Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 April 1884 — Page 6

-SUE WAS WON IN AX IDLE DAV BY LOUI3B CHANDLER MOULTON. “Sh* w»« won in an idle day"— Won when the rosea were red tn June, And the world was set to a drowsy tune, Won by a lover who rode away. Summer thlncs basked in the summer ran— Through the roses a vagrant wind Stole their passionate hearts to find. Found them, and kissed them, and then was gone. Wooed by the June day's fervent breath Violets opened their violet eyes. Gazed too long at the ardent skies, And swooned with the dying day to death. Nothing was earnest and nothing was true— Winds were wanton and flowers were frail; And the idle lover who told his tale Warmed by the June sun through and through. Kissed her lips as the wind the rose— Kissed them for Joy in the summer day— And then was ready to ride away When over the night, the moon arose. The violets died with the day's last breath— The roses slept when the wind was low— What chanced to the butterflies who can know?— But she—oh. pity her!—waits for death. C WISE SAYINGS. [Gathered from Eastern Sources.] Rogues differ little: Each begun. First, as a disobedient son. —Chinese. A single human sight may burn Till in the world shall overturn. —Persian. To hide your tracks where'ere you go, Be careful not to walk in snow. —Chinese. As fabrics dipped in any dye Give back its color to the eye. So they with whom we move and live To special glory give. —Hindu. My teachers brought me many a store Of learning—but my mates, much more; Yet, when I of my knowledge boast, I know my pupils taught me most The Talmud. Misfortunes coming to the good . • “ Nowise disturb their fortitude; _. Like camphor-wood the fire illumes, Through bitterness their virtue blooms. Hindu. The tongue is little, but how strong— ,• Only at most three inches long; But when foul words its rage supply. Woe to the man that's six feet high. —Japanese. Every Thought, from east or west, Welcomed as a favorite guest,— But each Desire, bo'h fierce and wild* Control, as yon would rule a child. —Chinese. .. - ——

MISTRESS URSIE CARLISLE.

L “Is dis here de place whar dey wants a cook?” I turned from the kitchen table,where I had vainly been endeavoring to bring order out of dire confusion. “Who told you I wanted a cook?” I inquired. “One man ’et lives on de joining place ter us. He come ter town to get some pervishuns Sat’y night, an’ he he’rd ’em say at de sto’ you was wantin’ er cook, —an’ I low’d as Ixwi tired er pickin’ cotton, I’d cum.” W I felt encouraged. All of her predecessors, v ho had numbered four in twice as many days, had informed me that “a cullur’d gentmnn or lady had riccummended me to them,” so I said, “What’s your n*.me?” “Hussie Washington. Kylisle. Dat’s my name. I’se got a mighty gran’ name, ma’am, but no purs’ ’tall.” “Can you cook?" “Lord, yes, chile. I kin cook. Der ain’t no kind er cookin’ I can't do. I give er supper down ter my house no later ’en las’ Sundy night; an’ dem niggers low et dem things was der bes’ things ever dey stuck er toof inter. An’ lord knows dey stroyed ennuf,” she added in rather a melancholy retrospect. “Well, I will give you a trial," I said. “And I wish you would come in now and put this kitchen in order.” And she did. In an incredibly short space of time she had everything spotlessly clean and neat, and was ready for further orders; and so begun my acquaintance with Mistress Ursie Carlisle. Punctually with Saturday night her “ole man" arrived, and was brought in for my inspection. “Miss Louisy,dis here’s my ole man.” Aunt Ursie weighed nearly 200 pounds, and the “ole man” barely 100. I inquired his name. Ole man Charlie Burton," said Aunt Ursie. “But,” I objected, “you told me your name was Carlisle. How can that be if yeur husband’s name is Burton ?” “So hit is; so dey bofe is. I was borned Kylisle, an’ I specte ter die Kylisle, an’ I doan,t perpose ter go foolin’ an’ changin’ er my name for no nigger. Dis here ain’t de fus’ husbin’ had, an’ more’en likely ’twqn’t be de las’. You tell Miss Louisy good day, ole man, an’ cum along, ’cause I mus’ be gitten’ back ter dem vittles.” n. “Miss Louisy,” remarked my handmaiden one morning, “dis here Bible er yourn’s jes’ like Miss May’s Bible, my young mistis’, et I used ter nus’. Miss May, she used to read ter me outen it, an’ tell me ’bout der jedgemin’ day, an’ all dem cu’ous kind er things. Miss Louisy, what does you think ’bout der jedgemin’ day enyhow ? lax Miss May dat once, an’ she’low et der wuz gwine ter be mighty heap er ’citement den, but hit wan’t gwine ter las’ long. “But dat ain’t what I cum ter see you *bout- I cum ter tell you dere’s gwine ter be a derbatin’ at the church ternight, an’ I lowed Fd go cause ’tain’t gwine ter cos’ me nnthin*. Sis Temple, she say, she'd cum by fer me if I went” “What are they going to debate about?” I inquired. “Hit’s den regler s’ci’ty, an’ dey hez er speakin’ ev*y munt Dey s is _ gwine ter prove which is der, deanes’, der nigger et washes in der summer an’ doan wash in der winter, or der one et washes in der winter an’ doan wash in der summer, and I want’s ter he’r ’em, an’ ter cas’ my vote.” “How are you going to vote?" »- “Who, me? Lord, honey, I’se gwine ter-cas’ my vote wid der summer ducks; cause when cole wether comes, I never wets my skin fer no man. “Well, I wish after you settle the question, you would try and get Mrs. Carter a cook,” I said. “She has been without one for a long time. I can’t understand it.” “Well, chile, I’ll try; but I ain’t gwine to promise, cause dey’s dun read her out in church." q

“Read her out in church? What do you mean?” • ’‘Well, whenever der white ladies wants er cook, dey sls, lets Brnd’r Stinsen know an’ he reads her name out in church, an’ den he say: ‘Sis Temple, or whoever wuz der las’ one et worked dere, will please rise an’ give her character.’ Den Sis Temple, she rise an’ she low ez how they dun been cookin’ sos Miss Carter, an’ she low ez she didn’t s’pose az no right-minded cullud pusson ud res’ satisfied ter stay dere, and den she tole how Miss Carter kept ev’ything locked up, an’ never, by no chance, lef ’ dem keys outen her han’s; an’ how she wuz alius a cumin’ in der kitchen an* her messin’ an’ er medlin’ long der vittals, an’ er saying she wanted dis here fixed dis way, an’ tother thing tother way. An’ Sis Temple Ipw, she did, et she wuz raised to cook by fus-class white folks, an’ she couldn't stan’ no sich ways ez dem, an’ she lef’. An’ arter dat dey took der vote on hit, an’ frum der way dein niggers ’spress deyselves, I doan spec dat white ’oinan’s gwine ter ’suade none Uy ’em ter step roun’ in dat kitchen soon. You he’er my rackit.” 111. ! , “Miss Lonisy,” asked Aunt Ursie later on, “is yer got time ter-day fer ter do a little writin’ fer me, ’cause I wants mighty bad fer ter git er letter off somehow ter Wash. He’s my son ets in der penitenshey, an’ I ain’t he’rd from him in ar long time. I dun save a little money ter sen’ him. Dey put him in dere five years cum dis spring, an’ der Lord knows when dey's gwine ter let him cum back ter me. Der mos’ uv der folks, dey looks down on Wash, an’ der ole man, he doan take any count er him, cause, you see, he my fust husbin’s chile; but I loves him, cause, Miss' Louisy, he’s der onliest boy I'segot, an’ he wuz alius good ter me. “I knows he didn’t ’tend ter kill dat nigjger, ’cause he jes’ stuck him wid his pocket-knife, an’ he tole me hisse’f he didn’t. An’ now his wife dun gone an’ mair’d agin, an’ his little chillun, dey goes roun’ wid dey close all to’d an’ raggit, an’ dey never gets enuf ter eat, ’cepting I gives hit ter ’em. An 5 when I thinks maybe I won’t nebber see Wash no mo’, I feels like if de Lord wuz willin’ ter takejne I wouldn't have no ’sputin’ wid Him ’bout it.”

And Aunt Ursie threw her apron over her bead, and sobbed aloud, while 1 felt strongly tempted to follow suit. “I will see a friend of mine, a lawyer,” I said, “and ask him to inquire about your son.” “Thanky, ma’am, Miss Louisy; thanky, ma’am. De Lord He knows der ain’t nothin’’t all I won’t do fer you es you’ll jes’ fin’ out ’bout Wash fer me. Dey didn’t nebber hab no rite ter sen’ him der no how, ’cause es der doctor had er jes’ lis’en ter me, dat nigger wouldn’t never died. Dese here doctors, dey comes a-messin’ an’ a-meddlin’ wid fokes' insides an’ er pickin’ fokes’ po’kets an’ ha’f der time der ain’t got no noshun what’s der the matter. Es dat ar doctor,” said Aunt Ursie, gradually raising her voice to concert pitch in her excitement, “es dat ar doctor bed er lis’ened ter me, dat nigger boy’d er bin here now—you hear me talk ? ’Cause I tole him jes what ter do.” “What did you advise?” I inquired, willing to divert her mind from her troubles. “Who, me ? I ’vised allum ter draw der parts tergedder, atruosum to sodder ’em. Dat’s what I ’vised, and gent’men, if dat white man’d minded me dat boy wouldn't nebber died. I knows ’bpnt sick fokes, I doz, an’ I ain’t gwine ter low rate myse’f fer nobody; ’cause no later’n last week Sis Temple she cum roun’ heah an’ she ’lew she hadn’t slep’ nun for fo’ nights, ’cause der nuroligy hurt her so bad in her leg. An’ I tole Sis Temple fer to get nine strans er yarn offen a black sheep and nine strans offen a white un, an twis’ ’em togedder nine times, an' wrap ’em roun’ dat leg, an’ whatever she do not ter put dat leg outen der bed fust in der mornin’—an’ she dun hit." “Well?” I inquired. “Well, you dun see Sis Temple here dis mornin’, didn’t you ?” “Yes.” “You ain’t seed no signs er nuroligy about her, is you ?” “No.” “Well, den,” and Aunt Ursie retired, with an air of dignified triumph, to the recesses of her own apartment. A few weeks after I told her that I had seen a lawyer about her son, * and he had discovered that "Wash’s” term had expired the previous spring, but that for various and sundry misdemeanors he had been remanded for six months longer. If no other mishap occurred she might look for him before Christmas. Herjhappiness knew no bounds, and she went about her duties singing with unnecessary vigor her favorite hymn: Ole Satan i>hot dat bait at me, He shot by rat ter kill me; Der ball pass by and down ter hell. Sing good news gone ter Calnyin, until I felt compelled, on behalf of the neighbors, to remonstrate. IV. As the time for the return of the prodigal drew near she began to prepare for him, and was constantly making excursions “down town” to expend her earnings in “sumthin’ ’nuther fer Wash.” Like all of her race, she had no idea of taking thought for her health, and if anything suggested itself to her mind that he would like, she would, at the first possible moment, go in search of it, regardless of wind or weather. I expostulated with her on discovering her drenched to the skin after one of her nightly expeditions, but I might as well have reasoned with an infant. “I des went for dese here han’kerche’fs, Miss Louisy; I seen ’em in der winder dis morin’, but neber had no money wid me den ter git ’em fer Wash." The next morning I missed the sound of the biscuit-beater, and on investigation found Aunt Ursie 11 in bed, with a husky voice and rapid pulse. The symptoms soon developed into that scourge of the race, pneumonia, and before many days I knew that my faithful servant was leaving me forever. She could not realize herown danger, and it was pitiful to hear her count the .days before her boy’s coming and enu-

merate the little gifts she had in store for him. i’ . “Hit seems like es my head ud jus' stop buttin’ a minnit I could? thinker sumthin’ et ud do me good," she said, one day toward the last. “Dere’s dat cake got ter be made ’fore Wasli gits heer, an’ Lord knows, I ain’t gwine trus’ dat nigger you dun got in da kitchen, Miss Louisy, ter shake a stitck at it.” “I will have it made for you, Aunt Ursie,” I said. 1 “I’m thousan* times erbleeged ter yer, chile, but I wants ter have er han’ in der mixin’ er dat cake myself, *caus<; Wash alters did love der way I cook his vittles. How long you spec’ it will be ’fo’ I’m up agin ?” “Not long, I hope,” I said, not looking at her; but something in my face batrayed me, and she made a fruitless effort to rase herself on her pillows, and asked, excitedly: “You don’t think I'm gwine ter die, does you, Miss Louisy ? Fer do good Lord's sake don’t let nothin’ ’tall happen to me ’fo’ my boy gits heer, ’cause dair won’t be nobody fer ter make hit seem like home ter him if I ain’t heer. His wife’s dun leP him, an’ his. little chillun’s’ all fergot him, an’ dair ain’t nobody keers ter see him but me. Don't you think der good Lord nil spar me jes’ ter see him wunce mo’?” I could not speak; I could only turn my head away and take her hand. Her voice had grown weaker even as she spake, yet still she turned her failing eyes upon me, as though I had power to s|ay the coming of the grim messenger who already waited beside her. “Miss Lonisy,” she resumed, 'in so faint a whisper I could scarcely catch the words, “you’se been mighty good and kine ter me, an’ I thanks you fer it, an’ when Wash cams I wants yer ter give him all dem little things, an’ ax him, fer my sake, fer ter try an’ do rite an’ live rite, an’ not git inter no mo’ trouble; an’ tell him, es de good Lord had er bin willin’, I’d waited fer him, tell him howdy fer me —an’—tell—him —good-by!”— New Orleans TimesDemocrat.

Hints on Shoveling.

Nearly all the annoyances of winter, says the Philadelphia Call, arise from the fact that people do not know how to meet and manage them. Of these getting the snow cleared off the pavement is the most troublesome, and causes no end of late arrivals at places of business and an untold amottnt ol suffering from headache. All this can be avoided by attention to a few simple rules, based on scientific, mechanical, and anatomical facts: First, borrow a shovel. Next procure a pair of warm mittens, a neck-wrap of some kind, a bottle of arnica, and a chest protector. Now you are ready for work. Open the front door and push some of the snow from the front step. Now, having donned overshoes, which we forgot to mention, slip out and close the door after you, being careful to fix the dead-latch so it will not lock. Take the shovel in your right hand, the thumb upward and the fingers clasped firmly but not too tightly around the handle. Many persons cramp their fingers by taking too close a grip, a practice which also tends to irritate the tender skin on the inside of the palm. Best the steel end of the shovel on the step and, placing one foot a little behind the other, let the handle sink of its own weight to an angle of forty-five degrees. Be careful about this angle, for up to this time the principle of a pivot is being used, and if the angle is more acute than forty-five degrees it will be a sign that you are obtuse. . Now bring forward the left hand and gently grasp the handle just two-thirds of the way from the top, raising the implement about seven and a half inches into the air for that purpose. If you take hold too low you force your’ right arm to do double work, as the left hand is merely a movable fulcrum. If too high the evil is increased, The shovel, if properly made, will nearly balance when the left hand is in just the right spot, and after q few experiments this point can be de-> termined and if necessary indicated by a pencil mark. It is well now to slowly swing the shovel back and forth in the air, with the hand in the positions indicated, un, til yon acquire the proper motion. Next in order, not to get out oj breath, tW steps, straighten your back bone, throw bach your shoulders, and inhale the exhilarating, antiseptic winter air. Now look up and down the street until you see a boy. Beckon to him. When he comes strike a bargain with Dim; give him the job and go in to breakfast.

A Maternal Warning.

“Whar’s you bin, William Henry?” “Jess down yer.” “Who’s you bin playin’wid?” “Kurnel Joneses and Judge Green’s boys.” “How many times has I tole yer not; ter play wid po’ whites ? Look heah, Willyum Henry, Fze a mind to baste you. Do yo heah me ?” “Yes’m.” “You gwine ter run wid dem anv mo?” “No’m.” “Den let me gib you solemn warnin Es you doan’ stay away from dem, I’ll jess take de hide clean off*n you. ?Ef you keepj on dis way, fust thing you'll want to be disgracin' yo’ sex like Fred Douglass did, by marryin’ a w’ite woman.”— Texas Sifiings.

Poor Fellow.

An. Austin Society youth 0 was standing in front of a saloon, when his little brother came running up out of breatb and exclaimed: “Come home quick, Gus.” “What’s the matter ?" “Mother has got a fit” “Is that all? Merciful Moses, how you scared me. When you first spoke I thought something had happened to that $75 pointer of mine.”—Texas Si/fifips. _h_’' Queen a thorough Aus 1 trian, and she is intellectual. She de-_ tests the Spanish bull fight

AGRICULTURAL.

Turnips.—A very cheap food for stock is turnips, sowed before the last hoeing of melons, when the only cost is the pulling, pitting, and feeding of them. I raised an immense crop of red top and white flat Dutch turnips that way this seasop, some of the Dutch reaching the Wonderful size of six pounds each. —Einchan ge. A good food fer laying hens is to use one part ground oats, one part corn meal, and one part fine bran. Mix with boiling water, first adding a little.salt and a tablespoonful of copperas water for every ten hens. Give this in the morning, and at night feed whole corn and wheat. Parching the grains .Once or twice a week is very beneficial. Give a little meat and ground bone, as well as pounded oyster shells, at least three times a week. Carbolic acid is death to all insects, in every stage of A fruit grower in Duchess County, New York, whose quince trees were being destroyed by borers, used a mixture of one gallon of soap, two of water and a gill of carbolic acid. This he applied to his trees with complete success, the millers refusing to deposit their eggs on the frees. On another occasion he applied the mixture, which was washed off by frequent rains, when the pests annoyed him seriously. He thinks repeated applications very effectual, and recommends the mixture so all who have orchards. \ ■— ... ; . In the experiments of Professor Sanborn of the Missouri Agricultural College, he found that; meal-fed steers gained, in sixty-one days, seventy pounds more on 380 pounds less of fodder than steers on whole corn. The cost of grinding was $2.50, value of the extra seventy pounds, $3.50, or a dollar was gained in flesh and 380 pound of fodder saved besides. Wheat straw was fed with the grain in both cases. Professor Sanborn’s statement is a very important one, for he has demonstrated thatnot only can the cost of grinding be repaid by the method, but an actual gain is the result. A correspondent writing to the American Rural Home says:... “Do not let any of your farm implements remain exposed to the weather. When not in use keep them housed by all means. By letting farm machinery stay in the field, exposed to winds, and the hot sun, they receive more injury than from careful usage. I know of a sulky rake that has done the raking on a large, rough farm for eleven years that is as good as new, but is has been taken good care of and housed when notin actual use. Farmer friend. I tell you it pays to take good care of your tools.” Bees work without wages, only requiring a house in which to store their products, and many persons find them a source of very considerable profit. The methods of their proper management are easily acquired, though it is the experience of beekeepers that there is always something new to learn. If commenced in a moderate way, say a couple of swarms, at no very great cost, they will increase quite as rapidly as the knowledge of their manipulation is acquired. A person would be pretty sure of a good deal of experience, and would have reasonable grounds for expecting to realize a fair amount of honey. Bees are clearly entitled to a place on the little farm.— Farmers' Mazazine. Value of Exact Knowledge About Stock.—By placing before the public exact records of the performances of their favorite breeders of Jerseys have done the world a great good, for they set breeders of other stock to thinking that it will pay them,too, to know exactly how much butter, or cheese, or beef, or mutton their Ayrshires, Holsteins, Short-Horn or favorite sheep are capable of making. There has ever been a .“plentiful lack” of such information, yet it is just what the intendent buyer needs to enable him to select with a fair degree of certainty the animal he wants; and the breeder needs such exact data to show him what animals in his herd or flock he should exchange for others. Breeders have seemed to ignore the fact that they have sense other than sight, and. everything hfj.s until lately depended upon eyesight alone except so far as weighing of stock at shows is concerned. Records of beef breeds are filled with,grandilQ,Quent adjectives raked together to describe the “sweet bosoms,” the “lovely twists,” the “magnificent briskets,” and the “supei b backs” of the beasts under the reporter’s notice at the moment; but little of real worth has been given, because such words as have been used, in the effort to describe the animals, have conveyed little if anything more than the idea that the writer had searched the books for new and strong adjectives, with little care as to the'fitness of those selected. A record of prize winnings is of more worth, since it shows that the winner of the first prize was in the opinion of the judges better than any others shown at the same time, and that the second-prize animal was next in merit -to the first. But, after all, that gives little or no information on the important pointer of the gain made in weight during the animal’s life and the peculiar excellencies it possessed. But it is when prizes are awarded at the ikirs to dairy cattle that the worst absurdities are seen, and the need of definite knowledge of the individual merits to secure anything approaching justice is most plainly apparent. Under the prevailing system the best cow in the world may be passed by without notice by the judges, while the highest prize they'can bestow will be given to some animal, good-looking, but almost worthless when compared with her rival for all the purposes of the dairy.— Chicago Tribune.

HOUSEKEEPERS’ HELPS.

Custard. —One cup of syrup, one cup of sugar, three eggs, one cup of sweet milk, one teaspoon of butter. Flavor with vanilla. Gingeb Snaps.—One-half cup. of molasses, one-half cup each of melted lard and brown sugar, two tablespoonfuls of ginger, a pinch of salt, two teaspoonfuls of dissolved soda; flour enough to roll Bake in a quick oven.

Black Cake.— One pifft of molasses, one pound of brown sugar, one-half pound of butter, three eggs, two tea-, spoonfuls of soda, cloves, cinnamon, raisins, currants, nutmeg; flour enough to make a stiff dough. Bake in a slow oven. ♦ Cream of Barley.—A teacupful of barley well washed, three pints of chicken broth, an onion, and a small piece of mace and cinnamon. Cook slowly five hours, then rub through a seive and add one and a half pints of boiling milk and two tablespoonfnls of butter! Salt and pepper to taste. If desired richer, the yolks of four eggs, well beaten, w ith four tablespoonfuls of milk, and choked a. minute or two in the milk may be added. Flour Pudding.—Four eggs, two even cups of flour, one pint of sweet milk, two tablespoonfuls of baking powder, and one teaspoonful of salt. Mix the baking powder and the salt with the flour; beat the eggs and stir in the milk, gradually at first, until the whole is one smooth mass. Scald a pudding bag in boiling water, put in the mixture, and plunge the whole into a kettle of boiling water and boil two hours. To be eaten with cream and sugar. Cream of Celery.—One pint of milk, a tablespoonful of flour, one of butter, a head of celery if large, two if small, or three knobs as they are called, a small onion and a pinch of mace. Boil celery in a pint of water about an hour; boil mace, onion and milk together. Mix flour with two tablespoonfuls of cold milk and add to boiling milk. Cook ten minutes, stirring constantly ; mash celery in the water in which it has been cooked, then add to the milk butter, and season highly with milk with pepper and salt to taste. Strain and serve immediately. This deliciou a soup is improved by adding a cupful of whipped cream when the soup is in tureen. It may be thickened with rice boiled instead of flour if one prefers it. Mock Ginger Preserve.—Cut, paye and take out the seeds of a pumpkin; cut it into pieces an inch long and wide; weigh as many pounds as you require; put into a vessel and cover with cold water for three days, changing the water each day; then dry in a clean cloth; to every pound of pumpkin put one and one-quarter pounds of sugar, one ounce of lump ginger and lemon; take half the sugar and put in a pan with a large cup of cold water; keep stirring until the sugar dissolves; let it boil ten minutes; throw’ in your pumpkin; let it boil ten minutes; take it off the fire, turn it into a vessel, and let it remain uncovered; then draw off the syrup and put it to boil again with the other half of the sugar ; when dissolved throw in the marrow’ again; boil till it looks bright; then take out all the pieces and put them if jars; give the syrup another boil, fill up your jars and it is ready for use.

A “Close Call” for the Chimney Sweep.

“Yes, sah,” he' said, “I was de last man to sweep a chimbley in Boston, shoah’s yer born. De fust one I swep’ was in Philedelphy, ’bout fifty year ago, an’ de last one was de Tremont House chimbley, in dis city, just thirty-nine years ago.” “Was there much danger in entering a chimney ?” “De danger was mostly from de smoke-jacks, what folks used ter do der cookin’ on. Dey was built inter de fireplaces, stoppin’ ’em up. Den we had to go up one chimbley, cross over an’ go down inter de chimbley with de jack in it, or start from de roof, go down to de jack, clean de chimbly and den go out de way we come in. I used ter use a short-handle brush in one hand and a scraper (like a small hoe) in de odder When I was small I could walk up a chimbley with my knees an’ elbows, using de brush an’ scraper at de same time as easy as a fly kin walk on de ceilin’. I’d start from a fireplace an’ take two sides a goin’ up an’ two cornin’ down, gettin’ out ’casionally as much as two barrels er soot. I come nigh gettin’ my head broke one time. I had a chimbley to clean, wid a cap to it, shaped like a tent, an’ had jest pulled myself under de cap when it gave way an’ fell on me, jammin’ me inter de chimbley. My boss come roun’ artei awhile an’ got me out all right, but it were a close case fur dis chicken, you hear me.” — Boston Glob p .

A Horse that Jumped 200 Feet.

“Yes,” said the reformed hostler, “I had a horse once that jumped over 200 feet on Yustradglit"load.” “Did he make it in one jump ?” said the mule driver. “Yes, he made it in one jump,” said the reformed hostler, “and he’d a jumped 1.000 feet if they’d been there, as them was—pickled pig’s feet in a barrel.” “I drove a horse once,” said the honest stage driver, “that jumped through a wall four feet thick.” “Did it hurt the wall any ?” said the reformed hostler, insinuatingly. “No,” said the honest stage-driver, fiercely, “but it killed the horse.” “Talking of horses jumping,” said the reformed hostler, “we had a horse that jumped every fence on the farm, and wound up by trying to jump over his own tail.” “Did he doit?” said the converted mule driver, breathlessly. “No, he didn’t!” said the reformed hostler, calmly.— New York Journal.

Early “Cattle Drives.”

The earliest history that we are enabled to obtain concerning the Texas “cattle drive” dates back to 1857, when about 20,000 head of cattle, horses and mules were driven to Missouri, passing through Kansas City, Missouri, and crossing the river at what is .known as Randolph Ferry, three miles below the town, in the month of June of that year. The drive, though not very successful for the first year or two, finally increased and became more promising. The business was continued and large numbers of stock were added to each annual drive from that time up to 1861 —the breaking out of- the war—which stopped this rapidly growing trade. After the close of the war—or 1866 the drive North again commenced and it is generally i supposed’ that at least 260,000 head passed from Texas through the Indian Territory, destined for points in Southwestern* Missouri. Dodge City {Kansas') Star.

PITH AND POINT.

East TO draw —the breath. “A woman’s reason”— because. The spirit of the press—apple jack. The kind word that turneth away wrath has no practical effect in turning away a book agent. Never tell a lady that she is “plump as a partridge.” She will think that you are making game of her. Nothing shows the remarkable healthfulness of this country so much as the pension list.— Philadelphia Call. The association of fishermen contemplate giving a series of balls next month. They will’be fish-balls.—Carl Pretzel's Weekly. "When a bachelor says he is single from choice, it makes him mad to ask him why the girl made choice of some other fellow.— Texas Siftings. A new stove has been invented for the comfort of travelers. It is to be put under the feet, with a mustard plaster on the head, which draws the heat through the whole system. “Business is pretty good,” said an undertaker to an interviewer, “but if lying was punished as it was in the days of Ananias, I would have to enlarge my works and purchase fifty more hearses.” i The following is a copy of a bill posted on the wall of a country village. “A lecture on total abstinence will be delivered in the open air, and a collection will be made at the door to defray expenses.” A Grand street (New York) dyer has placed the following lines over the desk in his shop: I am dyeing to live, —... And living to dye;- - —— - The longer I live The bstter I dye; The more I dye The better I live. Do Bailors give their faith full scope When they sail around Good Hope? —Govemeur Herald. Some poor sailors, to bad Inck born, “Leave Hope behind” to "double the Horn. *' —Richmond Raton. . • Sailors, ’tis very sad to tell, Loose all .Hope at Cape Farewell. Waterloo Observer. When all Is ealm and the sky is clear, No sailor fears to round Cape»Fear. —Elevated Railway Journal. The sailor hopes to splice the main brace When sailing north around Cape Race. —Louisville Journal. If I were a Lumtl-tum-lum-titum-too ’ lu the land of the olive and flg, Fd sit all day on the trolle-101-100 And play on the i hingee-me-jlg. And if in the Bnmdee-dum battle I fall A what’s-its-name’s all that I crave— But bury me depp in the what-y on-may-call. And plant thlngum-bobs on my grave! -RillNye. ; So when you've reached the land of yum-ynm And are freed from all trouble a-id work, You'll burn your thumb on your thingee-me-jlg And howl for an asbestos shirt! Old Nick will come with his thingum-bob line To put on your do-lunny quite. And the 13 doctors that blistered your spine Will swell up as big as their bills. —Newman Independent. When A. T. Stewart, the dead millionaird, asked for the girl he wished to marry, her father said Stewart wanted to marry her for her money, whereupon the ardent swain replied: “No, sir; you needn’t leave her a cent. I will soon be richer than you, anyhow.” Then did this singular parent say: “Go ahead and take her, then, and ’ Heaven bless you both.” This story was told years ago, and is recalled by the experience of a young man, who, being familiar with the incident, tried it recently on the father of the girl he loved. When the other accused him of being after his money the youth replied: “Keep your money. I have started a newspaper, and will soon be worth more money than you ever saw.” And then the girl’s father, instead of saying, "Take her, and Heaven bless you both,” kicked him out of the house and a healthy dog bit a peice out of his leg as he went down the steps. It would seem that all fathers are not constituted alike. One is more credulous than the other.— Norristown Herald.

Head an Hour a Day.

There was a lad who, at 14, was apprentice to a soap boiler. One of his resolutions was to read an hour a day, or least at that rate, and he timed himself by an old silver watch left him by his uncle. He stayed seven years with his master, and when he was 21 he knew as much as the young Squire. Now let us see how much time he had to read in seven years, at the rate of one hour each.day. It would be 2,555 hours, which, at th® rate of eight reading hours per day would be equal to 310 days; equal to forty-five weeks; equal to eleven months —nearly a year’s reading. That time spent in treasuring up useful knowledge would pile up a very large store. I am sure it is worth trying for. Begin now. Do what you cun. In after years you will look back upon the task as the most pleasant and profitable you ever performed.

Tom Ochiltree Paints a Sign.

Old Judge Ochiltree, soon after his illustrious son had got his license to practice law, went oS on a few days’ trip; “and Thomas,” said he, “you may as well have a neat sign of the new firm painted and hung up over the office door.” When the old gentleman returned he did indeed see a neat sign over the office door. He examined it through his gold-rimmed spectacles, and then took off his binoculars and examined it again. The neat sign read thus: “Thomas P. Ochiltree and Father, Attorneys at Law.— Neto York Sun.

Happy People.

People who always appear well and happy are the most popular. When anybody asks about your health make a favorable reply if at all possible. It doesn’t make you feel any worse and your interlocutor will go away in a great deal better frame of mind than if you had given him a full and detailed account of your aches and pains. If you must tell your internal troubles go to the doctor, who is paid for listening to such things. ",~'i " A girl who can put a square patch on a pair of pantaloons may not be so as one who can work a green worsted dog on a vellow ground, but she is of more real value in the 'community. Better three hours too soon than one minute too late,— Shakspeare.