Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 7, Number 2, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 9 April 1885 — Page 4

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All apoutthe $200,000 in presents with each Agents wanted everywhere, of either.-ex. of all : ges, for all the time, or spare timn only, to work for us ut their own homes. Fortunes f r all workers absolutely assured. lmjd'C delay. 11. Hai.lett& Cos., Portland, Maine. ON THE ENGINE. Running a Locomotive while Deathly Sick—Something the Passengers Did >ot Know—A Physician Saves au Engineer. Taunton, Mass, Dr. David Kennedy. Rondout, N. Y. Dear 1 am an engineer on the Old Colony R i lro id aid! run tne Fall River boat train between -’.id R veraril Lowell'. residi-ng in Taunton. For •en y•■•ir- I * ill,* red everything but death from dy-" a. often I had such blinding sick heada;.;cs that I could ■*c.ir *ely see. 1 think this was due partly to:the jar of the engine. Sometimes iny head, vroud t snap like, neuralgia, and again the pa n would - -tile in my eyes, which would feel as gas a :;-r-. My breath was very offensive and my food, soured as.'squu as it entered my aiomaca In f.icr my stomach felt as though ft v/ -re a reat raw sore surface, and what agony it g ive peruap- you cart imagine. In t ie <u;um -r and fall <>f when we had the . ii'*avy ceuteimiul trav.-l, the constant jar brought o 1 a- tre-attacivs nearly every week and I thought i . u: l ive to leave th.* road. But I kept at 'V "•' I the next '•priuu. when I grew so much ">" ' ' ’I ' > ill v.rtua: y ear nothmg. and conv -ed •ii :uy i-Dor. and my life too. were about * * ui " r 'i nr i nad r- !r . every medicine I -- do: .*•. . 11 • i : •• :i tr.’ ited by s -me of the best puv dc. i - ’' Tauritoh an:l L-.w-dl. At this* criti-ciW::u-iR. DAVID Ki.N’NEDYS FAVORITE Kd\LEt)\ iv> r--.:o.uii|nt* . o*d to me. and with my - xp--ti ■ • w :ii :ut'Ui.jjin e**. you can easily forgive m - for -u v n.' 11 : t.hjtd :iot a particle*of fufth in , r "iic--,n !' :>::: a f-*w -V"-* when I began to ■get l .-rter.. ihe raw a'ijp? feeling left my. *• Ni l I'.-- Mi-ipp-ik/ .pains left my head*. ! v.“-u 1 w i-. ill r:ghr. Hfl i :. iv t* ever since C - tu - . rung taay-ever di lmo the least u-- • and and iudroy e <‘v.*N .avhe. puiri.-and discomfort s ' 'i.i'ct-d on: of my l-'Uv. Now 1 keep KEN- > FAVORITE REMEDY With m;-* on my .enu ne. a ll i st uoe- w.ier-'Aer I n> -• I-. 1 i: >•* VVoiJITE REMEDY will cure uuy* i.mr. - udrd'. a wh:’.;* ago. .John Layton. ”a- ug <i ••• r w •-> runs Die main line boat train fr ... H- - ca ie i :.iy engine si<-k as death. IF- v. w )-ii -i it w;.rh v. -rk<Fuid had a high fever, and 'v l- so ii-t’. •> ;- he amiost broke down crying. ■• V -ns r.-■ . duhii." I->n:d; " heer up. I've got ■s-’Ui 'ddi mv eu ine that will >et von up in a u;T- I ' ■ ;t in v h lie of FAV< >RITF REMEDY. ! : -'e ad -a? -.1 gave him a gone dose. :ie \\ -t.r t-> -i. IN' o days after I saw him look healthy .s a bir-dier -Dan." lie said, “what •v.- r h ;t sruff v > l l g uv- ,ie the ArtnrMiight?*' “It v DR. DAVID KEN o' ED Y-d/F AYoRITE REMEDY. Rondout. N. Y . -saidrl. “Well. I don't .* ire wlio— R--*i *i y it is. itys the thing for a man Yours, fu. IhtoL FITTS. * ' -: r ; goes to the r >ot oTTlirfeases by wur;‘. 1 and rousing every orgarwnto h*-. iday •vti-o-n. 1: is useful at home,- in ■odice— every w!’-ere. J Dr. David Kemiedv. Phv&ician and Surgeon. R- lout. N. Y ' ' 4 ' M A LA R I A . A ; a- a:.*l malarial medicine DU. DAVID KENNEDY’S FAVORiTE REMEDY l - w;r-.iden opinions. No traveler should cons. 1 rh: ; jt.'Uti.t Complete unless it includes a bottle of this mcd.eiae. If you are exposed to frequent changes of climate, £B- and an 1 water. Favorite Remedy should always bo within your reach. It expels malarial pand is the best preveirtatim of chills end mala.hui fevxr in tl.e world. It is. especially of- . fen'-d u is • trustworthy ..peciiic for tiieeuie of Kidney and Livi.-r cumpixdni.-.t-oii^tipatidnaudall ilisorders ari&imr from cn impure sfate of the blood. To women whosutfer from any of the ills*peculiur to their sex Fc.vor: e Remedy is constantly moving itself au un failiug fjtiend—a real blessing. Address the* proprie tor. r>:\ D. Kennedy, Rondout, N. Y b'l bottle, 0 for '*y all druggists.

§\\? Ifitpifaiiue Items. THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 1885. LIFE'S SEASOXB. Kuby lips that part with baby laiiguter. Heaven-sent eyes that wonder ill they say. Feet that only yet have truant wa idered Where the prinn*ose !u(les inwo*>ds of May. What in lite's gr>at Rook is writte i after? Will those feet press primrose b >ds for aye? Wid the tiowers still bloom where brooks meandered? Will the Runet's warbling: sound as gay? Maiden! tripping from the primrose bowers Into dune, whose roses flush thj face. Life to thee is but a dream of beauty: Thou hast only started*in the rare. Thou hast learnt not yet to miss lif e's flowers: Let it be! in after years thy grace May bv pain be mellowed. would show tnce, ’Mid earth’s sufferers, whieh siall be thy place? Tar away whore Autumn’s red leaves quiver, May and June are links of what s past; And a woman in life’s full September, Ripe with sorrow,®wcars a crown at last— Wears the crown that home and lo edoth give her Brighter than earth’s gold; for ove is vast! And life never can be quite December. Where, o'er hearts, love’s golden web is cast. * * * • * Wrinkled brows and tottering f£et desoendi ng To the grrsive where all our loved ones go; Journeying Horne, t rest, yet thankful ever For the suffering Hod’s love doth bestow. Heaven and earth o’er human failure blending. Golden sunlight kissing Winter miow; Angels stepping flown from God to sever Mortal .ties, and aneel every woe. —Htrrirt Ken I in. in Chambe'm'Journal. HER LIFE'S SECRET. BY JENNIE DAVIS BURTON. Author of “S‘:\i/q/ h/ MV*/,’’ “TV Tb .rnhnrst Mystery," •* The Mad.ic*i Marriaye Kr, r Has,” “ 'Cecil's >. e?c%” “A MercUc<i* F’i.r. i-te.s etc. CHAI'TBR VII.-t'ONTiNlTii). “Tiu-n- i.- no iloiil.it blit that calamity h:i- wcijrluiii," l:i-ix-sjioniled in the same spirit. " But. mv ili-ar. it isn’t noc-ossa-ry tiiat you slunihl inform the whole - Vp's i-ompany that you are an adopted •daughter. Dana Oilpliant was never anyhody but Dana Oliphant from lier iia.juisinal day: and sin- never will lie anybody else, if I-have anything to say about it. though tltese chaps are eastinjr sheep s eyes at her already. Tell them itT no use, my dear; there's a cruel parent in the background mho will have none of them.” Tito cruel parent handed Iter orer to on ■ of them ten minutes afterward, and retired with his wife to the ladies’ parlor. while Dana lingered to watch the , April moon rise in a burnished globe Ymt of the sea. Somebody else watched it and her; somebody curled his lip in disdain and murmiir.d ‘-puppy” at her attendant .cavalier, but it was days afterward before this somebody's chance came, and he was duly presented to the Ol phants, father and daughter, who looked into his pale face and felt sorry for him. “Mamma is laboring under the disabilities of mat dr mcr. said Dana, “but papa and I are exempt. Come over and sympathize with her: I am sure you can." and the next moment she was presenting him as “Mr. Farrington, of New Orleans. My mother, Mr. Farrington. Don't they look like two 1 lies, papa, bending palely on their stems?" and Dana's mischievous laugh could not quite be restrained. “ You ought to see my compae/non du voyage responded Mr. Farrington. • ■ 1 am used up and bleached out, but Killuth is a spectacle beside me. I d-m’ot if he shows himself on deck at all before we reach the other side.” “Killuth!” repeated Mrs. Oliphant, holding up a so; e -n between the pale face and the bright sunshine. “ Where have I heard that uame before?” “ If you are in doubt lie will be enabled to enlighten you,” smiled Farrington. •• Killuth is a regular biographical dictionary in himself. If he has ever known you. Mrs. Oliphant, he will know you again, though twenty years have gone between."’ “ Oh, what a ghastly color that blue shade gives you. mamma,” Dana exclaimed. “Or is it the waves? The sea is roughening, don't you think so, Mr. Farrington? You are not so susceptible to these changes as mamma,is. llow will it be when we see the ‘ white horses’ of the stormy Atlantic? .To look at it now one would not think it could be stormy, ever.” The voting couple had the conversation almost entirely to themselves. Mrs. Oliphant lay back in her chair; saying very little, that little generally addressed to her husband, who was never very far from her side; but her eyes rested once or twice on Mr. Farrington's animated face, with a troubled look which Mr. Oliphant was quick to decry. “What is it. Rose?” he asked, bending over her chair. “ Some ghost out of that far past, dear, coming up to haunt you?’' “ How quick you are to see it. Oh, Power, I am‘afraid—afraid! That Mr. Killuth knew papa—knew me. What if the whole horrible truth should come to Dana, through him? He knew her i'ather, too.’’ “ If it gives you one qualm of uneasiness it will be no hard matter to avoid Mr. Killuth.” “1 don't know about that. Look at those two. Dana is giving oifr whole history.to that young man whom she has not known fur an hour. Look at lrm. Power, and tell me if you think he is dangerous. I would not for the world have her grow interested in him." “He looks as if he might lie in some danger himself,” responded Mr. Olipliant. “But Dana has never itad any foopsli noti,>n's in tier in ad. Don't put them there, 1 beg of you. Rose.” Dana had never had any foolish tuitions. and she had had her admirers Isom the time she was ten. Mrs. Olipliant dismissed the vague apprelienions which at first beset her. Mr. irrington gave much of his time to his invalid friend, who only appeared as a great, swathed bundle upon the deck, with not a thought in the world beyond iis own misery. The passage was rather a rough one. No cloud appeared in the bright blue sky. but high v inds and waves prevailed, to the great discomfort of at least one-half of t lie ship's passengers. They came into the region of fogs “off the Banks.’ A thin white vail closed over sea and sky, and fell in a fine, penetrating rain upon the deek The fog-horn set up its piercing scream; the speed of the great vessel slackened until she seemed to be only crawling upon the unseen waters, and in spite of all these precautions there came a shock and recoil: a rush of feet overhead, a confusion of voices in shrieks, curses and commands. The great ship hail collided with a bark, crushing in the side of the hitter, which tilled and sunk, almost before the hapless creatures ou board knew what had happened them. The ship lay to and boats were lowered to search the spot; a half-dozen of the bark's crew were picked up: nearly as many were missing, and one was brought up over the side of the vessel more dead than alive, a great, bleeding gash ou one side of his head, his lips blue and his ryes closed. “Oh. the poor fellow!” cried Dana, who had wrapped her storm-Cloak about her and come out upon the deck holding to her father's arm.. “Surely, papa, that is no ordinary seaman. l)o you think lie is dead?" Not dead, certainly, for the heavy lids lifted, a pair of blue eyes looked up at h'-r. a weak gleam flickered across his pale countenance, and he half lifted a drooping hand. “Oh, Circe, have I found you?” ho murmured; then the light died, the hand

fill. Whether fainting or drub, tiiis big, blonde young man had trade an impression upon Dana Oliph.-.ot which she would not so u forget. “He looked as if lie recognized me, papa,” she said, wotnleringiv: “and as if he were glad. 1 certainly never saw him anywhere before, (! > ainl ask who ho is, please. May be you can tell us. sir?” One of the rescued sailors touched a dripping forelock. -“Yes’m, l can. lie's Mr. Gordon Markiss, o' Nr tv York, a pieter-drawin' gent what’s been roughin' it along of us a lishin' off the Bunks, lb- caught Second-best weight o' e>d this trip, au-1 he kept up the skipper, who broke Lis arm when the bark went down, and lie dived twiet-afier'.J m, p or chap! afore hegot-that cut on tlu* li.-.ul and. had b> give it up as a ! t job. lie's a white man. clean tbr -ugh. if the L >rd ever' made one." It was an assertion which was heartily seconded by the remainder of tile rescued crew. The “ piet-T-drav, in' gent” was a favorite with them all. Mr. Oliphant brought the Doctor’s report into the cabin, later: a favorable report in the main, but freighted with •-its” whieli gave the hearers ver\ little hope of seeing this hero of the hour before port should be reached. Yet he was the iii-st person whom Dana saw when she asp-.-ruled to the deck next morning. A patch of his golden hair had been shaved away, anti a triangle of courtplaster dlsiigml the spot: but he looked what he was, “u gentleman by courtesy and the grace us God.” Unmistakably a gentleman, though he was engaged just then in splicing a rope tinder the tutelage of an old salt, lie looked up from the. task to give her so bright a smile that Dana walked over to him at once. “It doesn't require the formality of an Introduction to allow me to congratulate you upon your brave conduct of yesterday. Mi*. Marquis." she said. “If veil are not overwhelmed with plaifdii- already. \ou will he soon: but you /iv;-, brave, and 1 honor you for it. An eager Hush came into the artist's face. “Grateful, very." lie murmured. “All the same, I don't deserve any praise. To have won it from you makes yesterday’s shipwreck the happiest misfortune of my life.” . Compliments came glibly to the tongue of this young man, but they were spoken with the sincerity which springs from the heart. “Didn't 1 see you Hunting around somewhere in the cloud; when I was brought aboard,” he asked. “or was it onlv in my dreams?” “You saw me, and you called me names,” Dana answered, laughing, “ By-the-way, I am Mss Oliphant. You never saw my double, did you. Mr. Marquis? I ask. because you looked so certain of knowing me that 1 couldn't resist coming up like an old friend.” “1 never set eyes on your double, bn I have been looking for you these six months past. Fact, 1 assure you. t hough it wasn't Miss Oliphant I was hunting for, nnder.-tand. It was Circe —my modern Circe —whom 1 had almost despaired of finding. You realize the thought which 1 could never pit! into shape. “la Circe!” cried Dana, opening her eyes.” “Do I look deceptive and erud?” “You look like an enchantress, who could count her victims by the score. If you haven't arrived at that experience vet, Miss Oliphant, you will in time. Yut me down as a prophet.” Mr. Marquis was made the center of an admiring circle before long. It would seem that he lin'd a local refutation, at least: and he had a tkoroughly frauk and off-hand manner wtiich recommended him at once. Mrs. OlijWai/i took a liking to him on right. “I would get him to paint your father's portrait. JDatia. if we were to remain in New York. Perhaps we can persuade him to come to its when we are settled in our new home." “ As if there were not painters and painters,” laughed Dana. “But, then, Philadelphia is not at the other end nif the world. Haven't I heard it said that people there ask their neighbors from New York to come over to dinner? 1 don't really believe that your artist will require much urging.” The last evening on shipboard came, a perfect evening, with a still sea and a flaming sunset, and the whole “ happy family” turned out upon deek, the younger ones promenading in pairs, those older conversing in groups. Even Mr. Killuth displayed an interest in the companionship which he had ignored by tiie way. “Which are your Oliphants, Launt?’he asked. “By-the-way. I ought to know that name—Oliphant. Where have I heard it before?” “Almost the identical words which Mrs. Oliphant used in relation to you. 1 felt sure that you could fix the acquaintanceship i|jauy had ever existed. That is she, the fair-haired lady in that group. It is only occasionally that one finds eves like hers with those golden lock-."' But it was not at Mrs. Oliphant that Mr. Killuth was gazing, with a look of horror and incredulity most unusual ou his generally impassive countenance.. It was at the slim young shape, the dusk, bright face of the girl beside her—at Unfair vision of Dana Oliphant, which sent an enraptured thrill to the heart of Mrs. Farrington. “Good Heavens!” he gasped. “Launt, tiiat girl is the very picture of the graceless woman who lured your father to his death. She is La June over again, true to life.” The mention of tiiat far-away traged\ sent a chill over young Launt Farrington at that late day. In his heart of hearts, lie cherished an undying hatred: for the woman who had brought a dishonored death upon the father whose name he bore There had been aj hidden- chapter in the life of that other Launt Farrington, a .secret marriage repented of whet: i; was too late: a neglected wife who drooped and died, .leaving this boy whom the young father provided for. but did not acknowledge nor take into his own home. That had been done after his death by Madame Farrington, whose conscience-, was stirred to its utmost depths by the fate of her son. She had refused lrer consent to that early marriage; epul he had never felt the restraint which a public knowledge of it would have imposed upon him. His faults and follies wore a darker look when that fact was made known, but his son had been reared to believe him more sinned against than sinning. With an effort, he came back to the present: to the sound of Mr. Killuth's voice; to the knowledge that it was the Oliphants he was discussing. “ I’ve got them placed at last. It was Sangerford’s daughter who married a man of that name; little Rose, who was only a school-girl when I saw her last, an oddly pretty one at that, with her black eyes and yellow hair. And vou tell me it is her daughter who has La June's fatal face! Os all strange things that ever happened, that is the strangest.” “ Come with me and renew your old friendship,'’ suggested Launt, but Killuth had grown misanthropical in his old days. “Thank vou: I don't think 1 care. Sangerford lost his money sixteen." seventeen, or more years ago —lost his money and died: but he lost his claim on my friendship before that. I don't bear his daughter any ill-will on account of it, but neither do 1 feel obliged to do the tiresome for old friendship’s sake."

So Mr. Farrington left him to the enjoyment cif his cig.tr ami ilia solitary relied ions. • 'l'lte artist was of the Ollpliaut party. He Ii:ul been of the Oliphaht party that. ! entire day, while Lannt had held ft 1 oof l in envy and bitterness of spirit. Envy and bitterness could keep hint away no I longer.. Five minutes later lie had ear- ! ried Dana away from Ids more fortunate rival—more fortunate, because Gordon Marquis had his opportunities all before . him, and to-morrow he must part from her, perhaps forever, i “We have changed our plans and intend staying for a few days in New : York,” i fan a was telling him. ■•'ln ; Marquis is to do the honors of the city | for us. And you go straight through to ! New Orleans. Mr. Farrington ? It would • be pleasant if you were staying, too.” Duty to Madame Farrington, to whom he owed everything, demanded Inshould go, but when did duty ever I weigh against the overmastering passion I in a young man's breast? ! “f will stay,’' lie answered her, “if 1 you tell me it..will bo pleasant to you." CHAPTER VIII. Mil. OLirtIANT'S NIECE. It was live o'clock of a May morning —.May. though you might have thought it March. There was a dreary rain falling, a drizzle that had lasted oil" and On for a week, and the sodden ground, and the dripping leaves, and the gray blur hanging over the landscape, were enough, one would think, to damp the spirits of any being obliged to turn out at that unearthly hour. So, evidently, thought a shock-headed boy of fifteen who sat perched upon the top rail of a high fence, a quarter of a mile away from any human habitation. So. asevidentlv, did not think theyoung lady who stood by a shabby little trunk deposited by tho roadside, and east longing looks down the straight yellow track, whose full ruts and standing pools only gave a hint of the muddy depths below. ; All around were hills. Hills rising | it]i behind a stretch of woodland back l ; of them: hills rising again beyond a I strip of narrow valley in front: hillsrounding up at the right and the left, and dotting the hilTsides, occasional farm buildings, with stony, stump-dis-figtired fields, and long lines of “staked and ridered” fenees—not an enlivening picture at any time, doubly dreary in the late gray dawn of this dismal May morning. “The mere fact of leaving it is enough jto make any one happy, - ’ thought the i youDg lady aforesaid, with a swift (■ glance comprehending it all. “Don't you see the stage coming, Peter?” she asked, for the tenth time. | “Oh, pray look again. Sister Aune! | I’ll be in a pretty pickle if I have to i stand much longer in the rain. And ! the road,” with a shudder, “the road is 1 too horrible to be thought of. I declare I've a notion to start off and • walk.” j “ You walk! ” said Peter, in disdain. “ It's ten miles if it’s a step. I dunno but youVl get to Junctionville just about as soon, though,” he added, despairingly. “Jim’s off horse is generally lame in one leg, and - it’s about time for that other wheel to breakdown. I noticed that the axle was kinder weak last time 1 see him go past. Mebbe i you'll make the 'leven train at JuncI tionville, school-ma’am, but I wouldn’t ! like to bet on it.” “ Oh, Peter, don’t be grumpy. You ought to be glad to see me off. ’ ’ “ Ought I to be?” demanded Peter, with an injured air. “She's a cornin’,” he announced in another moment, and scrambled from his perch.” “Reckon you won't ever think of cornin’ back to these parts again, Miss Braxton,” in the shame-faced rammer of one who would rather die than betray any emotion. “ Not if I can help myself,” said Miss Braxton, decuh*'ly. “ Here, Peter—l boxed your ears once, didn’t I?—take this to renMurber me by.” But Peter resolutely declined the silver dollar she would have pressed into his grimy hand. He wore the face of a Spartan youth; not for this wide world would he have given utterance to a blubber; yet shock-heacled youths of fifteen have their feelings, for all that. “Good-bye, Peter,” cried Miss Braxton from the stag* door. “I’m your first love, I know, but I won’t be vour last: let that thought comfort you.” The door was shut; the lumbering vehicle started, and Alexia Braxton turned an inquiring glance upon the solitary fellow-passenger which it contained. He had settled himself for a nap. and only the tip of his nose was visible between the turned-lip coat colI lar and drawn-down hat. But with the ! advent of a rosy and charming young j lady lie reconsidered liis intention, and j sat up to reveal himself, a man of thirty j odd years, who evidently had some j struggling memory of having seen her ! before. “Is it Miss Thomas?” he hazarded; “or Miss Deane, perhaps? The name Tias escaped me, but I believe we had an introduction last evening.” “ It’s Miss neither, and we had no introduction at all.” “Oh, I beg pardon, but I certainly thought —” “That you saw me at the lecture, as you certainly did, and I don't believe I know anything more about 4 Culture’ than I did before.” “Oh. 1 daresay,” said the lecturer, with perfect good-humor. “You see, j sitter trying ray hand at about everyI thing else, much success. \ I aui just trying myself at that. I j didn't imagine 1 would find a critical audience down here. I've tried the law. both sides of it, and I don't know but I tind my forte in that.” “ Both sides of it?" queried Miss Braxton, in a puzzled way. “ You see. 1 have been a reformer, also, in my day, and, to be a reformer with effect, one must be a reformed man. Don't look so very doubtful, my dear young lady. I never did anything Horse than to ‘prig a wipe,' if you know what that is, and there was an u terior object behind that li-tle act: but I did conic near committing a bank robbery once. It was eighteen years ago; I was a mere lad, but 1 got a fright then, which persuaded me that honesty is the best policy, and I’ve held fast to that line ever since.” •‘ A fright ? Were you caught?" “ Worse than that. 1 caught somebody else. not at robbery, but at ntur- : < ter/" “Murder!" echoed Alexia, in a horrified tone. Her companion laughed. Miss Braxton had started out by snubbing him, and lie had succeeded in awakening her interest most thoroughly. “ I’ve kept the secret of that murder to this day,” he said, “ though it would J have made an excellent point in my re- | forniatpry speeches. Pray, don't betray it if you ever have occasion to mention me. Miss—ah!—Braxton.” as Alexia supplied the name. “ I’ve always had an idea that 1 would make capital out of that affair yet before my life is over. I’d like to get the chance before it goes much further.” with a pathetic glance at his rather seedy habiliments, from which one might judge that Mr. Quest did not find the lecture business one of accumulative profit. [to be continued.] ——**•*■ —The other day someone took Char- ] lie up and asked him if he was papa's i boy. He answered “Yes." “And | your mamma's boy. too?" “ Yes." rei plied Charge- “Well, how can you be \ papa's bo. ind mamma's boy at the i same time?" “Oh." replied (. .larlte, I quite indifferently, “can t a wagon have two horsesP” The Hwisehuhl

jPL r*-> O' NAL AND IMPERSONAL, , —Y-. eather Prophet. Wiggins sees lit , tod v tile rumor that lie lias joined | tie - F.ih atioii Army. Lieutenant Governor Ames, of I Mas-aeiiusetts, who is worth ten million d.Jkii-s, wears a ten-eent necktie. —Napol tin. llie great leader of men, judges I them and cho/cv"; In-til according to the character iirnlcajeJ by tiieir i noses. I -Matthew Arnold, who came lo Amer ca to win fame and farthing-, wound up by losing his daughter and gaining a distinguished son-in-law.— xV. I*. Triton, e. —One of Nellie Grant's little boys b ! said greatly to resemble hi- graud- : father. General Grant, in his love lor j soldiers, horses, pups and cigars.— i Harper! i Ihcznr. j —The daughter of ' Bitrns, the ev- ; hangman of London, recently t 'si’lipil i in court that she had frequently bn n j frightened out of the house by her I father's experiments iu hanging dogs i and eats. | —William 11. Crain, the Demuerat'e j Congressman-elect to succeed ('■>!•?■ i I Thom ns Ochiltree, from the Gjahe t“.i i (Tex.) District, is the lirs 1 native frjotn Texas ever elected to (Viigivs- from the. State. st-. I.oat's / i/n/ic. —Joseph Richardson, of St. Paul, but i known to everybody as “Urn-jo doe.' who never wore an overcoat or a sod j of elotic - worth more 'than twelve <!••!- : lars. is the possessor of .sir- million dollar* > hictyd fjiti-f Ocean. A Texas < hit!lit v Judge 'recently dclivi red a farewell address which excited the rid aura.' ini o, all Ids . s Ulltii s une ollieeiUs pea. on and- '•over I tlistt Washington had ' ! '!i\etvd ith'--f.U:!O j address many y ear-a .go. —A. t. Sun. A Pint i!'. he.tea girl had not spoken I to any one for y ears until Iter mot!: -a ■ ilic'd tic otlieix d.ay . and Was supposed jto be dumb, \! the death of her j mother s!ie talked as -though she had j alwav - done so.— -Bhilrnh:iph>ti IVrt*. -The olde<; woman in Cotim etivut j lives at Middletown and is named ; Smitjfc. She i< the mother of eleven children. enjovs good healtli. never roiie on a railroad, and is one hundred and three yoars of age-. - Hurl ford Count ut. ' --George Dolby, who. in the capacity of secretary and manager, accompanied ( harles Dickon- during his America:!'tour in Ixo7. -avs the gro-s receipts of Ids sevent v-six readings in lids coiii-ilry were two hundred and twentyeight thousand dollars, and that Dickens' personal profits were ninety-five thousand dollars. Nicholas Van Horn, a well-to-do farmer and widower of Ilabershaa, Ga., and the father of two children over thirty years of age. was married recently to Miss Ivy, a child of twelve. During the ceremony the child began to sob. when the old man patted her on tin* head in a fatherly manner, and wiped away her tears with his big bandana. —Chicago Times. —Mr. Thomas Barbour, threadmaker at Paterson, N. J.. who died recently worth one million dollars, if not several millions, was the son of a threadrnaker at Belfast and traveling salesman in America. Ills father waned to thrash him, big as he was, lor setting up a thread-null' iu America against the British manufacturer. “Father." said the sou. “I'll make •more money for you than 1 ever did. and make money for myself, too.” He did.—x\. Y. Graphic. “A LITTLE NONSENSE.** —A Brooklyn scientist says that in about three million years the earth will be one gigantic iceberg. According to hi*-belief, it will be a cold day when j everybodv gets left. — Norristown Her—No modest, prudent young lady will accept a scapegrace for an escort, but if she will go to masquerades in the character of Maud Muller we don't see how she can avoid going with a rake.— Bn rli ngto n Hawke ye. —A Boston girl who saw a fellow with delirium tremens exclaimed: "Unhappy man! Why do you permit yourself to get the ‘James-James?’ " The shock restored'the sufferer to his right mind. — N. Y. Journal. —lie had an auburn-haired girl, and promised to take her out riding. She met him at the door when he drove up. and he exclaimed: “Hello! Ready?" She misunderstood him. and they don’t speak now. Chicago Tribune. —Landlady—‘‘Do you find lour steak tender, Mr. Dumby? If not I \yd 1! —" Dumby (who was wakened abrnit five o'clock that morning by the cook pounding it) "Er it might be well to let the cook bit it a few more times. ! think."—-V. )'. Sun. “So you didn’t succeed very well with vour school in Illinois?" “No: 1 had to give it up at the end of the tir-t month." "Did you use the blackboard much?" "No. It was too large. But I used all the other furniture about the | room that wasn't nailed down.”—A'. : Y. Graphic. j —Looking on the bright side: “Mv i wife is really getting -complimentary.” ; remarked Fogg. “Ah! how's that?" ! asked Brown. "Why. she came very i near speaking of my beautiful raven ; locks.*' “How •ear. for instance?" i “Why. she said my head looked like a crow's nest." —Boston TrnnseHpf. “x\re you superstitious, Mr. Badger?" asked Miss l)c Silva. "Not in the least," replied that gentleman. “Would you prefer a dinner party of six to one of thirteen?" “Yes. decidedly." “Ah! I knew you were | superstitious. Why would you, Mr. Badger?" ••Get more to eat. ’ Troy Times: —Her Ancestry. A maiden .of uueertaiu nae Os ancestry was wont to brag: Y lion that attention would engage The conversation would e.ot flag. ; •’One of my ancestors.'’ says she “Came on the Maytiowvr.” “Can it be?” Asked one, “ T s a distinction great. Why. bi-'J was the date.” “Prav tell me." slv.ly asked another. “Was it your father or your mother?” ' —“Why do you suppose the feminine j is used in speaking of the moon?” i asked Kosciusko Mwrphy of Miss Esmeralda Longcoftin. “Because she is I so beautiful, I suppose,” replied Esj meralda, who is on the shady side of thirty-five. “No, it’s because there’s no finding out how old she is,” re--1 plied the lunatic.— Texas Siftings. 1 How the Sultan Looks. i * “The day before the one appointed for our leaving Constantinople." said Senator-elect Stanford. "I was much surprised at receiving, through a court official, an invitation for the following afternoon to a private audience with the Sultan, during which he wished to question me concerning material developments of Turkey. There was nothing remarkable about the room, except, perhaps, the fact that it was furnished iu French style nor wasrthere much of Oriental splendor in the dress of the Sultan. He wore a blue undress uniform of European cut, the only traces of Eastern costume being a plain I fez, and a magnificently mounted seimetar. He appeared to be a rather sKkjht man, some thirty-five years of age, with an intelligent face that shojyed a somewhat timid character, I should jn#ge, and a decidedly Jewish east of features.” —San Front isco Call. —Old Liberty bell was cracked in 1828 while ringing in honor of a visit >f Henry Clay to Philadelphia.

COINS. A. Brief Description of Hit* Coinage of th ( nitecl States. The coinage law of .1702 prnvidmi for three gold coins, the .eagle, liak-.r.gie and quarter-eagle. It provided for the silver dollar, which was to weigh 110 grains, and to-be "the unit of Federal money." Iq ls:>7 a code of mint iauA. drawn by Mr. It. M. Patterson, the Director of the Mint, and adopted by Congress. reduced the .weight of the -i!\. x- - dollar to 4121 grains, and the sma ! i r silver coins in proportion, and for l.o'h metals the standard of tine.nes.- used in. the Mint of France was adopt I. Tie gold d-dlar iva ■■ !n*.t eoined umi'v an act of Coiigivs - passe ' Ap.y. h l. -l'h B> an net of 1’; 'n'.itry i’’. i '•;. an in•portant e!:ange iva ■ ruicie i ■ ~.... tima! eoittege, F\’ the la\. , . • ■ - ly existing both gold an i •':>.. > OXeejM t•!•.<• tllfi e-eent |ee • , vote a le ;u! te:e!er to an;.. a-.:. A illr.i!io of sii\er to gi‘ld of Ui to !. !! r was of less value iu the l nee-! >, than in Europe, and our silrtr e is w.-re exported in large qiuuiti:’ -s. To jirevent this the act mentioned placed :x seigniorage, or mini-tax .upon fiver, reduced tile half-dollar and -oudi'-r coins, in weight, and took from the -e 1 -le silver coins tiieir Icrul-teader on e , excepting in s.ual! anioiiet s. The -,:r, •• dollar of 412.' grains \va - no: -e h ;..,t ill this change. The mil I \. i no longer to coin silver tor im' ;- viiluais. blit to pure else the re . 1 at its market price and manufacture coins oa goier; nc -l aee- ti a'. The effect of this cluing was p. give to the silver coin of thi- ec.af - * orrent value sufficiently ab ne its ne. . price a> bullion to p ■ ,(•! i! ■ e., ortat on, and a; the same . time t > m •• diver money sul'i.shiiary to gold. i!i • -ih.er dollar, however, being- al!i*' - • al tender to any .amount, and .eelig'i. a - , hr than a dollar’s w.ortli of -mail eo r .. stood at a ]>remium of from l":; ltt.",. By the coinage act of I.X7J, prep-ared under the direction of John J. Knox. (lomptroller of the Currency, the coinage of the silver dollar of 412.! grains was dropped and in its place was substituted the dollar of 420 grains, called the “trade dollar," since it was intended only for the convenience of our trade with Mexico and the Central American States, China and Japan, and was never much used in this country, excepting on the Pacific coast. The act of 187:1 also provided that silver money should only be a “legal tender at its nominal value for any amount not exceeding live dollars in any one payment." This restriction, together with the omission of the old silver dollars from the list of authorized coins.' resulted in the “demonetization of silver.” of which so much was said when .its effect began to be understood. By the ‘-silver bill" of 1877 the dollar of 412! grains 'was restored to the coinage and again made legal tender. .As coin, silver and gold are of equal value, one dollar in gold being exchange ible for one dollar in silver at. any time or either of them for one dollar in paper—as legal tender o f the United States. —Chicago inter Ocean. ■ • A STRANGE NEW BIRD. An Australian Brush Turkey the Latest Addition t ) the Zoological Carden. “Just stir that bird up. Tom." said Superintendent Brown, of the Zoological Garden, yesterday morning to an attendant in the Deer House. The result of the stirring up process was the sudden appearance from beneath a feedbox of a remarkably long-legged, dingyblack fowl that looked like a very immature Thanksgiving turkey. “That bird isn’t much to look at.” saict the Superintendent, “but there is not another such on this continent. It is the first of its species ever exhibited in America, and the only others of its kind on exhibition are at the London ZoologicakGardens.” The latest addition to Mr. Brown’s family of curiosities is an Australian brush turkey, learnedly TalegaUa lathami, landed in New York last week from a merchant ship, and at once snapped up for the Zoological Garden. A pair of the birds were imported at a venture by a sailor, but the male was accidentally killed after landing, much to Superintendent Brown’s chagrin. The newcomer is much the size, shape and color of a half-grown domestic turkey, but its legs are extraordinarily long and its feet very large, while its" stride in walking is of great length. A curious brilliant red and yellow plumage adorns its neck from the head half way to the breast. It is extremely wild, but lias not been frightened out of its j appetite. The brush turkey is remarkable from the fact that it hatches its eggs by i means of heat generated by spontaneous j combustion. Three or four and sometimes half a dozen of the females lay their eggs in one spot, and the males cover theiii with sand, leaves, small , twigs and the like, the mounds often being six or eight feet in height and from eighteen to twenty-five feet in di- i ameter. When the voting are hatched they remain about twelve hours in the mound, and then scratch their way out. The birds are found in Australia, New Guinea and adjacent islands. The brush j turkeys in the London Zoological Gar- j den breed annually, and builu just such curious mound nests as in their native ! wilds.— ilatlclphitt Press.

HOTEL CLERKS. The Diamonds They Wear Furnished hv Dealers as Advertisements. “There arc a grea* jokes made about the big diamonds worn by hotel clerks.” said a jeweler yesterday in the reading-room of theCirard House, as he puffed his cigar and made himself comfortable on his holiday. ■ but that just sliows that few people know a good dia-nio-d when they see it.” “Do you mean to say that the stones worn by hotel clerks ate all genuine?” “Most of them are. 1 saw a hotel clerk at Cape May two years ago winning one of the largest and purest diamonds I have seen in many years. But, of course, lie did not bay it. and. in fact, it did not belong to him.” “Where did he get it?” ‘•Why. my dear young fellow, he was wearing it as an advertisement. Don’t you know that a great manv jewelry firms advertise their goods in that way? Well, if you don’t, just you keep your eyes open during Christmas week anil you will see some of the hotel clerks blazing with precious stones of great value. It’s an advertising dodge of the dealers, and it suits the clerks because they are thus able to make a better display of jewelry than most of the guests. It's a cold day wheu a clerk can't paralyze a country visitor by Hashing a big diamond on him.” “How are the dealers benefited?” “Why. in this way: A rich man, fond of jewelry, comes up to the hotel counter and sees a tine diamond on the. clerk’s shirt-bosom. He makes some remark about the stone. The clerk talks about its features and value in an off-hand sort of-way. The visitor asks where it was purchased. Clerk tells him and recommends him to go there: in fact, often gives him a card of introduction. Don’t you see how the scheme works?” f'/ti/wh ijihkt /Vis's. —According to reports an application of gun-cotton ha> been <-mado in such a manner that it will eventually supersede he use of steam for the purpose of light locomotion and driving small much’: sry. --V K. Tribinu.

KHARTOUM. Omcripti'n .of tlic f'ify in the Sov .in F<rr Muii.v Motifliß Ifrlil hy General ' I(jrih>,i. On a barren. stinielcss and \vi<> plain on Hie w* 'tern bank of Hie Blue Nde, ami abi.ii! a, mil; above its . junction', with the W hite Nile, i- .'itnateil tlu now famous City of Khartoum. It' river frontage is about one and a halt tidies; im -depth inward from tlie rival about a mile. Asils-ite is somev lia* lower tliat the point reached by belli rivers when in Hood, a dyke fifteen U twenty feet in height has been mad. alone- the batiks of the Blue Nile, ami another somewhat lower, immediate!;, at the back, of the town, to*'proteet it against overilow of the White Nile. When at their lowest {joint bote streams are from six hundred ta eight hundred yard' in widtii. and have si",--erul islands. •.'.lnch are cult-haicd. The White Nile is unfordal.de.. ex: in one or two places far.up tlie river, hut the Blue can lie forded in many places above Hie town. When in Hood, the White Nile increases its width to i very great extent, but not so the Blue Kile, a- its banks are much sleeper. Around Khartoum are several small villages, Both above and below tlu* town are small plantations of date palms and plantains. Vl'o a: number of vegetable gardens. According to the old custom, or privilege, none of these gardens pay any taxes. With the exception of the river banks the country is bare and treeless. During the hot season, which lasts from the beginning of April to the middle of November, the heat is severe, averaging in the shade from ninety to ninety-live degrees Fahrenheit. The rains generally begin about tlu* middle of .July and last till Septt tuber. They. are. however, said to lie very irregular, and sometimes there is little or no rainfall. In the rainy season the barren ground stretching between the two rivers is covered with grass, affording very good pasture. 'The rivers .begin to rise on '.lie 1-t of June, and reach their highest point about tlu beginning of September. They remain stationary at that point tiM about the loth, and then begin to fall. The cold weather begin* about the middle of December, and lasts till the middle of February. From November to March high north winds prevail, and during the remainder, south. In the winter the thermometer sometimes goes down as low as forty-six degrees Fahrenheit: except in the regular rainy season there is no rain. The unhealthy season is during the months of June, July, October and November, when typhoid fevers and dysentery are prevalent. The winter is the healthy season. The resident population is generally estimated at from fifty thousand to fifty-live thousand souls, of which twothirds are slaves. There is also a floating population estimated from one thousand five hundred to two thousand souls, and consisting of Europeans, Syrians, Copts, Turks, Albanians and a few Jews. The free resident population are mostly Makhass or aborigines; Dosgolawees, from Dongola; Shaghives, from a district along the Nile, north of Khartoum, and the Rubatat, a district north of the Berber. The slaves belong mostly to the Nuba, Dinka, Sulook, Berta and other negro tribes. Both the free population and the slaves are Mohammedans of the Maliki school of divinity, and are also followers of either the Rufai, Kadri, Hamdi or Saadi sect of dervishes. They are very superstitious. Their political creed is %o side with whichever side is the strongest. The free inhabitants are mostly engaged in trade or commerce, and the slaves in agriculture, or else hired out as daily laborers by their masters. But few are employed as domestic servants. It is said that a master always makes a point of marrying his slave as soon as po-sible. It is also reported that slaves born in the country improve greatly in appearance as compared with the parent stock. Os the floating population the Copts are mostly employed in Government service or trade. The Turks, Albanians, etc., are generally irregular soldiers or loafers. The European element is represented'by about one hundred’ individuals, mostly Greek. There are also some Italians. The chief export and import trade is in the hands of the Europeans, Copts and Syrians. Except the manufacture of mats, cotton cloths, a rope made from palm _ leaves and some filigree silver-work, there is no manufacture worth speaking of. The bazaar is of considerable size, and is tolerably well supplied with Manchester goods, cheap cutlery, etc. The export and import trade is considerable, and, besides numerous caravans. is said to employ over three hundred boats of various size. A considerable trade in grain is also carried on with Seminar and Karkotsch. These dist ricts are practically the granaries of the Soudan.

In shape Khartoum is very irregular. : Its appearance is also .poor anil miserable. Except tlie Government house anil one or two other buildings, there i is hardly a house worthy of the name. The houses are mostly built of sun- ! dried briek. generally without an upper i story, and nearly all surrounded by court yards with mud walls. To prevent these crumbling away during the rains, they are every year plastered over with dung before the rainy season commences. This plastering process i*= doubtless the cause of a good deal of illness. As the town is so .low, there is no drainage, and-the consequence is t! at during the | rains the whole place is deep in water, j and it is almost impossible to move ; about. As there is no stone through-' out the whole district, the streets are full of dust during the summer and 1 mud during the rains. The chiefbuild- ! ing' ire: (1) Government house and ! office; large brick buildings on the j banks of the Blue Nile: (2) arsenal, with smithy, carpenter's shop, smelt-ing-furnaces, stoves, etc.; attached to this arsenal arc some fourteen steamers for the navigation of the rivers, and 1 also boats of various kinds; (3) a large commodious hospital built by Colonel . Gordon: (4) a mosque or jam! built by j Kurshid Pasha; (3) a sibil or small ; mosque, provided with a well, and some rooms for the convenience of travelers and poor people: (6) a large barrack of mud without an upper story anil a large barrack square; (7) powder magazine and workshop for the re- j filling of cartridges; (8) a large Roman Catholic missionary building, established in 1848, a stone building with garden, church, etc.; (9) a small Coptic church. As Io the attitude of the population, j Lieutenant-Colonel Stewart wrote on January IG. 1883: “Os the fifty or .fifty-five thousand inhabitants (including thirty thousand slaves) of Khartoum. if 1 am to believe what I hear, I must consider the majority as unfriendly to the Government. 1 have been assured that many Government employes, and nearly all the native traders, are secret partisans of the Meluli, in the hopes that he will reestablish the slave trade. It is questionable how far these statements are justified, but perhaps I shall not be far from the truth in saying that the ma- . jority will take whichever side they see is the strongest. —Chicago Times. —The daily milk supply of the city of Philadelphia averages about 200,000 quarts, or oue*4ifth of a quart to each man. woman and child composing its 1,000,000 of inhabitants. To produce this vast daily supply requires the maintenance of from 3.3,000 to 40,000 cows. —Philadelphia Record.

WIT AND WISDOM. —Wild oils that arc sown in the heydays of life are often reaped in the hades of eternity. Whib/iail Times* '—•‘lt'is as much-the duty of gold men to protect an 1 defend the reputation of all worthy public servants is to detect public rascals." 'lames A. Oarfield. —Better for iui individual to stick to that which which lie knows all about than to be tempt and into an unknown enterprise by alluring promises of glittering gains’. —“I should have been named Reflection,” groaned a battered tramn. as he tightened the bell around his *hollo\v waist. “1 find there.is more food for reflection in tins life than for anything else.” —The Judge. —“ Can you give me a definition of nothing?” inquired a number seventeen school teacher. “Yes, mum. It's a bung’nole without a barrel around it.” shouted little Ted Saunders, whose papa is a cooper.—,Y. T. Independent. —ls you are poor there is one consolation—your heirs will not go into court to prove that yon were an imbecile during your childhood, an idiot at the time of your marriage, and a gibbering lunatic for years before yon died. Chicago Tribune. —“ Bet you the candy she didn’t;” said Amy to Mildred, in the midst of a heated discuss on about a schoolmate; “Money talks, you know.” “You mean to say that currency converses, do you not?'* corrected the High School girl. —Oil CUg l> rriek. —Civil Service Examiner (to colored applicant for the situation of lettercarrier) —“State the d'.'tance from London, England, to Calcutta. -India, via the Suez Canal.'"' Colored Applicant -“ Saw bo-', es yo’se gwine ter put me on da! route, you kin ilisremove im applicashun often <1 book.” Kj'rhunge. - -Tired of iil'e.— I would not live nh\ ay—l ask not to stay Where men with ihe.r hills me round all the day: There’s enough iti this world, with each worry inf? ili— Its babies, its failures, its doctor* who kill— Without an lethyosauiu* To come ion ml and bore us From morning to night with his fearful long bill. Rockland Courier.

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