Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 June 1894 — Page 4

SOHO OF THE TRAMP. Sores Fowler, in Home and Country. A rover am I of a well-known stamp. In fact I am simply a typical tramp: My home is wherever I happen to camp— Yet none is more merry than I. My life is a drama of varying scenes, To phases both comic and tragic it leans. As a rule it is governed according to means— Yet none is more merry than I. At night when the householder, sleek and well fed. Retires for his rest to his soft, snowy bed, The ground is my couch: with a stone for my head — Still none is more merry than I. With first streak of dawn I am up with v the lark. My spirits at once reach the high-water mark. My morning’s salute is the watchful dog's bark — Yet none is more merry than I. If, at times, the officious and boorish police, Deem it prudent my freedom to somewhat I decrease, I patiently wait for the tardy release— And none is more merry than I. When the scenes of my much-changing life reach a close, And I quietly drop for my final repose, In a ditch I shall lie, with my dirge sung by crows — Yet none is more merry than l.

Letting the Old Homestead.

BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES. “I dunno’s I’ve any objection to let you hev the old place,” said Simeon Lilton, as he stood leaning on his hoe. '“Me and Elvira were calculatin’ to go to Hebron and live with our married daughter. When folks gets to be old like us, a fortyacre farm’s most too big to handle. But I don’t deny that I hate to leave it wuss than the toothache.” Down under the hill the young leaves of the maples were breaking out into a cloud of green mist, the aspens shook their woolly tassels, and a little brook, half hidden by tangled briers, made a merry gurgle on its way to Linden Lake. ‘‘Hebron’s a nice place,” meditatively remarked Simeon, as he flung a clod at a marauding crow perched on the nearest tree, “but ’tain’t like the open country as me and Elvira has always been used to.” “Then I may become your tenant?” said Philip Pindar, taking out his note-book. “At fifteen dollars a month, for a year certain, with the refusal for a longer term in case you do not yourself wish to return.” my terms,” succinctly ipoke the old farmer, wiping his eathery forbad pith a spotted cotton handkerchief. “I looked at the house yesterday,” added Pinder, “and with a few alterations—” “I don’t calculate to pay for no alterations,” shrewdly spoke up old Simeon. “At my expense, of course,” said Pindar. “Dunno’s I’ve any objection to that.” “With a few trifling alterations,” went on Pinder, “it can be adapted to my needs. It’s a pretty place—a very pretty place!”

“I s’pose you’ll be pullin’ down the old well-sweep and cuttin’ away the apple trees ? ” said Lilton, un-1 easily. “Folks is so finicky.” “By no means. The well-sweep is worth ten dollars a year to me in picturesqu|ness. No money would induce me to pull it down. But I shall certainly lay w'ater pipes and drain tiles through the orchard, and make whatever improvements are lecessary. Here’s the rent for the Irst month to bind the bargain, and he paper will be ready for your signature as soon as I take possession.” “I don’t want no papers,” said Lilton.” I’m one of them as their word is as good as their bond any day in the week 1” “Business is business!” good-hu-moredly spoke Mr. Pindar, as he repocketed his leather wallet and strolled away toward the railway station, while old Simeon renewed his labors with the hoe and rake. “There shan’t no city feller have it to say as Sim Lilton left the farm in bad condition,” said he.

Consequently, he was very tired when, after liberal ablutions in the wood-shed and a severe toweling of his old gray head, he came in to answer the noonday summons of the dinner hour. “Well, Elviry,” said he, beginning on the corned beef and cabbage, “I’ve done a good stroke o’ business this mornin’.” Mrs. Lilton looked into the teapot, clapped the lid down and set it on the tray ready to pour the refreshing beverage. “Well,” said she, in a brisk, birdlike way that she had, “es you’ve beat me in that line, you’ve done pretty well, that’s all I’ve got to say!” “Hain’t sold the old chist o’ draws, hev ye?” queried Lilton, with his knife, well laden with greasy cabbage, on the way to his mouth. “Better’n that!” said Mrs. Lilton, exultantly. “ I’ve let the place!” “What!” “I’ve—let—the—place !”reiterated the old woman, with great distinctness and some asperity, “To a very nice young lady with two little sisters, as is thinking of growing roses and carnations for a New York florist, And here’s the first month’s rent, so there shan’t be no backin’ out of the bargain on either side,” laying down a clean ten-dollar note and a gold half-eagle on the table beside her. Simeon Lilton jumped from his chair and cast down his knife and fork in a sort of desperation. “Well, I am beat!” shouted he. “I’ve let the place, too, to a young feller from New York. And here’s my first month’s rent—fifteen dollars !” “What’s his name?” said Elvira. “I’m blessed if I know! What’s hers?” “It’s a Miss—or a Mrs. Dailey—or Bailey—or some sich—l can't jes’ recolleck which.” “Elviry,” gasped the old man, “you are the biggest fool out I”

“No wuss’n yourself,” retorted his wife. “Thar never was no business goin’,” said Lilton, with slow emphasis, “but what a woman would be sartin to get her finger into.” “Simeon,” said his wife, “ain't you and me been tryin’ our level best to get this ’ere farm let, so we can get to Hebron?” Lilton gloomily nodded. “Who says we hain’t?” “And I’ve let it.” “So’ve I!” “What time did your feller give you the month's rent?” “The clock in the glove factory I was jest a-strikin’ ’leven.” “An’ 'twas 'leven to a second by J the hall clock here when Miss —Miss —what’s her name? signed this paper!” gtoaned Mrs. Lilton. “Simeon, what be we to do ? They can’t Uiang nor fine us, nor nothin,’can | they, for lettin’ the farm to .two people at once ? ” “X—no ,1 don’t believe they can do that,” hesitated Simeon. “But it’s blamed awkward, that’s what it is.” “Couldn’t we write to him there’s been a mistake?” wistfully questioned Mrs. Lilton. “Where be we towrite to ?” “It’s just like a man,” satirically observed the old woman, “to manage things after that looseended fashion!” “I don’t know as you’ve done much better.” growled Simeon. “Well, well, Elviry, don’t fret. Let them folks as has hired the place do the frettin’ now. P’raps they’ll find some way outen the tangle. It don’t make no difference to me. Whichever of ’em backs out. I’ll refund the money. Ther’ shan’t no one say that Simeon Lilton ain’t done the square thing by ’em. “But day arter to-morrow’s the first o’ May!” screamed the old woman.

“Well, what then? I can’t set the almanac back, ken I? There’ll be jest time to pack our trunks, so fur’s I see, My man, he hired the pony, an’ Old Crumple-horn, too.” “So did Miss—Miss Ralley, or Whalley, or whatever it was!” Simeon chuckled. “It’s kind o’ queer, ain’t it?” said he. “I only hope,” croaked his wife, “that we ain’t rendered ourselves amenable to the law.” “Get out!” said Simeon. “Women don’t know nothin’ about law.” The first of May was an ideal spring day, and before the sun had mounted above the eastern crest of old Blue Mountain, the furniture van stood before the Lilton farmhouse, and two little girls danced merrily around, picking golden dandelions out of the of the door yard and lisEo the whistle of the bluebirds, while a pretty young girl in black superintended the unloading of chairs and bird bojees cl books an 4 carefully strapped trunks. ~ At the stile that guarded the entrance to the woods, the children met a tall young man carrying a valise and a package of umbrellas. “Why, Kitty Dallas!” cried he;’ “what are you and Flo doing here?’ “We’ve come to live in the country,” said Kitty, triumphantly. “Sister Alice is tired of living in a flat where the people down stairs grumbled every time we ran across the floor. And this is such a lovely place, with a brook and a lot of apple trees. But, Mr. Pindar, how came you here?” “So we are to be neighbors!” said Mr. Philip Pindar, with an aspect of great satisfaction. “I have rented a house close by, where I can work at my occupation in peace and quiet from old Madam Mesally’s piano and Pierre Hall’s cornet playing. Why, hello, she’s here 1” He walked into the farmhouse porch with the little girls trotting at his heels. “Alice, Alice,” they cried, joyfully, “here’s Mr. Pindar!” The pretty girl in black came to the door. Mrs. Simeon Lilton flatteped herself behind the fanlights, eyeing Simeon, who pretended to be busy nailing up his last chest of old blue-edged crockery. “So pleased to see you, Mr. Pindar!” said Alice, in the pretty, gracious way of a born chatelaine. “Welcome to Glen Farm, our new home!”

“Why,” exclaimed Mr. Philip Pindar, “I’ve rented this house for a year! Haven’t I, Mr. Lilton?” “There must be some mistake,” said Alice, suddenly growing grave. “This good woman here—” “Settle it between yourselves,” said Lilton, hammering noisily away. “I dunno’s I’ve any particular choice between you.” “But,” gasped Alice, “there’s all our worldly goods at the door! And —and we’ve nowhere else to go. And I did hire the house, last week, and I’ve paid down a month’s rent in advance.” “Precisely what I did,” said Mr. Pindar. Little Flo crowded into the front rank here, with her dimpled face all interest. “But,” stammered she, “it’s a big house—that is, there’s a lot of dear, cupboardy little rooms in it. And there’s only three of us and one of Mr. Pindar. Why couldn’t we all live together?” For an instant silence prevailed. Then Alice turned away, her face all a glow of scarlet blushes, murmuring some incomprehensible sentence. But Mr. Pindar appreciated his advantage and seized the opportunity with instantaneous quickness. “Well, why not?” said he, catching hold of Alice’s hand before she could withdraw it. “I’m willing, if you are, Alice—only, of course, there’ll have to be a wedding first.” “A wedding! a wedding!” Flo and Kitty whirled ecstatically around the grass plot at the very sound of the word. “You know I love you, Alice! You have known it this long time. Only for this little darling’s lucky speech, I might have lacked courage to plead my cause so promptly. Our tastes are similar, or we never should have coincided in selecting this lovely little bit of Elysium to dwell in. Say yes, Alice! Or I’ll be contented even if you don’t say no 1” “It’s so—very —strange!” hesitated Miss Dallas. Pindar turned smilingly around ’•o the little ones. “It’s fill right, children,” said h».

“She hasn’t said no! My good friend,” to .Simeon Lilton. who had stopped hammering at last, “will you be so good as to furnish me with the address of the nearest clergyman?” “I didn’t fairly know,” said Simeon, afterward, “but that them folks was goin’ to pay the rent double. But they didn’t!” “It’s the romantickest thing I ever heerd on!” said Mrs. Lilton, wiping her eyes. “If I knowed anybody that writ for the papers, I’d tell them the hull story.” “Don’t be a fool, old woman!” said Simeon. . . . But he, too, was whistling “Love’s Young Dream,” under his breath. The little children frolicked around, picking buttercups and making friends with the cat and the dog. But Mr. and Mrs. Pindar were very quiet in the purple twilight of the May’ day. Their hearts were too full for words.—[Saturday Night.

HOW TO TREAT SPRAINS.

A "Strong Man” Gives Some Valuable Information. Athletes in all branches of sport are more or less liable in competitions or in training to suffer from over exertion, producing severe sprains of the cords and sinews. Unless properly attended to at once, these injuries often cause weeks and months of pain and suffering, and sometimes result in permanent injury. People generally do not know that the simplest treatment in these cases is the best. I recently talked with Professor Attila,the strong man, now located in this city, and he told me of his personal experience with sprains during his professional career, extending over a period of twenty years. Without doubt the professor is one of the real bona fide strong men of the world. He isa veritable Hercules in strength, and has a record of public performances second to none. He it was who brought out Sandow, and to the latter was due an accident which gave Attila the knowledge of the proper treatment of strains of the fibres of the biceps. The accident in question happened in Europe, while Attila and Sandow were performing together. It resulted in the breaking of a number of cords of the biceps and the severe straining of others, causing the entire arm to turn black, and producing great pain. There was no outward wound, and the eminent physicians and surgeons of the Continent were puzzled over the proper course of treatment to pursue. Finally Attila left the professors in despair, and, at his ow’n suggestion, the injured part was wound about with a firm, soft cloth. The first day after the <jloth was put on he was ftl?le to lift with the injured arm a two-pouhd dumbell. The second day he raised a three pound weight. He kept increasing the weight daily until he could raise the fifty pound bell. Then he knew he had mastered the injury. In a comparatively short time the wound had healed, and Attila, strange to say, was stronger than ever in this arm. In cases of strains of cords in the wrist Attila says the injured part should be tightly bandaged and twice a day held under a faucet, allowing cold water to fall on it from a height of two or three feet. This produces a natural steaming, very beneficial. In a short time an improvement is noticed under this course of treatment. Where the tissues of the muscles of the leg are strained the only treatment necessary is very simple. Bandage the injured part tightly and exercise it daily, a little at first. if allowed to remain inactive the injury grows worse in all cases. The straining of the muscles of the back is best treated by applications of liniment and judicious use of electric treatment.—[New York Herald.

EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL.

Rabbits Made Drunk for Scientific Experiments A number of experiments are being tried in the pathological department of the Johns Hopkins Hospital to ascertain the effect that alcohol has on rabbits, says the Baltimore American. Six rabbits were several weeks ago, started on a diet of alcohol and whiskey, and were given a dram a day, diluted with water. The object of the experiments is to ascertain the amount and degree of fatty degeneration that follows the use of stimulants, and interesting results will probably be attained. The process is something like this: “A rabbit is selected, which is apparently thoroughly healthy, and is given little to eat. When ready for his first dose he is taken from his cage by the ears orback and placed flat on his back on a small piece of p’ank, with slipknots to hold his feet extended. In the meantime the little animal begins a sharp, shrill cry, not unlike that of a child screaming from temper. It is during the process of these cries that the rabbit will bite and painfully wound his tormentors if he gets a chance. As soon as the cries cease, however, forceps are put into his mouth and held open by an assistant, while the operator passes down through the mouth and gullet into the stomach a soft, hollovf rubber tube, into the outer end of which is placed a small glass funnel. By this siphon-like arrangement the dose of alcohol or whiskey is administered. It takes but little more than a minute for the effects to become manifest and unmistakable signs of bunny on a drunk are witnessed. These drunks, as with men, differ according to the nature and disposition of the subject. In one case a lively mood supervenes, and if the rabbit could get out, he would show how much of a sport he could be. He jumps up and down in his little cage and is pretty lively in showing the stage of excitement from his drink, He will then become stupid and heavy, his breathing will become fast and deep, and he will soon stagger like a drunken man and fall down as fast as he gets upon his feetl The armadillo is the mouser of South American families.

GOWNS AND GOWNING.

WOMEN GIVE MUCH ATTENTION TO WHAT THEY WEAR. Brief Glance* at Fanclea Feminine, Frivolooa, Mayhap, and Yet Offered In the Hope that the Reading May Prove Restful to Wearied Womankind. Gossip from Gay Gotham. New York correspondence:

little room. There are also pretty little affairs made of wash lawns, daintily finished with lace. The white lawn tie of some time ago is revived, but much elaborated. It may be in pink, pale green, or yellow. It must be said that the ties are becoming to most faces, and that they give a look of (daintiness to a toilet that is especially fetching in these days of tailor-made Be verities. Sometimes it seems as if the wearer had forgotten that it was possible to have them too large, but exaggerations will creep into any inode. The initial picture shows how prettily a face may be set off by one of these bows. Here the dainty chin is poised above a medium-sized bow of mousseline de soie, frills of the same finishing the sleeves at the wri. ts. The gown itself is made of gray suiting trimmed with white. The’ skirt opens at the right front to show a white panel, and is there ornamented with large gray satin bows that apparently hold the gray parts together. The jacket bodice has a white vest which hooks in the center of the front, and a white pocket flap on each side. The large revers as well as the cuffs are of the white stuff, and are garnished with small ivory buttons, and the loose fronts are confine! by two gray straps, as shown. Striking costumes which are at the same time in good taste are always of interest and ever sought after. Here is one well suited to a slender, even thin, woman, all that is required to make it look well being a round, child-

PLANNED TO IMPRESS.

like pair of white arms and a smooth neck. It is to be of a crepe that is almost a chiffon made over satin. A flexible belt of silver comes right under the arms, the skirt falling full from this. The crepe is too fine to look full and the quantity of goods merely insures beautiful folds and plenty of them. The bodice is in surplice style, crossing over the bust, and it is cut to show only the smooth neck. The sleeves are big puffs at the shoulder, leaving the pretty arms bare all their length. The surplice ends tie at the back in a rosette, the silver belt being partly hidden in the back and spanning the waist prettily just below the surplice in front. The ckirt should not have a train and is prettier, if your figure permits, made ankle length. A ruche of satin fringes its edge. Long satin ribbons fasten to the belt and from them hangs an old-fashioned round fan, ostrich feathers set round a mirror, the stick of ivory. You will do your hair high on your head, allowing some di-tracting curls to fall over your ears. It seems hardly necessary to say that the gown is white and that you will wear flesh-white stockings which means hose of so fine silk that the flesh shows through, and white satin slippers. If the feet are tiny and with an instep that is high, no matter what shce you wear, for then you may risk the old-fashioned flat slipper tied over the instep with white satin ribbon. Altogether you will be a vision of oldtime loveliness. Hitherto the excessively slender woman has thought she couldn't, when it came to Empire gowns. If a pair of dimpled shoulders absolutely demand a chance to see the world, then carry the surplice effect below the shoulders and ha\e the sleeves off the shoulder entirely. But why spoil the quaint o'.d-time demureness of the gown to show a pair of off

A BODICE ALL A-SPARKLE.

shoulders which can get all the air they want in lots of other dresses? A stunning dinner gown, and a tasteful one, is portrayed in the second sketch. Its fabric is a metallic green satin liberty, made with a long train, and fastens in front. The bodice is cut V shaped front and back, and is bor.dered with deep cream guipure.

Reaching a few Inches below the waist the bodice is covered with a loose blouse of spangles, black tulle shaped to fit the dress, and caught only at the shoulder and armbole seams. The short sleeves are draped with the same. , Less striking, perhaps, is the third pictured gown than the two last described, yet it is sufficiently novel in cut to prove attractive. Made from black broche silk, it is prettily trimmed with jet spangles. The bodice is lined with faille and fastens in the center. It has a square yoke banded with spangles, and is alike in back and front. The fullness is laid in pleats in front and back and the silk is draped where it joins the yoke. The sleeves are ornamented by epaulettes that are attached to long loose bretelles, and the circular basque, which is also lined with faille, is garnished with two rows of jet spangle-'. The moderately widegored skirt is simply finished with a gathered ruffle around the bottom. For any but the most dressy wear of summer, jackets are more distinctly the thing than are capes. The cape is ail right for the elaborate occasions, but for the street, the beach or the usual country outing use the jacket prevails. There is a tendency to have gowns supplied with their own jacket to match, or, indeed, the jacket constitutes the bodies of the

HAT extrava- j Rant affairs these neck bows are, too! They are made of all materials, from stiff moire, which, when once arranged in the right directoire bow,prevents the wearer from even moving her tongue in her mouth for fear of mussing it, to soft crepe affairs, which tie gracefully, using u p yards and yards of stuff, and yet taking up very

gown, but it is safe to 'TLave one general all-round affair of mixed tweed, made very ship-shape and to be worn with anything. Fashion more and more strictly prohibits these economies, but practice them as long as you can, so as to encourage tho>-e who are obliged to. This jacket would be batter rather long, doublebreasted, and it should fit tightly in front and back. Last sea-on's loose front shape is not made this summer, though if you have one left over, wear it-confidently, for mere saying so is not going to make those jaunty affairs dowdy f r several seasons yet The genuine English bag coat is seen occasionally. It is not pretty and must really be worn by a woman just suited to the style and the swagger'necessary to make it “go.” Otherwise she will look like a left over from no one knows where, who is sorry for it The jacket sketched here is in dark mode cloth trimmed with dark-green silk. It is tight fitting and is finished by a circular basque garnished with silk in the manner shown. The garment hooks in front and has a silk turned down collar to which silk loops with pointed ends are attached, the points reaching to the waist line. The sleeves are finished with pointed silk cuffs. White gloves are again the thing for the street with the present change of gowns. It is also true that you may use your old-time long white gloves on the street. The glace kid is in the better taste, and twenty-button length may be used with ginghams or with any but dark-cloth gowns. Now that long evening gloves are not in vogue for evening wear, you can often get long white gloves as cheap as the shorter street gloves. For choice the long whits glace kid is under the circumstances the good bargain. It will wear longer than a shorter glove, because better kid is put into long than into short gloves. Besides, white will clean forever, and will in the present fashion go with anything. A promedade coat of brown Himalaya cloth is presented in the last nict-

ure. It has a gored and pleated skirt, lined with brown satin liberty. The double-breasted bodice part is tightfitting and is sewed to the skirt at the waist. It has a triple collarette of brown cloth, a turned-down collar of satinet, and large revers, pocket flaps and cufis of white cloth. The skirt part is laid in a wide box-pleat in front and hooks invisibly, the left side of the pleat coming over. With the cloth tailor-made are worn heavy gloves and an English straw walking hat, either with a creased crown or the newer bell-shaped box crown, a jaunty and rather unbecoming affair which is just coming into vogue. These hats should set well on the head if they are to look as they are intended. The American woman seems to believe that her hat has become uncomfortably tiny. With the gingham you may wear a toque without brim and with a roll of the dress material laid about it, a smart tie of the same on one side, and a rose of just the right color on the other side. With the duck suit J, white sailor trimmed with a band.bf ribbon may be worn. A great drooping leghorn with its brim weighted into becoming curves about your face by a wieath of rich roses is suitable with a lawn dress. If you want to economize you may omit the special hat for the gingham, and wear the one planned for the duck. That for the cloth dress will hardly do, became that ought to be dark, and'hats for wash dresses should be light. Copyright, 18W. I

While fishing last year in Bowery Bay, New York, ex-Aid. Smith, of Astoria, lost his vest containing a valuable watch, overboard. Recently, during a heavy storm, the vest, with the watch still in its pocket, was washed ashore and i estored to its owner.

OF ALL-AROUND USE.

WALKING COAT.

THE JOKER’S BUDGET.

•ESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Th* Reason Why--During the Home Run -- Rank Heresy -- A Change, Etc , Etc. THE BEASON WHY. He loves to rise at early dawn When others love to lie. This is the finest time for him, Because he is a fly. —[Judge. DURING THE HOME RUN. He heard not the coacher’s yelling, Nor heeded the captain’s call, For the centre field he was whistling, “After the ball.” RANK HERESY. Jess —Reverend Dr. Thirdly does not officiate at Society weddings any more; the girls have turned him down. Bess—Since when? Jess—Since his sermon on “Put not your trust in Princes. "—[Puck.

A CHANGE. Mistress—Not going to marry that sweep after all. Jane? Why, I thought it was all settled. Jane—So it was, mum; but the fact is, I saw him with a clean face for the first time last night, and I can’t marry him. You’ve no idea how ugly he is when he’s washed, mum.—[Philadelphia Life. HEAVY. Pickly—What’s that derrick in front of your house for? Munson—Don’t know? My wife must be baking biscuit. ON THE WAY. “Is my article in the soup?” inquired the good natured litterateur. “Not yet,” replied the editor, “but I’m going to boil it down pretty soon."—[Washington Star. A QUICK RECOVERY. She—l am so surprised to see you out after your sudden illness. He—What do you mean? She—Why, they told me after the dinner the other night you had to be carried home.—[Truth. WHEN WORDS FLOWED FREELY. Ethel—l think Clara Perkins has the largest vocabulary and the greatest eloquence of any woman I know. Isabel—Why, she never says a word during club discussions. Ethel—No; but you should hear her talk to her eanary.—[Judge. TOP OF THE LIST. 1 ‘There goes a man who leads in letters.” “Ah, indeed! 'What’s his name?” “A. A. Adams.”—[Truth. A POOR BARGAIN. Jess—l’ll give you a penny for your thoughts. Chappie—l was thinking of myself. Jess—Well, that’s the usual way with bargains. IT WOULD BE A GIVE AWAY. Dags—l see they have at last deciphered the Hittite hieroglyphics, supposed to be 4,000 years old. Wags—Really? I hope there are none of my jokes among them.

UNPROFESSIONAL OPINION. In the studio of a professional painter before his latest picture. “Well, what do you think of it?” “In the first place, I ought to tell you, sir, that I am no judge.” “Never mind, let us have your opinion.” “To tell the truth, I—l think it splendidl” “There, you see what a capital judge you are!" —[La Figaro. AT OLD POINT COMFORT. Penelope Peachblow—Great Heavens, Cholly Chapleigh looks as though he were wearing second-hand clothes. Dickey Doolittle (with awe) —He is. They were the Duke of Worcestershire’s once, and he is so stuck up about them that he won’t speak to us fellahs any more.

HIS WEAK SPOT GONE. “Chappie and Wilkins had a dispute at the club the other night, and Chappie got so excited he lost his head.” “Bear me, how fortunate! Chappie’s head was his only weak spot.” —[Harper’s Bazar. A BIBLIOPHILE. “He’s very intellectual and literary, isn’t he?” “Why do you think so?” “He told me he never felt himself till he was snugly ensconced in his library.” “Well, you see, his folding bed is a bookcase.”—[Judge. TWO POINTS OF VIEW. Flushly—lt is easy to acquire a taste for terrapin. Dedbroke—Yes; easier than to acquire the terrapin.—[Truth. WISHED HE WAS THEBE. He had just eaten of her biscuits for the first time, and was pensive. “Darling,” asked the bride with a joyous smile, “of what were you thinking?” “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “of Samoa.” “It must be a beautiful place,” she said, “but why Samoa?” There was a far-away look in his eyes as he remarked: “Bread grows on the trees there.” —[New York World. AFFORDING HER AMUSEMENT. Watts—Do you always agree with your wife when she makes an assertion? Potts—Of course I don’t. Do you suppose I want the poor woman to have no amusement at all?—[lndianapolis Journal. FASTIDIOUS. Young Wife—John, dear, I'm so glad you are coming home to dinner. Now I ami going to make a pie for you by my own self. John (nervously)—Very well, dear, mind you do, but not too much crust, you know. I never touch pie crust. Young Wife—All right, Johnny, then the pie shall be extra nice inside, with a lovely gravy. John (trying to speak cheerfully)— Yes, darling, but don’t put too much inside, you know. I never eat the inside of pies, and I don’t care much for gravy.

A MODEST MAN.

Employer—Want to marry my daughter, eh? And next, I suppose, you’ll want your salary raised so that you can support her! Employee—Oh, no sir! I shall expect you to support us both.— [Kate Field’s Washington. DIPLOMATIC RETICENCE. The social reformer was paying a visit to the convicts in the penitentiary and asking them various questions. “And what are you doing here, my friend?” he said to a good loking man in the shoe shop. “Makingshoes,” was the reply that discouraged any further inquisition in that direction.—[Detroit Free Press. SHE OPENED HIS EYES. “I’ve been awake all night. I haven’t closed my eyes,” remarked the rich old man who had married a young widow. “Then mamma would get a new silk dress,” said the widow’s little girl by a former marriage. “What do you mean?" asked the venerable stepfather. “I heard her say as soon as you closed your eyes she was going to have a new silk dress and diamonds and things.”—[Texas Siftings. TAKEN AT HER WORD. Cora—Why should you weep and be so angry, Belle, since you refused Harry flatly, of your own accord? Belle—To think that the idiot should take me at my word I Oh, it’s terrible I—[Boston Courier. HE KNEW BETTER. Prisoner (to his lawyer)—Sir, do you really believe all you have been saying about me to-day in your speech for my defence? Lawyer (smilingly)—Why,of course I do! Prisoner—l don’t.

TURTLES THAT FOUGHT.

Two Fishermen Interfere With ■ Novel and Desperate Battle. It is no uncommon thing for snapping turtles to be brought into any cf the towns of Pennsylvania. On the contrary, “snapper" fishing or hunting is a sport peculiar to the region, hundreds of the big turtles being captured in various ways every week of the season. But it is uncommon for snapping turtles to be brought in just the way that two were brought into Fisher’s Eddy a few days ago. The two turtles were very large ones, and one had its jaws closed tightly on the left 'foreleg of the other, and in that position they were captured by John and James Skelly under th© following circumstances: The two Skelly boys were fishing in the eddy from a flat-bottomed boat when they saw a great commo? tion in the water a few rods distant. They paddled toward the spot and saw that the commotion was being made by two big snapping turtles which were engaged in a desperate fight. They rushed at one another, and came together with a shock that made them both rebound a yayd or more and threw the water about in showers. As they darted around each other—these animals being exceedingly agile and quick in the water, although so clumsy and slow on land —they made savage lunges with their heads at one another’s legs, the evident effort of each being to seize the other at a vulnerable point. Th# collisions and manoeuvres lasted several minutes without either turtle obtaining any advantage, when suddenly one of them dashed through the water toward his antagonist, who waited the onslaught, his yellow eyes glaring and his massive head thrust forward to seize his assailant if possible. When the latter was within «, foot or so of the waiting turtle he dived like a flash and came up under his foe, and, before the latter could ward off the unexpected attack, closed his jaws on one of his fore legs, near the shell. The struggles of the turtle thus caught foul to free itself were so desperate that the water was lashed into foam, and in a short time became colored with blood.

A snapping turtle never releases its hold on anything it may close its jaws on until that object is dead, and the efforts of this turtle to release itself from his foe were not only unavailing, but tended to place him at still greater disadvantage by wearing out his strength. When the spectators of this novel battle saw that there could be no question as to its result they set about capturing both duellists. They paddled close to where the turtles were struggling, and, watching their opportunity, each man seized a turtle by its tail and lifted both into the boat before the turtles knew what was going on. The fishermen were by no means pleased with what they had done, though, for the fight went right on, and the boys were compelled to take a hand in it to maintain a place for themselves in the boat. With the boat paddle and one of the seats they pounded the turtles on their heads until both were stretched on the bottom of the boat. The jaws of the one were still tightly closed on the leg of the other, and remained so for ten hours after the head was cut off.—[New York Sun.

The Survival of Ear Wagging.

Darwin says that the ear-wagging characteristic is the survival of a power once possessed in common by both men and the lower animals, but he does not even hint that the accidental crossing of two muscles or cords and their subsequent adherence to each other in such a manner as to make the movement of one impossible without that of the other would or should in any manner affect the intellectual faculties or moral status of their owner. Slater says that but comparatively few persons possess the power to wag the ears, but Prof. Aaron has proven that the majority of men “will exhibit a slight instinctive movement of the muscles of the ear” if the remark, “What was that noise?” is suddenly pronounced in their presence.—[St. Louis Republic. The Pennsylvania Company gets its ties from West Virginia.