller!” Then to the faucet each dry mouth Was fastened for a lengthened pull. And when they left, those three choice friends — Ajax, and Tom, and the jug—were “full." Then stumbling, as they walked, these two Could not even see the dark-brown stone That bordered ■ 11 the half-raised bed Where grew the peas of Farmer Cone. Thus blinded with sour-apple juice, O’er this fell headlong poor '1 om Glugg, Half-smashed his head; but what was worse, To their warm hopes, he'd smashed the jug, Then Ajax’s sorrowing heart ran o’er. “Sad. sad thy loss, my fallen friend; Rise up, Tom Glugg, and mourn with me. Mourn that all jugs must have an end." Then Thomas straightened up his form. With salt tears glittering in his eye; “Ajax," said he, “we always have A funeral, hie, for those that die." “Now, Ajax, hie, you a sermon preach. And I will, hie, to the singing ’tend;" And then they both began to mourn O’er that old jug’s untimely end. And Ajax mumbled o’er some words He called a sermon for the jug. Then “Auld Lang Syne,” with many a "hie,” Was sung by blear-eyed Thomas Glugg. “The benediction now we’ll have; You’ll have to murmur that, hie, Jack," But Ajax, overcome with grief. Was lying flat upon his back. “I won’t,” he said, “Do that yourself!" “What’s thash?” said Tom, all fiery now, And then the benediction came. In shape of Kyser’s hoarse “Bow wow." Up from the cellar dark and dim. All dangling was his parted chain: With blood-red mouth, and sharp white teeth, The faithful watch-dog Kyser came. Brave dog, he scorned a fallen foe, And bounded over Ajax there, While Tom. with great eyes bulging out, Ran off, he knew not how, ,nor where. Poor Tom made an uneven flight, Nor glanced he to that awful rear, Although he felt those teeth so white Through solid flesh and garments tear; Another awful lunge there came. He felt it to the very bone. And then, oh, joy! the old gray nag And genial face of Farmer Cone. “Well, boys,” the farmer laughing cried, When he had seen all that was done; “When I chain Kyser up again I’ll hide myself and see the fun.” But, oh. the benediction fierce, O’er that ill-fated gallon jug, Made cider the most costly drink E’er gurgled by poor Thomas Glugg.

MR. WOPPING'S IDYL.

BY M. C. FARLEY.

There was a sharp rat-a-tat-tat-tat of little red boot-heels flying along the narrow hall, a flutter of streaming white draperies flitting up the dingy stair, an indescribably brilliant and dazzlingly beautiful head of golden hair that, glancing in the sunshine, momentarily rose higher up and higher, until Mr. Wopping actually stood face to face,on the second stair landing, two, story back, with the most entrancingly beautiful little creature the world ever held. Oh, o-o-o-o!” gurgled the beauty. Mr. Wopping was not usually taken with women. On the contrary, he hated them more often than otherwise ; but this stunning little creature—the airiest, the fairiest bit of floating lace and curls and dimples—oh, dear! she altogether, if not quite, took his breath away in spite of him. “God bless my soul!” ejaculated the astonished Mr. Wopping. “You are Mr. Wopping!” asserted a soft, delicious, lute-like voice. The floating draperies, the flying red bootheels, and the dazzling tresses came to a full stop before that gentleman, who, completely paralyzed by this sudden and unexpected vision of transcendental loveliness, lost even the remotest idea of denying his identity—that is, supposing he had wanted to deny it, in the first place. Seeing him stand before her, amazed and speechless, her manner changed. “Mr. Wopping?” queried she, with a etamp of her dear little foot. “At your service, Miss,” gasped Wopping, recovering the use of his tongue. His heart, alas! was now his own no longer. “I am a boarder here at the Ocean House,” said she, imperiously. Mr. Wopping bowed. “And I am told you are a detective.” Mr. Wopping bowed again. “And there was a burglary done in room No. 45 last night.” Once more he bowed. “Boom No. 45 is next to mine, and I am afraid, sir. Do you understand ?” “Perfectly,” gasped Wopping, wiping the’perspiration from his face. “You are afraid of room 45 because it has been ao unfortunate as to be burgled. ” The little beauty stared; then burst out laughing. She looked at him quaintly from her big, soft, blue, innocent eyes. “Oh, fie, Mr. Wopping,” cried she, archly, putting her fairy finger to her lovely red lips. “The room can do me no harm. Of course not. What I fear is, that I shall be burglarized, and I want my room watched. I have some valuable jewels that were poor mamma’s,” here a sigh, and a pathetic look from the big eyes. “And I would not lose them for anything.” “To be sure,” assented Wopping. “My awful papa insisted on my coming to this place for the summer, because it is healthy and cheap. But I am sorry that I came, even if we do have to practice economy. I don’t care to be where there are robbers and things. One might be murdered." She shivered, and the suspicion of a tear stood in her eyes. Mr. Wopping bowed, gravely this time, and with his right hand placed es-

fectively on the left breast pocket of his waistcoat. He had seen this kind of thing done at the theaters, and it always struck him as being decidedly immense. Besides, though Mr. Wopping had been in the secret service some time, he had never before been appealed to for help by such a fascinating, darling little daisy of a girl as this one was. “Do not alarm yourseH unnecessarily,” said he, gallantly. “If the most faithful care on my part can prevent it, your room shall remain undisturbed.” “And the hotel people will be sure to have more guards stationed about the house in future, won’t they?” asked she, anxiously. “It is against my orders to answer that question. ” “Then you may expect another visitation at any moment,” said she, dispairingly. “Lightning doesn’t usually strike twice in the same place,” returned the grandiloquent Wopping; “still I can assure you that for the next month, at least, the house will be well watched. ” “Ansl —Mr. Wopping ” began the beauty, hesitatingly. “You may command me,” said the detective, with a most expressive look. “If—if you’d only sit next me at meals, I’d feel safer.” This with a charming little smile that would have melted a heart of iron. “And if you’ll forgive me for speaking to you—of course I am a stranger—but pa will make it right with you for all your care and trouble, and I’ll be so much obliged.” “Believe me, I am only too glad to be of service to yeu,” cried he, ecstatically. “And here is my card. Papa is a superannuated Presbyterian minister from the West. You have heard of him, perhaps—Mr. Bev. Richardson, of C ,” mentioning a well-known Western city.

Yes, Mr. Wopping had heard of the Rev. Mr. Richardson, and, in fact, knew him very well by hearsay. And he put her card carefully away in his breast-pocket with great impressment. “Fear nothing, Miss Richardson. I will guard you with my life. ” “Thank you. Yow are so kind, and I am so much obliged to you, dear Mr. Wopping.” And, with a radiant smile, the owner of the little red heels, and the floating draperies, and the glancing curls, disappeared from his enraptured vision. Mr. Wopping was fresh from the city. On account of a recent great robbery that had taken place beneath its roof, the proprietors of the Ocean Grove House, a cheap summer resort on the seashore, had seen fit to employ a detective to ferret "out the perpetrators and bring them to justice, and Mr. Wopping, in that capacity, had just been making a tour of the house, “taking the lay of the land,” as it were, at the time Miss Richardson had accosted him.

“Poor little dear,” ejaculated he, as he thought of her unprotected condition —“so young, so beautiful, and so lonely. For the first time in my life I have met the realization of my ideal.” Mi-. Wopping soon saw that the pretty Miss Richardson did not seem to languish for the want of company. Society opened its arms to her with general accord, and he could not help but see that the “dear little Richardson” was the belle of the house. To be sure, however, he felt that he had secured the “inside track,” as it were; for, in obedience to her request, he sat next to her at meals, and in a thousand and one little ways she made him feel that he was the man—par excellence. Mr. Wopping had been at the Ocean House two weeks now, and he was no nearer a solution of the robbery than he had been on the first day. In truth, he was not so near. Time glided along on golden wings. He measured its flight only by remembering the hours spent with the radiant little (Richardson. He was deeply, very deeply in love. The rat-a-tat-tat of her red-heeled shoes set him in a quiver of delight. The chance contact of her floating golden hair filled him with a burning passion. To lie at her feet on the sands and quote Tennyson by the hour was a heavenly delight. He forgot his duties, and his professional zeal seemed to have forsaken him. But if Mr. Wopping found himself dead in love with the pretty Richardson, he knew that twenty other men were in exactly the same fix. Not that Miss Richardson flirted, for she did not. She was discretion itself. But there was a seductive grace about her—a bewildering witchery in motion and smile, in look and tone, that did the business for them beyond all power of' resistance.

And right here, when nobody was expecting such a thing, particularly with a detective in the house, one of the boarders was robbed of S6OO and a diamond pin. This made two robberies now committed inside of six weeks. The guests were indignant, the landlord horrified. Mr. Wopping alone was paralyzed. “Oh, Mr. Wopping,” cried Miss Richardson, with tears in her pretty eyes, as they took their usual morning stroll to the arbor. “You told me yourself that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. What do you think of this?” “I don’t think,” said he, in disgust. “I shall certainly go home to papa after this,” cried she. “Another day in this awful house, where the rooms are burglarized, as these seem to be, will be the death of me. My things are all packed, and I shall go on the afternoon ,train.” “Give me the right to go with you,” said Wopping, catching her lily-like hand. “I haven’t much to offer you, dear Miss Richardson, except a heart that is all your own, and one that has never felt love before it knew you. But I love you, and ask you to be my wife.” “You surprise me, Mr. Wopping, you do, indeed, ” said she, blushing divinely. “But if you really do care for me in that way, I can only refer you to papa; he will be so proud. And as for poverty, I have always been poor ; preachers’ daughters always are, and I shan’t mind poverty if—if shared with At this confession, Mr. Wopping snatched her to his heart. “Darling little girl,” he cried in ecstasy.

“I am sorry to interrupt your litth comedy, my friends,” broke in a grav< voice behind them. “But duty bids me,” and a strong hand laid itself o. Miss Richardson’s shoulder. Wopping glauced up. He beheld hit superior officer. At the first sound of that heavy voic< Miss Richardson had suppressed a cry and now, looking strangely white an still, stood half cowering before then in the grasp of the officer. “What right have you to hold Mis Richardson in that way?” began Mr Wopping, angrily. “She is my be trothed wife, and I bid you to unhand her. ” The officer glanced from one to thf other. A low whistle escaped him. “Your betrothed fiddlesticks, you mean, don’t you? Come now, Wop ping, don’t be a fool. This girl here if a married woman, and her husband if the celebrated cracksman, Tom Reddy. She seems to have played you for all your’re worth, eh?” Wopping glanced at his fiancee. She returned a hard and defiant look, and made a grimace. The childlike expression had gone from her face; the innocence had left her large, soft eyes. “And more than that, Mrs. Reddy here is the burglar who has done the robbing at the Ocean House. I’m surprised, Wopping, that an old man like you would be so easily taken in. ” “Mr. Wopping was interested in poetry—particularly Tennyson’s,” said the ci-devant Miss Richardson, with a mischievous laugh. “Et tu, Brute,” muttered Wopping, with a glance of reproach. “He was doing an idyl,” went on Mrs. Reddy, demurely. “Wopping is an egregious fool,” said the officer, sternly. “Mrs. Reddy would certainly have gotten away this afternoon if we hadn’t have ‘tumbled to the racket’ and caught Reddy at 3 o’clock this morning, just as he was leaving the hotel grounds with the swag.” Mrs. Reddy gave a scream. “Caught Tom, did you say?” cried she, in despair.

“Certainly. We have been trailing film for some time, and caught him this morning, not ten minutes after you gave him the roll of bills and the diamond pin you stole from Brown’s room last night. You went out by way of the transom, you know.” Mr. Wopping sat down on a bench hard by—for they were in the summer house—and groaned. In face ®f all this mass of evidence the scales were rapidly falling from his eyes. “We may occasionally fool Pinkerton’s men, but we never fool the old man himself, do we?” mused Mrs. Reddy, with a doleful sigh, as the policeman marched her off. “By-by, dear love, ” with an airy wave of her white hand to Mr. Wopping. “By-by, dear. I hope to see you again some day, and in any case I refer you to my papa,” with a sly wink at the guardian of the law. It was long enough after this episode in Mr. Whopping’s life ere he could go back on the force with a feeling of anything like lovjs for the vocation. Old offenders—particularly of the female sex—never again tried their arts on him, for the vivid recollection of a certain summer’s idyl makes him hard as adamant, and as unyielding.

The Cave-Men.

The bones and implements of the Cave-men are found in association with remains of the reindeer and bison, the arctic fox, the mammoth, and the woolly rhinoceros. They are found in great abundance in Southern and Central England, in Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland, and in every part of France; but nowhere as yet have their remains been discovered south of the Alps and Pyrenees. A diligent exploration of the Pleistocene caves of England and France, during the past twenty years, has thrown some light upon their mode of life. Not a trace of pottery has been found anywhere associated with their remains, so that it is quite clear that the Cave-men did not make earthenware vessels. Burned clay is a peculiarly indestructible material, and where it has once been in existence it is sure to leave plentiful traces of itself, Meat was baked in the caves by contact with hot stones, or roasted before the blazing fire. Fire may have been obtained by friction between two pieces of wood, or between bits oT flint and iron pyrites. Clothes were made of the furs of bisons, reindeer, bears, and other animals, rudely sewn together with threads of reindeer sinew. Even long fur gloves were used, and necklaces of shells and of bears’ and lions' teeth. The stone tools and weapons were far finer in appearance than those of the Riverdrift men, though they were still chipped and not ground. They made borers’ and saws as well as spears and arrow-heads; and besides these stone implements they used spears and arrows headed with bone, and daggers of reindeer antler. The reindeer, which thus supplied them with clothes and weapons, was also slain for food; and, besides, they slew whales and seals on the coast of the Bay of Biscay, and in the rivers they speared salmon, trout, and pike. They also appear to have eaten, as well as to have been eaten by, the cave-lion and cave-bear. Many details of their life are preserved to us through their extraordinary taste for engraving and darving. Sketches of reindeer, mammoths, horses, cave-bears, pike, and seals, and hunting scenes have been found by the hundred, incised upon antlers or bones, or sometimes upon stone; and the artistic skill which they show is really astonishing. Most savages can madd rude drawings of objects in which they feel a familiar interest, but such drawings are usually excessively grotesque, like a child’s attempt to depict a man as a sort of figure eight, with four straight lines standing forth from the lower half to represent the arms and legs. But the Cave-men, ’with a piece of sharp-pointed flint, would engrave on a reindeer antler an outline of a urus so accurately that it can be clearly distinguished from an ox or a bison. And their drawings are remarkable not only for their accuracy, but often equally so for the taste and vigor with which the subject is treated. —Atlantic Monthly.

MEXICO’S GRAND PALACE.

Where Thousands of Human Victims Were Slaughtered—Maximilian's Carriage of State—A National Portrait Gallery. The “Palacio Del Gobemo” of republican Mexico was built by its kingly oppressors. This ’ magnificent structure, occupying an entire square 675 feet in length, built around half a dozen interior patios, or open courts, was commenced by the Aztecs, and finished by Cortez and his Spanish viceroyal successors. It is situated in the east side of the square, which is south of the cathedral. This square is the most beautiful in the city, being laid out after the European fashion, ornamented with flowering shrubs and eucalyptus trees, and adorned with statues by the unfortunate Carlotta. This is also the place where the famous Teocali, or sacred place of the Aztecs, was situated, and where at least twenty thousand human victims were annually slaughtered. Passing in at the central entrance of this building, where dusky soldiers were walking their beats, and many others “off duty” were lounging around, giving it more the appearance of a monarchical palace than a republican capitol, we saw before us the central patio, or court. It is about one hundred feet square, surrounded by large, heavy stone pillars, thirty feet high, supporting on its round-headed arches a magnificent balcony. This also being faced with arches, produces a very imposing aspect. We were introduced to the officer of the day, who kindly showed us the interesting parts of the palace. An opportunity was here afforded us for seeing Maximilian’s carriage of state, concerning the magnificence of which so much has been said. As the guard qpened a heavily locked door, our eyes fell upon a carriage of great splendor, at least ten feet high and twenty feet long, ornamented with rich gildings*covering all the wood work, figures of cherubs, arms of Mexico, surmounted by heavy silver work and eight very large panels of plate glass. These are thick enough to deflect a rifle ball not striking it perpendicularly, and even then the only danger would be from the pieces of broken glass. The inside was trimmed with rich white damask and silver braid. This elegant carriage, drawn along the paseo, with its prancing steeds, with uniformed drivers, liveried footmen, and the royal personages clad in rich robes of state, was designed to impress the lovers of parade and show. A magnificent flight of stone stairs, twelve feet wide, leads up from the patio to the main rooms in the second story. Going up this stairway we find the offices of the republic. The President and the Secretaries of the Army and Navy have offices here. Here also is the hall of the Senate, and above, on the roof, the central meteorological observatory, with the best telescope in Mexico.

We passed through several anterooms in which were huge marble vases, exquisite in workmanship, with the arms of Mexico upon them. This coat-of-arms, which was also painted on the window-shades, consists of an eagle with extended wings sitting on a cactus plant and contending with a serpent. It is the old symbol of the Aztecs. We then came to the Ambassadors’ Hall, three hundred feet long and twenty-five wide. This room is lighted by fifty candelabra, and six very large chandeliers covered with crystal pendants. It is also arranged so as to be capable of division into smaller rooms by means of crimson curtains. Mexico has sought to impress its own history on its foreign ambassadors by putting on the walls of this pantheon the portraits of its republican heroes. First comes Hidalgo, an insurgent priest, who was killed while endeavoring to secure the liberty of Mexico. His portrait is accompanied by that of another priest, Morales; then Guerrero; Iturbide, who attempted to become Emperor; Juarez, the famous Indian President; Diaz, who is likely to become President again next year; Mina Arista, who was prominent in the negotiations that brought the war with the United States to a close; and, lastly, another priest, named Matamoras. One American has been admitted to this hall—namely, Washington. In this hall is a large painting, twenty-seven feet long, showing the battle of Puebla, on the Cince de Mayo, when the Mexicans defeated the French. It is to be remembered that in this battle, when the national existence was at stake, the Mexicans, especially the Indians, fought with more courage than ever before. At one side of this painting is a bust of Gen. Largoroza, the leader of the Mexicans in this battle.

Thus this imposing room is designed to preserve the important facts and factors of the history of the republic, to immortalize its Mexican heroes, to stimulate patriotism, and insure the devotion of all observers to the future welfare of the state.— Cor. Denver News.

Why He Left Pennsylvania.

“I farmed it up in the mountains of Pennsylwany for fifteen years,” said a communicative West-bound passenger, “and useter think nothin’ could ever git me to leave the old place. It seemed ez ’twas the only place I could ever live an’ be raally satisfied. Though I’m a rough man in my speech, an’ my close ain’t o’ the finest, stranger, I try to be a Christian, an’ wan ter live and die one. But t’other day somethin’ happened w’ich caused me to make up my mind thet no man can live a Christian on a meountain fa m. Ye see, a neighbor o’ mine—Jenkins was his name—Josh Jenkins—what I wasted onct in a hoss trade, he flared up an’ tried to hev me turned out o’ church, an’ behaved so dod-rotten mean thet we had areg’lar ole Pennsylwany quarrel of it. Gnct he ’cused me of trespassin’ on his farm right afore all the church members, when I rose an’ made my soleumn decleration thet es I waz ever after seen on his land they could turn me out of church ez a liar an’ wicked man. Well, ’bout three weeks ago what should happen but one day when I wuz a-walkin’ on my own farm, attendin’ strickly ter my own affairs, an’ ihinkin’ how sinful I Brother Jenkins wuz to bear me so much ill-will, I stubbed me toe on a

dod-rotten stun an' tell clean off my farm onto ole Jenkinses, knockin’ down ’bout a rod of his fence. An’ the worst on it wuz that led-headed scarecrow saw me, and hed me ’rested for trespass an’ m’licious ’struction of property, an’ fined $5 an’ costs. I then concluded no true Christian could live on a Pennsylwany mountain-side farm, an’ here’s me an’ my hull family bound for Dakoty. Got any fine-cut. stranger?”— Chicago Herald.

Recreations of Men of Letters.

Wordsworth composed his verses while walking, carried them in his memory, and got his wife or daughter to write them down on his return. When a visitor at Rydal Mount asked to see the poet’s study, the maid is reported to have shown him to a little handfu? jof books lying about on the table, sofa, and shelves, and to have remarked : “This is the master’s library, where he keaps his books, but,” returning to the door, “his study is out of doors,” whereupon she curtsied the visitor into the garden again. Landor also used to oompose while walking, and therefore always preferred to walk alone. Buckle walked every morning for a quarter of an hour before breakfast, and said that having adopted this custom upon medical advice, it had become necessary. “Heat or cold, sunshine or rain, made no difference to him, either for that mornmg stroll or for the afternoon walk, which had its appointed time and length, and which he would rarely allow himself to curtail, either for business or for visits. ” Equally careful was Longfellow in the preservation of his health. He persisted in outdoor exercise, even when the weather was the reverse of pleasant. Both in the spring and autumn, when raw and blustering winds prevailed, he never omitted his daily walk, though he might go no further than the bounds of his own garden. Darwin was at one time fond of horseback etcefcise, but after the death of his favorite horse, some ten or twelve years ago, he never rode again, but preferred to walk round his garden, or along the pleasant foot-paths through the lovely fields of Kent.

Walking was Macaulay’s favorite recreation, but, like Leigh Hunt, he seems to have been unable to sever himself from his books. He once said that he would like nothing so well as to bury himself in some great library, and never pass a walking hour without a book before him. Certainly he could never walk without his book. “He walked about London reading; he roamed through the lanes of Surrey reading, and even the new and surprising spectacle of the sea—so suggestive of brooding thought—could not seduce him from his books.” Macaulay reminds us of Thirwall, who, whether eating, walking, or riding, was never to be seen without a book. The favorite recreation of Charles Dickens was walking. By day, Prof. Ward points out, Dickens found in the London thoroughfares, stimulative variety ; and by night, in seasons of intellectual excitement, he found in the same streets the refreshment of isolation among crowds. “But the walks he loved best were long stretches on the cliffs, or across the downs by the sea, where, following the track of his ‘breathers,’ one half expects to meet him coming along against the wind at four and a half miles an hour, the very embodiment of energy, and brimfull of life.”

Carlyle usually took a vigorous walk of several miles, enough to get himself into a glow, before he commenced the day’s labor. Whether the spirit moved him or not, he entered his workshop at 10, toiled until 3, when he answered his letters, saw friends, read, and sometimes had a second walk. Victor Hugo loves to ride outside an omnibus. Carlyle was fond of riding inside. Apparently, neither walking in the streets nor riding in a rickety, bone-shaking omnibus aided Carlyle’s digestion; for a more dyspeptic and ill-natured author never breathed. It was he who called Charles Lamb and Mary a “very sorry pair of phenomena,” and pronounced his talk “contemptibly small, indicating wondrous ignorance and shallowness.” Never did men of such dissimilar tastes meet before; but they had one taste in common, and that was walking, for which Lamb confessed a restless impulse. How he loved London! Though he liked to pluck buttercups and daisies at times in the country, his sympathies were entirely with London. Like Dr. Johnson, he believed that when a man was tired of London he was tired of life, and he seems never to have grown weary of sounding the praises of that wonderful city, “London, whose dirtiest arab-frequented alley, and her low-est-bowing tradesman,” he told Wordsworth, he “would not exchange for Skiddaw and Halvellyn, James Walter, and the parson in the bargain. ” He loved not only the print-shops, the theaters, the bookstalls, but the crowds of human faces. “The wonder of these sights, ” he says, “impels me into nightwalks about her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the motley Strand from fullness of joy at so much life.”— 'All the Year Round.

He Had Tried It.

Two Rockland citizens were toddling up street, and the close and earnest manner with which they were seen to be in conversation clearly betokened that they were exchanging their experiences with dyspepsia. “And did you ever try the hot-water cure?” asked the thin man, as they paused at the melancholy man’s gate. “Did I?” repeated the melancholy man, in a tone of sarcasm; “well, I should say I did. Why, I’ve been married fourteen years.— Rockland Courier.

A Sportsman Who Loved His Dog.

A little child who was playing near a bonfire suddenly tripped and fell into the flames. A sportsman happened to be passing, and his high-bred dog jumped into the flames and pulled the child out. The frantic mother came swooping down from the house screaming: “Is he hurt ? Is he hurt ?” “Dang it, yes, ma’am!” exclaimed the sportsman, who waived at the spot just before she did;w*don’i you see the feathering is all burnt off his tail?”

HUMOR.

Ranks high—old butter. A shell race—oysters. Food for thought--fijh. What is laughter? asks a scientist. It is the sound that you hear when your hat blows off. A New Yobk man shot himself because he couldn’t sleep. He should have shot the cat.— Boston Post. Rural hospitality: Do take some more of the vegetables, Mr. Blood, for they go to the pigs any way.— Harvard Lampoon. “I have a great sole for music,” remarked a gentleman with squeaky boots, who came late to the concert. The usher put him out.— Peck’s Sun. “In the sprint;, a livelier Iris Comes upon the burnished dove; In the spring, the young man’s fancy Lightly turns to thoughts of love.* In the spring, the politician Takes the darky in his pew; But the next day after election How the darkey smells! Oh, phew! —Pans Beacon. “And ’ow about the performers at my lady’s concert Wednesday next?” “O, it’s all right, Sir Gorgius I I’ve got you six first violins, four second violins, and-—” “Second violins be hanged! II ’ave none but the first fiddles performing in my ’ousel”—London Punch. Little Rudolph one day begged an invitation to dinner at the house of a little friend with whom he had been playing during the morning. At the table his hostess anxiously inquired: “Rudolph, can you cut your own meat ?” “Humph,” said Rudolph, who was sawing away, “can’t I ? I’ve cut up a great deal tougher meat than this at home.” —Harper’s Bazar.

Slander and Libel.

To say injurious and untrue things of another is slander. A person who suffers such an injury may bring an action against the person who slandered him and recover damages for his loss of character and reputation. To charge a person with having coinmitted a crime is slander. FoT example, a man who says that his neighbor has committed murder or burglary may be sued for it. In England it is no slander to accuse a person of having committed a trifling offense. To say of another, “He is a common beggar and fortune-teller,” does not render the person liable there. In the United States, however, such words are held to be slanderous, because they bring disgrace upon the person of whom they are spoken. The following are a few accusations of crime that have been decided to be slanderous: “He is a convict, and has been in the penitentiary.” “He was arraigned for stealing hogs, and if he had not made good friends, it would have gone hard with him. ” “He is a knave and a rascal.” “I will .venture anything he has stolen my book.” “You swore falsely at the trial of your brother John.”

To say of a person that he has a disgusting and contagious disease, for example, the leprosy or the plague, is a slander. Statements such as these have a tendency to drive a person from all pleasant society. Another form of slander is to charge a person with misconduct in his business. To say of a tradesman that in carrying on his business he is a swindler, is a slander. A person who accuses a clergyman of drunkenness, or a tradesman of keeping a bad place of resort, must pay damages if he is sued, for it. The public will have nothing to do with those who do not conduct themselves properly. It is only fair that those who are wrongfully accused should be able to make the slanderer pay the loss. A slanderous statement made in writ* ing, or printed, or a picture calculated to bring a person into public contempt and ridicule, is a libel. A malicious picture showing a person’s physical defects is libelous. No person has a right to parade the misfortunes of others before the public. There is no slander when a statement, however malicious, is true. The truth is not slander. But in some cases the truth when written or printed, is a libel. In certain cases, statements are privileged. Lawyers, while arguing a case, have a right to make any statements that bear upon it. Jurymen and witnesses are also protected so long as they act under the belief that they are doing their duty. Members of Congress and other legislative bodies may say what they please while on duty in the place where they meet. This right was given them in former times, to prevent jealous kings from punishing members of Parliament who did their duty. Candidates for public office may be criticised freely. The people have a right to know, everything about those who ask for their votes. In all cases of slander and libel, the statements must have been published; that is, made to a person other than the one who seeks damages. It is not slander to make injurious statements of a person to his face, when no one else is within hearing.

Took Things Easy.

San Francisco exchange: “Is it possible!” exclaimed the new chaplain to the worst thief in the penitentiary. “Are you fifty-two years old? My unfortunate friend, you don’t look thirty!” “No,” replied the thief, humbly. “I don’t show my age, but that is because I take things so easy.” And the good chaplain told him that was right; that care and worry made men old faster than hard work. Pbede is never more offensive than when it condescends to be civil; whereas, vanity, when it forgets itself, naturally assumes good-humor.—Cum-berland. A sample of black pepper analysis by a New York chemist was found to consist entirely of adulterations, without an iota of pepper in it. A Kansas City paper' claims that that city is the home or headquarters of ranchmen who have $21,830,000 in cattle and land. To wait upon the seventy-six Senators there are 242 employes, not counting police, watchmen, and librarians. -