Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1886 — Page 2

THE MASSING YEARS. Oh. strang* JncoDßoquonoß of vnnth, When days were Hve.l from betid to mouth. And thought ran round an empty ring In fooliah, sweet imagining. "•■■ft.. ' ' We handled lovo in childish fash'on— The name alone and not the passion— The worldand life were things so small Our little wit encompassed all I We took our being aa our faith ’ For granted, drew onr easy breath And rarely stayed to wonder why We were set here to l vo and die. Vague dreams we had, a grander fate Onr lives wonld mold and dominate, Till we should stand some far off day More godlike than of mortal clay, Strong fate I we meet thee but to find A soul and all that lies behind; We lose youth's paradise and gain ▲ world of duty and of pain.

BABY’S FIRST BIRTHDAY. When the sun sets and trails His ml lobes through the west. When o’er fho sea the daylight pales, * And twilight speaks of rest, A mother fits and sings Her first-born babe to sleep. While every breeze in whispers brings Good wishes o’er the deep. *0 igothor in whose life These new pure joys has come, *Mid far-off cities’ toil and strife «* Our hearts aro nowise dumb; We thank God for the gift That He has sent t"> you. We pray that He may will to lift All cloulds that hide the blue, And that His love may bless You and your babo to-day With that true perfect happiness Which never fades away t" —<7. Weatherly, in the Quiver.

MASTER TOM’S ENGAGEMENT

An Knglish frstory. Old Mr. Molyneux was immensely prond of his position as the county magnate. He lived in a feudal castle which he had bought cheaply, having taken over at tho same time the good will, so to speak, of its former owner’s social influence and dignity. In consideration of his great wealth, his neighbors charitably ignored the fact l that his father had been a small trades; man, and that he himself had carried on a lucrative business in the hardware line for many years. He was not a bad old fellow, his vulgarity being of a subdned and inoffensive kind, and consequently he was received in the bjst ■county society. But he aspired to even greater distinction, for his pet project was his only son, Tom, to one of the Earl of Laburnum’s daughters. There seemed no reason why this auspicious event should not come about, for the Lady Florence looked kindly upon Master Tom, and his lordship had more than once hinted that he wonld raise no objection. Lord Laburnum was the Lord Lieutenant of the county, and an alliance with his family meant admission into the most aristocratic circles. Unfortunately Master Tom was rather a scapegrace, and his father preferred to let him see a little of the world before revealing the high honors that were in store for him. The fact was that Tom showed no predilection whatever for Lady Florence, and he was just at the democratic age when a youth is apt to underrate social advantages. The old man . hoped that when Tom had had his fling Up would begin to awake to the responsibilities -of his position, and be amenable to reaeon. He knew that Tom was raising a very respectable crop of debts,and that Before long his paternal assistance wonld be sought When the crises arrived he intended to make known his wishes, and to take advantage of the lad’s embarrassments to impose conditions. Meanwhile, as Tom seemed to have given his heart a roving commission, there was no apparent danger of his seriously compromising his affections. One day, however, tho young man came down from town, were he was ostensibly studying for the bar, and with a very grave and determined air announced that he was engaged to bo married. Old Mr. Molyneux nearly had a fit of apoplexy on the spot, and young lady earned her own living by carrying on the business of a dressmaker at the West End, his horror and indignation knew no bounds. In vain "Tom pleaded that Miss Fabian was a lady by birth and education, and that the poverty of her family was her only crime. His father became more and more furious, until Tom showed symptoms of flat rebellion. “Think of your position in the county 1” cried old Mr. Molyneux, perceiving this, and wisely making an effort to control himself. “I will take it for granted, if you like, that the girl is an exemplary character. She may be ladylike and well educated, and all the Teat of it But her station is altogether inferior to yours.” “1 don’t see that,” said Tom, stubbornly. t .; “Why, of course. It is ridiculous,” said the old gentleman, swelling with self-importance. “Her father, you say, is a poor out-at-elbows devil of a clerk in the city.”

“I’ve never noticed his coat baa holes in it,” retorted Tom. “As for his being a clerk in the city, so were you—once. The only difference is that you have been more fortunate than he, aud have made enough money to retire upon.” “None of your infernal radical nonsense here, sir!” cried old Mr. Molyneux, infuriated at this reference to his own origin. “It would be just as sensible to sav that you and I are the equals of Lord, Laburnum because Adam was our common ancestor. "What does it matter if I was once a clerk in the city? I have since attained a superior grade inthe social scale, and that is the fact that must be faced. By marrying the daughter of a city clerk, who earns her living by dressmaking, yon would be making a mesalliance.” « “rfust as Lady Florence would by marrying me,” said Tom, looking wonderfully innocent. "Who is talking about Lady jFlorence?” said old Mr. Molyneux, taken aback by this unexpected thrust. “Nobody—only I have an idea you wish me to marry out of my station,” retorted Tom. “I don’t wish you to marry at all, sir, not for many a long year 1” cried the old man, fairly nonplused. "What I mean is, father,” said Tom, doggedly, “that t see no more harm in marrying below one’s station—to use ▼our own term—than in marrying

> “Stuff and nonsense, Bir! Yon don’t know what you’re talking about,” exclaimed Mr. Molyneux. “I don’t want to have an argument with yon. The long and short of the matter is that I won’t hear of this foolish engagement. There! It is no use talking. Let there e an end of it, or I shali have some l thing very unpleasant to say." The old man bounced out of the room as he spoke, not a little startled and amazed by nis son’s tone and attitude. Hitherto Tom had never ventured to argue with him, partly from filial duty and partly from inherent weakness of character. He began to fear that the lad possessed unexpected firmness, until he soothed his mind by the reflection that he had probably been carefully coached for the interview. This suspicion explained Master Tom’s unaccustomed readiness of repartee which had made litm appear a dangerous adversary. Believed in his mind by tho discovery, old Mr. Molyneux gradually cooled down and completely recovered his self-confidence. He easily convinced himself that Tom would never dare to disobey him, and, instead of feeling the least apprehensive of the marriage taking place, lie was only uneasy lest rumors of the engagement should reach the Labur*. nums. 8 — He prudently resolved to treat the matter as definitely disposed of, and to make no further allusion to it—at all events, until Tom had had time for reflection. Judging from appearance, the lad seemed completely subdued. He spent the next few days slaughtering pheasants in a dejected and sulky frame of mind. His father smiled within himself and held his tongue, though he showed by his manner that he did not intend "*to be trifled with. When he considered that he might safely speak, he said one morning, with assumed carelessness: “Well, my boy, what are you going to do?” “I’m going to shoot over Bailey’s farm,” replied Tom. ,r Konsense. You know what I am referring to,” said the old man, turning red. “I am speaking of this idiotic love affair.” “Oh! Well, of course, I must keep my word,” said Tom, with flushed cheek. “What! you haven't written to-break it off?” said Mr. Molyneux, feigning surprise. “No, guv’nor, I haven’t,” said Tom. “I hoped you would have softened by this time.” “And I believed you would have remembered that your first duty was to obey your father,” cried the old man, beginning to boil. “Do you mean to tell me that yon still contemplate marrying a —a dressmaker ?” “She has sold her business, father,” said Tom, eagerly. “She might have done better had she waited a bit, but out of deference to your wishes—” “My wishes!” interruped Mr. Molyneux,. angrily. “I don't care if she carries on twenty businesses. What I say is that you shall never marry her with my consent. That’s all.” “1 should be very sorry to disobey yon father,” began Tom, gravely, “but ” “Look here, my boy,” interrupted the old gentleman, quickly, speaking with unnatural calmness, “lot us understand each other. I forbid this foolish engagement, and I order you to break it off instantly. That is my bark. Now for my bite. You leave my house within "an hour, and unless you inform me in the course of a week that the affair is at an end, I stop supplies. If you persist in marrying the girl, then, by heaven 1 I will alter my will and leave every farthing I possess to your cousin Ted—in fact, I will make him my heir and discard you altogether.” It is doubtful whether the old man would have really carried out this serious threat, for he was fpnd of his son, and proud of him in a way, but he looked very determined when lie uttered it, “and Tom was evidently impressed. The lad dropped his eyes before his father’s irate glance, and the ruddy color left his cheeks lor an instant. “You know. Tom,” lio added, noticing the wholesome effect of his words, “you are entirely dependent upon me, and unless you took to poaching I don’t see how you could possibly earn a crust. Beside, you are up to your ears in debt.”

“I don't owe much,” said Tom quickly, with a tell-tale blush. “You will find out that you owe a good deal when your creditors learn that I have made your cousin Ted my heir,” said the old man enigmatically. Tom was evidently seriously disconcerted by this remark. He turned on his heei, muttering something about catching the next train to town, leaving his father master of ! the situation. The old man considered he he had gained a signal victory, and was, therefore, not the least perturbed when his son started oil’ to the station with his luggage, in literal accordance with his injunction. He did not doubt that Master Tom would see the folly of his ways; and, surely enough, two days afterward the young man reappeared, looking decidedly sheepish, and tendered his submission. He even brought a copy of the letter he had written to the young lady, which Mr. Molyneux thought a little too curt and matter of fact, if any fault was to be found with it. However, he was not inclined to be hypercritical in this respect, and he heartily, applauded Tom’s action. “I am going away for a said the lad, who had winced a little at his father's boisterous good humor, and seemed half ashamed of his Jonduct. “Webster and some other fellows have hired a yacht, and sail for Madeira to-morrow." “By all means, my boy,” crjed Mr. Molyneux, secretly delighted that his son should leave England for awhile at this juncture; “and look here, Tom, while you are away I will settle matters with these friends of yours." He produced rather a formidable list of names and figures as he spoke, and Tom started with surprise, as well tie might, at perceiving how full and accurate was his father’B knowledge of his pecuniary embarrassments. The old man cut short his son’s confused protestations of gratitude and apology by saying good-humoredly: “Well, well, von must turn over a new leaf, my boy. Seasonable economy mnßt henceforth bei the order of the'day, and Lhope, on your return,

that you will settle down and reside permanently in the country.” 1 He had it on the tip of liis tongne to hint that he must be prepared to marry Lady Florenoe; but he wisely refrained. Nevertheless he was a fnll of the project as ever, and after Tom’s departure he spoke to Lord Labuttmm more plainly than he had hitherto done. His Lordship, without pledging himself, gave him *an encouraging reply; and he resolved to bring matter to a crisis immediately upon his don’s return. The consequence was that the task of settling with Tom’s creditors proved quite an agreeable relaxation, and did not cause him a moment’s ill-humor. *' But he was very much startled and disgusted on hearing that his solicitor had been asked to accept service of a writ on Tom’s behalf, in an action for damages for breach of promise of marriage brought by Miss Fabian against her faithless lover. The news upset bim considerably, for such a scandal would set all the papers to gossiping about his antecedents, while Tom could hardly fail to cut a ridiculous figure in the wintess-box. Old Mr. Molyneux soon arrived at the conclusion that the action must be compromised at any cost, for the sake of his own dignity, not to mention the projected alliance with the Laburnums. He rushed up to town in quite a frantic state, and, disregarding the advice and protestations of his solicitor, insisted that Miss Fabian’s claim should be settled forthwith at any sacrifice, in order to avert the danger of the affair finding its way into the papers. He was successful in his main object, but, rich man as he was, he almost groaned as he sat down to write the check that Mis 3 Fabian’s advisers demanded. The amount was represented by no less than five figures, and the worst of it was that he got no sympathy whatever from his solicitor, who declared that by going to trial, or even by holding out, he might have saved the greater part of the money. In spite of his great relief that the threatened scandal had been averted, olp Mr. Molyneux soon began to regret the sacrifice he had made and to fret about his enormous loss. He was not by any means a penurious man, but, hke all parvenus, he keenly appreciated the value of money. He did not mind what he spent so long as he had something to show for hits outlay: but in this instance the result attained was entirely negative. Every one is inclined to underrate a danger when it has passed, and Mr. Molyneux could not help suspecting that he had been too easily frightened. This uncomfortable reflection worried him a good deal, particularly when he learned that Lord Laburnum had made arrangements to take his family to the South of France for the winter. This did not look as if His Lordship was very anxious about his daughter’s marriag§ old Mr. Molyneux was seized with an ominous foreboding when he heard the

news. Tom returned after an absence of three or .four months, and was evidently not a little apprehensive of the reception he would meet with. He had received some angry letters his father, referring to the damages he had had to pay; ana he therefore appeared nervous and embarrassed at theirifirst meeting. But the old man, delighted at seeing him again, sought to put him at his ease by saying; “I’m not going to allude to what has happened, my boy; I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” “You are very good, father, but—but—” “What is the matter?” inquired old Mr. Molyneux, as Tom paused in confusion. “I still cling to the hope that you will consent to my marriage with Miss Fabian,” said Tom desperately. “What!” roared his father with a great start “You see, guv’nor,” proceeded Tom, “I’m in a- much better position than I was before when I went away. Then, as you justly pointed out, I was in dobt, I had no capital, and I was altogether dependent uplon you. But my debts are now paid, and as for cap“Well, sir, what about capital?” interrupted the old man, too much amazed to be angry. “I here is the money you paid to Miss Fabian,” said Tom, with a fleetingsmile. “The interest on it would keep us from starvation, and at least it is enough to buy and stock a farm with.” “But—but I paid the money because you broke your promise to marry her,” urged his father,' incredulously. “She would never marry you now.” “I think she would,” replied Tom, in a confident tone. “The fact is, sir, I have been victimized," exclaimed old Mr. Molyneux, suddenly, as the truth flashed across his him. “Not exactly, father—at least, not yet,” returned" with great earnestness. “I hope you will not withhold your consent to our marriage. If you would consent the money shall be paid back to you—every farthing. I don’t wish to defy you, as it were; and both of Us aye willing to rely entirely, with regard to the future, upon your generosity.” Old Mr. Molyneux had turned purple in the face, and Tom was justly alarmed at his aspect. Bujpbefore he could utter a word in reply, a manservant brought in a note, remarking that a messenger was waiting to know if there was any reply. Mr. Molyneux opened the envelope half-absently, glanced hurriedly at the contents, and then gave vent to a muttered execration which apparently relived his overwrought feelings. After striding about the room for a few moments in great agitation, he suddenly halted in front of Tom, and cried in a voice of sup-, pressed passion: i* “You —you impertinent, disrespectful, disobedient rascal! .What did you say about the mone v ?” - , “I said every farthing would be returned to you,’’ replied Tom, staring at his father, “Very well,” said the old man abruptly ; nhd he. immediately sat down at the writing table, and wrote a note with a tremulous hand. “Bead that;’’ he said to his son, when he had finished. Tom, in his turn amazed and bewildered, read as follows: 1 " Deab Lord Lajbuenum: Bis very kind of

yon to hasten to inform me, on hearing of my son’s return, that you have other views witn regard to your daughter Florence. I ought to have mentioned that my son has been engaged to a Miss IfaMen-for some months, and that his marriage will take place immediately. Yours faithfully, Jno. Molyneux “Oh l father, it is pwful good of you,” cried Tom, with tears in his eyes. “I expect Laburnum will be riled,” said old Mr, Molyneux, sulkily, as he fplded up the- note. “I doubt if I should have made £IO,OOO by allowing you to marry his daughter.”

Harriet Martineau.

Harriet MaVtineau was born at Norwich, England, June 12, 1802. She was well educated, and, at a very early age, began to exercise her talent for composition. In 1823 she began publishing poems and moral sketches chiefly for the young. By 1828 she had printed ten of these small volumes, and she now prepared a series of tracts on questions relating to the working classes, in whose welfare she took much interest. In 1831 she publiseed “Trations of Palestine,’’which was a series of sketches of the Holy Land during the period of Christ’s ministry. In the same year the British Unitarian Socity having offered three prizes for tracts on different subjects, Miss Martineau competed for, and won them all. She then began the publication of her series of “ Stories on Political Economy,” by which she gained much more fame and money than all her previous works. In 1834-6 Miss Martineau visited America, and on her return recorded her impressions in two volumes. During tho next two years she wrote two novels and several tales for children, but her health, never robust, now became so affected that she wag obliged to give up literary occupation for two years. In 1843 she published a series of sketches called “Life in a Sickroom.” From that time for nearly twenty years she pursued her literary work almost continuously, though much of the time she was in very health. In 1846 she made a tour through the Orient, concerning which she subsequently wrote a book. Probably tho most important work of this indefatigable woman was a "History of England During the Thirty Years’ Peace,” a work which ranks as an authority concerning the period of English history to which it relates. Miss Martineau wrote in all over fifty volumes, besides a great toumber of pamphlets and an innumerable list of newspaper and magazine articles. She was several times offered a pension from the government, but, though she had never, because of her benevolent disposition, saved much from her earnings through literary labor, she always refused on conscientious grounds to accept it. Miss Majtineau died June 27, 1876. —Inter Ocean.

Josh Billings’ Dog.

A good story is told of the humorist being thrown, on one occasion, among a batch of students in a country town near New Haven. He was tramping along with a yellow dog, and entered the bar-room of a hotel for some refreshments. A group of the Yale lads chanced to be there on a frolic.apd immediately interviewed Billings,whom they evidently mistook for a farmer. They inquired with affected interest after the health of his wife and children, and Josh, with counterfeited simplicity, gave them a graphic account of his family and farm. “Of course you belong to the church ?” asked one of the boys. “Yes, the Lord be praised, and my father and grandfather before me.” “Now, I suppose you wouldn’t tell, a lie,” said one of the students. “Not for the world.” “AVhat will you take for that dog?” pointing >to Josh’s cur, which was crouching beneath his chair. “I won’t take S2O for that dog.” “Twenty dollars! Why, he’s not worth 20 cents.” “I assure you I would not take S2O for him.” “Come, my friend,” said the student, who, with his companions, was bent on having some fun with the old man. “Now, you say you won't tell a lie for the world. Let me see if you will not do it for S2O. I’ll give you S2O for your dog.” “I’ll not take it.” “You will not? Here! let me see if this will not tempt you to a lie.” added the student, producing a small bag of half dollars, which he built up into small piles on the table. Josh was sitting by the table, with his hat in his hand,apparently unconcerned. “There,” added the student, there are twenty dollars, all in silver; I will give you that for the animal.” Josh quietly raised his hat to the edge of the table, and, as quick as thought, scraped all the money into it except one half dollar, and then exclaimed: “I won’t take your S2O! Nineteen and a half is as much as that dog is Tirorth; he is your property !” ' A tremendous shout from his fellowstudents clearly showed the would-be wag that ho was completely sold and that he r.eed not look for sympathy from that quarter, so he goodnaturedly acknowledged himself beaten.—Philadelphia Tunes.

The Stray Hens.

A couple of Hens having Wandered away from Home and Entered a Strange Coop, began to cackle loudly. “Why is this thus?” inquired one of The Old Inhabitants of the Coop. “6li, it’s on Account of the Egg we Haven't Laid,” was the reply. Their Cackle Presently Becommenced, and Another Inhabitant queried: “Is this for the Egg you are Going to Lay ?” “Oh, no. This is for an Egg we have already Laid." A third time the Cackling Disturbed thefCoop, and Inquiry was made: . “What Great Thing have you finally accomplished ?” laid a new shell Aronnd a Spoiled Egg and worked it off on a Confiding Public as a Good Thing!” was the enthusiastic reply as the Cackle grew to a Riot .—Detroit Free Press. yj—. '■ ' Thebe appears to l>e an. agreement among recent medical writers that water is fattening, or at least, favors a fullness and roundness of the body. It should be drunk at its natural torn perature and in consider able quantity.

Origninal Discovery of Gold in California.

It was in Alvarado’s time, and about March, 1842, that gold’“was first discovered in Alta, California. It ia true that among the various reports of Drake’s voyage, there is one which, in speaking of his landing at New Albion, in 1578, .sayß that “there is no part of the earth to be here taken up, wherein there is not a reasonable quantity of gold or silver.” But it seems probable that this statement was an interpolation. Whether so or not, it is very certain that Drake Saw neither gold nor silver on the coast. There is no pretense that Jie did in a very minute and circumstantial narrative, entitled, “World Encompassed," by his chaplain, Francis Fletcher, who would hardly have omitted a matter of so much importance, if known; nor' is there any reference to gold or silver in any of the narratives of the sailors appended to and published with the “World Encompassed.” For these reasons, and on account also of the very general, indefinite, and iuterjfectional character of the statement itself, it jhust be rejected as a fabrication. It is further true, that there were reports that Captain Jedediali S. Smith, the first American who arrived in California overland, found gold in the Sierra Nevada mountains about the year 1826; but his discovery, if it werq true, took place on the eastern side of the Sierra, and not with'n what is now known as California. But in 1841, Andres Castillero, the same person who afterwards discovered the New Almaden quicksilver mine in Santa Clara County, while traveling from Log ADgeles to Monterey, found near tliq Santa Clara river a number of water* worn pebbles, which he gathered up and carried with him to Sania Bar* bara. He there exhibited them, said they were a peculiar species of iron pyrites, and declared that, accord ipgdiTr Mexican miners, wherever they were lound, there was a likelihood of gold being also found. A ranchero, named Francisco Lopez, who was living on Piru Cneek, a branch of the Santa Clara river, but happened at the time to be at Santa Barbara, heard Castil lero’s statement and examined liis specimens. Some months afterwards, having returned home, he went out on a search for strayed cattle. At noon, when he dismounted from his borsefqi "the purpose of resting, ho observed a few wild onions growing near where he lay. He pulled them up, and in doing so noticed the same kind of pebbles as those to which Castillero had called his attention. Bemembering what Castillero had said about them, he took up a handful of earth, and, upon carefully examining it, discovered gold. The news of the discovery, the exact location of which was a place called San Franoisquito, about thirty-five miles northeast of Los Angeles, soon spread; and in a few weeks a great many persons were engaged in washing and winnowing the sands and earth in search of gold. The auriferoufields were found to extend irom a point on the Santa Clara river, aboul fifteen or twenty miles above its mouth, over all the country drained by its upper waters, and thence easterly tc Mount San Bernardino. On May 14, 1842,* Alvarado wrote to the prefect ol the district, reproving him for not having given official notice of tho discovery, and directing him to gather and forward an account of all circumstances of interest relating to the gold for transmission to the supreme government. From that time to this day. there has been more or less working ot these mines; but no places of very great richness .have been fouud, and none to compare with those afterwards discovered on the tributaries of the Sacrattiento and San Joaquin.—Overland Monthly.

Beautifying.

“How do you go about beautifying s woman ?”_asked the reporter. “Well, we bring out the eyes by careful penciling*, shadings and underlinings. The Washington women and the actresses understand this kind of thing, the former quite as well as the latter. The beauteous dowagers seen in-Wash-ington drawing-rooms assist ifature considerably, 1 assure you. Beautifying L the bloom of youth with them. Have you ever seen Nast draw a picture. He draws a line here and another there, and when presently it is finished you have tho expression. Thai is just the way we do. If the features are too broa.l we modify them with lines; if they are too receding we bring them out in the same way. • It’s a very simple matter. - We keep ideal heads and faces hanging on the wall and approximate to them as closely as we can. Beautifying is an art now. It is studied in Paris and New York by many women who will make it the profession of their'lhtgs.” “How do they beautify the lips?” “We turn them out and paint them with a salve inside and the saliva which lubritates them in conversation moistens them just enough to make them a perfect ruby in color.” “Do you brighten the eyes ?” “No, indeed. We don’t claim to de anything of the kind. Such proceedings ruin the sight and are foolhardy? in the extreme.” ■ “Can you change the shape of the nose ?” “We can modify the shape by lines and beautify the nostrils by tinting them. We modify large ears by skill-fully-drawn lines and by a peculiar arrangement of the hair. A hollow cheek is tinted low and dark in order to fill it in ?” “Do you make dimples?" “We paint them, making them very white outside. To make them really the muscles must be cut and that we never do.” “How do you whiten the.hands?” “By the use of doe-kin, medicated gloves. Medicated masks are also used to sleep in. They are manufactured of silk rubber; a lotion is’ first applied to the face; then the mask is put on and induces perspiration and the effect is whitening and healing. Brown powder is used for making brunettes. There is a bleach used for tho skin. Moles are removed by a preparation with a glass pendil in three hours.. Superfluous hair is not removed by electricity, because the effects are not pleasant, but by a preparation which ii

put on the face. When it is rubbed off the haif comes with it.” \ * “I presume yon have had a lot of experience with theatrical people?" “Yes. They are more easily suited than anybody else, because they understand the subject. They take creat delight in sitting down to be beautified; it saves them lots of trouble and we perfume them so delicately, you know, and make them feel so comfortable. I wouldn’t mind going through it occasionally myself.” “Do you beautify gentlemen?” % “Well, I should think so. They are as vain as women any day in the week! The Washington beautifiers claim that one-third of their busihess comes from men. They are not fumy or hard to work for; but they take delight in being handsome.” —Denver Tribune.

Retribution.

A young Englishman at school at Harrow one day went to the assistance of a stout farmer on horseback, who was struggling with a gate-lock. He opened the gate and held it back for the rider to pass. “Thank you, my boy!” said tbe farmer, who happened to be a very wealthy man. “What may your name be?” “My name is Green,” returned the youth, with an ill-timed burst of imagination. “And what is your father?” “Oh, my father’s a cheese-monger,” said the smart scholar, chuckling internally at his ready wit, “and he lives in London in Theobald’s road—rather a small shop, with two steps down out of the street." “I’m very much obliged to you,” said the farmer. “You’re a cajutal young chap. I shan’t forget you.” “Don’t!” was the scholar’s final thrust. “Bemember Green and a cheese-monger in Theobald’s road.” And up the hill he went, vastly pleased with his own brilliancy-. — What his feelings may have been when, ten years later, a young gentleman by the name of Green was.advertised for whose father kept a cheesemonger’s shop in Theobald’s road, and who, in return for politely opening a gate at Harrow, in the year 183—, was left a large legacy by the wealthy farmer, recently deceased—what his feelings were then none of his relatives cared to inquire too closely, but it was generally observed that from that hour tbe unhappy young man neverTbst aq opportunity of insisting on a rigid ad--herence to tho truth. For neither was his name Green, nor anything approaching it, nor had his father ever, even in the remotest manner, been interested in cheese. Indeed, as his son has been heard pathetically to remark, in the smallest amounts it invariably disagreed with him. — C&rnhill Magazine.

What It Costa to Die.

The cost of cremation by the new company in this city, it is said, will only be $25. The fact that a person dyiug in New York can have suit tble mortuary rites performed for the comparatively small sum of $25 is most interesting, and will, we feel sure, do much to rob death of its terror. Dying in New York is a luxury, and one about which most peoDle show a strange aniount of thoughtlessness and inconsideration. A citizen can live three years in Arkansas for the price of a conventionally respectable interment in New York. Yet few take such a fact as this into the slightest consideration in consenting to a demise. We are, indeed, acquainted with one conscientious old Irish woman, with a complication of diseases, who faithfully attends tho dispensary, because she is “on her relations,” and she knows and admits that they cannot afford to bury her. fcuch a spirit deserves an historical record and wide’ emulation. The fact ds, we are much in need of a society for the cultivation, not of plain living, but of plain dying. In these hard times it is often little less than criminal that a main subject his estate to the prolific expenditure cf a funeral. We have . heard of a gentleman who, at the solicitation of his wife, gave up tobacco and thereby, in the next over SSOO, which all went at last for bis burial expenses. Hero was certainly a disproportion between eftort and its result that is most painful to well-balanced minds, and very disheartening to the aiiti-tobaCco propaganda. —New York Medical llecord.

Giving a Dog a Bad Name.

Home months ago a Washington society lady presented Capt. Smith, United States army, one of the military dudes stationed at the national capital, with a beautiful little dog. The son of Mars was very much pleased with his present. “What a beautiful little animal he is, Miss Blank: just like you! What lovely eyek he has, just like vcu! And suchlittle white paws, just like you!” Miss Blank laughed and said: “Just-like-you would be a good namo for him. Suppose you call him Just-like-you.” “An excellent idea, ha! ha!—Just-like-you !” * -'rf Not long afterward Gen. Jenks. who is very much of a martinet, called at the headquarters of Capt. Smith, and, seeing the dog, admired it very much, and asked: "What do you call him? - ' “I call him Just-like-you.” “Young man,” said Gfen. Jenks, sternlv, “I never permit my inferior to joke with me. I resent your familiarity, sir.” ' ’Y . “I am not joking, GeneriLu That is really the name of the dog. He is called Just-like-you.” “You shall hear from me, sir,” exclaimed the General,withdrawing from the canvas. > Gen. Jenks called on the Secretary of War, and now Washington society will htiss Capt. Smith, who was so useful last season in leading the german, for he has been ordered to report for duty at Sitka, Alaska.— Tcxa^Sff tings. Thk value of agricultural implements exported ( from the United States in 1884 was $3,442,767, neatly six times r what it was iu 1864. In 1883 it was still greater. The bulk of the implements oonsists of reapers and mowers, and goes to Great Britain and its colonies- , _____ Liars are the cause of all the sing aad crimes in the world. —Epictetus