Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 December 1892 — Page 5

AN OLD SONG WITH A NEW TUNE. There’s a saying old and rusty, But good as any nsw—“Never trouble trouble Till trouble troubles you.” Trouble’s like a thistle, Tbit bangs along the way; It oannot fail to w.und you . Some other bitter day. But why not walk around it? That’s'just what you can do; Why should you trouble trouble • Before it troubles you? U >■ Trouble is a bumble bee, It keepr you always vexed; It surely mt ans to sting you The next time—or the next. * But bless you,, bees think only . j Of breakfast dipped in dew; Keep right ahea t, this trouble Will never trouble you. O merry little travelers, Along life’s sunny ways, When bumble bees and thistles Affright you at your plays, Remember the old promise That your sorrows shall be few, If you never trouble trouble Till trouble troubles you.

THE TOMB-BLOSSOMS.

BY WALT WHITMAN.

A pleasant, fair-sized country village, & village embossed in trees, with old churches, one tavern, ’kept by a respectable widow, long, single-storied farm houses, their roofs mossy, and their chimneys smoke-black, a village with grass and shrubbery,and no mortar, nor bricks,, nor pavements, nor gas—no newness; that is the place for him who wishes life in its flavor and its bloom. Until of late, my residence has been in such a place. Man of cities! What is there in all your boasted pleasure—your fashions, parties, balls and theatres, compared with the simplest of the delights we country folks enjoy. Our pure air, making the blood swell and leap with buoyant health; our labor and our exercise; our freedom from the sickly vices that taint the town; our not being racked with notes due, or the fluctuations of prices, or the breaking of banks; our manners of sociability expanding the heart and reacting with a wholesome effect upon the body—can anything which citizens possess balance these? One Saturday, after paying a few days’ visit at New York, 1 returned to my quarters in the country inn. The day was hot and my journey a disagreeable one. I had been forced tb stir myself beyond comfort and dispatch my affaire quickly, for fear of being left by the cars. As it was I arrived panting and covered with sweat just as they were about to start. Then for many miles I had to bear the annoyance of the steam engine smoke, and it seemed to me that the vehicles kept swaying to and fro on the tiack with more than usual motion, on purpose to distress my jaded limbs. Out of humor with myself and everything around me, when I came to my travel’s end, I refused to partake of the comfortable supper which my landlady had prepared for me and rejoining to the good woman’s look of wonder at such an unwonted event, and her kind inquiries about my health, with a sullen silence, I took my lamp and went my way to my room. Tired and head throbbing, in less than half a score of minutes after I threw myself on my bed, I was steeped in the soundest slumber.

When I awoke every vein and nerve felt fresh aud free. Soreness and irritation had been swept away, as it were, with the cui tains of the night and the accustomed tone had returned again. I rose and threw open my w indow. Delicious ! It was a calm, bright Sabbath morning in May. The dewdrops glittered on the grass; the fragrance of the apple blossoms which covered the trees floated up to me, and the notes of a hundred birds discoursed music to my ear. By; he rays just shooting up in the eastern verge I knew r that the sun would be risen in a moment. I hastily dressed myself, performed my ablutions and sallied forth to take a morning walk. Sweet, yet sleepy scene! No one seemed stirring. The placid influence of the day was even now spreading around, quieting and hallowing everything. I sauntered slowly onward, with my hands folded behind me. I passed around the edge of a hill, on the rising elevation, and top of which was a burial ground. On my left, through an opening in the trees, I could see at some distance the ripple of our beautiful bay; on my right was the large and ancient field for the dead. I stopped and leaned my back against the fence, with my face turned toward the white marble stones a few rods before me. All I saw was far from new to me; and yet I pondered upon it. The entrance to that place of tombs was a kind of arch—a roughhewn, but no doubt a hardy piece of architecture, that had stood winter and summer over the.gate there, for many, many years. Oh, fearful arch! if there were fc: thee a voice to utter what has passed beneath and near thee; if the secrets of the earthly dwelling that to thee are kuown could be by thee disclosed, whose ear might listen to the appalling story, and its possessor not go mad with terror!

Thus thought I; and, strangely enough, such imagining marred not in the least the sunny brightness which spread alike over my wind and over the landscape. Involuntarily, as I mused, my look was cast to the top of the hill. I saw a figure moving. Could some one beside myself be out so early, and among the tombs? What creature odd enough in fancy to find pleasure there, and at such a time? Continuing my gaze I saw that the figure was a woman. She seemed to move with a slow and feeble step, passing and repassing constantly between two and the same graves which were within half a rod of each other. She would bend down and appear to busy herself a few moments with the one, aud then she would'rise and go to the second, and bend there and employ herself as at the first. Then to the former one, and then to the second. Occasionally the figure* would pause a moment, and stand back a little, and look steadfastly down upon the graves, as if to see whether her work was done well. Thrice I saw her walk with a tottering gait and stand midway between the two and look alternately at each. Then she would go to one and arrange something and come back to the midway place, ana gaze first on the right and then to the left, as before. The figure evidently had some trouble in suiting things to her mind. Where I stood I could hear no noise of her footfalls, nor could I see accurately enough to tell what she was doing. Had a superstitious man beheld the spec-

tacle he would possibly have thought that some spirit of the dead, allowed the night before to burst its cerements and wander forth in the darkness, had been belated m returning, and was now perplexed to find its coffin-house again. Curious tb know w r bat was the woman’s employment, I undid the simple fastenings of the gate, and walked over the rank, wet grass toward her. As I came near I recognized her as an old, a very old inmate of the poorhouse at Delarer. Stopping a moment, while I was yet several yards from her, and before she saw' me, I tried to call to recollection certain particulars of her history, which I had heard a great while past. She was a native of one of the West India Islands, and, before I, , who gazed at her, was born, had with her husband come hither to settle and gain a livelihood. They were pooi; most miserably poor. Country people, I have noticed, seldom like foreigners. So this man and his wife, in all probability, met much to discourage them. They kept up their spirits, how'ever, until at last their fortunes became desperate. Famine and want laid iron fingers upon them. They had no acquaintances, and to beg they were ashan.ed. Both were taken ill; then the charity that had been so slack came to their destitute abode, but came too late. Delarer died, the victim of poverty. The woman recovered after awhile, but for many months w'as quite an invalid, and was sent to the almshouse, where she had ever since remained. This was the story of the aged creature before me; aged with the weight of seventy winters. I walked up to her. By her feet stood a large, rude basket, in which I beheld leaves and buds. The two graves which I had seen her passing between so often were covered with flowers—the earliest, but sweetest flowers of the season. They were fresh and wet and very fragrant —those delicate soul offerings. And this, then, was her employment. Strange! Flowers, frail and passing, grasped by the hand of age, and scattered upon the tomb! White hairs, and pale blossoms, and stone tablets of death! “Good morning, madam," said I, quietly. The withered female turned her eyes to mine and acknowledged my greeting in the same spirit wherewith it was given. ‘ ‘May I ask whose graves they are that you remember so kindly?” She looked up again, probably catching from my manner that I spoke in no spirit of rude inquisitiveness, and answered: “My husband’s.” A manifestation of a fanciful taste, thought I, this tomb-ornamenting which she probably brought with her from abroad. Of course, but one of the graves could be her husband’s, and one, likely, was that of a child who had died and been laid away by its father. “Whose else?” I asked. “My husband's,” replied the aged widow. Poor creature! her faculties were becoming dim. No doubt her sorrows and her length in life had worn both mind and body nearly to the parting. “Yes, I know,” continued I, mildly, “but there are two graves. One is your husband’s, and the other is——” I paused for her to fill the blank. She looked at me a minute, as if in wonder at my perverseness, and then answered as before: “My husband’s. None but my Gilbert’s.” “And is Gilbert buried in both?” said I. She appeared as if going to answer, but stopped again and did not. Though my curiosity was now somewhat excited, I forebore to question her further, feeling that it might be to her a painful subject. I was wrong, however. She had been rather agitated at my intrusion, and her powers flickered for a moment. They were soon steady again, and perhaps gratified with my interest in her affairs, she gave me in a few' brief sentences the solution of the mystery. When her husband’s death occurred she was herself confined to a sick bed which she did.not leave fora long while after he was buried. Still louger days passed before she had permission, or even strength, to go into the open air. When she did, her first efforts were essayed to reach Gilbert’s grave. What a pang sunk to her heart when she found it could not be pointed out to her! With the careless indifference w'hich is shown to the corpses of outcasts, poor Delarer had been thrown into a hastily dug hole, without anyone noting, or noticing it, or remembering which it was.

Subsequently, several other paupers were buried iu the same spot, and the sexton could only show two graves to the disconsolate w oman and tell her that her husband was positively one of the tw T ain. During the latter stage of her recovery she had looked forward to the consolation of coming to his tomb as to a shrine, and wiping her tears there; and it was bitter that such could not be. The miserable widow even attempted to obtain the consent of the proper functionaries that the graves might be opened, and her anxieties put at rest! When told that this could not be done, she determined in her soul that at least the remnant of her hopes and intentions should not be given up. Every Sunday morning, in the mild season, she went forth early and gathered fresh flowers and dressed both the graves. So she knew that the right one was cared for, even if another shared that care. And lest she should possibly bestow the most of their testimony of love on him she knew not, but whose spirit might be looking down invisible in the air and smiling upon her, she was very careful to have each tomb adorned in an exactly similar manner. In a strange land and among a strange race, it was like communion with her own people to visit that burial mound. “If I conld only know which to bend over when my heart feels heavy,” thus finished the sorrowing being as she rose to depart; “then it would be a happiness. But, perhaps, I am blind to my dearest mercies. God in His great wisdom may have meant that I should not know what grave was his, lest grief over it should become too common a luxury for me, and melt me away.” I offered to accompany her and support her feeble steps; but she preferred that it should not be so. With languid feet she moved on. I watched her pass through the gate, and under the arch; I saw her turn, and in a little while she was hidden from my view. Then I carefully parted the flowers upon one of the graves, and sat down there, and leaned my face in my open hands, and thought What wondrous thing is woman’s love! Oh, Thou, whose most mighty tribute is the Incarnation of Love. I bless Thee that Thou didst make this disposition in the human heart, and didst root it there so deeply that it is stronger than all else, and can never be torn out! Here is this aged wayfarer, a woman of trials and griefs, decrepit, sore and steeped in povertv, the most forlorn of her kind, and yet, through all the storm of misfortune and the dark cloud of years settling upon her, the memory of her love hovers like a beautiful spirit amid the gloom; it never deserts her, but abides with her while life abides. Yes, this creature loved; this wrinkled, akinnj,

gray-hrired crone had heart to swell with passion, and her pulses to throb and her eyes to sparkle. Now nothing remains but a lovely remembrance, coming as of bid. and stepping in its accustomed path, not to perform its former object, or formpr duty—but from long habit. Nothing but that! Oh! is not that a great deal? And the buried man —he was happy to have passed away as he did. The woman —she was the one to be pitied. Without doubt she wished many times that she were laid beside him. And not only she, thought I, as I cast my eyes on the solemn memorials around me; but at the same time there were thousands ol others on earth who panted for the long repose, as a tired child for the night. The grave —the grave—what foolish man calls it a dreadful place? It is a kind friend whose arms shall compass us round about, and while we lay our heads upon his bosom no care, temptation, nor corroding passion shall have power to disturb us. Then the weary spirit shall no more be weary; the aching head and the aching heart shall be strangers to pain; and the soul that was fretted and sorrowed away its little life on earth will sorrow not anymore. When the mind has been roaming abroad in the crowd, and returns sick and tired of hollow hearts and of human deceit, let us think of the grave und of death and they will seem like soft and pleasant music. Such thoughts then soothe and calm our pulses; they open a peaceful prospect before us. Ido not dread the grave. There is many a time when I could lay down and pass my immortal part through the valley of the shadow, as composedly as I quaff water after a tiresome walk. For what is there of terror in taking our rest? What is there here below to draw us with such fondness? Life is the running of a race—a most weary race, sometimes. Shall we fear the goal merely because it is shrouded in a cloud? I rose and carefully replaced the parted flowers and bent my steps carefully homeward. If there be any sufficiently interested in the fate of the aged woman, that they wish to know further about her, for those I will add that ere long her affection was transferred to a region where it might receive the reward of its constancy and purity. Her last desire—and it was complied with—was that she should be placed midway between the two graves.

AROUND THE HOUSE.

There is nothing which proves such an economizer of strength and time in the cleaning of windows as the use of alcohol instead of water. It cleanses with magic rapidity, and is not an extravagant substitute as a prudent person is able to wash a greal many windows with a small bottle of alcohol. , Ammonia is one of the most useful drugs in the household. It is most effective as an agent in dissolving dirt and grease. In cleaning of any kind it should be used in about the proportion of a tablcspoonful to a quart of water. It makes the water softer than rain water, and it is especially refreshing in the bath. Nothing will clean lamps, lamp chimneys, looking glasses and window panes like ammonia. In using it on colored cloth, first test it on a sample to see that it does not spot. When a stain is produced by lemon juice or any other acid, nothing is so effectual as ammonia in neutralizing and thus removing it. A few drops to a pint of water sprinkled on the roots of house plants will produce an abundant growth. Stains on marble can be removed by rubbing them well with a tooth brush dipped in powdered chalk and ammonia. The steam radiator pipes are now a feature of many winter houses, and with their garish gilding are a blot of ugliness in a handsome parlor. One of the best ways of concealing these pipes, without reducing their usefulness, is to place a pretty ornamental screen around them, leaving plenty of room on all sides, to allow the heat to radiate through the room. Some clever women arrange a series of shelves or a single shelf to project just over the radiator, from the bottom of which they hang; curtains of soft Oriental silks. There is a suggestion in this drapery, however, quite similar to the piano legs in petticoats, and the ornamental screen seems to be a far more sensible and artistic way of "dealing with this problem in decoration. Beautiful Japanese screens may now be had at a very low price in the city shops, for fashionable people have lately turned their attention to rococo French screens, gilded and hung with brocade, and to the massive ones which come from Vienna, for dining-rooms and libraries, and are covered with gilded and painted leather in renaissance designs. D

CURIOUS FREAK OF NATURE.

The Imprint of a Human Face Upon a Baby’s Hand. The little hamlet of Roseburgh, S. C., is to the fore with a curiosity which is ahead of all others. This is a 3-week-old baby, whose right hand bears the imprint of a human face. The face occupies nearly the whole palm, and is as clearly outlined as if drawn on porcelain. It is the countenance of a little child about three years old lying asleep, with the eyelashes drawn in fine dark lines on the full cheeks. The mouth seems to be slightly parted and the lips are delicately tinted. The baby whose palm contains this singular portraiture is the child of Clarke Osborne, a thriving merchant of Roseburg, and Mrs. Osborne declares that the face in the infant’s palm is that of a little girl she lost about three months before the baby’s birth. Relatives and intimate friends also profess to be able to see a strong resemblance to the dead child. When the baby was first put in its mother’s arms, she looked at the hands, and with a loud cry fainted away, but on coming to herself exhibited the little creature’s hands to the attendants, who saw at once the strange likeness to the dead and gone sister. Mrs. Osborne was at first much frightened over the singular circumstance, but at last became convinced that this strange portrait was sent to comfort her. Physicians say, however, that the mother’s caresses of the dead child impressed the unborn infant, who merely repeated her mental' pictures of the little girl as she last beheld it. The image on the palm was much clearer the first few days of the baby's life than now, and is thought to be gradually fading away. The family are very sensitive on the subject, and have refused to show the child except to relatives and most intimate friends, but a dime museum manager has already made propositions, which have been declined. —[Philadelphia Times. Cabbage Salad. -*Select a solid head, and one that is white after the outside leaves are taken off; lay on a board, and with a sharp knife cut tine; set in ice box until to use.

NEW IDEAS IN GOWNS .

CHOICE COMBINATIONS FOR THE SEASON. A Popular Princes* Suit—Two Juvenile Toilets That Are Very Tasty-An Kitremely Oracefttl Princess Gown with Long;, Loose Umpire Front. Dresses lor December. New York correspondence:

Now let us drop anecdote and go into Utilitarian particulars concerning the princess gown shown in my initial sketch. It is flowered China crepe, cut princess style In the ordinary manner, and fastend behind with hooks and eyes. The upper dress is only attached at the sides to the under frock, and is made of striped or dotted crepe de chine. In order 1o prevent the joining from being visible, this upper dress can be attached to the under dress under the arms at the seams, as shown in the engraving, below the bust. The material is sewn on without l’ning, in thick pleats. The border and the back breadths of the overdress are shirred at the throat and fastened to the under dress. In order that the folds may not take up too much room, the crepe beneath them is fastened on to the under dress. The breadths at the baok are held by safety hooks that are attached to sijk gauze, which.falls from under the short jacket. This latter, like the trimming of the dress, Is of yellow satin, with neutral tinted embroidery, and it can be surrounded by a hand-embroid-ered border. It opens both baok and front, and is cut round. It Is only sewn to the under dress on the upper part, and is lined with silk. The broad

TWO GIRLS’ GOWNS

border running round the skirt Is only attached to the upper dress and is edged on both sides with tiny flounces or ruffles of silk or gauze. Both the under and upper garment must be of equal width, If the dress Is meant to clear the ground, but if it has a short train, It must be wider. The sleeves are lined with silk. The lower parts are made of bandß of satin, with puffs of gauze. The upper part of the sleeves are gathered and puffed. Now, if you aie at all clever, my dear woman, you can make such a dress yourself, or have It done at home, under your own direction, by an ordinary seamstress.

The two pictures in which juvenile toilets are shown, along with those for women, were drawn from the actual garments as worn by live persons. The dress of the young girl was made of sil-ver-gray bengaline. The yoke had alternate rows of white jace insertion and silver-gray ribbon. The older girl in the same group wore a dress of cream cashmere, the edge of the skirt being of cream embroidered tulle. The deep corselet, which was laced behind, was cream silk brocaded with gold scales, to form the appearance of a cuirass. The little child in the third picture wore a wrap of pale-blue flannel, with wide ribbon bows to match. The notable feature of the mother's home toilet was an apron of figured Indian muslin, trimmed with fancy lace. Lovely woman is now sitting up nights, ruining her eyes, and neglecting her children, her husband, her engagements and a let of things, to make a collection of impossibles for Christmas gifts. She thinks it costs so much

BOTHER AND CHILD.

less to make them herself, but she would do better to go to the stores and buy them. But that makes no difference to her. She thinks people like things made by hand better than they lo “bought things,’ butthey don’t She loesu't, but she thinks she is different rom other people. When her cousins ind aunts and folks give her a lot of >dds and ends made of floss and eceenric bows, she pretends she likes them. The trouble with the average Christnas presents women are now evolving s that they are good for nothing, that .hey take up a lot of room, and that they iever match anything else you have. L’hose dreadful bureau covers, for instance, made of flimsy gauze, painted ind with crisp ruffles all around them, f course they are pretty to look at, >ut you can’t spend the renainder of your life sitting up nd admiring them. What else can ou do with them? You can't hink of putting such things on the rnreau, unless you are going to have mother bureau to use. These things re not pretty a minute after they are he least soiled, and they are soiled the rst minute that you look at them. Over hese things half the women you know, Yourself included, are fretting now. Do

VERY new fashion brings Its accompanying usage, and now, with the rage for empress, direcItoire and princess ’dresses, many a belle is powdering her face too freely, besides stioklng on bits of court plaster. Jane turned lup her nose, and said: “I never use powder, and I never have.” Then Mary looked sweetly at her, and said: “No, I am sure you don’t, and I am sure no one would ever think you did.” Somehow, Jane did not feel nearly so comfortable as she ought to.

One of the most famous pearls on record is that which, three centuries ago, the French traveler Tavernier sent to the Shah of Persia for $700,000. It is still in the possession of the sovereigns of Persia. Another Eastern potentate owns a pearl of twelve and one-half carats which ie quite transparent. It is to be had for a million dollars. Two hundred thousand pounds is the price of the five chains of pearls forming the collar of the Baroness Gustav de Rothschild, and that of the Baroness Adolphe de Rothschild is almost as valuable. Both these ladies are enthusiastic collectors of pearls, and their jewelers have instructions to buy for them any pearl of unusual size or beauty which they may happen to come across. The sister of Madam Thieis, Madamoiselle Bosne. iS also the owner of a very valuable chain of pearls, which she has collected during the last thirty years o! her life. Of so-called black pearls the Empress of Austria possesses the most valuable collection. A story is told of the actress Mademoiselle Maria Magnier and her pearls. Ons day, as she was about to appear oi> the scene, somebody made the remark that her pearls were really of enormous size. “It is true,-” she replied. “The lady whom I represent on t,hs stage no doubt wore smaller pearls in real life. But what can I do? I have no small pearls.” The Swiss Government proposes to buy up all the match-works in the country, and make matches a government monopoly, similar to that of salt and tobacco in most countries of Europe.

vou want a big ger list of impossibilities? *Tou can make a lovely little pink satin business to hold telegraph blanks in. You can paint celluloid soap boxes, too. They will please him, and when he is far, far away, and goes to get his soap and finds you have taken away that ol(l zinc box he carried so long, how surprised he will be. Of course, we have been laughed out of making impossible tobacco pouches and things like that. All our presents are useful. There is the dearest little blue satin thing, only a tiny square that folds up just the size of a stamp and ties in a dear little bow, so the stamps won’t .fall out How George will like that! He has always carried his stamps in a big sheet in his bank book, but this way he will have them all loose and con* venlent Oh, no, they won’t spill out, because there is the dear little bowknot, and, of course, when he takes a stamp out he will be just a little oareful. The only thing to be really particular about is to tie up the box again after you have got the stamp. And ho won’t mind that a bit. My third Illustration shows a handsome, modish gown, for an afternoon or visiting dress. If preferred, bengaline could be used instead of the cashmere, with which the original was made, and velvet instead of the surah, the vel-

OUT FOR FORMAL CALLS.

vet being of a shade darker gray than the skirt, and the zouave of gray or black passementerie. In the final picture, one dress was of gray bengallne. trimmed with Russian embroidery; corselet and wide band edging; the skirt was gray velvet, with two rows of the embroidery laid on it; oollarette of crepe, trimmed with the braid. The second dress was of pale-blue velvet, striped with cream. It had a corselet of cream surah, und narrow flounces of blue velvet round the bottom of the skirt. There is no doubt that velvet is the favorite material for trimmings. The shot velvets are lovely, but, oh, how expensive! But plain velvet always looks well and becoming, and this, or at least such an efficient substitute as the velveteen, are within the reach of all. Velvet sleeves ure muoh worn, as also are the round corselets, which, howevor, aro to a certain extent superseded by the folded stomachers of velvet, which suit a slender figure admirably, especially when they are finished with one of those long Bhaped buckles, which are being shown so muoh now. Tho favorite materials for walking dresses are tweeds, In gray and heather shades, blue or brown serge, and plain beaver and habit eloths In a number of pretty shades. Tta-gowns are extremely graceful—the long, loose empire fronts with bands, which coniine the front only to the bust-line, giving height to the figure. Some ‘tea-gowns ere made as a loose blouse, falling quite to the ground, and with the back demi-traln; and these are usually cloth in delicate gray, blue, rose, or ivory tints, bordered with nar-

TWO OF A STYLISH KIND.

row fur. The sleeves are of silk and lace in high round pulls divided by {ribbons; or there is half-sleeve of the doth bordered with very narrow fur, and a full puffed one of silk below. The corselet waists, whether of the open Russian type, the Sw.ss shape or the empire form, with folds or pleats, is a fashion likely to be extremely popular during the winter season, since it Is Invaluable for decorative effect. Very charming corselets are covered with silken crochet or tatting, and “jewels" or crystal beads are used for the centers of wheels and stars. Corselets formed of alternate stripes of ribbon velvet and jet are very attractive, and may be entirely black; or colored ribbon velvet and jet is very pleasing. Copyright, 18D1.

Valuable Pearls.

THE JOKER’S BUDGET.

JESTS AM) YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. A Suburban Clock—Superiority—After Something Definite —Well Up In His Part-Why Cert’nly. A SUBURBAN’ CLOCK. Caller—Land sakes! 1 Tow late it in! Mrs.' Suburb—Oh, you mustn't go by (hat clock. It’a two hours fast. Caller—Why don’t you set it right? Mr«. Suburb Horrors, no! Don’t touch it. That’s the olook my husband oatches trains by.—[New York Weekly. superiority. » Mamma—Why do you put on such airs over that little girl? Wee Woman—Her mother hasn't got bought teeth like you has. AFTER SOMETHING I)KITNITE. Miss Flyppent—When is your birthday, Miss Kldorkin? Miss Elderkin—l was born on June 30. Miss Flyppent Old style or new style? WELL IT IN HIS CART. “I wonder what your father will say when 1 ask him for your hand?” “Don’t worry about that, dear. He rehearsed it with mo this morning, and he loos it boautitully.”—[Chioago News Record. A LIBERAL HUSBAND. “You have a charming home, sir, ami if you will permit me to say so, you have a most amiable wife.” “You’re right, my friend; 1 refuse my wife nothing, und she will tell you so herself. Come, open your mouth, Mary, and show the new set of teeth I bought lor you yesterday.”—-[European Exchange. why, okht'xly. Chappie—l’ll bet you tun dollars I enn borrow ten dollars sooner than you cau. Cholly—Done—lend me ten dollars to put up. Chappie—Certainly, denh boy (and then he faints). —[New York Herald. A BASE SLANDER. Winks—Folks say you always leave Immediately after the sermon, so as to escape the contribution box. Jinks (hotly)—lt’s a base slander! The only reason I start so early is to get. first pick of the umbrellas.—| New York lycouldn’t tell. Mrs. Kingley—Mrs. Whipler trims all her owu bonnets. Don’t you think she is smart? Mrs. Hingo—l don’t know. I haven’t seen the bonnets. THE ATTRACTION. Prunella—Will Winthrop loves you for your money. Priscilla—No; he doesn't know that I have any. up it c-an’t be that. Prunella—But what else could it be? MYSTERY OF A NIGHT. First Pullman Porter—Golly, chile, hut I had a time las’ night. Second Pullman Porter—What’s de nnittah? “Thought I las’ a shoe. Looked fo’ it high ami low, den gub it up an’ waited fo’ de passenger ter kick.” “And did he?” “Huh! Beckon he didn’t. Como out aftor while, stumpiu’ roun’ wid one leg.” —[Chicago News Jtecord. ONLY HALF WAY. Algy—Mr. Bunker, I think I have been in your employ to be entitled to an increase in salary. Bunker—l agree with you partly, Mr. Bliffers, I think you have been in my employ long enough. You can go.— [Exchange. HE WAS EXTRAVAGANT. Mrs. Bronson—Wlmt, been getting yourself another $8 hut? Charley, you're too extravagant altogether. Mr. Bronson (penitently)—l’m afraid you’re right, Mary. And I won’t do it again. Truly, I won’t. Mrs. Bronson (breaking into tears) — And you forgot all about the new |8& bonnet I wanted you to bring down.— [Chicago News. ONE CF MANY. Mr. Flightic—.Merc talent is not appreciated nowadays. Oh, if I only had a touch of real genius Wife—Genius isn’t what you need. “Eh? What, then?” “Horse sense.” SHOCKED AND INTERESTED. Jeannette—Terrible, that about Nora, isn’t it ? . She has murried ju.st for money. Gladys—Well, did sho get the money ? Jeannette—Yes. Gladys—Yes, it's terrible. How did she manage it ?—[Chicago News Record. AN UNFAILING TEST. Foreign Visitor —Is that college a really fine educational institution ? American (proudly)—ls it ? I should say it was. They’ve got the most idiotic college yell to he heard in the whole eountrv, sir—yes, sir.—[New York Weekly. OWES HIM MUCH. “You sec that man crossing the street ? Well, I am greatly indebted to him, und indeed I can’t tell you how much I owe him. One thing is certain—l never can repay him.” “He must be your father, since there is no other man to whom you can be under such obligations.” “No, lie’s my luudlord.” A LOVE STORY. Augustus Fitzgibbons Moran Fell in love with Maria McCann; With a yell and a whoop He cleared the front stoop Just ahead of her papa’s brogan. —[Harlem Life. A GOOD REASON. Mother—Do you know why your pa called Mr. Blowhurd a liar, Tommy? Tommy—Y'es’m; he’s a smaller man than pa.—[Harlem Life. TOO SMALL. Miss Lakeside —So you are engaged to Charlie Smith! Well, I would not be in your shoes! Miss Murrayhiil—l dare say not, dear. They would pinch you terribly. A REAL HERO. “I love you so,” said Chappie dear (The ehawming little fellah!), “I go out in the wain for you Without my new umbrellah.” —[New York Herald. A WITTY JUDGE. In court: — Lawyer (pleading for the defendant) — I propose to show there is no man living

who Is more pretentious, more bombastic and more corrupt than the plaintiff in this cose. Judge—You forget yourself, sir. SET HIM RIGHT. He—One has only to look at your lips and see that you are intended for kisses. She—On the contrary, the kisses arc for my intended.—[New Y'ork Herald. TWO WAYS OF PUTTING IT. “I think,” said Miss Sweete to Mr. Oldboeh, “I think she's too young for you.” “Well,” said Oldbach, smiling, “perhaps she is.” “Yes,” said Miss Smart, “you arc too old for her.” “I am, am I?” said Mr. Oldbach, as a red wave passed over his face and a dark frown clouded his brow; “I guess you don’t know what you are talking about.” —[New York Press. DEFENSIVE MEASURES. Bonds—Are you quick at footing figurers, Coupons? Coupons—Yes, if they’re dude’s figures, 1 have an only daughter. A REGULAR CINCH. Higgs—Are you following the horses now? Briggs—Oh, yes. , lliggs—Find it pays yor. any better than it did before? Briggs—Much. I’m driving a street car.--[Judge. HANG UP STYLE. “ Did you notice that Miss Pompadour had her hair brushed upon her forehead to-night?” “Yes; I thought it wns a bang up way of dressing it?" A TWISTED QUOTATION. “Will you have another cup of coffee?” the landlady asked the boarder. Ho shook his head. “The spirit is willing,” he said, “ but the coffee is weak.”—[New York Preis,

POPULAR SCIENCE NOTES.

Magnetized Watches. —“There is of late years more or less talk about the effect of electricity upon watches,” saida well-known jeweller, “and it is quite true that occasionally a watch will be thrown out of its regulnr time by becoming magnetized. It is tho simplest matter in the world, however, to ascertain whether a watch is thus affected. Watchmakes nud electricians ull know that, if a common pocket compuss is placed above a live electric wire the noodle will deflect in one direction; if plaood beneath the wire it will deflect in the opposite direction, while if placed under crossed wire the needle will vibrate. The spring of a watch is made of the finest steel, aud ij, therefore, sensitive to an extreme degree. If you want to ascertain whether your watch has become affected by electricity, take a little toy compass and place itubovo the spring. If the needle moves tho watch is affected and should have expert attention; if it does not move there is no magnetism in it,”—[Bt. Louis Republic. Longest and Shortest Day.— Tho days in Now York ure rapidly shortening, and ore long we will have what wo call the shortest duys in tho year. When speaking of the shortest or longest days in tho year, however, it is quite important to mention what part of the world we speak of. Forinstunce, in New York City the longest day is fifteen hours. Were it not for the Jorsey hills, which hide the sun from Gotham us it recedes in tho Western horizon, our days would be at least twenty minutes longer. Tho shortest day in any purt of the world is ut Tarneu, Finland, when Christmas Day is less than three hours in length, while on tho other hand June 31 is nearly twenty-two hours long. But this is nothing, in point of length of days when compared to Spitzbergcn, Norway, where the longest day is three and a half months in length! That is, for three and a half months there is no night. At Wardbury, Norway, the longest day lasts from May 21 to July 22—one day over two mouths—without interruption. St. Petersburg, Ruwin, and Tobolsk, Siberia, iiave both very long and very short days. Tho longest day is nineteen hours and the shortest live hours. The longest day in Stockholm, Sweden, is eighteen and a half hours in length. Hamburg, Germany, and Dantzic, Prussia. both have seventeen hours of daylight in midsummer. The longest dav in London is sixteen hours; but the fogs rob the English metropolis of much of its daylight and often make day appear like night, so that few Londoners really know how long their days are. Tho longest day in Hamburg is also sixteen hours. Even Montreal, Canada, has one hour more duylight than Neiy York—sixteen hours. This is due to tho fact not only that it is further uorth, but that ns Sol recedes in the west its light is unobscured by Palisudcs or Jersey mosquitoes. A Writing Telegba'ph.— One of the principal objections to the printing telegraphs in the past has been the “form of delivery.” They have all printed their messages on a narrow band of paper or “tape” and a press dispatch of a few hundred words would be many feet in length and liable to kinks, breaks and entanglement. Users of the telegraph have never been content to receive their dispatches on a ribbon, and have always protested against that form of record, asserting that to file it was impossible, and oven to preserve it intact in any way was a constant source of harassment. A compromise has been effected in European practice by tearing off all dispatches received by printing telegraph into short ienghts and pasting them on ordinary delivery blanks. This is a clumsy makeshift, and the annoyance of making a backward search for a particular item of news in the tangle of an ordinary “ticker” basket is familiar to all. With a- view to overcoming these and other objections to the printing telegraphs hitherto known, an American type telegraph machine has been designed by means of which the delivery is in the form of a printed paper, eight inches wide. AH the letters, numerals, fractions and other signs used on the ordinary typewriter are provided. The receiving instrument is entirely automatic in its action, requiring no skilled operator to watch or adjust it. The transmitter is similar in form, as far as the arrangement of the keys is concerned. to the typewriter, and can be worked by any person familiar with that instrument. The transmitting operator, by means of his keyboard, has full control of the machine at the distant end of the line, and can vary the length of a printed line or space between two items of news or two telegrams at will. Typewriting by wire and by ordinary typewriting methods have been the objects sought to be obtained in the American type telegraph. The width of the paper, the form and action of the keyboard, as well as the manipulation of the machine generally, are made to conform, as nearly as possible, to the practice with which a typewriting operator is familiar.