Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 October 1884 — Page 2

MY FIRST PAIR OF BREECHES.

How dear to my heart were my first pair of breeches. Although now worn out I remember them still;, They’d been In the bouse a year or two previous. And were toimer y owned by my big brother Bill. How my eyes < {toned wide in crest evpec! ation, When told that new breeches lor me would be made; Bow I telt in my heart a s rance agitation And lauch d when 1 thought how I’d lo k to arrayed. - They were not cut np in fashion; of that I'll assure you; They came to the knees, no suspenders were worn; A patoh in those days would eXctte no. great .1 notice If hi climbing a fence my new breeches were torn. When 1 first put them on a peculiar Sjehsation Arose in my •bosom that gave me great joy. For now all then, ighbors who'd want inlormation, Could see that no girl I was, but a big boy. And'the pockets, how large, how deep, and howroomy; ... 1 had a place for my marbles, my top, and my b 11. I found one behind—why, 'was nothing but pockets! There were three that were largeandcne that was small. When 1 strutted out proudly, an audible titter From one Of the boys gave me some little pain; When he raid: “can your mother make pants lit no better? I said naught for answer, but looked with disdain. From thosg days of our childhood, alas! we’ve now parted; Does your first pair of b.eeches ne’er give you a thought ? Did they not fit you better, at least you did think so. Than thos • from the tailor that since you have bought. But now when you see that. new breeches are needed. A tailor you’ll find you must first interview, And your purchase of pants will perhaps be impeded, He’s not like your mother, be will not trust you. —St Louis Hepublican.

THANKS TO THE FOG.

“Come over to England to settle down, old man?” inquired Vai Forrester, as he Jit another cigarette, and lounging back in his comfortable arm chair, looked contemplatively up at the ceiling. A conscious smile hovered round the yellow tips of Captain Vivian's mustaches. “Well, I don’t know,” he said Slowly. “Mean to take a look round, and see what is going on.” • “Whatever you do, eschew good looks. Pleasant enough. I’ll allow, if you could keep them for your own consumption ; but an intolerable nuisance, as you can’t blind your friends.” “Humph! A plain face opposite to you day after day would be deuced unpleasant.” > “Yes, but a beauty is the devil. Poor Cornwall never got over it, when his wife had once become the fashion. She took all the individuality out of him, and as Mrs. Cornwall’s husband, he provided a carpet for other men to tread on. Have you got any one in your eye?” Vivjan blushed liked a girl. “I—-I —don't know just yet. It’s five years since I saw her.” “Time for a woman to be married over and over again; or, worse than that, she might have had the smallpox or lost au eye. "What’s her name, and where does she hang out?” The other leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Mind—strict confidence—Mabel Loraine. ” “By Jove!” and Vgl Forrester sat bolt upright, an expression of dismay passing over his pleasant face.” “What are you looking like that for? You are not hard hit. It’s not a case of 111 have her—or die. “No, no, nothing of the sort,” the whiteness of his cheeks belieing his words. “I was at her wedding last month.” Frank Vivian stooped to pick up the cigar he had dropped. “Her name?” His voice was calm but hoarse, “Lady Waver ley. Her husband’s Sir Guy. He ran a horse for the Derby, but it fell dead lame before it reached the corner. Have a B. and S?” as Vivian rose in a hurry. “Thanks. Can’t stop. Forgotten an appointment. Ta, ta.” With his hat drawn over his eyes, he hurried down the steps of the Army and Navy, up St. James’ street into Piccadilly, not caring in the least where he "went, only anxious to get away from the continual greetings of his friends. Knowing that romance was a thing to be sneered at, that true love was a butt for chaff and contempt, lie had buried his dream in the depths of his heart, and flirted with the Calcutta bells as gayly as the rest of his brother officers. Now it was all over —the dream as well as the hope of realization. He had thought that even in this prosaic age he had found one verse of poetry; but the page was a blank,and the verse, if ever written by any other pen than his own conceit, had been most carefully erased. Unless to pull a wry face for other men to laugh at; better to grin and bear it, telling himself that matrimony was ever a lottery and the greatest prizes had a knack of turning out far worse than blanlSf.

It was the first night of the pearl of opera singers after a lengthy absence, and Convent Garden was crammed from the stalls to the ceiling. The second act was over, and Vivian stood up in the third row of stalls to let his glasses wander round the house on a voyage of discovery. A friend tapped him on the shoulder. “Look at Waverley. "He doesn’t look much amiss, although he’s just passed through that grave of affections, a honeymoon. His wife’s a stunner, and not a bit standoffish, so they say. Couldn’t see her on her wedding day, her veil had such a beastly pattern; but to-night, by George, she repays you!" A pause: ■“She’s smiling at one of us,” excitedly. *You don’t know her, so it must be me. Let us go up; I’ll introduce you.” A bitter smile hovered around Vivian’s mouth, but he said nothing. She chose to smile at him with the prettiest lips in the world, with the same blush as when they parted so miserably under the trees, but his face was grave and impassive.. Looking over his shoulder, before he disappeared through the doorway, he saw that an old man with gray hair had taken Sir Guy’s place in the front of the box. With Dorrin- ton on one side, this stranger on the other, there would be no opportunity for private conversation, but he felt it was

worth the journey from India only to. stand within sound of her voice, within reach of the glance of her eye—.worth a large sum in pounds, shillings, and pence although to hear her was torture, to see her, maflness. Love must be very bad for ns when it turns the wisest among u,s into fools. On their way they met the baronet himself, slipping into his overcoat as he came toward them. “How do. Dorrington—pretty fit?” “As fit as yourself. I was just going round to pay-my rerpects to Lady Waverly. My J riend, Captain Vivian” (Sir Guy raised his hat) “is dying to be introduced." “So sqrry you can’t see her; but she's laid up with a headache. Como we’ll have a smoke.’’ With a blank face they tiirned round, thinking a cigarette a poor consolation for their disappointment. _ ’ ■ “The fellow can’t be jealous of me already,” ruminated Frank, “unless she told him what she is sure to make a point of forgetting. I thought she always seemed to want me; but women are queer creatures—-prone to beckon one minute, and turn the cold shoulder if you venture to come. I won’t have anything to do with them; I’ll be hanged if I botheFmyself about them again," he added energetically, ashe threw the end of his cigar on the steps.

Nevertheless, he was conscious of every movement in the Waverleys’ box, and his indignation rose sky-high as he saw man after man admitted during the course of the evening. Patti sang her sweetest, but he scarcely heard her. A pretty girl, a great ally of his before Be started for India, looked over her shoulder with a smile which would have induced, any other .man to take up only too gladly the broken thread of a past flirtation, but he remained as unresponsive as a block of stone. On leaving the theater he refused all invitations to enticing little suppers, such as used to have a special charm' for him when ho was in the vein for amusement, and early the next morning started for his liome in Cornwall, in a pronounced fit Of sulks. “So Captain Vivian, the faithful and fascinating Lancer, has returned to the" field of his former conquests, and poor Charlie’s lust chance is gone,” said Lady Waverly, looking up into her cousin’s serious face, with a mischevious twinklein her eye. “Captain Vivian, to judge from the way his coat sets, is faithful to his tailor, but there his fidelity ends. Poor Mary Armstrong, who set just infront of him, nearly dislocated her stumpy little neck in her efforts to look at him, and he didn’t know she was there.” “Flattering to you, my dear, at any rate.” * “I don't see why,” drawing up her own neck, which was any tiling but stumpy. “I was too much occupied with the dear old General to notice him.” “Then perhaps he was not so cruel to Mary as you fancied ?” a smile hovering round her pretty lips. “He bowed to her once, but that was all.” “How could you tell if you didn't look at him?” “I couldn’t help looking at him to a certain extent, when he was just under my nose.” “It must have been a disagreeable necessity.” “It was._ I used to think lie wasn't bad-looking. La§jb night he looked hideous.” “But you are short-sighted, and he kept at a distance.” “I am thankful he did —old friends are such a bore,” her cheeks which were as soft as velvet, coloring like a Jacqueminot rose. “Then I won’t ask him to dinner.” “Pray do, if you feel inclined.” “Not if you don’t wish it.” “Oh, I can talk to somebody else.” “I suppose I must wait until 1 have made his acquaintance. ” “That can be easily managed. Charlie, as you call him, would introduce him.”

“Rather hard on Charlie —asking a man to sign his own death warrant.” “Major Wentworth wouldn’t care if he had to.” “My dear, is he so far gone as that. ” “I mean that he would regard it as waste paper, and live contentedly ever afterward.” _ , - “You’ll have to decide between the two before long.” “I have decided —long ago.” “And which is it to be?” lifting her head in sudden eagerness. “Neither," and she hurried out of the room, saying that she must go and put on her habit. In spite of her protestations, Mabel Loraine kept her lovely eyes wide open, in case an old friend might be inclined to make himself a nuisance—and found' the Row empty, because he wasn't there.

The season was over, and one of its undoubted belles had been through the whole campaign, and reached the end desired of many—and given to none. She shrugged her shoulders in answer to Lady Waverley’s expostulations. “Even in the marriage vow you have to take a man ‘for better or worse,’ and with the ‘worst’ alternative before my eyes I cannot turn my back on single blessedness. Let me be, my silly old May; I might be happy as an old maid, but miserable with an unsatisfactory husband.” “I wish that tiresome Captain Vivian had kept out of the way.” “Just what he has done.” An involuntary sigh escaped her. “Six months in England, and we have never met I wanted to see him to ask after the Rawlandsons.” “Why didn’t you write him a note and tell him so?” “Ask him to come up to Cornwall, or down from Scotland, to tell me if Mrs. Rowlandson’s last baby had cut its teeth!” “At least it would have broken the ice.” “If there is any ice I should be the last woman on earth to break it. You ought to know that by this time.” “Don’t freeze me in order that I mayn’t forget it," laughing softly. “Put on your prettiest gown, to-night/ “Why?” covert eagerness in her tawny eyes.

“Because Guy doesn’t care to go out with dowdy women.” “Pshaw ! I really thought——” She paused, lifer level brows drawn together, as she felt anjneonvenient blush in the act of convicting her. “That Gaptain -Vivian would be there?” with a mischievous smile. 4

“It.would make no difference to me if he were, with great decision. “Of course not ; so l shouldn’t have 1 ' thought of mentioning it.” In order to -please Sir Guy, Mabel Loraine seemed to have taken immense care with her toilette that evening; and when she entered Mrs. Forrester’s crowded rooms more than one pair of eyes followed her movements with fervent admiration. Her eager glancehad told her that her old friend was there, and her heart beat tumultuously, when, for the first time after many years, she found her hand in his. In her struggle for outward composure she fell into the extreme of apparent coldness. Her long lashes drooped nervously on the velvet of her cheeks, and her lips parted in a chilly smile. Unable to judge by anything but outward sight Vivian drew back, disgusted and disappointed. “Let me introduce you to my cousin.” she said hurredly, and before she had mentioned her name Mrs. Forrester bustled up and asked her to take a place in the upper row, which Major Wentworth had been keeping for her all the evening. Wishing the amateur theatricals at the bottom of the sea,Mabel obediently followed her hostess and found herself, to all intents and purposes, a prisoner, with the faithful Charlie by her side, and bent on making all the running now that he had distanced his rivals by the craftiness of his maneuvers.

Frank Vivian, savage as the typical bear with a wound in his ear, dropped into the seat beside Lady Waverley, determined to show his faithless love That, although she had chosen to go ■off with ano:her,-he was by no means “left lamenting.” When she smiled on him he fled to the Land’s End; now that she didn't smile on him, with the perversity of man, he felt aggrieved, and resolved to call in Chesterfield Gardens on the firstopportunity. With no less than three objects in view—-to stab Mabel to the -heart, to allay Sir Guy's fancied jealously, to gain an invitation to the baronet's house—he entered into a desperate fliration with the pretty girl, who was, as he supposed, -Lady Waver ley's cousin. He was so good to look at, that she raising to his face with a bewitching smile. He was Mabel’s particular friend, so of course it was only kind of her to be civil. She wanted to get him on her visiting list, for Mabel’s sake, so it would not do to begin with a snub. And these reasons combined to make Lady Waverley jis charming as possible. An at rant but harmless coquette, she ,was accustomed to flattery as the natural source to conversation, but Captain Vi van, with the fair, frank face that seemed to mean no harm, went further than any other man on so brief an acquaintance, except Sir Guy, and lie hud meant to carry off the prize from the beginning. A thrill of pleasurable exeitement darted through her heart as shelistened to his musical voice, gradually sinking till little above a whisper, as she looked into the earnest eyes which seemed to express in their fervent glance all that, the audacious tongue left uns id; ns’ sho felt that she was flirting, ieally flirting, but only for Mabel s sake. “You have never been to Chesterfield Gardens to see your old friends?” and she threw a laughing glance-toward that ill-used maiden, who knew very well what was passing behind her back. “An old friendship after the interval of years is apt to grow musty. I prefer going in for the new.” “A cry rude to my cousin,” with a shrug of her white shoulders. JJggrj “Is not the fault yours if you make any other answer impossible?” “Mabel is the dearest woman under tiie sun,” she replied with sudden irrelevancy. “I agree with you,” was the quiet answer; “a capricious woman is dear at any price.” “You do her gross injustice. If you don't believe me, ask Sir Guy.” A look of amusement shone from his eyes. “Hardly; you are told not to trust your dearest friend about a horse.” “How does that apply ?” raising her eyebrows. “Perfectly. A man is bound to tell any amount of lies about his wife . They are moving toward the supper room-—before anyone else claims you, let me,” standing up and offering his arm in the most empresse manner, bacause Mabel’s eyes chanced to be turned in his direction.

Right under Sir Guy’s nose he led his wife out of the room, bending over her and asking for a flower from her boquet before they were quite out of, sight. His last chance of being asked to Chesterfield Gardens was ruinnd before they reached the bottom of the staircase, even while he was priding himself on his diplomacy and attempting to throw his handful of foolish dust in--to the baronet’s eyes. “I thought of asking Captain Vivian to dine with us on Friday,” said Lady Waverley, sweetly, toward the end of the evening. “I want to be civil to him for Mabel’s sake.” “Mabel be hanged!” growled Sir Guy, in a pet “H he puts his foot inside my doorway, be gad! I’ll stop at home to kick him out.”

After this the subject was dropped. The two lovers were as hopelessly separated by an unfortunate mistake as the palm-tree and the pine of Heine’s verses. Finding that his presence was not desired at Chesterfield Gardens, Vivian made up his mind to leave London. Although he had- been foolish enough to angle for an invitation, in his calmer moments he was forced to acknowledge that it was better refused than given. The mere sight of Mabel’s loveliness was enough to incite Him to madness, and one word of kindness might have tempted him to try if the fire in his own breath could not have melted the icy barrier between them And then the end must have been , sorrow, and might have been dishonor. Before starting for Paris it wwnec-

I essary for him to pay a visit to the famI ily solicitor, Mr. Prendergast, in Lincoln's Jun. Vai Forrester, who happened to be with him at the club when he announced his intention, with a tired, dreary yawn, said : “Take the brougham. I only camo out in it today because of this .horrid fog, and it will be a charity to give the horse some exercise, instead of keeping it at the k door.” Seeing the wisdom .of this suggestion, Frank accepted, and feeling-rath- ! er like an eminent physician on his way To a patient, was driven at a cautious pace to Lincoln’s Inn. By • a curious coincidence, Sir Guy Waverly happened to have paid a visit this very alternoon to his own lawyer, who lived in the same house, though on a different floor, as Mr. Prendergast. His wife had agreed to come and call for him, but when she saw a nasty pea-soup fog obscuring the view of her neighbor’s window her courage failed her, and she willingly consented to let Mabel go instead.

The fog was denser than ever as she sat patiently in the carriage at the door of No. 33; but she was in no hurry. Every object in life seemed to be taken from her, and there_was no use in hurrying when there was nothing to be lost by delay. A letter from Charlie Wentworth was in her pocket. The poor fellow pleaded his suit in an honest, manly manner, but his words brought no flutter to her heart, no tears to her eyes. Lost in thought, she did not look up as somebody eftme rapidly down the steps, jumped into the, brougham, and shut the door after him. As he dropped onto the seat, he almost bounded out of it in his dismay.

Ten thousand pardons! Mabel! O God! it’s not my fault! What are you crying for?” He caught hold of her hand’s and held them tight. “You don’t care—you can't care” —his chest heaved, his eyes fastened upon her, as if he would devour her. “Youhate me; you hate me, you know you do, or you never would have married him.” “Married! What do you mean?” her heart beating fast, her cheeks as white as death. “Of course, I mean Sir Guy.” “My cousin’s husband! What has that to do with me?” ' “Your cousin's!For God's sake, don’t trifle with me. He married you, Mabel Loraine: they; told me so at once.” “He married Mary Annabella Loraine,- who sometimes goes by that name. But you know her,” drawing back. “You are laughing at me.” “What a fool I have been!” as the scales dropped from his eyes. “I thought you were Lady Waverley all the while. Oh, my darling!” as he caught her in his arms and pressed a shower o,f kisses on her lips, “it seems almost too good to be true.” * * * * * * The coachman, meanwhile, imagining his master was in the carriage, pur? sued his way westward till he drew up at the door of No. —Chesterfield Gardens. '“Very glad to see you, Captain Vivian,” said Lady Waverley, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But where is Sir Guy ?” The two lovers looked at each other in dismay. They had quite, forgotten him. -Whitehill Review.

Caleb Cushing’s Inconsistencies.

Caleb Cushing voted for every bill which John Tyler vetoed, stoutly defended the vetoes which came from the White House, and then again voted for them. This prompted Mr. Granger, of New York, to say in debate that Mr. Cushing’s course reminded him often of the reply of an old woman who was asked what she thought of one of her neighbors by the name of Jones —not the editor of T/tc Madisonian- ■■v.-. d with a very knowing look replied: “Why, I don’t like to say anything about my neighbors; but as to Mr. Jones, sometimes I think, and then again I don’t know, but, after all, I rather guess he’ll turn out to be a gocd deal such a sort of a man as I take him to be.” The gentleman himself, said Mr. Granger, makes me think of a smart fellow I saw in a circus the other night; a very sprucely-dressed, active young man, who was equally ready to mount every horse that was brought within the ring. The first nag the honorable gentleman mounted was the Bank poney; and round he went merrily to the sound of the music. Presently the stout horse Veto was brought out, when, giving the Bank, pony a cut or two with his whip, up he sprang on Veto’s back, and round the ring he again went with still more complacency than before. Then came the second bank bill, the gentleman voted for that; then what was called the little tariff bill, he believed the gentleman voted for that; and last of all followed Hie great revenue bill, lie voted for that. Yet, voting in succession for all these several bills when they were on their passage in the house, this same gentleman got up as soon as the vetoes one after another came in and defended the President's rejection of the measures he had himself supported by his votes with a servility which the gentleman from Accomac, Mr. Wise, would have scorned.— Boston Budget.

The Problem of All Time.

After the Concord School of Philosophy gets through discussing Emerson, it might add something to human knowledge if it would discuss this subject, vis.: Why is it, that when two young men and two young ladies, who are drifting toward an affectionate acquaintance, set out for a walk in pairs, within speaking distance of each other, the young lady behind feels herself in duty bound to speak to the young man in front, and the young lady in front considers it equally her duty to speak to the young man behind; and why, if the young men should change partners, this peculiarity would still be observed ? It is strange that this should be so, but it is so, and perhaps the Concord School of Philosophy can tell why it is so, if it will,. devote its powerful njind to, it— Somerville Journal.

“I suppose,” jSaid a physician to a patient, while feeling his pulse, “that you consider me a humbug.” “I think it very odd that you so accurately divined my thoughts by simply feeling my pulse.” retorted the patient.

MARRIAGE AND MONEY.

Married life presents as many different phases as there are married couples in the world, but there are a few characteristics common to all. If all the wives were to make out a list of their hardships, upon each one would be found a complaint in regard to money. It is really the most annoying thing married women have to contend with. The sacrifices of married life tire about equal. It is not necessary to disc iss them. The advantages are, perhaps; the same, rather in favor the woman. The pleasures, in the abstract, are pretty evenly balanced. Among wealthy people, the husband, as a rule, works harder than the wife. Among the middle classes the labor is about alike. Among the poor the women work more hours than the man. But it is not the labor which constitutes the grievance. Men never “strike” because they have to york, but because they are not satisfied with the wages. The majority of the husbands provide for their families as well as they are able. Women do not complainbecfiu.se they are deprived of the necessaries of life, but there are two sentiments of the heart which cannot and should not be suppressed, the love of independence and the desire to own something. It is the constant struggle with these two aspirations that makes women discontented. Men would feel exactly the same under similar circumstances. To make a practical application of this: A man gives his wife a certain sum of money. Out of this she fondly hopes to save enough to buy some long-cov-eted article, it may be of dress, household furniture, bric-a-brac, a present for a friend ; no matter what, it is something she very much wants. But she is in duty bound to pay the grocer, the butcher,; the servants, buy some necessary article for the children,-, and the money is gone. The next week the result is the same. If, by careful management, she sueceds in saving a little, she is compelled to replenish the actual necessities of her wardrobe, and thus, month after month passes by and she is only able to meet the imperative demands of daily life. Although she may disburse quite an amount of money, she does not feel justified in spending any. of ft in the little private luxuries her nature craves; in fact, she cannot do this, for .there is nothing to spare. And, al! the whi'e, she sees her husband indulges his various tastes, good cigars, meals at the restaurant, while his own are waiting at home ; wine suppers when he chooses; a fast horse if he wishes; a new suit if the old one is yet good; in fact, he gets what he wants, if it is within his means. If his wife remonstrates, there is not a husband in the world who would not reply: “Well, I’m spending my own money.” Aye, there’s the rub. It is his own money, and . she can not bnt ask herself: “Sinco Idp my share of the work, where is my own money?” Although wives are often unreasonable and fault-finding and dissatisfied, yet they cannot be censured for -wishing some slight-de-gree of financial independence. Husbands ought to understand this feeling, and sympathize with it. If they will set apart for a wife a 'certain sum per month, no matter how small, and let it be her very own, subject to her own wishes, they will find that in *every respect it is the best investment they ever made.— lda A. Harper.

A Story of Gov. Vance.

I heard Zeb Vance telling how lie captured the vote of a backwoods settlement in North Carolina when he first ran for Congress. He said he had never been in that settlement and didn’t know the boys. He rode over the mountains and found about sixty sovereigns at a cross-road grocery, and he got down and hitched his horse and began to make their acquaintance and crack his jokes around, and thought he was gettingalongpretty well with them, but he noticed an old man with shaggy eyebrows and big brass spectacles sitting on a chunk and . marking in the sasd with a stick. The old man didn’t seem to pay any attention to Vance, and after a while Vance concluded that the old man was bell-wether of the flock and that it was necessary to capture him, so he sidled up close to him and the old man got up and shook himself and leaned forward on his stick and said solemnly: “This is Mr. Vance, I believe?” “Yes, sir,” said Vance. “And you have come over here to see my boys about th er votes, I believe?” “Yes, sir,” said Vance, “that is my business.” ‘‘Well, sir,” said the old man, “afore you proceed with that business I would like to ax you a few questions.” “Certainly, sir; certainly,” said Vance. “What church mout you belong to?” said the old man. - -, That was a sockdoldger—Vance didn’t belong to any church. He knew that religion and meeting was a big thing in the back woods and controlled their politics, but he didn’t know what their religion was, for North Carolina was powerfully spotted. But he squared himself for the responsibility, and says he: “Well, now, my friend, I will tell you about that, for it is a fair question. Of course it is. Well, you see my grandfather come from Scotland, and you know that over in Scotland everybody is Presbyterian.” Here he paused to note the effect, but saw no sign of sympathy with his grandpa. “But my grandmother came from England, and over there everybody belongs to the Episcopal Church.” He paused again and the old man marked another mark-in the sand and spit his tobacco away off. “But my father was born in this country in a Methodist settlement, and so he grew up a Methodist.” Still nd sign of approval from the old man, and so Vance took his last shot and said : “But my good old mother was a Baptist, and it’s my opinion that a man has got to go under water to go to heaven.” The old man walked up and, taking him by the hand, said: “Well, you are all right, Mr. Vance,” and then, turning to the crowd, said: “Boy’s, he’ll do, and you may vote for ‘him. I thought he looked like a Baptist,” And the old man slowly drew a flask from his coat-tail and handed it to Vance to seal his faith.— Bill Arp in Atlanta Constitution.

SUGGESTIONS OF VALLE.

To clean hair brushes wash thorn id water in which soda has been dissolved. It may be difficult ta restore the gloss to patent leather when it has once lost it, but to retain it'from the fiyst is a very easy matter. Never touch the blacking brush to it. Hub the mud off with a damy sponge, and dry with a soft cloth. Rub with a little cream or castor oil. To clean vegetables of insects, make a strong brine of one pound and half of salt to one gallon of water pinto This pjace the vegetable’(with the stalk ends uppermost) for two or three hours; this will destroy all the insects which cluster in the leaves, and they will fall out and sink to the bottom of the water. To cube corns apply a piece of linen saturated with olive oil, night and morning, and let it remain on. It will be found to prove a slow but certain cure; they will wear out of the toe, and some of the courns may be picked out after the oil has been used for a time; but care should be taken not to irritate the toe. Pieces of layer cake that have become too dry need not be thrown away. Steam them for five minutes, and serve as dessert with a nice pudding sauce. The layer cake made with boiled frosting and chopped raisin filling makes a delicious pudding. Cream sauce for this pudding is made of one cup of sugar and a half cup of butter beaten together and thinned with a cup of rich cream. Flavor with vanilla. Pretty catch-alls are made of paper fans, with the rivet ■which holds the sticks together withdrawn and a cord substituted. The fan is drawn together and one stick lapped upon the other and fastened,'thus making a cone-shaped receptacle. A cornucopia of coarse strong paper is fitted into this, and ribbon passed in and out between the sticks forms bows in front. A ribbon loop is attached by which to suspend the catch-all. Our old friend the smilax is giving place to ivy and Japanese ferns. The ivy lasts better, and is a deeper green, and the Japanese fern is more delicate. The new smilax, which looks exactly like a marabout feather, andiis a species of asparagus, is a popular novelty just now; but the gardeners do, not think that it is destined to bo a great favorite. Tulips arc in vogue for table decoration if ladies desire a centrepiece; but the latest fashion is against the centre-piece. . Excellent sanee for fish is made by putting one cup of milk and one cup of water on the fire to heat. When it is hot, stir in a heaping teaspoonful of flour that you have mixed with a little cold water, so that there are no lumps left in it. Beat and then strain three eggs, and stir them iu with two teaspoon fuls of butter, and pepper and salt to suit your taste. Pour this over the fish. It you choose you can vary this in this way; instead of putting the eggs in the sauce, boil them ten minutes? then remove the sliells and ctit the eggs in slices, and lay them over the fish; then pour the sauce overall.

One Thing Lacking.

A gentleman of wonderful vigor for one who has passed fourscore yaars is stopping in Congress Hall, Saratoga. He is a widower, and a man of large wealth. Widows, as well as maidens, enjoy his society, for ho is witty and wiue. One day he was introduced to a maiden not much past 30. After a pleasant chat about life and living, the lady remaked: “Are you married, sir?” “Oh.no; lam susceptible, though,” replied the venerable. “By the way, madam,” said he, “are you married?” “I am not,” she replied, “and I made up my mind I never would be, unless I could get a good catch—a man with brains and money.” « “Then,” said the old gentleman, “you are after money w’ith a husband. Well, Tilden has a barrel; I have a bushel, and brains enough to look after it. How would you like such a young man as myself ?” “I like you very well, sir. You are sensible, and the money is suffieent; but you lack one, just one, only one, requirment, so far as I am able to judge.” “Well, what is that, madam?” queried the venerable. “You do not seem to have a bad cough,” she replied. The dazed veteran arose, and beat a hasty retreat, while a clear, ringing voice, mingled with laughter, remarked : “Stay! stay! dont be in a hurry.” —Cambridge Tribune.

Literary Sharpshooting.

Drawing social types is a species of literary diversion that has its attendant quicksands. If there is any vitality in, the sketch at all a personality is sure to be suggested, and thereby follows friction, silent or suppressed, as may be. If the supposed victim is a person of tact he will never express his suspicions, however active they may be; if, on the other hand, he is impelled by temperament toward sharp corners he will find them in abundance. But it is more than an even question, after all, whether this style of writing is really very high art; whether it is not to literature a little what the tricks of a clown are to amusements—something at which the crowd will laugh, but which never yet edified or improved anybody. And the writer who has any realization of the higher privilege of his calling would-nather sacrifice this transient flash of flame, however brilliant, than deliberately to wound • the sensibilities of any indiyidaal. Personal peculiarities, except when generalized, are hardly fair targets for literary shartshooters.— Lilian Whiting's Letter.

She Whistled Him Off.

A policeman who was patroling - Montcalm street heard a whistle blown for all it -was worth, and ran a block and a half, to find a woman with her head out of a chamber window. . _ “Who blew that whistle?” “I did.” “Do you want me?” “No, sir. My gal and her beaux are spoonin’ around on the side stoop, and I blew the whistle to let him know that it was time to skip or look out for clubs."— Detroit Free Press.