Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 14, Ligonier, Noble County, 24 July 1879 — Page 3

o O 22 Y. Che Ligonier Lanner, J. B. STOLL, Fditor and Proprietor, SIGONIER. - : % . : INDIANA

-SUMMER-PLANS. - ‘ I ’ 1 ’ ' ROMANCE, ' Wirh winds that set the leaves astir ' In Nature's ceaseless: murmurings «{Like some melodious dulcimer .- Whose music dies upon the strings), With bird-song sweet, in smiling May, Our term of toil shall puss away. - “Then, strolling near some plaintive stream With her who seems divinely fair, "1l watch the rippling sunlight ;E‘l;:_am Athwart her braids ot golden hair; . And, lingering in the leafy grove, - ; We'll tell once more the tale of love. +Or. when the twilight dims the sky, - And night lets down her dusky bars, i ﬁaze upon those love-lit eyes That shame the splendor of the stars; While from the drowsy forest nigh ‘Resoundeth Nature's lullaby; e e Lol REALITY, -.- .All day, with unrelenting munch, : And aggravating buzz of wings,“The gay mosquito takes his lunch, - Till'man aalf dies beneath the stings. The mercury. e'en in the shade, : * Skips up to 500 Centigrade. .And Nature's minstrels, where are they? In scorching heat their powers are spent; ‘The birds have struck for higher pay;. The streams don't murmur for a cent; But all night long, repose to rout, 2 : The beastly beetles boom about. . «And she I'love, that festive maid : . Who figured largely in my plan, Is whispering, neath the 'maple’s shade, Soft nothings—to another man; While. in the bog across the way, The bullfrog pipes his roundelay. —Acta Columbiana.

BOMBOCHOU. I HAVE been well acquainted with a ‘mountebank. It is not of a politician that I wish to tell you, but only of a common acrobat. Why should I not have known him! AsSancho says, one should have friends everywhere. This mountebank is dead, and

lam going to tell you his story. It is -.commonplace enough, when all said; but this mountebank, in dying, uttered a sublime word. It was the grain of gold in the heap of sand. : Pierre Bourset was born ‘at Soulitre, a little village near Mans. " His father was a cooper. At five one is not an aristocrat, and I have had many a pleasant game with little- Pierre. In time it became necessary to go to Paris to college, and after that I could see my former comrade only during vacations. We were no longer together, but we were not lcst to each other’s sight. As for Pierre, he grew big, went to the ecommon school, became a good ~wopkman like his father, and toward his nineteenth year nothinﬁ would do but he must fall in love with the cure’s niece, a very pretty girl, .on my word. But it was not for him that two bright black eyes beamed, and that beat a little heart whose flutterings agitated a young bosom divinely molded. - - - All these tregsures were reserved for ~the village teacher. . When Pierre ' learned not only that he was not loved, but that his charmer loved another, the unhappy boy became mad, and two days befpre the wedding-night he sought a quarrel with his happy rival. A struggle followed, and the poor tutor, cut with a knife, fell never to rise again, £ i

It was on that occasion that I for the first time gained a knowledge of the quality of French justice, = The case was very simple, was it not? ' The affair occurred in .the presence of ten witnesses, and, for that matter, Pierre avowed all that one could ask, even premeditation, which was entirely unnecessary. Well, the magistratefound grounds for sending the prisoner to jail for six months! That was astonishing enough, but what was more so was that Pierre, defended by a young lawyer who made’ his debut as an advovcate; in this case, was acquitted on the trial, St G e

Once more free, Pierre did not go " back to Soulitre. He disappeared with--out ever communicating with his rela"‘tives. In the summer, when I again saw his father, I said to him, ¢ Ifave you received a letter?’ ¢ No,”’ answered poor Boursot. Afterward Idid not ask him the question, so as not to revive a grief which time was healing. . Ten years afterward I was walking -one Sunday in the Place de la Bastile, when I saw about one hundred persons .gathered around a mountebank, who was dancing on arope stretched on two rickety stakes in the ground. I ,drew‘ ‘near, and what struck me most was a woman covered with bits of tinsel, which would have been happy to be -considered spangles. A wooden bowl in her hand, this woman made the ‘round of the crowd, butthe sousseemed few. I never saw such a monster as that woman. She was humped like Punchinello; hér enormous head was sunk into her neck; her short legs and ‘long arms made her look just like a Spider. She had gone about half through the’crowd when the mountebank suddenly ceased his gyrations, hesitated an instant, then bowed, jumped to the ground and cried out: ‘¢ Ladies and gentlemen, the performance 18 ended.”’” General applause followed, in the midst of which I left the place and went on my way. - I had not .gone a hundred steps before I was acscosted by the mountebank, who had ‘tried to hide his costume beneath a large cloak. ‘‘ Monsieur doesn’trecollect me?’’ he said. ’ L N - “No,” Ireplied. ~ “ ‘I am Pierre Boursot, and I would very much like to talk to Monsieur a little, but this spot is not convenient. If Monsieur should pbe willing to iive me his address [ would come to see him “to-morrow morning. I have alaborer’s -Slﬁt.” £ ; 3 :f

I hesitated a moment, then I made © an appointment with him at my residence at nine the next morning. - Pierre Boursot was prompt, and, as he had told me, his get-up would not have disclosed to any one the nature of his calling. ! S _ ~ *“Ah, sir,”” he said, on entering, ¢ give me some news of my father and mother. Are they still living?’ And, on my answering affirmatively, he added: " ¢* Ah, poor people! How I would like to embrace them!"” - - g

~ *“Why do you deny yourself that pleasure?” " : S ’ . *“Because of the past and also of the present;”’ he replied, hanging his head; “but what could I do? After my crirae it was impossible for me to return to the village. I wished to work—to resume my trade—but whenever I applied for employment they asked me who I was and where 1 was from. Then, in place of answering, I ran off. I feared that by question after question they would lead me to avow my crime. ’ One day, when everybody had refused 'me alms, dying of hunger, I encountered at the gate of Limoges a family of mountebanks in the act of preparing their evening meal. The chief was in a dreadful passion. The assistant had fled, carrying off their cash-box. What would you have, sir? The hope of getting some supper, the idea of earning a living, fright at the existence which I had been leading. for two months—all this overcame in my mind the disgust which I'might have had for such a calling, and [ offered myself in place of the unfaithful assistant.” : ¢ ‘You know nothing of the trade,’ said the illustrious Pharamond, the Terror of the South, as his placards styled himy ¢but you are a very wellmade stripling, and one could make something of you.” ‘“And upon the spot I clothed myself with the frock of my predecessor. Bombochou is dead! Long live Bombochou! i

- *“I will not recount to you the doings of the two following years. I learned to strut about, then to danceon a rope, then to juggle with heavy weights. That is no fun; but I could eat every day. One morning, after five years of this’life, Pharamond said to me: ¢ Bombochou, I'm growing old, rheumatism seizes me; and although I call myself the Terror of the South, I was yesterday thrown by a rascal only sixteen ‘}'ears old. Itis time for me to retire. have a little money laid by. lam going to sell my outfit and settle’down for life. One thing annoys me—my daughter Dorothee. Don’t you want to relieve me of her? As she has the disadvantage of being hump-backed, I will give her a dowry of three hundred francs. You know, beside, with what skill she performs. 1t is, in short, a good thing that I offer voun.” . ““I accepted—yes, sir, I accepted; and I, who had killed a man for love of a woman ideally beautiful, married that monster, whom I loved, and who loved me also. We made a happy family. She has borne me three children, whom we adore, and who already aid us. Matters go onrather untowardly, but there is not so much to complain of, and if health continues, we shall have in three years a fine booth of our own, and we will not perform any longer in the open air.” L ‘“And _shall I carry your news to your parents??’ I asked him. . ¢¢Oh, no, sir. They believe me long since dead, and ought to be consoled. What would they say if they knew their son was a mountebank? Ido not wish to give them this vexation. Would you see me returning to the village with Dorothee?”’ , o

Thereupon Bombochou left me. 1 respected his wisk, and nevér spoke of him to his father, whom I often saw. - Last Sunday I went to the gingerbread fair.' The Grand Duchess loved the military; I love the mountebanks. Not because of their feats of ‘strength, but because, in our society, measured off by a cord, they form a world apart, with usages, customs, laws, which con- ] stitute a group very curious to studg'. ; Some say when M. Zola may conclude to carry his eye-glass and his scalpel through this unknown region he will make a fine book. B i It was early. No part of the show had vyet commenced. I suddenly ‘ stopped before a very modest booth,on which 1 read: ¢Theater of the Bombochou Family.”” At once raising with ‘ my cane a corner of the canvas I entered the booth. There I found Dorothee, surrounded by five children, to whom she was about giving their food. ‘“ What do you want?”’ she demanded, in a harsh voice. : : ‘I wish to speak to Pierre.”’ At, these words the poor woman broke into sobs.» ‘“You do not know, then,”” she said, ‘‘ that he is dead these three years. But who are you, then, that you should be' interested in him? lam sure that you are his ‘towny,’ the gentleman whom he visited at Paris’ one morning ten years ago.”’ L And, as I nodded my head, she add- ‘ ed: ‘“Take a chair, then; I ou ht to, tell you how the poor man died. %—lere, 1 Augustine, dréss your little brothers; | you know that we shall commence in an hour.”” ‘ - Itook the chair, which was only a tripod. Dorothee seated herself on the end of a bench and related to me the story of her husband’s death, in a voice broken every moment by tears. ' ‘““We were at the Gueret Fair,” she said; ‘the weather was delightful, and everything was going on well, when all at once Pierre fell sick. We thought nothing of it. I cared for him under the tent. But the malady grew worse, and I called a physician. 1t was the typhoid fever. I wished to place my husband in the hospital, but they refused permission under the pretext that he was a stranger there, but 1 think it was because we were mountebanks. I was compelled to put him in an inn, where they made us pay in advance. The ma,lacfy lasted four months, with improvements and relapses. Then I all our savings were spent, and I sold our booth, our jack, our other little effects. Think, sir—four months without working, and the doctor, and the ~druggist, and the inn-keeper, who al‘ways insisted on pay in advance. Well, ‘one morning, our time being up, and }havinfg 10 more money, we were put out of doors. Pierre had been getting ‘better for some time, but he was thin as a rail and weak as a child. Never‘theless, it was necessary to work that very da%to earn supper for the even‘ing. e betook ourselves to thesquare. I began the exhibition, but -contributions were not forthcoming. It was cold, being winter. The few spectators ‘fut ‘their hands in their Lpock‘et.s, and kept them there.

** Then Pierre, who was fretful, said to me that-it was necessary to try the cask exercise. You know what it is, sir. One takes a cask full of water, ties a cord aboutit, takes the two ends

of the cord in his hands, and, this bur‘den on his back, makes the -circle of the audience. Pierre had done, this a hundred times, and it always called ‘out applause and brought sous into my bowl; but then he was not ill. - ¢ <Now, gentleman,’ said he, ‘make up a.purse of thirty sous and you shall see the tour of the cask. Well, we can get along with fifteen, ten, three. Good! Let us begin.’ ‘¢ As for me, I had something like a presentiment. ‘Y ou know,’ I whispered to him, ‘that you are but recovering from sickness. In your place I wouid not fill the cask.’ ‘¢ Yes,” he answered, ¢ else afterward they would call me a robber.’ ; - “Then he filled the cask tothe brim, and then, seizing the two ends of the cord, he tried to lift it up, but he could not budge it. : . “<He'll lift it <He'll not lift it! cried the crowd - : ‘ Pierre tried again. The veins of his neck’ and forehead swelled out in a frightful manner, and a cold sweat fell from his face. ¢ During the time jibes and whistling began. At last he planted himself firmly on the ground and gathered his streiigth for' a supreme effort. The cask was raised half a foot; then my husband and his burden fell heavily on the ground. ; '** Bombd6thou had broken his spinal column. ; ;

«<Dorothee,” muttered the dying man, ‘the tour is not made. Return the money.’ ”’ This was the narrative of Dorothee. I admit that it moved me * strangely, and that the last words of the poor mountebank seemed to me grand. Professional duty pushed to the point of heroism is:not a common thing, and it is curious to find it in a booth at the fair.— From the French. o

' ' The Law of Dogs. ~ “LET dogs delight to bark and bite.”’ Their right to bark, at all events, was admitted by Lord Kenyon. In a case where one Street proved that his neighbor Tugwell kept six or seven pointers so near his house that Mr. Street and the little Streets were kept awake at night by the canines baying -at the moon and disturbed in the daytime by. their noisy yelpings, and the jury had declined to orderl'ugwell to pay any damages to Street for the nuisance, his Lordship refused a new trial, although he said he knew that it was very disagreeable to havg such neighbors. : In the land of freedom, “however, where Columbia’s: banners wave, strange to say, dogs are not allowed such liberty, for it was decided by Judge Nelson that one man may lawfully kill the dog of another when it is in the habit of ‘¢ haunting his house, and by barking and howling by day and by night disturbs the peace and quiet of his family, if the dog cannot be otherwise prevented from annoying him.” ¢lt would be mockery,” quoth the Judge, ‘‘to refer 'a party to his remedy by action; it is far too dilatory and i,n,npotent for the exigency of the case. i L

.The Roman law.held that it is the nature of dogs when unrestrained to do mischief, and hence their owner is liable for the mischief they do when unrestrained. This was Plato’s doctrine as well. The English common law at an early period assumed that to make the owner of dogs liable for their mischievous acts he must be shown to have been aware of their particular tendency to such acts. Sydney Smith says that pointers -have always been treated by the Legislature with great delicacy and moderation, and that to wish ,** to be 'a dog and to bay at the moon’ is not quite so mad & wish as the poet thought. ;

When once a dog has erred from the right path his owner must look out; if he has once bitten a man without provocation or under circumstances which would not excite any dog of good temper to bite, ard the owner has notice of it, it is his duty to chain up or muzzle the dognand if he lets him go about, or lie at the door unmuzzled and another -person is bitten under similar circumstances, the owner of the dog will be responsible for the injury. What is sufficient provocation is not clear. In the State of Illinois a ibite given on repelling a kick or other aggression, and not from any mischievous propensity, is pardonable. Treading on the dog’s toes is not sufficient in England if he has bitten human flesh before. But hurting the feelings of a noble animal by offering, him candy when unaware of his stern and cross nature is no excuse for his springing at a lady and biting her, no matter \ghat kind of stuff the candy may be. Nor was another lady unsuccessful in er action for damages against the owner whose dog she had .insulted by undue familiarity. She was coming out of a butcher's shop with some meat in a satchel under her arm, but a dog lay aeross the door way. Thoughtfully she said: ‘‘Doggie,ain’t you going to let me out?”’ Without a reply the dog rose up and bit her. A dog has no right to punish a child of seven years old by throwing her down and biting her for merely meddling with the whip which was lying in his master’s slvigh, although he ha been left in charge of the team. ¢ Igynorantia legis neminen excusat,”’ would appear to apgly to.a dog, and this one should have known that such a child was prima facie “doli incapax.’”” And that dog’s master was held to be liable, as he knew of his ferocious disposition and that he was accustomed to bite ;pei)xple. ol Ch it it be shown thatthe poor dog has once before relapsed into habits more consistent with the wildness and sav‘ageness of primitive days than with the boasted civilization and mildness of this nineteenth century, it is clear that evidence of intermediate good conduct is irrelevant. The practice, however, on.the point is somewhat mﬂu’ctuating, some judges leaning more on the side of mercy than others. . When in Paris, Madame Leclerc was_sued by a person who had been bitten by her donkey; she was allowed in defense of its character to give a certificate, signed by the pastor andfive of the most respecta‘ble inhabitants of the village where the ass resided, as to its innocency and lgoodness_. But in a New York case,

evidence as to ‘general good character was held not to be admissible.. i Long since it was held in England that a man has a pr(g)erty in a mastif, and where the mastiff falls on another dog, the owner of that dog cannot justify the killing of the mastiff, unless there was no other way to save the other. But in Massachusetts it has been decided that the law has long made a distinction between dogs and cats and other domestic quadrupeds, growing out of the nature of the creatures and the purposes for which they are kept. And dogs have always been held by the American courts to be entitled to less legal‘ regard and protection than more harmless and useful domestic animals. ¥

No one but the owner has a right to kill a dog, except where it is found killing, wounding or chasing sheep, or under circumstances which show that the dog has been recently so engaged, or where he has been recently bitten by a rabid dog or by one reasonably supposed to be so, or where a dog is -ferocious and attacks pergons. When a man caused traps, baited with strongly smelling meats, to be placed in his own land near his neighbor’s house, so as to influence the nose and instincts of his dogs and cats, and draw them in irresistibly to their destruction, it was held that the trap-setter was responsible to the neighbor for the injuries he sustained:by tﬁxe loss of his animals, although he had no intention of - injuring him, and only meant to catch foxes and vermin. It is not lawful to deceive even a four-footed animal. But the owner of a dog passing with his faithful companion through a wood has no right of action against. the owner of the wood for the t%eath or injury of his dog who, by reason of his own natural instinets and against the will of his master, runs off the path againsta ,dog spear and comes to Frief. And if a dog greedily and rudely goes behind a counter in a shop and there feloniously applies to his own use bread and cheese left for mice and rats, and dies from the effects of poison spread upon the comestibles, his death does not lie at the shopkeeper’s door though he die there. ’ 7 i :

One who keeps, for the protection of his family, a dog duly licensed and collared, and confined so as not to endanger persons lawfully on his premises, may recover its full market value, as a watch-dog, from a neighbor who Kkiils it there without being attacked by it. although it was a rfangerous animal and accustomed to bite those who came near it. But Chief-Justice Redfield said that if one who is injured, or liable to injury, by a ferocious and overgrown dog chooses to right himself by abating the nuisance, he deserves to be regarded as a public benefactor, and the owner ought not to. complain of his destruction, but ought to be grateful at escaping so easily.—4lbany Law Journal. i

How Ohio Came to Be Called the Buckeye State. A CORRESPONDENT of the Marietta (Ohio) Register contributes this interesting little chapter of history: *¢The firsf. settlement in Ohio was made at Marietta, at the junction of the Muskingum with the Ohio, by a body of New En%m;d emigrants, forming a part of the hio Company, an incorporated body presided over by General Rufus Putnam, of Massachusetts, assisted by a Board of Directors composed of gentlemen of integrity and marked ability. General Putnam was a cousin of the Revolutionary hero, Israel Putnam. The company had purchased from the old Congress alarge body of land in the southeastern part of the territory, and the mouth of the Muskingum was selected as the site of the first settlement. During the winter of 1787-8 the first installment of the company’s emigrants, numbering forty-three men, were journeying by wagon train from New England to Pittsburgh.” In consequence of the impassable condition of the roads over the mountains, caused by heavy snow-falls, the wagons were abandoned, and by pack-horses the company reached Sumrell’s Ferry, thirty miles above Pittsburgh, in' the latter part o March. Here the emiFrants found a craft somewhat resembling a common flatboat, but with a roof and rakin bow, so that it could be used in ascend% ing as well as descendin% the stream. This craft was named the Mayflower. They had also one flatboat and three large canoes. On this insignificant flatboat forty-eight men, the ﬁerm of the State of Ohio, with its millions of population, its vast stores of wealth, and its eminent position in our sisterhood of States, embarked for their destination. L

¢« After floating for a few days without any marked .incident, about noon on the 7th of April, 1788, the settlers landed on the site of the present city of Marietta. Two of them immediately took each his own ax, each wishing to cut the first tree. Neither of them knew the species of the tree selected by him. One attacked a beech, which being a hard wood, the process of felling was slow. The other selected a buckeye, which, being soft, soon came. to the ground. . And thus, it is affirmed by a family tradition, which during ninety years has nol been contradicted by any history or denied, Ohio came to be called the Buckeye State. The successful competitor in this little contest was Captain Daniel Davis, of Killingly,“Win'Xham County, Connecticut.”’

—dJohn Brown Smith, who has been for some time in Northampton (Mass.) jail for refusing to pay his poll-tax, has applied for a writ of habeas corpus in order to have the legality of the poll-tax tested. He founds his application on several grounds, one of which is as follows:- I am-not a citizen of the United States, but am the acknowledged ruler of the independent sovereignty known as John Brown Smith; hence, accorg';n” to international law, lam equal 'tﬁ the other sovereignties of the world, and not subject to arrest while residing in foreign countries, for the same reason that ambassadors are exempt from the operation of civil law; hence I am beyond the jurisdiction of civil law courts outside of international law.”’

FrANCE wants $100,000,000 worth of foreign wheat tomake up the deficiency in her crop. ; ’

; 9 ' - Youths’ Department. - READING TO GRANDMA. : MagGIE'S eyes are bright and blue, ' S 0 were grandma's. darling, too: Grandma was like vou, you know, Yery mwany years ago — : Happy all the uve-louf day, | : Singing gayly at her play; \ Just & merry child of ten, : And s/ie had a grandma then. . But the years have flown so fast, : Grandma has grown old at last, - And the dear eyes, once so bright, . Now have lost their merry light. ’ So what else can grandma do ! ‘But borrow Mag%xe'q eyes so blue? ' And very sweet the little voice | by That makes the aged heart rejoice. - Just a little while each day Maggie runs away from play, - Scampers fast to grandma’s room - (Like sunshine scattering cloud and gloom), And the dear ol¢ lady cries, i ** Welcome, welcome, dear blue eyes! Welcome, welcomegeyes so blue, Maggie's eyes—and grandma’s too”’ No, you merry sunbeams, no, You need not coax our darling so; & Butterfly, and bird, and ‘f}?wer! , For just one sweet and quiet hour : Little Maggie turns away : . From your coaxing and youf play— Because with loving haste she hies . To lend to grandmamma her eyes. . . —Mary D, Brine, in Nursery.

A FROLIC THAT WAS NOT FUNNY. h e GEORGE EMERY is my nephew. He isn’t exactly the kind of boy I would like for my nephew; yet he is not a bad fellow. His mother calls him her ‘‘precious boy’’; “‘a noble fellow, with just a liitle naughtiness’’; but I hear that some people do not think so well of him. . e : ~ Reports have reached us that he does not behave in school as a little gentleman ought to. The truth is, George is more fond of fun than of study; and, worse yet, he has no reverence—that is, he has no respect for those who are older and wiser than himself. That, my dear children, is a very sad lack. 1f you have no reverestre in your characters, you are very poor, though your fathers may be worth millions of dols lars, 2

How I know that George has no reverence is because one day I heard him say to a white-haired old gentleman, who asked him the way to some place: ‘““Follow your nose, old fellow, and yeu'll get there.”” His mother insisted he must Lhave said ¢Follow the road”’; but I heard him very distinetly, and Geoltge did not deny,saying ¢ old fellow,”” though he tried to get around the ‘“nose.” This shook my faith in George, and I resolved to inquire into the stories I had heard about his conduct in school. I am sorry to say I learned that he threw spit-balls at his schoolmates; and pinned papers on their coats; and marked their backs with chalk; and tripped them when they passed him; and talked aloud in a low, growling way, to disturb the school; and that his teacher had been so tormented by him she had not only scolded and punished him, but even threatened to expel him. - I asked George aboat these things. “It was all just so,”” he said; * but school was so dull, and he wanted some fun.” ¢He didn’t care a fig,”” he said, ¢for Miss Adams’ (his teacher). . ““But you ought to care to please her,” I said. ¢ She is trying to do a great deal for you.” ~ “Ikpow I ought to; but I -don’t, and I can’t, and I won’t.”’ :

I will tell you confidentially, reader, that, though George was twelve years old, he did not know his multiplicationtable, he read badly, and his spelling was about as bad as spelling can be. In a note he wrotes me he spelled, which *‘witch,” school ‘‘schole,”” sister ‘¢ cister,”” ‘any ‘‘eny,”’ boaj he spelled ‘bote,’” says ‘‘sez;’’ and Mshu-' ger.” . e So I shid to him: « George, the reason you spell so badly and can’t learn the multiplication-table is because in school you study mischief, instead of your lessons.” G o

. *“I tell you, Auntg,” said he, ‘“lhate books. -I hate goo scholars. I like a fellow who jsn't afraid to do a funny thing.” : ‘ But one day something happened; somethilﬁ funny, which George did not enjoy. iss Adams' was called out from the school-room; and before leaving she said: < ‘I wish George Emery to take my place on the platform and keep order till 1 return.”’ : '

George slunk down into his seat as far as he could, and wished there was a hole in the floor to let him through. He felt the eyes of all the school turned upon him. He heard the snickerings of his mates and knew they were all thinking: ¢The worst boy in school would make a pretty monitor!”’ But he began to feel that he was a coward, and that they would all call him one if he did not go; so he pulled himself out of his seat and walked swaggeringly to the platform and took the teacher’s chair, trying to look asif he was master of the situation.

Miss Adams whispered a word to him and left the room. The girlsbent their heads over their books, determined to be just as quiet and studious as if their teacher were present; but the boys had no such infention. In a moment spitballs began to fly across the room, and even at George’s head; and there was low laughter all through the rcom among the boys. Then they talked aloud and whistled, and the spit-balls flew faster and thicker. T

Poor George! He felt as if he would sink through the floor. First he thought he would take no notice of the disturbance; but the noise grew louder. Then he thought he would leave the room; but that would be cowardly—he was ashamed to do that. Then he thought he would beg them to be quiet; but he remembered how many times Miss Adams had begged him’ to behave himself, when he was piaying these sume tricks, and he knew they would laugh at him. He felt that moment that it was, after all, a mean thing, and ot a funny one, to insult a teacher by behaving badly, and he wished he had never done so. . 5 :

The noise grew louder and louder. The laughing and talking and whistling and groaning seemed to increase, like a dreadful storm. A spit-ball struck George’s forehead, and a voice called out: "Saty, old boy, how do you like it? It's fun; isn’t it?”’ : Geor%e wished he could wring the neck o evex("iy boy in the room. .His face grew red and his eyes glowed like

fire. He felt sick. At last he stood up before them and said: e ‘“ Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? I should think you might behave yourselves, when: your teacher has trasted toyourhßohor?’ /- sk e S oy All the boyslaughed, and called out: ‘“Oh! you!" Yes, you're a nice one to preach to us! Now you know how it feels!” and half 3 dozen other insulting pentenoes, o~ 00l el o ~ It suddenly occurred to himthey were paying him off for his bad conduct in schooly |lt did mot *soften his anger to know this, and I really believe he would have, sprung at one or two of the ringleaders if just then ‘the door had not opened and Miss Adams. entered. She looked from the school to George, and the boys - again, who, though quiet enough now, looked excited and somewhat ashamed. Poor George could not say a word; but- his red face and angry look told the whole story. _ ““Boys,” said Miss Adams, ‘it has not been very kind in you to distress Geovr‘ge, when he wasfilling my place. ‘“ We thought ’twould be good for him,”” whispered a bold little fellow on the front seat. . Lo “George went to his seat and put his head down upon his desk and . secretly brushed some hot tears away from his oyes. S 2 .v .- That was six weeks ago, and never: since has George behaved badly in school. ‘lt was a dreadful experience. for him; but it-took some of the mischief out of him. He is on the best of terms with his teacher, who told me about this incident; and he has already learned as far as the nines in the mul-tiplication-table.—N. Y.° Independent.

FACTS AND FIGURES. . Four HUNDRED Kentucky mules have been shipped to the scene of the Zulu war. _ - s e THERE are 54,487 persons employed in the postal service of the United States. L Han ‘ : EIGHTY-FOUR graduates of Yale died last year—the largeﬁ number on record tor any single-y€ar. : ‘AN Italian engineer has invented a register by which the distance traversed by cab is accurately estimated. = GREAT BrITAIN and Ireland,and their shipping trade, consuwe one hundred and thirteen million tons of coal a year. THE population of Holland is fully a million less than that within a radius of ten miles of the general Postoflice, London.. s ‘ ; et - THE Denver News estimates that there are 30,000-miners on the carbonate range and in the San Juan and Gunnison country. = o THE Vicksburg Herald deplores the prevalence of crime in Mississippi, and says there is on average of one murder per day in'the State.. = THE East Haven Fish Company has taken 685,000 whitefish in; the harbor on the East Haven shore since May 1. The fish‘are used for fertilizing purposes. B ' = THE annual report of the Committee of the London Library shows that the library has existed® for nearly forty years, and has -collected nearly 90,000 volumes of more or less value.

~ THE school census of San Francisco, just completed, shows that there are 30,895 white boys, 30,888 white girls, 170 colored boys, 147 colored girls and 5 Indians between five and twenty-sev-en years of age, an increase oi 7,816 over last year. There are 23,668 white and 110-colored children under five, and 2,221 Chinese under seventeen. THE bones of a mastodon have recently been unearthed on a farm near Newburg, N. Y., the méasurements of which are as follows: The skull, two feet five and one-quarter inches high; length of the upper jaw, three/feet nine inches; width of upper jaw, two feet - four inches; between the eyes, two feet; depth of forehead, eighteen inches; eyesockets, seven inches in diameter; earholes, eighteen inches in diameter. The nostrils measuré six and one-half inches in diameter and two feet deep. . There are eight teeth in the skull—two on each side of the upper and lower jaws—and all in the finest condition. The back teeth of the lower jaw measure seven.inches leng on the surface, and are four inches in width. The upper and lower front teeth are four and one-quarter inches Im;'f on the surface, and three and one-half inches wide. All the teeth protrude from the jawbone one and one-half inches. There are eight points on each of the hind teeth and six on each of the front tegth. The space between the rows of teeth on the roof of the upper jaw is seven and . one-half inches, and the lower jaw six | and one-quarter inches.. In the center of the forehead is a cavity measuring eleven inches long and four inches wide. The lower jaw measures.correspondinglylarge with the upper jaw: It is estimated that the skull complete will tip the beam at not less than 600 pounds. One of the fore-legs, including the shoulder-blade, is seven feet in length, and weighs, it ts -thqugllll_t, 150 Founds. The first joint of the hind: eg measures two feet five inches, and the second joint of the same leg three feet four inches. .= e —_—————— —An amusing story is told of Dr. Lyman Beecher by a correspondent of the Hartford Times. When: he' was - preaching at Litchfield, Conn., he was passionately fond of -ﬁshm%, - and the preparatory lecture bell one Friday afternoon found him standing knee-deep in a neighboringi ‘pond, trolling for pickerel, while' his coat-pockets were filled with fish. - Not having time to change hiB clothes ~he marched with his pole to the church, and entered the pu(lipit with his boots tilled with water and the pickerel kickingin*his%qacke‘ts. Notwithstandin%? _his' condition he gre‘uched'one “of his most impressive iscourses. o X Y f’:g{é,_ : “ > : L e et AT :*‘:‘ —Proud Mother—Come, Mamie," darling, what is three times three®Mamie hesitates. P. M.—ls. it nine, darling? . Smart child iamquin:gfo | Pated i@ anawer, S MLI N nine, precious? Smart child see Mg - in its mother’s eyes, and. nods. Admiring female velatives pass the dear child around the osculatory-circle—and. old ‘bach’ leaves the room in disgust.