Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 March 1884 — Page 6

THIS DOCTOR. K to the doctor: mark hto ea«y irraoe, The k.ndly smile that ltohts a thouftht'ul face, Caretully bendin g over the well-watobe<rbed, _ Where the poor sufferer rest* ' hi* weary head; Drawinc the curtain just a little wider. So ueutly that it source disturbs the spider. - “And how-are we this morning? but so, so. Well, R->mc Was not built in a day, you know; Ton slept, you say. but poorly through the night. But better toward morning—that’s all right: The moTemement ol the pulse is somewhat quick, , , . . But, that one mnst expeot when one is sick. Pray let mo ace your tongue. There, that will do. y Ton’ll te a new man in a day or two; : The weather is against you, damp and raw— The like of it I think Iner r saw: You want a little rest and change of diet; Good nnrsing above all. and rerfect quiet; Yes, on the whole, best keep yonr bed to-day,-And don’t let business trouble you, by t,he way. Your liyer’s somewhat torpid, nothing more ; Good morning; take yonr mixture as betore. Hence to the perlor. writes a recipe, And. bo win r blandly, takei hla leave—and fee. Washington Star. -

ST. JOHN'S WIFE.

It was in olden times, before croquet or lawn parties were in vogue. , When the good wife wanted a few friends to meet at her ample board, for a social chat, a quilt—there was always one on hand—was stretched upon the frames, the larder stored with good things, and invitations were sent far and near .for the ladies to meet in the afternoon, with gentlemen and tea in the evening. Behold, then, a goodly number gathered in the front room of Farmer Goodwin’s house, matrons and maids ; but the latter were expected to do little work, and they gathered in groups on the piazza or strolled through the yard. Neighbors’ affairs were talked over, weather and housekeeping fully discussed, and occasionally a choice bit of news of a more interesting character made known. On this particular occasion it consisted in the fact that St. John was going to marry. Some glanced up in surprise, but matter-of-fact, Mrs. B. exclaimed, “How do you (know?” I’ve heard that story so often as to lose all faith in the report.” “Oh, it’s a fact this time, for Miss Jay told me herself that Abigail “St. John had engaged her to come and sew for her three weeks. She is to have her black silk made over, and has one or two new ones. She expects to go South with an invalid friend; but you all know she would never leave her brother unless there was some one coming to take her place.” All concurred that it was a good thing. They did not consider Miss Abigail just the person to make her brether happy. True, she was a good housekeeper, but then she was a considerable of a scold, and St. John was such a mild, pleasant, kind-hearted man, how had he ever borne with it? Such a contrast, too, to the first Mrs. St. John. St. John was a goneral favorite — always had a pleasant greeting for every one. So the elderly ladies remarked ; and as for the younger ones, certainly his handsome face and agreeable manners were attractive. The lady elect was next in order. “Folks say," continued Mrs. S., “its the widow Granger’s daughter over at Plumville. At any rate St. John has been seen to stop there quite often of late.” “Well, perhaps she'll make a good wife.” the lady’s glance rested for half a minute on her own daughter, who was standing by the window, “but I’ve he%yd she’s a proud, high-spirited body.” So they chattered ou while Miss Abigaildn her pleasant sewing-room Btitched, all unconscious of their disparaging remarks, her thoughts going out to the new home in the far South, and her heart rejoicing that her days at the farm were over. Miss Abigail dearly loved her brother, and at his request, five years before, gave up her own home, came and tended the sick

-wife, and had since kept house for him. She had carefully concealed the skeleton—lor this house was not exempt from one. St. John was unconscious of it, Miss Abigail knew. In her endeavor to make the best of it, she felt she was losing her own peace of mind and serenity of temper. She had found it, and so bad the young wife who now slept so quietly in the churchyard. For an instant the sister’s heart went out in pity to the young girl who was to take her place. But it was not for her to give her warning; and Rose Granger, in her cozy village home, dreamed bright dreams of a future strewn with flowert. People might harp on the ills of life; for her part she did not more than halt believe them. It was their own fault, they brought them on themselves; but she, oh, it would be so different 1 And the bright air castles rose. Yet she was not without the range of the gossips’ tongues. They were busy at Plumville, too, and Bose Granger, calm, self possessed young lady though she was, had not failed to note certain looks and mysterious nods, although apparently” oblivious to them, and vainly she wished, as so many others have done, that people would not interest themselves in her affairs. One

old lady, presuming on her age and long acquaintance to offer a little advice, remarked to her some day: “I wish you much happiness, and you have apparently made a wise choice. Mr. St. John is intelligent, and owns a good property, bo you can have every comfort you wish, Then, too, he’s agreeable and kind-hearted. But trouble comes in all lives; all men Pave their faults,” then misinterpreting the expression on Rose’s face, she continued, “but I don’t wish to frighten you, my dear; I’ve no doubt you can manage him.” “Manage him!” exclaimed Rose scornfully. "I loathe the idea. No woman who has any respect for herself would stoop to such maneuvring.” ?Very fine talk, my dear; but to let you into a matrimonial secret, most wives have to; they would have a sorry lot if they didn’t.” Rose’s lip curled, and she deigned no reply. The words came to mind the next time she met St John; but a glimpse of his* handsome face and sparkling eyes dispelled all unpleasant thoughts. That face spoke to her of a perfect manhood; yet a close observer of human nature would have read in {that easy nonchalant manner, and beneath that glance, a certain lack of energy. Not that St John was indolent, {quite the reverse. He was always busy and full of plans, but he looked the

perseverance necessary to fulfill them. Some other time would do; meanwhile something else was in hand. Time glided by, and one summer evening Mrs. St.‘John arrived at her now home. Miss Abigail remained with them a few weeks; then, early one Monday morning, her btother carried her to the depot, and after their departure Mrs. St John gathered up the clothes preparatory to washing. The cistern pump was broken, and in peering in slie discovered that the cistern was empty. She met her husband on his return with: “What am Ito do? I’ve everything ready for washing, and there is not a drop of water in the cistern !"~ —■ * St. Bohn smiled at her look of distress, and replied: “And hasn’t been for vears; the cistern leaks.” “ Why! what did Abigail do ?” “Used well water, I suppose.” His wife made no reply, but, gathering up {he clothes, said r “I will wait till we have rain,” and carried them back to the closet. St. John was a little abashed at her manner, and exclaimed, “I’ll have it repaired right away. I meant to have done so before." So Rose washed dishes and cleaned the floor in well water, and the pile of soiled clothes accumulated in the closet, but no rain came. One day St. John came into the sit-ting-room, where his wife sat reading, “Where have you pnt my shirts, wife? There is not one in the drawer.” Rose laughed. “You’ll find them all in the clothes-basket, I guess, waiting for rain” “But—but I’ve agreed to go to Benton on business, and this will hardly do to wearand he glanced disconsolately at his soiled linen. “Couldn’t you cleanse some water?” he asked, hesitatingly. “Abigail used to, I believe.” “I never did such a thing in my life,” replied his wife. “The lye makes ones hands so sore. Besides, it hurts the clothes; they never look nice and white. I’ve heard mother say one or two washings in cleansed water would ruin clothes. Then, it’s such hard work to wash in it; I don’t believe I’m strong enough to do it,” and she returned to her book.

St. John was in dismay. Go he must; and he was fastidiouly neat in liis personal appearance. Rose finally glanoed up at his troubled face. “Go over to our neighbor’s, and ask her for a pail of'rain water. She will not think it strange that w© are out, there has been such a dronghth, and I’ll do you up a shirt in a short time.” “Bless you, wife! Where’s the pail ?” and St. John started of “I’ll stop at the village ou my way to Benton.” “How about the mason?” inquired Mrs. St. John, tho next morning. “Bless met I forgot,” replied her husband, “I’ll he sure to remember it next time.” But next day there came a rain, and all the tubs, pounding barrels and pails were put under the eaves, and there was water enough for the present; and the trouble having passed, St. John was not the one to remember it. He never looked so far ahead as to ask, “What shall we do next time?” A new difficulty presented itself to the wife. She went into the pantry, and in lifting down a pan, splash! dash! she was drenched witli water. “What’s the matter?” “Tho roof leaks a trifle,” replied her husband.

“I think it is a trifle,” murmured Rose, as she examined the ceiling more closely, and saw the drops oozing through. “I wondered,” she said aloud, “what made this plaster so loose. It will rot the timbers, won’t it?” “Of course, but I intend to have the house reshingled.” “Does any other room leak?” she asked. “Yes, the spare cham”—hut his wife was already half May up the stairs, for the day before she had spread her light silk upon the bed. “Just it time!” she exclaimed as she snatched it up. But oh! the white spread with the ugly stain across the foot!

“What shall I do?” she asked in dismay. “I’ll get a couple of pans,” replied her husband, who had followed her up. “That’s the way Abigail managed.” “I declare,” laughed Kose, as the pans were deposited under the leaks, “I shall catch water enough to last the rest of the summer.” St John felt more ashamed than he had ever been in his life. "Kose, you are not a bit put out, and how Abigail used to scold! I dreaded rainy weather.” “Why don’t you get it repaired?" “I did intend to, I will, now.” “I don’t wonder Abigail scolded," thought the wife. “Five years in a leaky house! I w'on’t scold, I don’t believe in it; but"“Let us go down to the parlor now, and I will finish that book,” remarked St. John. So rains and leaks were forgotten, and husband aud wife spent the afternoon cosily while the storm raged outside. St. John had to leave home on business, to be gone sever il days. Rose carried him to the depot, and hastened back. She thought she would hurry with her baking, and then drive over to her mother’s and spend the afternoon. The bread was quickly moulded, but on going to the wood box to replenish the fire, she found it empty. Out she went to the wood pile, but not a stick was to be found. St. John had gone off in such a hurry he had forgotten it. “What shall I do?” she exclaimed, “The bread carmot be wasted. ” Searching around she found a rail that looked easy to cut, and procuring a saw, she set Ijo work; but it was not until half an hour’s hard-work, that she had enough to finish the baking. "Believe I am too tired to think of going to mothers;” and while she hesi’tated there came a tap at the door. “I saw your husband go off this morning,” remarked the neighbor who entered. “I suppose you would be lonely, and so thought I'd drop in and spend the afternoon." An easy chair was offered, the old lady drew forth her knitting, and the more rapidly she knit, the more talkative she became. She inquired in regard to Abigail, and then spoke at the years she had spent there. “It was so sad about his first wife, von know. She WM cna of the prettiest

little bodies you .ever saw, not grand and stately like yourself, hut a wee mite, with a baby'h f%oe, white and pink. She was very frail. ’Ske*used to say she wasn’t sick, but she grew thinner and weaker, and so sad-looking. If she had not had such a generous, kind-hearted husband, I’d a-thought it more a trouble and worry on her mind than any physical ill. But the ways of Providence are often mysterious, aud she died, though I don’t believe any doctor could tell what ailed her, and Mr. St. John had the best he could get. They called it general debility. Then Miss Abigail came. She kept a neat, tidy home for her brother, but then her disposition was so different from Mrs. St. John’s. We were all heartily glad when you came.” The young wife kept a pale face bent over her work, and was glad when her visitor rose to go. After her departure, Rose put aside all thoughts of her mother’s, and getting her sun bonnet, strolled across the fields till she reached the cemetery; then she searched for the St. SohnsMot. A tall marble bore the names of his parents, and beside them was another nameless grave; high grass grown over all, and a half-drooping rosebush with a few fading’blossoms.” “Poor little Amy!” Rose dropped bethe grave, but not to weep. The dead was at rest, and for herself, tears would not avail. Six weeks a bride, and her future already overcast. “Mysteries of Providence!” she murmured, and for a moment hard thoughts toward her husband filled her mind. “I see it all—a weak, quiet person, she worked, with her inconveniences and annoyances, bore all, and said nothing, and at last her strength gave out. Abigail scolded and failed to mend the matter, and I—l must do. I always said all people have their failings, and of course my husband would have his; but I really don’t believe it. I felt St. John was perfect; but unless he does differently, my life will be wretched. Mine is not the nature to die, or scold and fret; but to live on and hqve things move in this slip shod manner is impossible.” “Who is that?” inquired St. John, as they sat at the tea-table the evening of his return. “Oh,” replied his wife, “it’s only Mr. Reese. I have hired him to stay for a week and cut wood.” St. John looked up in surprise. * - “ You “You lest me without any the other morning, and I had to cut for my baking. lam not used to that kind of work.” “I know I did, but I never once thought of it until after the cars had started. I did feel troubled to know what you would do.” “And,” continued his wife, “I went to the village yesterday, saw the mason, told him the cistern needed repairing, and that you would expect him over as soon as you came hack.” St. John gave a low whistle. It was something new, this taking liberties with his arrangements. His wife saw his face clouded. “And no doubt you have engaged shingles for the roof.” The tone was worse than a blow. For an instant her heart sank, but rallying quickly, she lightly replied. “No, I expect you to do that to-morrow; and mind,” she added playfully, yet in a voice of determination, “if you don’t I will. I mnst have a convenient house to work in. You don’t want me to scold, or die.” — “Die!” he exclaimed, “who talks of dying?”

“Or what is worse,” she continued, unheeding his interruption, “lose my love and esteem for you. You think these things are trifles, maybe, Amt consider they must go a good way toward making my life comfortable and happy.” Later, when the evening shadows were gathering. Rose joined her husband on the piazza. “I was over to the churchyard the other day, and it looked so neglected.” “Yes, I know, that’s another of the things I’ve meant to do. Really, Rose, I believe you will think my life has been all ‘meant to.’ ” “We must get some one to re-sod the lot," she replied, “and I will plant some flowers.” There were tears in St. John’s eyes, and he murmured, “Poor little Amy!” Rose came close to her husband. “I wish you would tell me about her.” He glanced at her an instant, then went on talking of the dead, finishing ms others had done—“ Such a mystery!" But Rose saw the wife with disappointed hopes, and' only a long life of worry and unnecessary toil before her, and she wondered not that the frail life died out. But it was xiot for hor to tell him. “Never too late to mend,” St. John said when he came back from town. I’ve engaged the carpenters, Rose, and the shingles will be here to morrow. The old habit was not broken np at once, yet St. John soon found that whenever he failed to have a necessary thing donp, Rose hired it. After some years Abigail came backs on a visit. “How well yon look, Rose,’ she remarked to her sister, “as young as when you"first came.” “Happiness does not tend, to make people grow old," replied Mrs. St. John, “and my life has been very happy, with fewer cares than fall to the lot of most women.” “Do you know,” continued Abigail, “that I* dreaded to have you come, in fact, I pitied you ? But you seem to have found no skeleton such as troubled „ _ n me, “Or rather,” responded Rose, “I found and buried it.”— Woman’s World.

How to Pronounce “Boston.”

The word must be pronounced with dne reverence. The accented oof the first syllable is not the ordinary short o, bnt the stqpe prolonged and pronounced with a marked reverence, Jas in the kindred word God. These are the only two words in which the vowpl has the peculiar sound; and a true Bostonian, who properly appreciates: Boston cultnre, always takes pains to make the vowel in the name of his sacred city fill the month as ronndly as in that of his Deity.- IndependWes. Reeves, of Memphis, Missouri, had a tomato vine covering 300 square, feet and bearing 3,000 tomatoes.

How to Treat a Northerner.

The general tone of the Northern f rees is unjust to the “Sunny South.” t does not seem 10 appreciate our warm-hearted hospitality, and it indulges in flippant, scurrilous flings, as bold-faced and unreliable as they are mendacious and uncalled for. Some of those papers published along up toward the North Pole, which is such a constant source of frigid and expensive curiosity, have had the condensed gall to claim that we don't know how to treat Northerners. There was never a more egregious error printed. We, of tho salubrious South, do know how to treat Northern men who come down here to investigate our political economy, or captiire our public fond for the ’purpose of selling it at an advance of 995,000 per cent, or grazing Northern cattle nri{h the foot and mouth disease, or equine bulls with the glanders. , ' The way to treat a Northerner is simple enough. First, catch your Northerner. Tlon’t be afraid of his sliy'ng or jerking on the bit. Handle him gently, yet firmly, and let him know that, while you are not afraid of him, you have no desire to injure him in the least. Let him smell of your hands, your coat, your boots, and show him you are thoroughly in earnest about the matter, and that, at the same time, you are half white and don’t eat hay. Let him know, at once, that you mean business, and nfter he has become acquainted, he will follow you whenever you wink. Having now ingratiated youself in his warm, trustful, yearning nature, take the Northerner by the arm and lead him to the door, and then pass out onto the sidewalk. Take out your watch and look at it. Let the Northerner see it and smell of it, also, and then he will know it is not an infernal machine or a dynamite cartridge. The Northerner will then ask you what time it is. Tell him candidly it js about 11 o’clock a. m. No matter if it is. 9 or 10 o’clock, always say 11, and., then break the question to him at once, without the least evasion or circumlocution. Ask him: “Do you ever drink?” Tha Northerner will in m 'diately jump at the soft snap, roll his eyes, and say: “Well, if I ever do, it is generally about this time of day. You have now obtained the mastery over him and subdued him. Lead the Northerner around the corner, head him fpr a saloon, and enter at the front door. Do not equivocate or try to sneak in by the back wav. That would exoite»BUspicion in the Northerner, and he would become restless and uneasy, and imagine you were piping him off to a bunko game. Then gently lead the Northerner to a small table, and when you have sat, the bar-keeper will come unto yon. Open your mouth and teach, saying: “Bring me a Robinson County toddy, with a polonaise on the outside, cut bias, and trimmed \i .ti a lemon-colored stripe. What is yours, my friend from the Arctic Circle?” Then the Northerner will blush and stammer, and try vainly to hide his emotions. But do not be deceived. It is an old Northern fake of his, learned in the variety halls, where some pretty waiter-girl has asked him the same question, coupled with tho assurance that he was to pay for two drinks. This accounts for his, embarrassment. The Northerner will say “The same,” if J|o does nob call for the whole bottle and want to pour it out himself. After the drink, have another. Then another. Then another. Then some more. By this time the generosity of tho Northerner will have become unlimited, and he Mill want to pay for something. He will want to induct you into the mystery of how to treat Southerners. But don’t let him do it. Neither one of you know what it is, but you drink something. Then take another. Then buy something. Then lead the Northerner down to ais hotel, ard if he isn’t the best treated man in the whole South; and if he does not see more snakes, and horned frogs, contipedes, tarantulas, and other zoological specimens, may we never again reply to the base calumnies of the Northern press. . Don’t know how to treat Northerners, ’♦h ? Well, we should —Texas Siftings.

Still Puzzles the Children.

“What is in those big brown paper packages that came to-day, mamma?” “Oh, nothing, child; nothing but—but soap.” “Then why don’t yon let me see it?” “I don’t want to open them until washing-day.” “But Jane is out of soap and is going to the grocery to get some." “I forgot; it is not soap in those bundles, but starch.” “When does Christmas come, mamma?” “Next week.” “Who brings the presents?” Santa Claus.” “How does he get in?” : > “Comes down the chimney.” “Bnt we have no chimney in the parlor where the Christmas tree is to be!” “No, I forgot; he comes up the heater fine." “Bnt how does he get through the little holes?” “He is very small, and can squeeze through anvwhere." “Bnt doils and carriagfes and drums and sleds are not small. How does he get them through?” “Ohl please don’t bother anymore; mamma is tired." —Philadelphia Call.

Marriages in Switzerland.

An analysis of the number of marriages in Swi’zerland, published by the -Statistical Office of Berne, shows that the proportion is very lew as compared with other countries, being about 7.4 per 1,000 inhabitants. Of every 1,000 men and 1,000 woman of marriageable age forty-niDe men and th ; rty-eight women are married. The figures show a falling off in marriage, and also an in -rease in dtvoro- . The causes are said to be religions differences and an increased mixture of races.

HOW WE FREEZE TO DEATH.

And How to Restore Tlio.e Who Are Not Quite Dead. [Atlanta Constitution.] .“By the way, if L should happen to ( take it into my head to lie out to-night md freeze, what would be the process?”! “It is very simple,” replied.the doe-, tor. “Did you ever notice how drowsy, you become in cold weather? The ex-j fcreme parts of the body when subjected' for a time to a temperature impressively low readijy lose their vitality; the circulation of the small vessels become weaker and weaker until it stagnates, and they are said to be frost bitten. I know a man who, while on a drunken) spree, lay out in the woods and had hiflj toes frozent off. But to proceed. The influence of cold being extended and still further protracted there is great diowsines3, with lassitude and dislike to muscular exertion. If you ( succumb to the feeling of drowsiness aud sleep you drop into the sleep of death. You would first suffer intense! pain, afterward you would experienee a| benumbing effect, and if walking youn steps wquld become uncertain and tot-* tering. Your utterance would become i indistinct and an irresistible drowsiness would seize yon. You would drop sleep from which it would be impossible to arouse you, and death would speedily follow:” ~ _ • “If you should happen along in the nick of time and find a man at the point of freezing to death what would you do?”

“The first thing to do is to restore Warmth, but it must be restored gradually. It has been found that in case of insensibility from cold the sudden exposure of the body to an elevated tem-i peralure is cetainly fatal. If reaction takes place, it is short and violent, and the patient soon dies, not nnfrequently in a state' of delirium. In order to avoid this danger the man should he first rubbed with snow, if at hand, which, though in itself cold, is, when nejvr tb%melting point, much warmer tlaTm the frozen body; or the patient should be immersed in a bath of very cold water, made gradually less and less cold until the tempaturo is raised to the natural standard. As soon as the muscle and other soft parts are sufficiently relaxed to admit of easy motion, artificial respiration should be resorted to. It might be done by throwing cold water upon the face or dashing it upon the shoulders. The sudden impression of cold upon the surface is a powerful stimulus to the respiratory process. When blowing into the mouth is restored to, it is best to breathe two or three times deeply, so as to give the patient a better quality of air.” “Is cold injurious to one's system?” “Yes; upon the weak and exhausted cold acts as a permanent debility. There is not indeed a more frequent exciter of disease than cold, when applied to the body under certain circumstances. A short exposure will, of course, do little harm, but should a person be out long in it—say for instance he should loss his way on a winter night—the result would be daugerous. It is exceedingly dangerous to go from a heated room into the oold air. The fair votaries of pleasure and dissipation often fall a sacrifice to the pursuit on this account, and many a youug dancer has found in the chilling blast the call to an early tomb.”

It Wasn’t His Ineky Day.

“I'm in luck!" exclaimed a rather “loud” young man as ho stepped up to an old gentleman in Brooklyn. “I just picked it up,” he said. “Why, it isn’t a pocket-book; I thought it was though.” The farmer’s attention had been attracted. “It’s a—a—a pair of kids,” said the lucky man as he unrolled two gloves, “and I’ll be hanged if there isn’t a ring in this finger,” and he held up the left-hand glove to remove it. “I guess it is a ring,” ejaculated the old man as the glove was being turned wrong side out. “Certain; and you’re in luck, too, my friend,” said the young oliap as he pulled out an exceedingly heavy plain gold ring. “You were along with me when I found ’em, and I’ll do the square thing. We’ll go halves on it.” “I’ll takei it,” said the old farmer, and he placed the ring and the gloves in his breeohes pocket. “I’m kinder short of money at the present time, but come down here and I’ll borrow it from my serr-m-iawJt “But bow mnohbave yon got with you now ?” asked the sharper uneasily. “Oh, never mind that. My son-in-law is a sergeant down at the lockup, and hell lend me the full amount,” replied the farmer. The lucky man disappeared —New York World.

The “Ohio Man” in the Orient.

As we started np street from the hotel we enjoyed the privilege of seeing two Japanese gentlemen meet, and were startled by hearing the one salute the other with ‘ Ohio!" “What!” I gasped, “can it indeed be that the Ohio man is in the Orient trying to monopolize everything here as well as in his own country? I suppose he is waiting for the Mikado to die or abdicate.” But I have discovered the significance of the salutation now. It is the equivalent of our “good morning,” and should probably be written “Ohaio,” although pronounced like the name of the Buckeye State. Etymologically, it signifies early morning, and may, perhaps, be regarded as a Japanese paraphrase of the familiar Irish salutation : “The top of the morning to St. Louis Globe Democrat. *

Where Ignorance is Bliss, Etc.

“Ain’t yon ashamed of yourself to fight with a boy so much smaller than yourself? I really oan’t understand it/said a clerical looking gentleman to a big boy who was imposing! on a small one.' "So you can’t understand it,” retorted the young ruffian impudently. “No, I can’t." “Well, then, why do yon meddle with things you can’t understand?”—Texas Sittings. i.* ''■ UxTTBT7AI.LV speaking the worst bred person in company is a young traveler just leturned from abroad. — Mwijt.

PITH AND POINT.

[From the Newman Independent] The short-tailed mule is the modern neigh-bob. Malice is the whip that drives anger to the devil. The fellow who was butted by a sheep had a “wether beaten” appearance. Avarice is the grim and famishing spectre that robs hunger of all but death. Religion is the bough upon which faith rests after a flight upon the wings of hope. The Marquis of Bute is worth $25,000,000. That’s a pretty good pile to be made by a man that hasn’t any more sense than to spell boot with a “u.” A fashion magazine has an article on “What Will the Coming Girl Wear ?” If she marries a country editor, she will probably wear a paper collar and a nupgry look. - One hundred and three thousand one hundred and nineteen head of sheep went to Chicago last month. This shows where newly-married people go on their wedding tours. A subscriber wants to know “What is the best thing for the itch?” We have always had our under-garinents lined with nutmeg-graters when afflicted with that malady. It is a great saving of the fingers. It requires four men and a barrel of cream-colored paint to keep Baruum’s “white” elephant from showing the color of sheet-iron. Barnum ought to have him nickel-plated so the color wouldn’t como off every time it rains. “Why can an old dog fight better than a young one?” asked Smith of Jones. “Because his teeth are longer ?" “No.” “Because his hide is tougher?” “Not right yet” “Because his back is stiffet?” “No; try again.” “Because he can get more of the young dog in his mouth than lie leaves outside to fight with?” “No; because he has the most curage.”

[From Texas Siftings.? “Over the garden wall”—the flying boot-jack. Life is aogame of chance and Death casts the die. A grocer who sells on credit is a trust-tea man. » The time to retire—when the old tire is n-orn out. The onion-eater will always be found in the front rank. The close Of winter—Flannel underwear and overcoats. The key te the political situation in niauy states —whis-key. A fawn-skin could never he sold cheap, because it is always a little deer. It is said that Ellen Terry has four husbands living. She must be a Terrybelle masher. The Hon. Wm. M. Evarts’ remarkably long sentences make him a great Mister-E. to many people. ’ Though the plumber may have the greatest antipathy to onions, he always likes to have piety of leaks. The French are a great and gifted people. They are cognizant of 365 different ways of cooking eggs, besides sucking them out baek of the barn. Ninon de Leuclos says. “What millions of time lovers waste?” This is not strange, as : that" is their business.' Voting lovers generally take time to raist. It is some gratification to know that, if we are compelled to die before certain mean people, we stand a chance of turning to dust which may blow into their eyes and vex them. JWethinks a question I have heard. Which sounds like this one: “When’s a Nose a iiretty climbinx flower?” When it has the enflnenza. Perehance yon think the answer to To fay the least a stunner, Unless you know the flower meant, Is called a "scarlet runner.' ’

Not for the Rituals of Civilization.

The religion of the ancient Egyptians had some features not to be found in several of the religions of these times. Here, for example, is a passage from a praver to be found in the ritual far the dead: “I know yon, Lord of truth and justice ; I have brought you truth, I have committed no fraud against men, I have not tormented the a widow, I have not lied in the tribunal, I have not done any prohibited thing, I have not commanded my workmen to do more than he could do, I have not made fraudulent gains, T have not altered the grain measure, oy falsified the equilibrium of the balance, I have not made others weep, I am pure.” Another man thus cries: “I have given bread to him who was hungry, water to the thirsty, garments to the naked, and a homo to the forsaken one.” Still another cries: “I have protected the poor against the powerful, I have given hospitality to every one, I have been benevolent and devout, I have cherished my friends, and my hand has been open to him who had nothing. I have loved truth and hated a lie.”—Swinlon’s Paper.

In Sunday School.

“Now, boys,” said a teacher after reading about Naaman, “can you tell me what a leper is?” “Yis, mom,” promptly spoke up a small lad. “Well, what is it?” “Sure an’ it’s a bullfrog, moufc" “Why, no it isn’t What do you mean by replying in that way?" “Doesn’t a bullfrog jump mem?” “Of course he does." “Well, thin, isn’t he a lepper, sure?” Question referred to committee on claims and class adjourned. —Neva York Journal. A German professor, who has carefully investigated the subject, says baldness is catching. Don’t believe it We {have seen many a bald head that could not catch an idea if it was harrowed into the scalp with a curry conk—lfewjwum Independent '< f j It is one of the worst of errant to suppose that there is any other path of safety except that of duty.— Neifif#.