Indianapolis Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 25, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 January 1885 — Page 11

THE INDIANAPOLIS iMJLY SENTINEL, SUNDAY HORNING JANUARY 25, 1885

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KtTTIK !0THtCr. flnh my pretty on! not yet Wit lutle, only wait; Other blue Ü er are wet A your eyes outsiJe the gat, II h thUt forOTT Mit la the gate foreier shut. Ju.t a youn rnan in th rain, Saying (the H time?) "Good night! Should h nerer com aain. Would the world eni-i quit? Where wouM all th roehuds fro! Where all these rohins? Do you know? But he w;5l not com? Why, then. It no other within rail? There are men. and men. and men. Ani the men are brother all; Each weet fault of hi you'll fled Just as aweel in all him kind. None with eye like his! O ohf In difiner one did I Look, perhaps an hour ago. Whoe In.Je.-d. (ou must not cry) Thot i I thought of-are not free To laugh down jour tears, you see. Voice like his was nerer heard? No! but better ones, I tow; Did you eTr hear a Mrd! Listen! one singing now; And hh jilofes his gloves ah! well. There are glcvea like his to sell. At the play to-night tou'H see In mock tdet cloaks, mock earls, With mock-)ewld wori, that h Were a clown by! Now, those curl Are the barber's pride, 1 say; Do not cry for them, 1 pray. If no one should lore you? Why, You can lote some other still; Philip Hidney. Shakespeare ye, Uood King Arthur, if you will, Raphael he was handsome, too Love them one and all I do. 'o Hon! for JIuic. I Rockland Courier-Gazette. The other day a Rockland household was made proud and happy by the introduction of a-cabinet organ. The mother could play a little, and as there was a "popular collection of music" included in the purchase, he lost no time in getting every note and top into practice. The organ groaned and wheezed and complained with the most astonishing of music, nicht and day, day and night, fur a week. Then one morning there whs a knock at the door, and a little girl from the next houe shrilly said: "Please, marni, mother wants to know if you won't lend her your music book!" This was a surprising request, inasmuch as the woman next door wa known to be organ less. After gasping once or twice, the amateur organist asked: "What does she want of it?" The child hadn't been loaded for thi question, as she straightforwardly replied: "I don't know I'm sure, only I heard mother tell father that if she had hohl of the book for a day or two mebbe somebody could get a "rest." The woman softly shut the door in the little girl's face and weut and carefully locked the cabinet organ with a brass key. WMMlilnictoii'n lilief. The Hey. E. D. Neil, writing to the the Episcopal Recorder regarding the late Rev. R. M. Abercrombie, of Jersey City, and his father, Dr. James Abercrombie, of Philadelphia, gives thee recollections: One day, after the father had reached fourscore years, the lately deceased son took me iuto the study of the aged man and showed me a letter which President George Washington had written to his father, thanking him for the loan of one of bis manuscript sermons. Washington and his wife were regular' attendants upon his ministry while residing in Philadelphia. The President was not a communicant, notwithstanding all the pretty stories to the contrary, and after the close of the sermon on sacramental Sundays had fullan into the habit of retiring from the church, while his wife remained and communed. Upon one occasion Dr. Abercrombie alluded to the unhappy tendency of the example of those dignified by age and position turning their backs upon the celebration of the Lord's Supper. The discourse arrested the attention of Washington, and after that be never came to church with his wife on communion Snnday. Dr. Abercrombie, in a letter which appears in the fifth volume of Sprague a "Annals of the American Pulpit," mentions that be did not find fault with the sermon, but respected the preacher for his moral courage. . There is a story about Washington being found in the woods in winter time in prayer by the owner of the house which be used as his headquarters at Valley Forge which I would like to believe were it not so improbable, and if it had not been first put in print by tie eccentric and not very accurate Episcopal minister, Morgan L. Weems. THE POTOMAC FLATS. Wbat,I Expected from a New IXjrtlrMuIlc Dredge. (Washington "Star. "If the hydraulic dredge which will soon be at work on the flats proves success it will revolutionize the art of dredging," said Col. Hains to a Star reporter, the other day, while conversing about the reclamation of the flats. "Is there much doubt about its success," asked the reporter. "Not in my opinien," was the reply. "Otherwise I wouldn't have recommended that the contract be given to Benson & McKee. Splendid work was done with the dredge in Oakland, Cal," continued Col Hains. "It has a record of dredging there sixty thousand cubic yards of material per month, working ten hours per day. On the flau it is the intention to work day and night, at least twenty hours per day, and as the dredge which is being built is to be quite a little larger than the one at Oakland, it is estimated that one hundred thousand cubic yards per month at least can be removed and deposited if no serious obstacles are encountered. The difference in kiud of material to be dredged may make some difference. I have examined a sample of the materi.il dredged at Oakland, and as near as I can judge that in the Potomac can be dredged more easily. There is more sand in the latter, and that they Hay, is all the better for the hydraulic dredge." "If the new method proves atisfactory, it will make quite a saving in the appropriation alloted for the work, will it uot?" asked the reporter. "I hope so," was the reply. "You can get an idea on that point by comparing the price of the contract recently awarded for dredging 1,000,0)0 yards of the Washington channel and the price ofiVred by Sanford & Ross, who did the work Uzi jm. The bid of the latter was 191

cents per yard, while the new contract price is only 12.37. That is quite a difference, but besides the work is to be measured in place instead of in the scow, which will make the difference in coat about one-half. There is about oneeighth difference to the yard in measuring in the scow and in place in favor of the latter, for the materials is then pretty well settled. In dredging the 1,000,000 yards in the Washington channel there will be a faving of some $80,000. The work done last year was well done, but the contractors could not compete with the new comers, their expenses being so much heavier. A few men can work the hydraulic dredge aud accomplish as much work as a big force of men and a number of dredges working in the old way. "Of course I can't tell about future contract", but I understand that Benson & McKee, who have a right to use the dredge under Col. Von Schmidt's patent, were preparing to build a second dredge in case they proved the successful bidders in the contrast for dredging one million yard? in the Virginia channel." "How does the new dredge work?" asked the reporter. "The material is pumped up through a suction-pipe twenty inches in diameter. At the bottom of the river, uear the pipe, a horizontal wheel, with three plows attached, loosens the material. The suction-pipe leads through a powerful pump, which forces water through the exit-pipe at the rate of thirty feet per second, and you can imagine that this would carry along pretty stiff material. The exit-pipe can be made of any length desired, and is carried over pontoons to the location where the material is to be deposited. "When will the work under the new contract be commenced T "As soon as they can construct the dredge, but I suppose that will be very soon. The contract is to be completed by the 1st of next September. As it i, I would be enabled to make good progress with the appropriation at my disposal, but if there should be any more contracts at anything like reasonable terms, it will be all the better. When the estimates for the reclamation of the flats were first made, they were placed at the very lowest figures. It was even said that the work could not possibly be done within the estimate. Now, my great aim is to bring the total cost within that estimate, and I am going to do it if it is possible. LONDON FOG.

A Serien of Interesting Experiment to Fl ml the Amount of C'arboulc Arid lit I lie- Air. London Standard. Autumn has become so generally associated with the recurrence of English fogs that one does not have to look far for an explanation as to their cause, which may with pretty fair certainty be generally attributed to the earth being warmer than the air with which it is in contact, so that by a physical law vapor is constantly passing into the air from the surface of the moist ground, or from the surface of the water by the silent process of evaporation, and by reason of the cooler air the vapor near the surface of the earth is rendered visible. Another primary cause of fog is the contact of different currents of air of varying temperatures, by the intermingling of which the vapor in the warmer current, which was invisible, is rendered visible by the mere process of being cooled down. England is especially subject to fogs, since the sea by which it is bounded is, during the winter months, warmer than the cool winds which so often blow from off the Continent of Europe, and when such winds are gentle they pick up in a visible form moisture from the warmer surface with which they come in contact. For the most part London fogs are generated on calm and clear nights, and are associated with what, from a purely scientific sense, might be called the finest of weather, since the atmospheric conditions which mostly favor the formation of fog in the metropolis belong to that class technically known as anticyclonic, and with such conditions we have high barometer readings, absence of rain, and calm or light winds, and very commonly a perfectly cloudless sky; indeed, usually when London is wrapped in one of its densest fogs in the suburbs, or at all events, in the open country, the most beautiful weather is prevailing. Doubtless much yet remains to be learned with respect to fogs, and especially of the class usually termed dry fogs, between which and certain epidemics there would seem to be an intimate connection, which points very strongly to the one as the cause of the other. Dr. Angus Smith, in the eloborate series of experiments which he carried out, shows that ten thousand volumes of ordinary air, charged with ten volumes of carbonic acid, when inhaled for half an hour, had the effect of lowering the pulse by two beats per minute, which is equivalent to a diminished circulation of many gallons of blood per day. This amount of carbonic acid is not exceptionally large tor an ordinary dense fog in London. The Whole Race In the CSarden of Eden. Prof. Swing. J We are all in the garden just as was Adam, and before us as before him hangs the fruit of good and evil. It is a pity to charge upon Eve the follies of our lives. Poor mother of us all, she had sorrow enough of her own; why must we lay upon her name any blame for our misfortunes? We are in the same garden where she stood, and have exactly the power she possessed of making the wiser choice. We are equipped with full power to choose the good or the evil. It is high time for us to conclude that if Adam did badly in the Garden of Eden we are at liberty to do better in the same place. We all see the situation better than it was seen by the first man. He felt that perhaps the forbidden tree bore sweet, good fruit; we all know that its fruit is the gall of bitterness. It is of no moment that our garden of trial is not by the Euphrates. The little spot of ground through which four branches of a river spread out and covers all the continents, and Adam and Eve stand for the human race. We are all in the incisure. Home sinning aud dying, others obeying the Almighty aud advancing to eternal uf.

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Onlj drop in the t4..kt, hut eTery drop will tell; Th Micke woul.l foou r t-mptj. Without the drops in the well. Only a poor little penny, Ii was 11 I had t give; lint as pennies make the dollars, Jt may help some cau?e to lite. A few little hits of rihhon Anl some toys they were not new But they make the Pick child happy, Which has made me happy, too. Only some outgrown garment They were all I had to spare But they'd help to clothe the neeJr, And the oor are everywhere. A word now and then of comfort. That cost me nothing t say; But the poor oll man tJid happy. And it helped him on the way. God loTeth the cheerful jfirer. Though the gift 1 poor and small; What doth he think of his children When they never give at all? INTERESTING RECOLLECTIONS. WhitUker, in New York Graphic As the result of speaking of the prince of Wales we are led to think of others of our distinguished English visitors. I have always spoken of Charles Dickens, who never could entirely do away with the venom generated by his first trip to America, though the overwhelming attention, financial especially, with which he was received on the last completely disarmed him, as it has many more of our British cousins, among the rest Thackeray, who without the slightest doubt, had he failed in the purpose of his visit to lecture would have gone home and lampooned us to his heart's content. I first saw Thackeray at Harper's, in the business office, I think alut twenty years ago, talking with Mr. Fletcher Harper since dead. There w as something about the man that immediately attracted my attection, a peculiar way he had of looking over and under his spectacles, and a manner of laughing without laughing, or what I would call a spoken laugh, without any inward cachinnation. 1 had seeu his portraits and knew that he was in this country, and feLtsure that it must be he. An introduction followed, and I was made known to him by the title of something I had once written, and which he professed in a very effusive manner to have read, but left an impression on my mind that it was mere flattery, and that he would have said the same thing to any one else in the same tone of voice and manner. I had many opportunities afterwards of seeing Thackerary, and having lung talks with him, but I con less I never got rid of that first impression, though he was certainly charming in his conversation and manner. I felt as a friend, to whom I was once saying something complimentary about himself, replied, "I know it ist't true, ray dear fellow, but I like to hear you say it." But one reminiscence brings on another, and I cannot help thiuking of several brilliant men who have left England and Ireland, espe ccially the last, to lay their bones in this couutry, aud some that have not done the latter but are sure to. Who i there now to remember poor William North who wrote a book that excited all England forty years ago entitled "AntiConingsby," came to this country for some reason, which I believe to have been a love reason, wrote here a uovel called "Slave of the Lamp," which had great success, went to his room one day and took a drop or two of a poisonous acid, which he always carried with him ready for use, and dropped instantly dead, so quickly that he had no time to reach his bed from the bureau, where he was supposed to have swallowed it? I talked with him jollily an hour before. Another. Charley Halpine (Miles O'Reilly), who was supposed to have committed suicide, a supposition I never indulged in, for the simple reason that the motive was wanting. He had just attained a high office, register, saw wealth before him, was apparently happy in his family relations, though that is something that no man ever can pronounce on for any one, hardly for himself, and with everything about him seemingly to live for, and yet he left his jovial companions, went to his room, took chloroform aud was found dead a few hours later. Again, Fitz James O'Brien a real genius, who wrung a hard living out of publishers, and when the war broke out was found in the union army doing his best for the country that had received him kindly. Somewhere near Baltimore in the very beginning of the war he was out on a scouting party, and, emerging from a bit of woods, was confronted by a party of confederates. O'Brien on his own account commenced firing with his revolver upon their commander, who was Colonel Ashby, afterwards the famous rebel scout. It was a regular duel, and O'Brien fell, wounded in the shoulder. He was carried to Baltimore, and there died from bad surgical treatment, as I happen to know for a certainty. Speaking of O'Brien puts me in mind of Artemus Ward. We were all intimate friends, but there has been so much invention and nonsense written about the latter, that I almost tremble to say a word lest I may be put down among the fabulists. Especially an Englishman by the name of Hingston, trusting to his imagination for his facts, and having been the traveling agent of Artemus for a while, got out a book in which the main parts of the great humorist's life were omitted while other parts were purely imaginary to fill in. The real story of Artemus' debut into prominence is this: There was in 1850 a comic paper printed in this city by two brothers, Stephens, called Vanity Fair, which blazed up brilliantly for a while under literary and artistic genius, but finally flickered and was likely to expire. The editorship was offered to me, but I saw plainly 1 could do nothing with it. I said: There are only two men in thiscvuntry who can do you any good. One is John G. Saxe aud the other Artemus Ward." At that time I believed this to be his real name. 'Saxe you can't have, for he is about to run for governor of Vermont, so you'd better get hold of Mr. Ward as quickly as you can." My advice was heeded, and I was asked if 1 would write to Artemus and learn his fiews. I did so to Cleveland, O., and made him the distinct offer of commingto

New York on a salary of $30 per week, and an increase on the success of the paper. He was prompt, arriving in New York almost as soon as his letter of acceptance. He afterwards told me that he was getting but $10 per week on the Plain Dealer, and assumed the editorial chair of Vanity Fair; but salt could not save the paper, notwithstanding its genuine merit. The American public does not want refined wit, though since that time they have been partially educated up to it; they want broad humor, and personal allusion. Punch never did sell in this country, and if we want anything outside of a daily paper it must be cheap and a great deal of it. Witness our so-called literary papers, eight large pages, running six contiuued stories, for five cents. When Vanity Fair was sure to go down Artemus was very despondent. What should he do? One day walking up Broadway I said to him, "Charley, why don't you lecture?" Lecture! Why the idea was absurd. He could write, but he could not talk; he was not able to get up and say ten lines on an emergency. I soon talked him out of that by telling him that he could read his lecture or commit to memory. That point settled, now what should be his subject? At that time the canard of the Twenty seventh street ghost was in full blast, and I suggested ghosts as a subject, knowing that whatever he wrote he would make it funry, and befcie we parted it was agreed that he should write what he could on this subject, and on the next evening come down to Pfan", the noted Bohemian resort on Baoadway above Bleecker street, and read it to the party that assembled there every night. This programme was carried out, and Artemus duly appeared with what he called "A Lecture Abnit Ghosts," and

read it amid uproarious approval, the main fun of which was that there was not a word in it about ghosts, and it was settled on all sides that it must be brought before the public. But how? There was an actor and occasional manager at that time playing geueral utility at Wallack's thertre, the elder of the name, on Broadway near Broome street, whose name was De Waiden. I went to De Waiden, whom I knew and talked Artemus to him. He saw it and an introduction followed. De Waiden worked assiduously, and the entire press helped him. Everybody was the friend of Artemus, for a more genial, jovial, liberal man did not live. Alas! for himself. De Waiden took Niblo's saloon, now the dining room of the Metropolitan, for one night, with the privilege of six. They ran the sir nights, crammed to the doors, and I doubt if ever audiences laughed before or since as they laughed that week. The financial result to Artemus was $1,280 and Artemus was jubilant. From that hour his course was one uninterrupted of success, and lecture after lecture followed each one greater than the pre ceding, and fortune flowed into the pock ets ot Artemus. How many genial and liberal traits and acts I could relate of him, one only of which shall come to the surface. There are many who will remember Ned Mullen, the kind-hearted and unfortunate Ned, the Tenniel of America. He lay sick, dying, at St. Vincent's Hospital, and a few of his friends undertook to raise some money for him. Artists and authors are not apt to be overburdened with cash, and so the "filthy lucre" poured slowly in. In this emergency I went to Artemus, who was then giving his lecture on the Mormons at Dodworth's hall, and who had known Mullen well, and stated the case. "Certainly! Certainly!" said Artemus, crowding his hand into his pocket, while visions of a ten, or perhaps twenty ran through my head. "How much do you want?" That was a puzzler, but I said. "Whatever you please, my boy." He took his hand slowly out of his pocket and said thoughtfully: "I guess I'll give him a night, say Wednesday." I was astounded and the night was given, putting $260 into poor Mullen's depleted pouch aud no public mention of the aflair. The last time I saw Artemus was a very short time before his departure for England. He was doing the humorous at the Washington theatre. I went to his dressing room, and found him with the usual "necessity," he called it. We had only time to say a few words when he was called. He threw his arms about my neck, kissed me with a laugh, and rau. I listened to him through the evening and roared with a thousand others, but we never spoke again. I hold in my possession one of the most comprehensive deadhead tickets perhaps ever i.-sued to any man, signed by Artemus. It reads: Admit Mr. Whittaker and all his friends to reserved seats for this and every other season. Aktemus Ward. By the by, what has become of the $75,000 left by Artemus to found an asylum for old and infirm printers and in which his mother bad a life interest? His mother is dead, but where is the money. Is that dead also? The Vprlght Man. Carl Pretzel's Weekly. To delineate the character of an upright man, a man of integrity, is a plain one, and easily understood. He is one who makes it his constant rule to follow the road of duty, as his conscience points out to him. He is not guided merely by affectations, which may sometimes give the color of virtue to a loose and unstable character. The upright man is guided by a fixed principle of mind, which determines him to esteem nothing but what is honorable, and to abhor whatever is base and unworthy in moral conduct. Hence you find him ever the same, at all times the trusty friend, the affectionate relation, the conscientious man of business, and the public-spirited citizen. He assumes no borrowed appearance. He seeks no mak to cover him, for he acts no studied part; but he is in truth what he appears to be, full of truth, candor and humanity. In all pursuits, whether business or political, he knows no part but the fair and direct one, and would much rather fail of success than attain it by reproachful means. He rfever shows you a smiling countenance while be meditates evil against you in his heart. He never praises you among your friends and then joins in traducing you among euemies. You will never find one part of his character at variance with another. In his manners he is simple and unaffected; in all his proceedings open and consistent. Such is the man of integrity.

Tin: riAiirs or rin.Mis. I. In the oriole win-low on the Mreet A Uir yountf mother hold her hahy sweet. Her dear first-lorn, arrayed in hin ani lace, A m ling fujare nni a pmiling fCf . II. Beneath the window, on the trri'l street A ragged woman wander in the heat, HoltfiDg a wan white hahy her disgrace: A scowling future and Scowling face. III. I'nseen between them is a phantom fair. Wh9e rot is love, whoe home it everywhere; Scales in her hand, she sit with Minded ee. And smiles and acowl, and squanders of denies. IV. O childltM Goddess, pha'.l it ever he The human mother heart unknown to thee? Hark! From the cloud 1 hear a voice divine: Mortal be silent; both the babes are mine. Home Journal.

Couldn't Fit Ulm. New Orleans Times-Democrat. A negro, with nothing but a ragged look and a pair of big shoes to distinguish him, entered Rube Hoffenstein's store at New Orleans and asked to look at some shoes. "Vat number do you vear?" inquired Hohenstein. "I don't 'zactly 'member," replied the negro, "but it 'pears to me de number is somewhar 'round fourteen," and he held up a broad, flat-looking foot, which shut out the light from the door like a screen. "My gr-r-acious!" exclaimed Hoffenstern as he gazed at the dimensions of the negro's pedal extremity, ef your feet vas a gourde uf inches longer, my frent, dey voulu be a bair ut vinjrs, un ven Gabriel blays his drumpet all you vould haf to do is to vork your feet und you flys shust so good as a little mocking bird. My cr-r-acious, vat feet I "Look hyar,"said the rcgro indignantly, "I didn t come to dis store to be 'suit ed. I nebber talk 'bout anybody, and I ain't gwine to 'low anybody to talk 'bout me. God made dem feet, and 'pinted me to tote 'em frew dis world, an' you ain t jrot no right to find fault wid dem. Fokes have miehtv 'spisable wavs dese times, 'pears to me." "Veil, my frent, you don't must get mad, you know. If you see my brodefs feet vot vas in xew Jersey, you don t dink you vas nobody. Vy, if my broder vas in New Orleans, und valk on hii hands in de summer dime, he nefer get Bdruck cn the head mit de sun. His feet vould be dwice as much better as an um brella. He vas broud uf his feet, my frient, und eferybody vot has been anvvere near him say dot dey vas bis sdrongest point." "I didnrt come hyar to talk 'bout feet," said the negro, 1 come tur de spress purpose ob eettin' er pair ob shoes: if you ain't got any, say so, an' I'm gwine somewher else. "Vait. my frent. Herman, come and dake a look at de shentleman's feet und see if dere vas anydingiu de store vot vil fit him." The clerk did as he was bidden, and said there was not a pair of shoes in the house that was large enouch. "If you is all gwine to keep a shoe tore," said the negro in disgust, "why don t you hab shoes on hand dat will ht fokes." "Veil, my frent," replied Hoffenstein, "ve don't can afford to keep shoes in de stock vat vill vit your feet. It vould pay us petter, you know, to put a lid und a gouple uf handles to dese kind uf shoes, und sell dem for ledder trunks," and with a bland smile Honenstem bowd the necro our. The Man to Tie To. Detroit Free Press.) "When you cum across a man who hat no vices nor weaknesses, drap him aa you would a hot 'tater. De Lawd intended man to be mo' or less weak, wicked an' wretched. It was not de ideah to turn out a perfeck man. If it had been we Bhould have had neither religion, preach ers nor de Bible. Airth would have bin Heaben an' dar would have bin no call to die. "Natur' sometimes turns out a pusson widout guile, just as he turns out one eyed colts an' three-legged calves. Sicfc pussons soon become known as eithe! fools or lunatics. It am ain Nature way to bring men into dis world wid ai angel's wings already half grown. An' it am a leetle suspicious to find a too-good man. When you diskiver ahuman bein' who isn't lame somewhar' who nebber deceives, cheats, lies, envies, covets who goes about satisfied wid de weather, craps an' himself who won't bet, drink, go to de circus or look upon a boss race, you have foun' a man to let alone. He am too good. Natur' made him fur an angel and forgot to put him in lieaben. "I like a man who has weaknesses an sins. Den I know dat he am a fellowmortal who was put on airth to be saved. I like a man who has had sickness, heart aches an' grievous trouble. Den I am sartin of a man who has svmuathv. I like a man who has bin foolish 'null to git drunk an' strong 'nuff to kick de temptashun ober a seben-rail fence. Den you know whar, to find him. He has bin dar an knows what a fool he was. I like a man who has bin a liar, an' who hasn t entirely recovered from de injury. Den 1 know how to trade hosses wid him, an I know what to believe when he tells me dat he has bin fish in'. If a goodv-good naybur borrys my spade I doan know when it will cum home, nor how much of it will he left. If a thief takes it for a loau I am pretty sartin to rekiver it in a day or two an in good condishun. "When a man tells me dat he has become so good dat he feels like bustin', I go right home an' put an extra padlock on my kitchen doah. When a man sheds tears ober de condishun of de far-oil heathen, de heathen at home had better be keerful how dey lend him money. De man who's conscience won't let him go to a place of amusement has bin known to elope wid anoder man's wife. De man who can t remember dat he eber used an oath or tole a lie has bin followed across de ocean an' arrested fur robbin' Vtidders an' orphans. De man who alius w'ars a smile am now sarvin' his third term in State Prison. "Let me say to you in sumin' up dat de man who sins an' knows it an' wants to do better, am sooner to be trusted dan de man who neber sins an' feels dat him am good 'nuff. Ifyoutietoa mau, let it be a man who feels dat be am weak an sinful. You will den have a pardnef who am not a freak of Nature. A SL Louis editor, who started with out a cent forty years ago, is now worth $100,000. His fortune is all owing to his own energy, industry and frugality. and the fact that an undo recently left him $99,999.99. Philadelphia Call,

THE COST Or A WDDItJ. The 1111 and Low of the Game of iettlni? llnpplljr 7Irrlri. Sao Francisco Chronicle. 1 It seems, from nil that can be learned from the fair sex, that Worth and his compeers in Paris charges a round 100,000 francs, say $20,000, to outfit a young lady for the matrimonial voyage. For this she is equipped from top to toe; everything is one of the best and in the latest fashion. Of course this is not the limit. Ladies in Paris occasionally spend 2-"0,000 francs for their trousseau, and are heard to complain' a few weeks after marriage, that they have nothing to wear. But still, for $20,000 it is possible to buy a good many clothes for one little person. This does not include gloves, or boot-, or stockings. These la-t, nowa days, may be made to cost auy thing, even if the wearer does not fall in with the latest fashion

of wearing one red and one black stocknr. There is a popular actress, who is said to possess 300 pairs of embroidered sue: stocking;, worth any where .from $10 to froO a pair. Adding these and the price of knicknacka to Worth's bill, the father of a fashionable girl can probably reckon himself fortunate n he gets her oft hi hands for less than $30,000. He is not so well off as the African chief, who de tnands a cow and a pig for his daughter's suitor before he lets her go. But theu we are not in Africa. What, then, t-hall we do? Because Worth is dear shall there be no more marrying and giving in marriage? Be cause stockings are expensive shall there be no more cakes and ale? God forbid! When it comes to the point, how many gowns does a girl need to make a man happy? .Some one, with a thoughtful concern for the depressed condition of the market, has lately figured that a lady in good society, m.irrying a man in good society and anxious to do him credit by her appearance, could equip herself completely for marriage for $1000. This in cluded a handsome wedding dress, with regulation lace veil, etc., a becoming traveling dress, a fashionable calling cos tume, a home dress and all the under clothing which a fastidious but reasonable young lady could need. Lven witn wheat at $1 15 a cental, papa ought to be able to squeeze out $1000. And if he can't, it is better, as 8t Paul says, to marry than burn. The theory of a trousseau is that the young bridegroom shall not prematurely be put to the expense of dresses for his bride that it shall be broken on him gently that she is a delicate creature, requiring clothing. But if a few yards more or less of silk and muslin are going to stand in the way of true love we had better make a holocaust of the dry goods stores. It is not the clothes a man marrie, after all, but the contents of the clothes. Kissing-. Karl Lytton, in the Xiceteenth Century. In one of the letters written by him from England in the reign of Henry VIII., Erasmus dwells with immense relish on the English custom of k'usiug ladies at first raeetiug them, and de scribes the custom as delightful, because maidens as well as matrons kissed all visitors both when they came and when they went. One of the courtesies appertaining to this usage was that partners kissed at the close of a dance. Thus the King in Shakespeares "Henry VIII.," (act 1., fcene iv.) when he sees Anne Bullen for the first time and dances with her, says to the lady as soon as the dance is over: "It were unmannerly to take you out Ami not to ki?s you." Kisses her.J Manifestly this custom familiar to ati Elizabethan audience, is assumed, though not expressly indicated, in the dancing scene in "Romeo and Juliet." If we saw all the partners kissing at the close of the dance we should understand at once that Romeo's kiss is not "unmannerly," as it certainly now appears to us. it may be objected that a modern audience would be shocked by such an unlimited and promiscuous quantity of kissing. But I do not think that would be the case if the business were properly managed. The dancing is of a more or lesB stately character. The general salute at the end of it would be equally ceremonious. The special character of Romeo's actiou would then be felt in its right relation to all that is going on around him. For he has an express title to kiss Juliet, since he is not a recognized visitor, but an intruder and an enemy. Neither can he claim the privilege of a partner, for he has not danced with her. But under the cover of a prevailing usage, and the general kissing that is going on all around him, he approaches Juliet with the devout reverence appropriate to her assumed character, and craves permission to pay a holy palmer's homage to the shrine of his devotion. This is demand ed by the spirit of the scene, which under these conditions (but these only) becomes graceful and poetic. The kissinsr L i 11.1 . . - Detween au tue partners at the end of the dance leades naturally up to the kiss ing between Romeo and Juliet: and instead Romeo's first greeting of Juliet be ing marted by a vulgar familiarity, it takes the character of a peculiarly deferential homage. PostmaMten Salarie. There are about 60.000 rjostofficea in the United States. Two thousand two hundred of these are so considerable as to be filled by the appointment of the President; the others are filled by the appointment ti the PostmasterGeneral. The salaries of the 50.000 yiostmasters vary greatly. Postmaster Pa rson. of New York f!itv. whn ia a son-in-law of ex-Postmaster General James, gets $8,000 a year. No other postmaster cets as larce'a salary. All rhA o O m "non-Presidential" postmasters arefpaid opon the basis of business done at their offices. This is determined, not by counting tne stampe, nor by counting the number of pieces bandied, but by rnnnt. ing the numbef of stamps canceled. Forty-seven postmasters receive $1 a year as saiary; eleven receive twentyTfive cents a year; one receives nine cents; one six cents, and one five cents a Tear. Postmaster Sloane. of Perilla.'WhA On Tenn., is the five cent man. He enjoys toe Qisiinction ox receiving the fmalleet salary paid to any of Uncle Sam's civil servants. In all we pay the postmasters of the country about 10.000.000 a rpir -,iaj.uuu goes to the. presidential rustm&siers

yes on so.

Oh. hard ! the ten cf a woman' "no;"Tis music's nt:tfiei. I5i;t werfer than alt sour, Is hire tl;ny Is the ttr.o of a woman's "Yes." Huston Courif r." It Wk that way to the callow ycuth. Where lpnoranoe i I'Ii.p; But the time-tried callous married maa Prefers antithesis Merc hant Trareler. Xot Mentioned in the War Records. Joaquin Miiler'a New Orleans !ttr. These hundreds of miles of marsh and mud are tropical grasses; the desolation and solitude of the scene remind me of a singularly good story told mo by some negroes in the cypress swamp, back from the river and Gulf, up a bayou, where I had gone to live alone with the blacks and get at the bottom of their mode of life. And of all this, the coon hunts and so on, I shall write about later. But the story I refer to here is about tha white man only. I never heard of it before. I do not know that any one else ever heard of it. I asked some white people about it in the city, but it iva new to them. And yet we must remember that many things transpired during the war, many tragic and touching incidents that have no historian. And these people down here, the Mexican people, ignorant, too, at that time, aa compared to the people of the Eastern states, never showed any like disposition to preserve their traditions and stories of the war. Maybe this was because they were so hopelessly and entirely vanquished. Certain it is, they would have cherished many stories of valor and daring that aie now forgotten if they had found favor with the God of war. But this, in brief, is the black men's story: In a pretty little village, since destroyed, on a boyou back from the river, a great number of very old men had been left by their sons and grandsons, ia this place of comfort aud security, while they went to the war. Aud these old men here, many of them veterans of former wars, formed themselves into a regimeut, made for themselves uniforms, picked up old nint-hck guns, even mounted a rusty old cannon, and so prepared to go to battle if ever thewarcama within their reach. Toward the close of the war some gunboats came down the river, shelling the chore. The old men far back on tha bayou heard the ouiid of cannon, and gathering together, they set out with, their old muskets and rusty old canon to try and reach the river over the old and abandoned corduroy road through the cypress swamp. jhe black men say they marched out right merrily that hot day, shouting and bantering to encourage each other, tha dim fires of their old eyes burning with desire of battle, although not one of them was young enough or strong enough to stand erect. Aud they never caina back any more. Now, understand distinctly; I do not know whether there is a word of truth in this story or not. I i;ive it just as I got it of the negroes. 1 tried to verify the story. I had them row me to the spot where the drowned-out village onco stood. They even pointed me out tha dim outline of the road through tha cypress woods. Woman Devotion. My son, I am pained to learn that you are becoming somewhat cyuical in youl views concerning the natural tendencies and qualities of .womankind in general. Remember your mother was a woman. The only thing I can recollect at all de rogatory to her blessed memory is that she was too coy with rod aud. household boot-jack. The natural consequence isg you are rapidly running to seed, and fast becoming a fit subject for condemnation by all members of your mother's sex. Your mother was a good woman, but she just escaped being a perfect mother when she held her hand aloof from tha bump of your self-esteem. 1 It is a wonder tome that the Lord' don't permit the spirits of departed f mothers to come back to thi realm just to shake the nonsense out-f their offsprings, or paddle them with the ,prj ' verbial golden slipper. You sneeringly remark, in the casual manner akin to your class, that woman'a devotion is a sham. You also add that the greatest devotion of woman is laid upon the shrine of fashion. Now, my young limb of the sidewalk posture, your mother was a lady of fashion. I cannot say that she wore out your father's patience teaming lor a seabkiri sacoua and a forty-dollar bonnet. I have no recollection of this; still, he mav have done so. " Once, I well remember, you eot into a street fracas and had your Grecian nona demolished of its pristine line of beauty. iou ran 10 your motuer; fctie applied a twenty-dollar lace handkerchief to staunch your life blood, when a ten-cent towel would have sufficed. She didn't stop to question the cause of the fracas. rso; but she ruined that elegant bit of lace in the utter abandonment of maternal instinct and motherly devotion. Tha genuine cause of your nasal organ's dis aster was you tried to walk over a poor little street Arab, who proceeded to da you up alter the style K.t down in tha volumn known as "The Manly Art of Self Defence." That, my son, is a sample of woman'a devotion; a specimen of eSect without going behind the returns to get at tha cause. While you are burning the midnicht ga, busily engaged with the hemispherical ivories on a green baize table, there'n alight in a sensible girl's parlor not burning tor thee. One of tbee days you win open your eyes to the fact that the lusty-limbed mechanic gut the deadwood on you, also got the girl vou thought you had, sure iu. After he'd gone and married her, you'll lug around a big lump of misanthropy and swear that woman s devotion is all a myth. iwy, you ve got to come down from your perch. There are too many of tha prime articles, homo sura, floating around this part of the globe, for women tn yearn after such game as you are. You ramt drop this vapid ignis fa tu us of your foolish brain and buckle down to biz, elüe vou'll get left wheu the cake of domestic bliss is paed. A woman s heart ju-t pushes fountains of pure devotion. If vou don't receive fome of the pellucid drops it's because you are proving by ycur daily comings and goings that you are only worthy of an existence which is environed by tha cold walls and chilly bheeUof a poor old k-u.l '

uagusivi s prustripuua.

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