Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 December 1884 — Page 6

A TRUE STOKT. BY ABBE KBfflK. “miere'B the baby, grandmamma!” The sweet young mother calls From her work in the cosy kitchen. With its dainty whitewashed walls. And grandma leaves her knitting, And looks for her all around. But not a trace of baby dear Can anywhere be found. Ho sound of its merry prattle. No gleam of i s sunny hair, No patter of tiny footsteps. No sien of it anywhere. All through the house and garden, Far out into the field. They search each nook and corner, but nothing is revealed. And the mother’s face grew pallid; Grandmamma’s eyes grew dim; The father's gone to the village, No use to look for him. And the baby’s lost! "Where’s Rover?” The mother chanced to think Of the old well in the orchard Where the cattle used to drink. “Where's Rover? I know he’d find her! Rover!” In vain they call. They hurry away to the orchard, And there by the moss-grown wall, Close to the well, lies Rover, Holding to baby's dress; fihe was leaning over the well’s edge In perfect fearlessness! fihe stretched her little arms down. But Rover held her fast. And never seemed to mind the kicks The tiny bare feet cast 80 spitefully upon him, But wagged his tail instead, To greet the frightened searchers, While naughty baby said: “Dere's a 'ittle dirl in the ’ater; She’s dnst as big as me; Mamma. I wan’t to help her out, And take her home to tea, But Rover, he won’t let me, And I don't love him. Go Away you naughty Rover! Oh! why are you crying so?” The mother kissed her, saying: "My darling, understand, Good Royer saved your life, my dear— And, see, he licks your hand! Kiss Rover.” Baby struck him, But grandma understoo i; She said: “It’s hard to thank the friend Who thwarts us for our good.” — Baldwin's Monthly.

Mr. GILFIL'S MANEUVER.

BY M. C. FARLEY.

It was a regular crush. Not one of the “dear five hundred” had sent an excuse, but, to the last man and the last woman, had put in an appearance. And the result was something unprecedented, even to habitual party-goers. Mr. Gilfil, Junior, just returned from a two years’ absence in Europe, immediately voted the whole thing a “deuced bore, ” as he leisurely ascended the broad marble steps and made his way to the gentlemen’s dressing-room. A man in siting hastened to his assistance. “I am all right, am I not?” asked Mr. Gilfil, languidly. “Right as a trivet, sir,” said the valet, respectfully, his eye resting approvingly upon the tall and well-built figure, attired in irreproachable evening costume;. “but if your hooka, sir, was 'lowered a trifle to the left ” He finished the sentence by hastily adjusting the spray of moss rosebuds in the required position. _ Mr. Gilfil was watching the operation critically in the long mirror. “Aw! yes, thank you,” said he, carelessly running his white fingers through his perfumed locks. “That is decidedly bettau. Here’s a coin for you, my man.”

He slipped a silver piece into the valet’s willing palm, and, taking one more survey of liis appearance in the. mirror, and evidently satified with the reflection that he saw there, turned \ himself slowly about, and languidly drifted down the staircase. Mr. Gilfil was very late—being, in fact, the last Suest to arrive, but there is nothing etrimental in being late at a swell reception; indeed, no. Mr. Gilfil had not mingled in the best English society to W.O purpose during his long sojourn and he was much too well Aware of his own importance in the fashionable to be anything -else than chary in the bestowal of his ; presence upon society, now that he had returned to his native land. His detractors—and he had not been at home two hours ere he found some—declared behind his back, and under their breath, that Mr. Gilfil hid come back to America so changed that in manners and aphe was more English than the iglish were themselves. And, to the casual observer, this seemed to be so; for there was the inevitable English whisker—the incomJnrehensible English contempt for the etter “r,” and a predominance of hideous English plaid in the extensive Wardrobe. And, as if to crown the whole, over the curious defection of ■speech, the objectionable whisker, and the hateful clothes, worse than all of them combined was the cold, supreme, chilling English indifference of manner that now seemed to be one of the new characteristics of the returned traveler.

But Mr. Gilfil’s traducers unjustly Accused him. Down under the crust of bis English clothes and his English manners, smoldered the inextinguishable love of home and native land, and, it occasion had re juired, Mr. Gilfil oould and would have hurrahed for Uncle Sam and brave old “Yankee Doodle” as lustily as any of them. Mr. Gilfil had been introduced to English society by Lord Eandolph •Churchill, and the said society had given him a cordial reception. But while he had hobnobbed with counts And countesses, and lords and ladies, he had at heart remained faithful to Yankee traditions, and proved his faithfulness by falling in love with a fair countryman, whqm he met while on a little tour in Belgium. An ogre of a guardian had suddenly Appeared upon the scene, however, and crudely nipped Mr. Gilfil's love affibr tin the bud, by disappearing with the young lady. The disappointed lover "had made many futile efforts to trace •them; but at last desisted, and, rather 4ired of everything—his British friends included —had turned his back upon them and come home. The first thing that met him upon ids return, was an invitation to the JftacCabe reception, and, much against his will, he had dressed and found his way to the McCabe mansion. He loitered on the magnificent staircase, looking down at the surging tide of humanity, as it drifted beneath him, the gleaming jewels, the shimmering nilks,

the beautiful flowers, all combining to make a picture no artist could look upon and fail to remember. Mr. Gilfil gradually reached the bottom steps. As he did so, a tall, fair girl, in white silk and pearls, passed h m by, leaning on the arm of a greyhaired veteran in a General’s uniform. “Avis.” With difficulty Mr. Gilfil repressed the exclamation that was upon his lips; as it it was, he hurried after her.

Then it occurred to him suddenly that he had not yet paid his devoirs to his hostess, and he listened, as in a dream, to the voice of the footman announcing his name. The MacCabes were very particular friends of his, and Mrs. McCabe, a pretty, fashionable woman of two-and-thirty, immediately took possession of him. “Bad boy,” said she, playfully tapping his shoulder with her fan. “Where have you kept yourself, and why are you so late V ” “Don’t scold,” said young Gilfil, languidly, taking hold of the pearl and gold tablets swinging at her wrist. “My dear Mrs. MacCabe, may I have a dawnce? ” “Two of them,” returned his amiable hostess. Mr. Gilfil immediately put himself down for a couple of waltzes and a redowa. Mrs. MacCabe consulted her tablets as he dropped them. She looked pleased. “Then you haven’t forgotten,” said she, laughing softly, as her quick eye took in the dances lie had marked opposite his name.

“Naw,” returned Mr. Gilfil, easily, “it is is not possible to forget the fact that you are one of the most elegant dawncers in America. And my preference is for round dawnces, if you remember.” Hft big blue-gray eyes were roving restlessly over the sea of faces about him, as if in search of some particular one, that he did not find. “Fatterer!” At that instant the band broke into a burst of entrancing melody. Unconsciously Mrs. McCabe’s foot beat time to the music. “The Cornflower, is it not? and our waltz, if I am not mistaken,” said Gilfil, claiming her hand. Mrs. McCabe was an admirable dancer; ditto Mr. Gilfil; and they were soon the “observed of all observers,” as they went circling over the polished floor.

The tall, fair young girl in the pea ls and white silk gown, who was still leaning on the arm of the grayhaired gentleman in the general’s uniform, stood watching the dancers from a shadowy alcove. “Who's the gentleman with Mrs. MacCabe, Avis?” growled the veteran, in a deep undertone. “I think he is a Mr. Gilfil, papa,” said Avis, her fair face flushing slightly. “Not that d d English snob you met in Belgium?” “I am told he is an American, papa.” “English or American, Avis, a snob’s a snob, nothing more nor less,” retorted the disgruntled General, savagely. “And by the holy nose of Moses, lie won’t be allowed to come monkeying around you.” “No, papa,” said Avis, faintly. “I haven’t the pleasure of his acquaintance, and am not dying to have it either. I’ve heard of him, and hearsay evidence is enough for me, and for you, too, Avis. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Miss Avis had turned quite white, and unconsciously began pulling her bouquet to pieces. “I’m dead against snobs. English snobs are bad enough, but American snobs are fifty per cent, worse, and they shan’t come hanging about you, my dear. You are my only daughter, and I’ll have a son-in-law to my notion, or I won’t have any. No American Mr. Gilfils, with patent manners and patent English garments, can aspire to your hand, Avis.”

“Why do you hate him so, papa? He saved my life, dou’t you remember?” “Pah! I’ve heard the particulars of the whole affair, and for a well-trained Yankee girl I must say, Avis, that j|ou disgraced your countrywomen. Any girl could have waded from that creek unaided. Saved—pah!” Miss Avis unconsciously made a picture as she stood there looking like a tall, white lily against the dark velvet draperies behind her. Mr. Gilfil’s roving glance suddenly spied her. “Would you mind telling me who the tall party is in the uniform there by that lovely girl ?” asked he of his partner as they ceased circling about the room and leisurely approached the refreshment salon.

“Gen. Winfield; the lady is his only daughter. Shall I introduce you?” “Naw,” said Gilfil, laughing. “I fawncy the pleasure would not be mutual ; that is, not agreeable to the other gentleman. As to the lady, I met her in Belgium. ”

Mr. Gilfil looked expressively into his companion’s eyes and tapped his left breast significantly. “You are not serious,” said Mrs. MacCabe, smothering a laugh. “Never more so in my life,” returned Mr. Gilfil quietly, “and we were getting on famously when that odious old general came swooping down upon us from some unknown corner of the earth and spirited Avis away.” “He is determined Avis shall marry a man who knows how to work. He took you for an Englishman, and he hates the English like poison. You may depend, Mr. Gilfil, that nobody but a horny-handed son of toil will be permitted to marry the General’s daughter.” Mr. Gilfil’s large, languid, blue gray eyes rested for a moment upon his companion’s own. “I would be willing to wager a good round sum, that I’ll officiate yet as the General’s son-in-law,” said he, softly. * • * *• *

Gen. Winfield rose one morning, not long after, feeling very much out of sorts. * He was a plain ffian and lived in a quiet manner, abhoring affectation and snobbery of any sort; but for some reason he had re aified in his service for years a faithful old man, who served him by turns, and as occasion required,

as valet, coachman, gardener, and companion as well. But this paragon was gone. Quite unexpectedly Tibbs had received a letter frpm a lawyer, setting forth the fact that a snug legacy had been left to him, and forthwith Tibbs excused himself from the General’s service, and set up for a gentleman on his own account.

The General waxed wroth at this step on Tibbs’ part. “I wouldn t have thought it of Tibbs, the ungrateful scamp, ” cried the irritable old veteran, “but I'll be even with him—l’ll get me another man.” He advertised in the Daily Times, and no sooner had he done so than he repented, it for it seemed as if every able-bodied man in the country was in starch of that particular situation. “Now. then,” said the General to the score or so of men who appeared before him, “I want a sort of general purpose man, and I shan’t hire any one who cannot drive my coach in good shape round the square. ” Twenty voices vociferated the proficiency of their owners as first-class whips. “lie must be a good driver, and a good reader, and possess a knowledge of the standard poets. I adore poetry, particularly Homer’s. Stand out, now, all you who have read Homer.” Barely one responded. “By the Lo d Harry, only one,” roared the General; “and perhaps you are shamming. I’ll test your knowledge. Who was PeDelope, tell me that?” A tall, English-appearing young fellow, who was the one admitting a knowledge of Homer’s works, answered: “The wife of Ulysses.” “And Telemachus?” “The child of the Trojan hero.” “You can drive?” “Like Jehu.” “Good. Have you references?” “In my pocket. ” “By Jove! I guess you’ll do. And that reminds me—who was Jove?” “It has been insinuated that he was a heathen god.” “The rest of you may go,” cried the General, waving his hand in dismissal to the disappointed crowd. “This is the man for me. ”

The General led the way to the breakfast-room. The mail had just been brought in, and Avia sat carelessly look tig it over. “Avis,” cried the Veteran, “this is my new man, and I believe he’s a treasure. What is your name—l forgot to ask it before?” “Tawrnus.” Avis started suddenly at the sound of the voice, and glanced at the new arrival, the color coming and going in her face. “Thomas! Very well, Thomas, you may begin your duties by reading the letters to me this morning.” Thomas darted a quick and expressive glauco at the General’s daughter, and o2iened the correspondence. It was a miscellaneous lot. There was a dun from the hatter, likewise one from the butcher, and a long begging letter from the Chairman of a political committee; a couple of pithy communications from an old army chum of the General’s; and, last .of all, a thick, squai’e envelope, directed in a scrawling hand, and stamped with a coat-of-arms. The General listened to this communication in blank amazement.

“What in the d—euee do I hear? Bead that again, Thomas!” roared he. Thomas looked for a moment over the top of the sheet at the General’s daughter, who had grown as red as a rose, and read again: Gkn. Winfikld; Have I your permission to pay my addresses to your daughter.' I made her acquaintance In Belgium a year ago, and I find that time has only made her ima,e dearer to me. My lortune Is ample, and I can refer you to my solicitors, Messrs. Beale & Beale, who will answer any question you may like to ask concerning me. Yours, hoping for a speedy reply, Raymond T. Gilfil, Jn. The General was black with passion. “Thomas!” “Yes, sir.”

“Do you see the tongs yonder?” “Plainly.” “Well, sir, pick that letter up with those tongs and put it on the coals in the grate there; at once, sir!” Thomas consigned the offending missive to the flames. “Old fool,” he muttered, as the letter blazed up in his face, “a cantankerous old fool!” “What’s that?” roared the General. “Cool, sir; the impudence of the thing, yon know; very cool.” “Oh, very well! Now then, Thomas?” “I hear you.” “If this d d Mr. Gilfil dares to present himself at my door I am not at home to him. " “No?” “If he asks for Miss Avis, you are to tell him that Miss Avis is out; and, if you will punctuate your statement by kicking him off the doorsteps, you’ll not only place me under great personal obligations, but you will earn a * tenner ’ at the same time. ”

A week passed by. The General was infatuated with his new man, and blessed the day that Tibbs left his service to set up as an ornament to society. Tibbs had been well enough in his day, and on compulsion had been known to read Homer, but Tibbs could not be compared with Thomas. Besides in some things Tibbs was coarse. He had an elderly habit of dropping off to sleep at unexpected times, and a beastly snore that was certainly very trying to a person of the General’s temperament. Thomas, on the contrary, was a gentleman with a gentleman’s refined taste, Moreover, he was a scholar, and had Homer at his tongue’s end, and he delighted in reciting whole pages of the Odyssey to the enthusiastic old soldier, who, in listening to the burning story of the Hellenic wars, seemed to fight his own battles over again. In the second week of Thomas’ advent, the Gen#al was taken with an attack of malaria, and if the “new man” had seemed a treasure before, the veteran found him invaluable now. No son could have tended a beloved father more tenderly than Thomas tended the battered old soldier.

“By gad,” e.aculated the patient, one day, as he found himself convalescent aDd sitting up once more in his favorite chair by the fire, “Thomas, I don’t un-

derstand how a man with your attainments is contented to occupy an inferior position. By gad, sir, you are an ornament to the best society, if you could only realize it.” “In ray time, sir, I have mingled in the best society,” returned Thomas, quietly. “I believe yon, by gad, I do, and as sure as my name is Winfield, you shall again.” “The best society is something of a bore at times. ”

“There’s nothing truer; still it’s a good thing for a man to have an entree in what the world is pleased to call ‘aristocratic circles.’ I suppose you lost your fortune and your friends forsook you, as a natural consequence. But you’ll find a friend in me, by gad; a friend in foul weather as well as fair. There is my hijnd on that. I always wanted a son, and never had one; but you shall be that son.” “Thank yon. I appreciate your kindness. My fortune, however, is still my own, and it is not from poverty that I am in my present situation.” The General was in the act of spreading his handkerchief over his face, preparatory to taking a nap. He paused in the operation and stared amazedly at his man.

. “Not poverty!” said he, in intense surprise. “Then what on earth was your reason, if I may ask ?” “Before I tell you my motive in assuming this position, I want to remind you of what you said a little while ago.” “Remind nothing,” cried the General ; “have no fear. I shan’t go back on my promise, for I fancy that I know an honest man when I see him. My word is as good as my bond, so proceed.” . “You were so bitterly opposed to me that, as I was fully determined upon it, I have been forced to resort to strategy in order to make your acquaintance.” “Stop! ” roared the warrior, waving his handkerchief frantically. “Call Avis.”

“I’m here, papa,” said that young lady, coming out from behind a curtain. “Thomas, you’ve cheated me,” cried the General, with some heat. “Avis, who is this man ? ” “ Oh, papa! ” faltered Avis, deprecatingly. “Speak!” “He is—is Mr. Gilfil.” “P-r-e-c-i-s-e-l-y,” grunted the General; “why in the deuce didn’t I recognize him in the first place ? I saw him at the McCabe reception.” He studied Thomas’ face for a moment. “I know the reason,” he cried; “Mr. Gilfil, where is that abominable English whisker that you wore at that party ?” Mr. Gilfil rubbed his hand over his smoothly shaven face. “That whisker is one of the sacrifices I made upon the shrine of success,” said he, meekly. The General looked askance from one to the other.

“You’re a pair of ’em,” said he, with withering sarcasm; “a pair of ’em, I must say.” With that he shook out the folds of his red bandana,, and, spreading it over his lace, composed himself to sleep. Mr. Gilfil sat down upon one side cf the doughty warrior, and motioned to Avis to sit down upon the other, where they quietly waited for him to awake. It was not long. The bandana suddenly dropped to the floor, disclosing a grinning, rubicund countenance.

“Thomas,” cried the General, briskly. “Yes, sir.” “If Mr. Gilfil should happen to call at any time, tell him that Gen. Winfield is in, and will be happy to see him,” “I will, sir, and thank you.” “And if he should inquire for Miss Avis, you are to tell him that Miss Avis is in the parlor, and she will be de-lighted—mark that now—de-lighted to receive the gentleman.”

“I am to understand from this—” began Mr. Gilfil, with some agitation. “That the best of success attends Mr. Gilfil’s maneuver,” interrupted the General, blandly. “And you may step round and notify Mr. Gilfil’s solicitors to confer with my lawyer at once; we will arrange the preliminaries for the marriage * settlements without delay.”

Two Curious Needles.

Girls, we are afraid, don’t like sewing quite as well as they ought to. It is so much easier to ask mother to do what is needed than to do it themselves. And many mothers, unfortunately, think it takes less time and trouble to do the work than to teach their daughters to do it. But the girls may he interested in reading about some curious needles, if they are not obliged to use them: The King of Prussia recently visited a needle manufactory in his kingdom, in order to see what machinery, with the human hand, could produce. He was shown a number of superfine needles, thousands of which together did not weigh half an ounce, and marveled how such minute oejects could be pierced with an eye. But he was to see that in this respect something still finer and more perfect could be created. The borer, that is, the workman whose business it is to bore the eyes iu these needles, asked for a hair from the monarch’s head. It was readily given, and with a smile. He placed" it at once under the boring machine, made a hole in it with the greatest care, furnished it with a thread, and then handed the singular needle to the astonished King. The second curious needle is in the possession of Queen Victoria. It was made at tli£ celebrated needle manufactory at Bedditoh, and represents the column of Trajan in miniature. This well-known Boman column is adorned with numerous scenes in sculpture* which immortalize Trajan’s heroic actions in war. On this diminutive need! e scenes in the life of Queen Victoria are represented in relief, but so finely cut, and so small, that it requires a magnify-ing-glass to see them. The Victoria needle can, moreover, be opened; it contains a number of needles of a smaller size, which are equally adorned with scenes in relief. —Good Cheer.

Presents which our love for the donor has rendered precious are ever the most acceptable.— Ovid.

WHY ACTORS ARE DISSIPATED.

An Explanation Which Means, in Short That It Is Because They Like to Drink. Now let the men I have selected do as McCullough has done for many years. The hard mental, physical work of the profession I have named is almost beyond the belief of outsiders. So let it be omitted. McCullough would have to be at the theater at not much later than 7 o’clock in most plays. H s servant (or “dresser,” as he is called) prepares the costumes and dresses him, an elaborate affair in many plays “Richelieu” for example. There are always Saturday matinees, aod frequently Wednesday ones. The tragedy parts are most laborious and fat guing —not like driving a horse, nailing a box or making a pair of shoes. There must be brains §nd action. An oldfarmer, celebrated for his superior products, was once asked what kind of manure he used to produce such fine crops. He answered in one word: So with the great actor, or lawyer, or journalist. Very well. Tom Jones; Jim Young, Ned Brooks and half a dozen others, important characters and great friends to McCullough, go to his dressing room between acts. He is glad to see them, for the dressing-room is dirty and the waits tedious. It is a relief in most cases to see his friends. What follows ? Why, a few bottles of champagne, or a bottle or two of brandy or whisky. The “dresser” fetches it from the near saloon. The performance is over. The great actor has been called before the curtain again and again, and the hearty greetings make him forget his tawdry tinsel and imitation ermine and jewels. He takes off the dress of kings, he washes the paint from his face, he puts on citizen’s raiment and goes out with “the boys,” or to “work the press” if his wife happens to be with him. A big supper follows, with lots of wine and cigars, and the small hours come and go nearly every day before the actor finds his bed. He is not feeling so very well in the morpingthankyou, but he pulls himself togeth, er, crowds down an unwilling throat a light breakfast, and goes round to the theater and rehearsal. Woe to the subordinate actor that forgets his lines or takes the stage in the wrong place, for the king in common attire is very bad-natured this day at noon. The rehearsal is over in an hour. Now, where are “the boys?” A champagne cocktail, a drive, a call, more wine or brandy, and by dinner “Richard is himself again.” Then to the theater again, and the thing repeated. I do not say all great actors do this, but many, nay, most of them, do. Salvini, greatest of all, is an exception. I knew him well, but I have never dared to go to his dressing-room. He neither drinks nor smokes except at dinner, and he eats heavily only once a day. Is it any wonder, then, that he is almost sixty years old, and looks as young as McCullough? Mr. Irving is a very light drinker; so is Mr. Barrett; but they like to meet the “old dogs,” not ‘'the boys, ” at supper after the play. By the “old dogs” I mean the aristocrats, the Presidents, the Cabinets, the Senators. Raymond never takes a drink at any time. Boucicault—yes, heartily; but Boucicault is nearly sixtyfive years old. Sothern and Ned Adams, both what are known as “glorious fellows,” died from too much living, but I can’t go over the list of brilliant intellects in any of the professions I referred to that have gone the same way Mr. McCullough is going. The lives of certain distinguished lawyers, doctors, newspaper men and other actors are spent like McCullough’s. It is fine for a time, my masters, but look out! Forrest, I believe, loved the pleasure of the table, but he was moderate and lived to be sixty-six. Too many believe, or appear to believe, that Our bodies are like shoes we wear and cast; Physic their cobbler is, and death at last. — Cor. Philadelphia Press.

Irish Wit.

There 'will always be an abundance of stories of Irish wit and Irish blunders as long as there is an Irish race. Here are a few fresh ones from an English newspaper; A car-driver who had charged h s passenger too much was reproached by the latter for lying. “I wonder you haven’t more regard for the truth than to be dragging her out on every palthryoccasion,’’ was the reply. Speaking of a neighbor who was a daring rather than an expert mariner, a certain country doctor related how his yacht had *“ stuck fast and loose in the mud.”

Again, at a meeting of churchwaidens, when it was debated whet er the pew of a gentleman who had seceded to Revivalism should be retained for him or not, the doctor urged that it should, adding as a reason, “ ’Tis unbeknownst but one of his ancestors might want it.” An Irish newspaper, giving an account of a burglary, said: “After a fruitless search, all the money was recovered, except one pair of boots. ”

Surely Mr. Matthew Arnold will not quarrel with the lack of lucidity which gave the following to the world: ♦‘Our most famous jig-dancer came by his death in a faction fight at a village fair. An inquest was held, at which a verdict was brought in that he met his death by tlue visitation of God undei'suspicious circumstances.”

How French Women Tie Bows.

But, alas! what Englishwoman can tie a bow like her French sister? The latter ties it so carefully, pats it so lovingly, looks at it from every possible point of view with the aid of a handglass, pulls out its wings, pluming them as it were, and finally stabs it through with a lace pin, in the very center, precisely where it ought to go. I have seen such limp and ailing bows of late, during the hot weather, with the pin drooping sideways, as though it were nodding to sleep, that I feel rather mournful on the subject.— Girls’ Gossip, in London Truth.

According to the Chemist and Druggist the substance which gives to Russia leather its peculiar aromatic and lasting qualities is the oil of white birch bark ( oleum betuloe). Dissolved in alcohol, it is *,id to render fabrics proof against water, acid, and insects, and renders them more lasting.

HUMOR.

When a boy of 18 runs away with a girl of the same age the proceedings may be called a verdant slope. I\ this country the home rule is usually the housewife, while at school it is the ferrule.— Carl Pretzel's Weekly. Boxing-matches are becoming more frequent, and the cry of the lovers of pugilism is: “Dinna ye hear the sluggin’?”

There is not a single lawyer among the 1,000 convicts in the Virginia Penitentiary. Virginia lawyers seldom get found out. Instead of saluting your silveryhaired friend as “an old dog,” why not address him as a “grayhound?”— Carl Pretzel's Weekly. Said a servant, presenting herself to a London housekeeper, “I’m a hagnostic, if you please, ’m, but no objection to a Christian family!” A LITTLE boy complained to his mother that the teacher couldn’t remember his name. “When she speaks to me,” he says, “shealways calls me Silence. ” A Philadelphia clergyman says the horse-race is “an open door to heil. It is inferred that the reverend gentleman bet on the wrong horse.— Norristown Herald. “Do cats think?” queries a writer. Yes, they sometimes think that the man up in the window with the nightcap on is a mighty poor shot with a bootjack.

A fashion item says: “A polonaise for dinner is cut square.” Every one to his taste, of course, but we want no polonaise for our dinner, no matter how it is cut. We’d just as lief eat a princess overskirt on toast.

“What is more awful to contemplate,” said the lecturer, glaring about him, “than the relentless power of the maelstrom?” And a hen-pecked looking man in the rear of the building softly replied, “The femalest:om.” A great Irish orator and wit was asked what an Irish friend of his, who had just arrived iD London, could mean by putting out his tongue. “I suppose he’s trying to catch the English accent,” said the wit. “Fellow-citizens,” said an orator, standing on a barrel amid the glare and smoke of many torches, “my position upon this question is a peculiar one.” And just then, when the barrel caved in and let him down in the shape of a letter V, gripped by the neck and heels, the crowd rather thought it w r as. “Pa, you will have to give my teacher a talking to,” said Johnny Fizzletop, on his return from school. “What has he been doing?” “Just look at my certificate. It is worse than last week’s. He will keep right on giving me bad certificates unless you say something to him about it. He needs taking down a peg or so.”— Texas Si]tings.

“For heaven’s sake, what are you doing, Mr. Schneidervrow?” exclaimed the leader of the orchestra to the second violin; “you’re not keeping time at all; count the beats, man, count the beats.” Mr. Schneidervrow dropped his bow, looked over the audience of deadheads and exclaimed in despair: “It vas impossible !” He had misapprehended the leader’s meaning.— Boston Transcript. Two sportsmen were on a journey on a hot summer’s day. “Have you anything with you, John?” “Yes, a bottle of wine! And what have you got?” “A dry tongue.” “Good; then we’ll divide our provisions.” “Very good, begin.” John drew his bottle of wine out of his wallet, and its contents were honorably divided. After this had been done, John wiped his mouth, and asked his fellow-traveler to bring forth his provisions. “I?” answered the other. “Why, yes; your dry tongue: ” “I haven’t got a dry tongue any more," was the little comforting answer.

COMIMG CP TO THE SCRATCH. The light of her eyes was a shining blue, The cast of her lips a ruby red; • And this was a'l that he thought to do, As he placed his hand on her well-poised head To steal one long, transient kiss; And he bended overward on hw toes, But all the remembrance of his bliss Is the scars of finger-nails on his nose. —Cherubusco People. I TOLD YOU SO. Again he's here. With fiendish leer. The fellow wr.om you a 1 doth know; In manntr wise He winks his eyes And sweetly says, “I told you so." We'll get "a club. And, rub-a-dub. We’ll mash him with a mighty blow. Let s hang him high! He ought to die— The wretch who says, “1 told you so.” —New York Journal.

A New Species of Horses.

A new species of horse from Central Asia has been discovered by the Russian traveler, Prejevalski, and he has been named by naturalists in honor of the discoverer, Eqxrus Prejevalski. This animal, apart from certain peculiarities of structure, is interesting as being the only known form of living horse which still exists in a naturally wild state, and which differs specifically from the domestic animal (Equus Caballus). A correspondent of Nature points out the very close resemblance existing between the outlines of this animal and the representations found inched on antlers from the famous cane of La Madelaine, which figure so extensively in works on archaeology. “There is the same massive head, the same hog mane, absence of forelock, pointed ears, short body, and powerful legs, while there seems even an indication that the long hairs of the tail spring first from the middle of that organ. In that (prehistoric representation) from Creswell Crags, as well as those from La Madelaine, the jaw is heavier than in the recent specimen.”— Boston Herald.

Make the Best of It.

Rather than indifference one might pray the gods for a power of facile adjustment to the inevitable; the power of making the best rather than the worst of the daily disappointments of life, and of gathering up the fragments, collecting the broken threads, readjusting the m smutched plans and getting what good one may out of them. Doing this, one finds that the law of compensation prevails.— Boston Traveller. Money brings honor, friends, conquest, and realms. — Milton,