Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 February 1882 — Page 2

JOSEI'WXE. we did not meet in cdnrtly halls, -—~ Where youth and beauty throng, Where luxury holds festival, And wit awakes the song. We met where darker sprits meet In the halls of sin and shame, satan shows his cloven feet sgut hides (his title name. / > And the knew she could not be love, What once she might have been. But she was kind to me love My pretty Josephine. W T e did not part beneath the sky As other lovers part, When night conceals the glistening eye But not the throbbing heart. We parted on that spot of ground , Where we oft had laughed at love, And meirrlly went the Jest around ' And the lamps burned bright above. The night is very dark love, The blast isshrill and keen, But merrily rides my bark, love; Good night my Josephine. Slje did not speak of ring or vow, But filled a cup of wlue, And took the roses from her brow To make a wreath for mine; And told me when the gale should lift My light bark !o’er the wave, , To think as little of the gift As of the hand that gave. Go gaily o’er the sea love. And find your own hearts queen, And look not back to me, love; Your poor! poor! Josephine. Thatgarland breathes and blooms no more, == Past are those idle hours; i would not, could I choose, restore , The memory or the flowers. But oft their withered witchery Awakes its wanted thrill, Remembered not with passion’s sigh t But ah! remembered still, And even from your side love, And even from this scene, Onalook is o’er tne tide love, One thought with Josephine, Alas! Your lips are rosier v • Your eyes a deeper blue, And I have never felt for her What I have felt for you. You have seen these eye-lids wet love, Which she has never seen; But bid me not forget love My poor, poor Josephine. . T. H. S. Written at X. Y. Dec. ’Tti.

BACHELOR’S CONFESSION.

BY HELEN FOREST GRAVES.

I live in a French Hat. Of course there are objections to French flats. So there are to most things. I can’t afford a hotel, and 1 detest a boardinghouse. A bachelor of 30 odd, who has been at the mercy of boarding-house keepers all this day, can easily understand that. Sc, when I engaged a suite of rooms —third floor in a French flat edifice — aud arranged my household goods therein, with a flue lookout over a green dot of a park in front, and a glimmer of a palisade far in the rear above a forest of shipping, I considered myself well otT. What is my profession? I haven’t any in particular. I'm an artist and draw a little; daily in front of my ease/. I com tribute to the press, and write when the divine afflatus seizes me. I read the law when I feel like it, and draw a little income from a snug little property left me by an uncle in India. Consequently I was able to decorate my new quarters very prettily with Bagdad rugs, old Chiua dragons, black and gold Japanese screens, and pictures I had picked up at a bargain. And when the fire was burning cheerfully in the grate, the first rainy May evening, the student lamp shining softly on the red, carved table, and the waiter from a neighboring restaurant had brought in my frugal dinner of a broiled bird, a mold of current jelly, a slice of roast beef, and a raspberry eumpling, i considered myself pretty comfortable. “Upon the whole,” rsays I to myself, “I rather approve of French flats.” I rang the bell. The janitor—a respectful decent sort of fellow, in a round jacket and carpet slippers—answered the summons. “Janitor,” said I, “who occupies the floor above?” “Nobody, sir,” the man answered. “Last party moved out yesterday. New party move in to-morrow.” “A large family?” said I, rather dubiously. ""Bless your heart, sir,” said the man, “no family at all—a single lady, sir!” At this I congratulated myself more and more. “I shall have prospect of a little peace now. I think,” said 1; and I ate my dinner in a fool's paradise of happiness. The single lady moved In ou the morrow. She must have moved in when I was down town selecting some new mill-boards and color-tubes for the summer sketqhes I intended to make, for when 1 returned, fondly expecting once more to enter into mv kingom of peace and serenity, everything was changed. Ti ere was a banging aud pounding overhead, a thujppiug and hammering —a sound as if some middle-aged Jfiantess in hob-nailed shoes was enoying herself in a promenade. I sent for the janitor in a rage. “Is the house coming down?” said I. “It’s the new tenant a-moviu’ in, sir,” said he, apologetically. “Does her furniture consist entirely of Herring’s safes and square pianos?” said I.

“There is two pianos, sir,” said he. “Bhe’s musical.” “The deuce she is,” roared I. “Two pianos! And does she play on ’em both?” “Don’t know sir, I'm sure.” said the man, with a distressed expression of oountenance. . , I endured the noise until midnight, and then I sent up the janitor’s wife. “The third floor's compliments to the fourth floor, and would like to know if this sort of thing is to go on all night?” Down came the woman again. “Fourth floor’s compliments to third floor, and wishes to kuow if he expects people to got settled without a The next day the piano— only cne. however— commenced. I was eiaborat ng a skeleton for a scientific essay, and It disturbed me seriously. I endured it as long as I possibly could,and then I had recourse onbe mote to the Janitor’s wife.

; “Third floor’s compliments to the fourth floor, and will reel obliged if she will favor me with a little peace and quietness long enough to do some necessary writing/’ There was no reply, and the music ceased abruptly. But that evening, when I was beginning to solace myself with a little- violin practice in the twilight, tap r tap, tap came the janitor’s wife at my door. . . “Fourth floor’s compliments to the third floor, and will feel obliged if he will favor her with a little peace and quietness, long enough to write a letter." How I hated that woman! So we lived fora month,exchanging constant missiles of warfare. I could cheerfully have given up that miserable French flat and gone back to boarding, only unluckily I had engaged it for the year. The fourth floor elocutionized,and had friends to select private readings, whose voices wen; deeper than Hamlet’s and more sonorous than that of Charlotte Cushman. She was charitable and had classes of heavy-booted girls twice a week, to sing hymns ana learn to sew. A single lady, indeed! If she had been a quadruple lady she Jcould not have made more noise, nor enjoyed the making of it more.

At the close of the month, however, an incident happened which turned the current of my whole life. I went on a picnic. I don’t often go to anything of that kind; but this was an especially select affair gotten up by my friend Harold Webster. I went, and there I met Barbara Willis, and fell straightway in love with her. She wasn’t exactly young, but neither am I, and to my taste a full-blown rose is sweeter than a bud,whenever you find it growing. She was dark-eyed, with full cherry lips, satin-browu hair, and a complexion as fresh as roses and ivory. We talked ;our ideas coincided exactly. It seemed as if our souls were two looking-glasses, to mirror each other’s. “Miss Willis," I cried, “why is it hat we have never met before? I feel tas if we were old friends.” As I spoke I gently pressed her hand, and she smiled back unutterable things. I went to myfriend Webster who was making up quadrilles on the upper deck. We were accompanied by an excellent brass baud. “O Harold!” exclaimed I, “I can never thank you euough for introducing me to that angel!” “Do you mean Barbara Willis?” said he. “Well, Ido think she is rather a fine girl.” We grew confidential as we sat together on the promuade deck and watched the moonlight ripple over the surface of the tides. “A bachelor’s life is but half a life, Miss Willis," said I. “I can readily imagine that,” she said softly. “I live in a flat,” confessed I. you,” said Barbara (the sweet old English name was just like her). “Why, how strange! So do IT” * “Isn't it dreadful!” said I. “Horid!” said she, closing her lips as though she meant it. “And there’s a female dragon occupies the floor above me, and torments me out of my life.” “Well, if this isn’t a remarkable coincidence,” replied Barbara. “ fhere’s a detestable old crab of a bachelor under me, who takes all the pleasure out of my existence!” “Should two lives be thus blighted?” said I. “I—l don’t think so,” replied Barbara, looking intently at the boquet of pansies she held in her hand. It was past midnight when the boat landed. Harold Webster came up. “I promised to see you home, Miss Willis,” said he, rubbing his hands briskly. “You need not trouble yourself, Webster,” said I. “I shall be most happy.” I called a hack, helped the divine Barbara in, feeling more and more as if I were walking in cloudland. “Where shall i drive to?” said the man. “No, 69 Ravenal street,” said she, ‘fourth floor.” “What!” cried I—“not the Fernandine flats?” “Exactly,” said she. “Why, that’s where I live.” “Are you the third floor?” she cried out, breathless. “Are you the fourth?” I counterquestioned. “But you’re not a crab at all!” “Nor are you a dragon. Oa the contrary—” But what matters it what was said. Things were altered from the very beginning. I took my violin up-stairs the next day, and helped my divine Barbara out with a sonata of Beethoven’s. I suggested a new education theory for the hob-nailed classes. I listened enchanted to ner recitation of Tennyson’s Brook; and at ihe end of the qurter we are to be married—Barbara and I.

Two Boys Who Met on the Tow Path.

New York Sun. In the summer of 1536 a bare-footed boy was ou his way to Honesdale, Pennsylvania, walking the tow path of the Delaware and Hudson oanal. When four miles this side of Port Jervis, and still forty miles from his destination, he was overtaken by a Canal boat. He was asked to jump aboard the boat and ride, which he did. On the boat was a Scotch family, just landed in America, who were on their way to the Pennsylvania coal fields. One of its members was a boy the same age of the young pedestrian, eleven years. A strong friendship grew up between the two boys by the time they reached Honesdale. The Scotch family went ou to Carbondale. tbe center of the Lackawanna coal field. The boy who had been given the ride ou the boat obtained employment on the cauai. His friend, the Scotch boy, worked in the mines for a short time as mule boy. Both he and the former bare-foot boy rose in the company's service. The Scotch boy of forty-six ago is Thomas Dickson, president of the Delaware aud Hudson canal company. His friend, the other boy, is Colonel F. Young, general manager of the company, ana president of tbe Albany & Susquehanna railroad system. Heus scratched up a woman’s garden at Pawtucket, and she poisoned them. To her horror, she saw the owner plucking thep next day for the market, and her conscience gave her no peace till she had bought the lot at a price far above the Iwtcher’s offer. •

THE SOURCE OF THE FUN.

An Extensive Humorist and His “Nomsde Plums” Little Rock Gazette. “Say do you want a joke?” asked a man entering the Gazette office. “If you see the advertising man you ciu probably dispose of it ” ' “Now, you are trying to insult me. Probably you dout know who I am. I am a remarkable man in disguise;! am the author ofthe'SpoopendykePapers,’ which you have no doubt seen in the Brooklyn Eagle.” “Thought that was the work ofStanley Huntley.” “No,sir; Stanley Huntley is my nom de plume. Wait till I give you an imitation of myself;” and seating himself and reflecting for a moment he began: “ ‘My dear,’ said Mr. Spoopendyke, ‘we have received an invitatiou-to-visit a Christmas tree over at Con Clay’s residence.’

“ ‘Ain’t that two sweetl’replied Mrs. Spoopendyke. ‘I always did enjoy the Christmas trees, and once when I was a girl I went out into the country with my cousin and roamed around the woods looking for Christmas trees.’ “ ‘Ye did did ye? Thought that the dodgasted things grew up and blossomed presents,did ye? Thought that wax tapers grew like trees, did ye? All you want is ten cents worth of common bark and a wooden toD to be a grove. Think I’m going to lake such a woman among intelligent people? All you want is to lace tight to be a campaign pole. Take me' for a dodgasted, measly birch rod?” “ ‘How’ll that do? Now, don’t vcu think that I wrote these papers? said the visitor, with the air of a conqueror. “You have established your identity,” answered the scribe. “I am ’Derrick Dodd,’ of the ’Frisco Post.”

“Thought he ; was Frank Gassaway the poet?” “Well, it is the same; I am known just as well by either name. Here’s a sample of my humor: “ -The landlord led to room No. 999. As they opened the door and turned up the gas a sudden racket near the bed ceased.’ “‘What are those?’ exclaimed the guest with trembling voice, as he pointed to a number of large lumps beneath the counterpane. They began to move. ‘Great Scott!’ he shrieked, making for the door, ‘they're bedbugs!’ ‘“Hush; not a word,’ said the landlord, detaining him. ‘Have no fear. Look! they have been already fed. We always fill ’em up at bed time. Comes high, but our gueats insist on it,’ and he pointed to a plate of well polished beef bones beneath the bed. Then, hastily slipping out, the landlord locked the door and retired,’ “The above is a section, neatly sawn out of a thrilling romance entitled ‘The House; or Bloody tales of the Boarders,’ soon to begin in the Weekly Post. Now is the time to get up clubs.” “Derrick, I congratulate you upon utilizing lun with biz.” said the scribe. “I am also Bill Nye.” “William, I am glad to meet you.” “Do not address me as William until I produce my credentials. We do not believe that any man has a right.to chew our name. Our constitution forbids such familiarity. We are sentimental. When hope and fear dance with fantastic tiptoe on our broad bosom filled with generous throbs, we do not think that the mooneyed editor of another sneet has a right to slip up and nip a mouthful of our eai.” The scribe fell from his chair, but was lifted to his seat by the kindhearted humorist. “Now, you call me Wiliam” “William,” whispered the scribe, and fumbling under a lot of papers, he drew out a bottle and refreshed himself. “My name is Alex Sweet, sir and I write the humorus stuff for the Texas Siftings. Listen: “‘Uncle Nace w,as met ou Austin avenue, yesterday, by Jim Webster, who said: “ ‘Uncle Nace, da tells me dat yer’s got de smartest three-year-old boy in Austin.’ “Der man what informed you stated a fack.’

“ *What eberdence had vou ob dat sack ?’ “ ‘Why, sab, de odder day a chicken cud into my yard, and de boy begin ter ebase him wid a instinct dat shows what a man he’sgwin ter be.’ ” “Alex, I’m glad to meet you. We have exchanged sympathy in private manuscript, and now that we meet the ocnasion 'is one of excessive joy. Is this the extent of your literary wardrobe?” “No, sir; I am Eugene Fields, the he man who writes primer for the Denver Tribune. But wait. I don’t ask any man to take my word: “ ‘Here We Have a Boy and a Dog. The Dog Has a Big Mouth, aud the Boy’s Mouth for Jam is Correspondingly Large. Will the Boy Pull the Dog’s Tail? Yes, He Will Pull His Tail. Will Me Pull it Twice? No, He Will Not Pull it twice?' ” “Who else are you?” “I am numerous others. lam George W. Childs, of the Philadelphia Leader. Listen: ,‘ |My dog is (lead said Nancy Cary Come write to day her obituary! Uone to meet old Tov/ser.’ ” A heavy fall attracted the attenion of the porter. When he came iu he found scribe lying on the floor insensible. I

Morphiomania. London Truth. When physicians discovered that pain could be subdued by inserting under the skin a small pointed instrument provided with a tube containing morphia, they little thought thai they were paving the way for a new vice. Yet bo it was. There are in our merry England beings who are as wholly under the denomination of morphia as ever was Chinese under that of opium. Women have yielded by degrees to its fatal fascination, until at last they, piick the skin a dozen times a day with the tiny syringe that has such terrible results. The operation is almost the immediate effects pleasant. A delicious languor supervenes. Happy thoughts aud bright imaginations fill the mind. Some see beautiful visions, others feel only a prevading sensation of comfort and well-being. Ou a few, the effect of morphia is to excite to someiutellectur a 1 effect, if effort that can be called

which is pure delight, a glorious feeling of uo trammeled power,'of uncrippled exercise of the highest faculties. It is as though the mind had suddenly developed wings. But at the very height of the enchantment the influence of morphia begins to subside. The glory fades. The wings fail, and the feet that are their sorry substitute become weighted as with lead. As with the workers, so with the dreamers. The visons are obscured. The sensation-of coir.fort gives place to one of discomfort, irritation, eveu pain. The mental vision that had just now looked throdgh a rosy mist sees all things as through a crape veil or a November fog. Gan it be wondered at that the dose is renewed, that the poison is absorbed again and again, that the intervals become shorter and shorter between the reign of the potent drug? And the end? The, punishment is terrible indeed. By degrees the mind becomes darkened. Hideous hallucinations seize upon it. Self-control is lost. Imbecility overtakes the weak. Madness threatens the strong. These are the personal consequences. There are others to be bequeathed to sons and daughters and to later generations. These can be gueesed at. The new vice has not reigned sufficiently long for the world to have seen them exemplified, but a dark array of possibilities suggests itself but too readily. The heritage of insanity, of inebriety, of imbecility, will in future be traced back to those tiny tubes which hold but a drop or two, and to whieh men once looked as to a blessed means of relieving sin, lot getting that blessings and cures go hand in hand in a crooked world. Dipsomania has now a powerful rival,speedier in its results than its own revolting process, and eventually as degrading. The name of the later born sister fiend if morptiiomania.

Cutting Cameo Portraits. New York Tribune. “ Yes,” said a cameo-cutter, recently, “the demand for the old style of cameo jewelry is decreasing rapidly, but the demaud for good cameo portraits is increasing just a 3 fast. It is the general impression that no good cameo portraits are cut in this country, but that they all come from Pans. As far as I know there are no portrait cutters in this couutry outside of New York. There is one cutter of cheap cameos in Boston, but they send to New York for all the portraits they have orders for.” “Are there any first-class portrait cutters in this city?” “Well I claim that there is one, at least, here. I haye made cameo portraits of Garfield, A. T. Stewart, exPresident Hayes, the late Senator Morton of Indiana, Mrs. Scott Siddons and many other prominent men and women, and here are letters from Mr. Hayes and Mrs. Garfield praising the portraits highly. A galvano-plastic copy of the Garfield cameo I sold for SSO to a sculpior, who had an order to make a marble bas-relief of the late president. The original cameo portrait was bought by a jeweler and set in a broad, gold setting, in which thirty-eight larger gems were set; thirty-four diamonds close to the cameo, two rubies above and two below and two emeralds on each side, without the row of diamonds. This copy of the well-known picture, “Cleopatra before Csesar,” I value at SI,OOO. It is, as you see, an oval, three and onehalf inches long and two and one-half wide. The cost of the stone before it was dressed for cutting was $75. I worked ou it at frequent intervals for three years. “Do you make your portraits from life or from photographs?” “I start them from photographs, as it would be too tedious to do that from life, and finish them in a few sittings from life, it being impossible to get a natural, life-like* expression from a photograph. Yes, nearly all the portraits are ordered for making up Into jewelry, brcocolnsjbeing the mostcommon, and sleeve buttons next. These are two portraits of a little boy and girl, whose father wants a portrait of one of them on each of his sleeve buttons.” “WheTe do the best cameo stones come from now?” “They all come from Brazil ;they are taken to Germany, where they are dressed ready for cutting, and then taken to Paris, which is the only market for them, as most of the cutters are there. What is the process of cutting? It is done by a lathe worked by a treadle with those detachable tools and diamond dust. The tools are of three kinds—for cutting, for grinding and for smoothing. These detachable tools are tapering iron bars, on the small ends of which ire fastened wheels of soft, porous iron, to hold the diamonddust better than the steel would. These wheels vary in size from an inch in diameter to such one 3 as this (holding up one) which an untrained eye can not see.. For cutting, tho wheels have sharp edges; for grinding they are blunt-edged, while for smoothing the wheel becomes a cone. The diamond dust, which, mixed with oil and rubbed on the tools, does the cutting, is prepared thus: Here is a cast-steel mortar and a pestle of the same material that fits this deep mortar closely; into the deep mortar I put a few diamond fragments and a drop of oil, insert the pestle, and pound vigorously with this hammer. There is the dust ready lor use. I make it myself, as it must be ol different degrees of fineness lor different stages of the cuttleg.”

An Orphan Who Kept His Word. New York Special. Many years ago an orphan boy was taken from the House of Refuge in New York to work for a Patterson farmer. After awhile he complained that he was overworked and beaten, aud at last ran away, telling the neighbors when ne went that he intended to come back again when a man and “square off” with his unkind employer. On Thanksgiving day a stalwart young man called upon the farmer and announced that he was the identical “orphan,” aud that he had come to “sqHare off” with him, which he proceeded to do in the most emphatic style, giving the man a sound thrashing. His wife came to the rescue, but the young man also squared off with her, sud when a big dog was set on him, he polished off the dog, too. He then announced their accounts were “squared off,” and he would return to his western home, whence be had come expressly for the purpose of fulfilling his threat made when a boy, and before a warrant could be issued for his arrest he mis many miles away.

TAROWING THE LASSO.

An Englishmans Cheerful Experience Among the Texans. An Englishman’s cheerful experience among the untutored Texans: A rope or a lasso, is a harmless looking thing' but in the hands qt a Mexican It becomes a terrible weapon. A Mexican can yank a Yankee, or any other hostile intruder, he has a spite at, out of the saddle, as quick as the President of the United States can remove an unworthy office holder who is irregular in sending in his campaign assessment according to the civil service reform rules. The dexterity of a Mexican vaquero in handlinga rope has to be seen to be believed. During the war with the French, one of Maximilian’s best cavalry officers, a Pole, was caught out sb to speak, by the Mexicans, with a lasso, around Monterey and his neck and dragged to death. Every Mexican is dangerous when he has a lasso in his hands. Even a good natured Mexican who has been born without any arms, is not to be trusted when he has got a lasso in his hands—as we heard an Irishman once remark. In roping cattle and horses, the Mexican removes the calico remnant from the shrubbery A vaquero gracefully swings the lasso, gives it an apparently careless toss.and it is sure to encircle the neck of any particular animal in the herd he may have singled out. He, the Mexican, then throws his horseon his haunches, the lasso becomes taut, and so does the animal. It is taught that it is no use trying to escape from a Mexican with a lasso. Like most other harmlesslooking weapons, the lasso is dangerous to persons who do not know how to handle it. and to demonstrate this we submit the following: A few days ago, we met a newly arrived Englishman coming down Austin avenue on crutches. He wore his head in a bandage, his nose was skinned, and there were other indications of his having either leaned up against the propellor of a mule to rest himself, or having questioned the veracity of some native Texan. When you see an Englishman in Texas, who looks as if he needed medicine, you may be sure he is one of Dr. Kingsbury’s patients. At least, that is what all sick Englishmen in Texas clatm. This one told a touching story of how he met Dr. Kingsbury iu London, and atter they “ ’ad 'ad some ’arf and ’arf, ye know,” the Doctor had been giving him a florid description of Tekas, how pine apples grew on the prickly pear bushes, and boxes of oranges dropping ripe from the trees encumbered the Sidewalks, but what induced the young Englishman to leave his happy home and come to texas, to enjoy sport and to acquire great riches, suddenly, was the description of what sport it was to lasso cattle. “So you have been roping cattle, have you?” we asked. He said he had hired a horse, saddle, and “lassoo,” and had ridden up to a steer. As his bad luck would have it, he succeeded in throwing the rope over the animal’s horns. It galloped off. Johnny followed the doctor’s directions about reining in his horse, and the consequence was that the saddle, with ihe Englishman in it, went over the hdrse’s neck. He had tied the “lassoo” to the pommel of the saddle, like a dog with a tin kettle tied to his tail. It was worth sls, which the Englishman had to pay, but as the “lassoo” was gone too, he paid up cheerfully. He wanted to return to England to write a book about Texas sports and games. Jtie had already written a letter to the London Time's denouncing Kingsbury as unreliable. He also wanted the money returned that he .bad invested jn his Texas pleasure trip. We told him there was no trouble about getting his money. All he had to do was to make out his bill, go over to San Antonio, and present it to Colonel H. B. Andrews, who would hand out a check for that amount; that Colonel Pierce,President of the Sunse* Route, had given Colonel Andrews written permission to pay out of his, Andrews’, own pocket, any and all sums of money that he pleased to give to dissatisfied English immigrants. The Englishman called a hack to take him to the train bound for San Antonio, and as he disappeared from sight, who should come up but Bill Snort of the Crosby County Clarion and Farmer’s Vindicator. He is in Austin just now on important business. He is authorized by the School Commissioners of Crosby County to confer with Governor Roberts and, if possible, obtain his consent to the introduction of tbe Governor’s book, including the I “Texian hare,” into the public schools of Crosby County, to be used as a text book for the young. We told Bill about the bad luck of the Englishman who succeeded in roping a Texas steer, when he, Colouel Snort, spoke up and said that if he was properly encouraged he would give us some of his experience with the lasso. After having been encouraged twice, with a cigar thrown in, Bill settled himself in one of the editorial thrones, and let himself out as follows: “The first time I ever fooled with a lasso, or rather got fooled by alasso.was when I was a mere ooy, a playful child so to speak. As I did not want to put my parents to the expense of buying a lasso, I cut twenty feet off tbe clothes line. I then took position on the coon er and lay in wait for a victim. An aged Mexican came jogging along on a pacing pony, little imagining what was in store for him. I was nearly de’irious with joy at my lasso catching his horse by the hind foot. As I had tied the other end of the rope to my wrist, there was no chance for him to escape. The next thing I remembered was a erk at my arm that can only be compared to the shake of a candidate’s hand ou election day, after which I trotted mechanically behind the old Mexican who did not seem to know what a smart boy he had caught. ■ The people on the side walk took in the situation but were doubed up too much with laughter to render me such assistance. When the old Mexican traveled faster I humored him, and kept up with the Iprocession. I prayed, however, loud and earnestly, that be might stop before my arm came off. My prayerp were answered miraculously. He saw what was the matter. He dismounted and took the rope off his Worse’s hind leg. Then lie began to haul me in as u i re a'blg fish. I began to regret that my prayers for him to st« > had been so promptly answered, for there was an expression in the aged Aztec’s collection of features that filled me with me with gloomy forebodings. He was not in a hurrv to

take the rope off my wrist. He swun* the rope around his head, and the 1 began to revolve around him like a planet around the sun, he keeping up the centridugal force and the beat with the end of the rope? After he had taken more ex-rcise than was necessary for a man of his age. he took the rope oft my wrist, and I flew off into space at a tangent and high rate of speed. He did not give me back the rope either, but I did not miss it for I got some more rope at home—got it on the same place too—when my immediate ancestors discovered that the clothes line was too short. “That cured thedog of sucking eggs didn’t it?” queried one of the Sifters. “Well, my recollection is that it diii lor a while” resumed Bill, “but the cure was not permanent. About a year afterwards the city marshal issued a proclamation offering twenty-five cents reward for every unlicensed dog delivered at the pound. Here was a chance for a live, euergetic boy to turn an honest quarter. The recollection of myi former misfortune had faded out with the marks of the rope. I got another lasso and watched for a dog. The first dog I saw was several sizes too large to suit me, aud, besides,l was afraid he would not lead well. With my usual good luck the rope caught around the ueck, and I began to tow him iu the direction of the pound. At first he did not understand what I wanted,aud held back until I had nearly pulled his head off, when he suddenly came towards me, whereupon I abruptly sat down on the back of my head, and came very near impairing my future usefulness. But that was a splendid dog to lead. He not only came right up to me, but he went past me. The only fault that I ceuld find with him was that in passing me he carried off some of my clothes in his mouth. He must have got a taste of me in liia mouth, too. He weut on past to the end of the rope. This time, fortunately, I had not tied the rope to my wrist, so I did not have to follow him unless I wanted to. I thought I would ctieck up a little, sol pulled the rope. I hever saw such an easy dog to lead. He' turned right around and came back to me with his mouth open, as if he wanted the rest of my clothes, and another mouthful of boy. I turned the brute loose and fled. It was so easy to lead him. I led him right up to a tree, and the affectionate brute would have followed me up the tree if he had only had a ladder. Finally he went off with my lasso, and the two bits £ was to get lor leading him to the pound. Right then and there, sitting on the limb of that tree, I registered a solemn vow never to fool with a lasso again. But I must be going. I have au appointment with Governor Roberts to Bee about geeting his work introduced as a text book for the young into the Public Schools of Crosby County. I d go out with you again, but I reckon the Governor will set ’em up. Good bye,” and be was gone from our sight.

Crime and Sensational Literature. Saturday Review. The direct connection between “penny dreadfuls” and crime ha 3 been demonstrated over and over again by the annals of our own police courts. The mischievous lad who sometime since presented a pistol at her Majesty's head, and got well whipped for his pains, was found in possession of a collection of lived of celebrated highwaymen, and the various gangs of youthful burglars snd would-be-high-way men who have lately ai>peared iu the dock have one and all modeled their career upon the heroes of criminal novels. Only the other day a terrible illustration occurred of the actual effect of this gallows literature upon weak minds. A young man 19 years of age named Westby, shot his father dead at Nottingham, having first murdered a little offioe boy at the office of the solicitor where he was tmployed, “merely to strengthen his nerve,” and then took refuge in a fowl-house,where he was captumi will: a revolver in his possession, with which, as he fraukly owned, he intended, when the police came, to shoe t as many as possible. The key to this otherwise inexplicable outbreak of homicidal fury was afforded by the poor mother’s words: “My’ son was very fond of reading and would sit for hours at his favorite amusement, studying periodicals and sensational literature.” By this “sensational literature” his habits appear to have been formed, and they were eccentric enough. He would not. we are told, “allow any one to visit his bedroom, which was entered by an opening in the floor. To ’this opening he had attached a trapdoor, with bolts a id at night he always fastened himself in. He had ale o pulled down the bedstead and had been iu the habit of sleeping in a hammock slung up lrom the roof, while around the walls of the room were a number of pictures of the ‘Life of Dick Turpin,’ etc. A singular collection of cuttings from newspapers was found in his desk at Mr. Frazer’s office, including recipes for the manufacture of guncotton and other explosives, together with accounts of marvelous adventure: 1 .” Here is a direct instance of the.eftect which the modern substitutes for the Newgate calendar have upon weak intellects and crazy brains.

Patti’s Payne. A Boston actor wished to hear Patti sing without paying for it, and so he wrote to her enclosing a ticket of a lecture by somebody ou John Howard author ot “Home, tSweet Home,” stating that he wa9 an intL mate friend of Payne, having been present at his death bed in Tunis. He added that it was his sincere wish to hear her sing the beloved 9ong of his old comrade. Patti sent in response a ticket for one of the best seats in the bouse. But it struck the trickster that there might be au after <-!up of some kind. Therefore he politely gave up his seat to au old man, taking instead one that wa9 not quite as good. The latter was soon astonished by a message from Patti that she would be pleased to see him behind the scenes. Hhe desired to talk with him about Payne, but the conversation quickly turned to the swindle which had been perpetrated.

A plan for inducing the boys and girls of Worcester to read the instructive books in the public library instead of the trash has been successful. It consisted in inducing the teachers in the schools to make a practice of referring, in a casual manner, to the contents of interesting and solid works. Thus the youngsters have been led to choose a kind of reading matter which formerly lay unheeded on the shelves.