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PSALIt OF LIFE." Tell me nut in mournful number*, “Life ie but en empty ilream !" the eoul U dead that elaubeni, And thin^f are not what they eeem. Life Ja real! Life it earneat! And the gr*re U not it# goal ; “Dust thou art, to durt returnest,” Wat not apoken of the eoul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, la our destined end or way. But to act that each to-morrow Finds us further than to-day. Art is long, and time la fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Btill, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife. Trust no fortune, howe’er pleasant; Let the dead past bury its dead; Act—act in the living present— , Heart within and (hid o'erfcead ! I Lives of great men aU remind us We can make oiir liy^s sublime; And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time— Footprints that perhaps-another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forelorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. I*t us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate. Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. Hrxmt W. Loxohullow. VOJl Poor Jack. “Life ia worth nothing to me if I can not drees well!” She said it, and she meant it, from her heart. And she looked down scorn- folly and angrily npon h«k coarse dress and common shoes. Msny and many a 1 time the thought had been in her mind; and now it formed itself in words which she ottered stood; and, as they fell upon the evening air, a hand oame down npon her shoulder, and, turning, she saw her husband. “Is it really so, BeU?” he aeked, and drew her to him. A baby thing, thiragh ebe Bad a womans yean and stat—s a beautiful creature, with a creamy skin and eyes blue aa sapphires are. Not a common woman ; one in whoae veins bine Mood ran. You could aee that at a glance, though the man whose wife she was was a common sailor. They told a romantic story about her in that sea-side palace. How, on a voyage across the ocean with her father, the sailor had won her heart How there were, afterward, secret meetings and troth-plightings ; and how, in the end, the discovery of the love affair and her parent's anger had only driven Bell Raymond to elope with her sailor lever, and marry him despite all opposition. She had been disowned and disin herited ; and now, were they to meet in the street her own father would have passed her as he would a stranger; for, to his mind, she had disgraced herself and her family irretrievably. That Jack Marble waa good and hand some, and love-worthy, was no excuse for his daughter ia Mr. Raymond’s eyes. He was a common sailor, that blotted out fill merit at once and forever. Other people marvelled at Bell Ray mond’s choice, and blamed her too. But she waa very happy. Her young hus band idolized her, and at the first money was plenty. Oertain suns, whieb Jack’s hard-working father had scraped together for grainy day, and so bequeathed to his son, were withdrawn from the bank in which they had been deposited ; and BeU bad a tasteful wardrobe, for this her father had sen' her, with a cold message to the effect t her own personal prop erty was a s need ever expect at his hands. • Then soon Jack hoped to be a mate; after that, a captain; some day, captain and owner—the grand climax of a sea faring man’s smbition. And to Bell, the fact that her husband waa a tailor, threw a romance about him which a landsman could not have had. Their life passed on in a plessant sort of waltz music, and neither dreamt of any change. Yet change negm Jack left hie young wife for ayuyage, understanding, as she could not, how the little hoard had melted sway, and would continue to melt like snow under a sunbeam, and the voyage was a disastrous one, ending in shipwreck. Many were loci, and Jack only rescued at . death’s door with u broken limb, and a miwrahic experience of starvation and consequent cannibal ism. Indeed, Jack himself came user making a meal for two maddened mess mates, who afterward wept like babies »t the rtmembmnee of their horrible thoughts. Jack had a good constitution, and re covered. His ness oame back, and hit hair, long and lank, when they took him from the fleeting raft, curled close to his handsome head again. But hn oame baek to Bell with a wooden leg Mid a knowledge that .his sailor life waa over, and that he should never now aspire to the title of mate, and master, and grew 1cm, the com rooms to which he had taken her for a very humble place; and poor Jack, salt to the very aoul and unfit for any lands- man’s work sa a flak for a parlor-cage, humbled himself and said nothing of that aching place where bis dreams of sea and of advancement lay covered up, and sunk into the vacant place left by an old boatman who had plied his trade at the wharf and along the shore of (ha town where Jack had been born and had lived all his life. He had strong smut yet, and was a wonderful oarsman, Mid they did not starve. But their life was the pinching life of the poor, and it came soon to the coarsest fare and the coarsest drees; and Bell, who had been used to dainty food and elegant attire, suffered more th«« the sailor who knew what hard tack waa' and was used to roughing it He never knew how bitterly she re pined until coming upon her in a day dream he heard those words : “Lifeis worth nothing tome if I must go^shabby.’* 8he wept on his shoulder, as he held her to him and sobbed out at heart. “It was more than she could bear. It was terrible. Their housemaid at home had better clothes. It was horrible to look out of the window and hear the nailers’ wives quarreling with their hus bands, or scolding their children, or beating down the fish mongers, the blast from whose tin horns filled the street from dawn until sunset. Was such a life worth anything ? and she oould not rid herself of it for an hour, for her clothes were not fit to wear where people were well dressed; and she would not be seen by her old friends now.” . Bo she sobbed. And Jack’s hand smoothed her fair hair, and his lips touched her cheek, and by-Mtd-bye he whispered: •‘I wish I had never met you, last; or I wish I’d drifted by without a signal; for, d’ye see this is all my fault; and you’d be safe in harbor now if you hadn’t sailed out of it with me. Only I couldn’t foresee the future, lass; and I thought to make yon a captain’s wife; by-snd-bye an owner’s lady. It would have been better for yon if Jem and Bill had made a meal of me, I’ve oome to think. Rid of me, your father wonld take you home; well—it may happen yet” I And then Bell put her arms about his neck and whispered that she did not re gret her love for him. Bnt struggle as she might with it, the words that had been said of her folly « onld recur to her mind, and she knew that she did regret something. It was hard to help it. Jack knew it also. He ate his humble supper sadly, and went-out again. His day's work was over, but he wanted to be alone.. — He limped down to the shore where it was lonely, and washed the highest by the sobbing waves, and stood looking out. —“I meant to make her a captain’s lady,” he mattered. “>I meant to show the old hunks ashore that she should have everything he could hove given her. “There’s a house with a sea-view, sud s lookout top, that I meant to buy; and for rigging, why no lady iu the land should have been spruoer. No woude, she frets, soiling her white hands with dirty work, and going shabby, too. What right had I to turn pirate, and tow her away from her moorings, and the® make shipwreck of her f Yes, it wonld be better to be down below, among the wrecks—a'great deal better. She must think me an enemy; I’ve only done her harm; I who love her better than my Ufa.", ' Then he looked sea ward again moodily. A terrible storm was coming; his sailor eye saw that without a doubt. / Ha Mt it in the air; heard it in all sounds; and the leaden foaming of the distant Vavea, the black meeting of the sea and sky, made it manifest to anyone. A ship had been wrecked the day be- ore, and her wreck was lying beyond he harbor bar. Jade fell to thinking of her. “Shell go to piacea to-night,” he said. “The storm will make an end of her,” and he thought of the ship as of s sensate human being whoae troubles were nearly ended, with a kind of envy, too. If he should live until BeU hated him how oould he bear it ? His earthly hopes had gems. The ideal ship to be named the BeU Marble would never be his, and he must limp painfully through the world to Ma life’s end now. But he oould beer that if ha oould only keep Bell's heart Could he without money ? He put his curly head down on kb bronaed hands, and, prayed a strange, innocent, rfmpie prayer: “Pleaae to give me money enough to keep my wile’s love, nod forgive me if 1 am wrong, tor Fm only a poor sailor adrift without a compass, and not Lapkin, and don’t know.” Pdrhapa hie theology waa at fault; but hn had heard that he must pray for what he nesdsd, and he tried the advice practically. After that he stood up, and looking along the beaak saw further on an ex cited group, and went to join them. SaUoa,- boatmen, a spruce captain in his mhore ekrthea, an idle women or two, tome children, and a gentlem who had nothing seafaring in hbappai anca, and wora hb am in a etthg. Tk gentleman waa talking. “A thousand dollars for the man who bfk tha pretty brmp them. Is no man anxious to make money so easily? Two hoots' week. I’d do it myself if I had not apmhied my am. I saw the wreck from the light-house. There will be no difficulty, and she will go to pieces be fore morning. A thousand dollars! There’s an offer for these men, Onptsin rlor.” ^ . ly men are fond of their lives,” ■aid the captain. “Look at the sea sud the sky. I should like to help you to your casket, but I can’t advise these men to go. It would be murder. ” “Pshaw 1 The fellows at our college would have done it for fun.” “A sailor wonld not," said the captain. “If the ship lives through tlie night, there’s s chance.” “Bat can she?” asked the stranger. “I think not," said the captain,-- ^ “Good heavens! think of it!’’ cried the man. “The fruits of five years' labor in Europe are in find casket. I’ve toiled with brain and l>ody. I’m mined if it is lost. There are men who would do it for a trifle. Yon bear my nfh-i, nil of you. Bring that casket before sun set, and I’ll give you more,” Theu a brown ^band touched his am, and a voice hnsky with emotion said: “I’m your man, on oho condition.” The gentleman turned. “One who is not a coward,” he said. “There ain’t a coward here,” said Jack. “I know the danger as well os they, bnt promise me one thing. Promise me before these people, so that you must hold to it. The money you will give iqe if I get ashore again ?” "The money I have promised will l»e paid at once,” said the gentleman. “Hear me out, please," said Jack. That money, if I die out there, you’ll pay to my wife. Swear that, and I’m ready.” “Jack," cried the captain, “it is sheer madness.” Jack smiled ; a strange, heart-broken smile enough. "I’U try it," he said, "on that condi tion,” The gentleman had torn a leaf from hb pocket-book, and wrote upon it hastily. This secures s thousand dollars to yoar wife,” he said, “Yonr name ?” "Jock Marble,” said the sailor. “To Jack Marble's wife,’’said the man. “No danger, tbongh ; as I said before, our college buys would have made sport of it. 'Horry, my man ; hurry." Jack glanced over the papers. “Keep it for me, Captain Taylor,” he said. “I’m ready now. sir.” Then he went to unmoor hb boat*ond make her ready. ♦ Afterward, os he dropped the oars in the water, and pulled from shore, he looked, back and said in s whbper, blown Jock had not brought tha casket, and would receive nothing froflk 1m man who had sent him forth. Bell arged him with teem in her eyae Ip this. “I wonld not have it, Jack,” she said. “It b as though I eould have taken urn—y hr ttla” —= So with Jack’s health (he two re turned to their old humbleJHa, They warn never happier, Jock often said, than in these days, though afterward wealth cams to them; for Belfs father re lented at death, and mads her hb heiress. And’Jack’s great hope of Wfeg owner of a splendid steamer come to post, al though he made bnt one* or bro voyages iu her, otter all, and those wftti Bell. And people who knew bow rich they were wondered sometimes tLbtOaptain Marble's wife wonld not ba finer. Al ways neat, she never decked herself as many mmm did. She knew why, and so did Jack, who tried to move hei often, bat no one else, unlees my reader guesses how those words which she had spoken had haunted her on the night through which she wept for Jack as one dead. How It Feels. i) Those of our readers who scalped may like to compare perience in thb matter with that of a New York man who has recently returned from the remote West, and lob hb bob in s fight with the Indians, wMDs those who have not enjoyed the privgego may wish to know how the operatfM feels. He says; “Imagine some eae who hates you with the utmost Mtsnaity grabbing a handful of your hbk while you ore lying prostrate and helpless, and giving it a sudden jerk upward with force enough almost to loosen tha scalp; then, while thb painful tenahm. b not relaxed, imagine the not pobfeakrly sharp blade of«e knife being nut quickly around yoar scalp with a saw-Mke mo tion. Then 1st yoor imaginattoa grasp if it con the effect that a strong, quick jerk on the tuft of hair to releaas the scalp from dinging particles that may still hold it in place would have on your nervous and physical systems, sad you will have some idea bow it feels to -be scalped. When the Indian sawed hb knife around the top of my » senes of cold numbness whole body. Thb was quickly by a flash of pain that started at my feet and ran like an electric shook to my brain. That was but momentary, but it terrible. When the Indian tore the scalp from my head it seemed as if it must have been connected with cords to every part of my body. The pain that followed the cutting sroand the scalp from his lips as it passed them by the+^-b^ frightful, but ii wu emtocy Bell. Good-by, “—. \ .• darling. fnrions gale ; “Good-by, Good-by." __ They watched him out of sight. The little bark was a mere eggshell for the storm to play with on£ such a night. “He’ll never come liaok no more, muster,” said a woman who stood near the gentleman, and the faces of all about them said the same. An hour thence the tempest had bunt over them, such as only one old woman in all that sea-side place oould remem ber having known before. And then (it was fifty years or more since the day) twenty dead bodies had been coat npon (ho beach in the morning j dmdiea of fishermen caught outside the harbor bar by the storm. There were sod hearts in the town—a town filled with sea-going folk, nearly every honsehpld of which had some dear one afloat on the ocean. Bnt every woman there had a thought to spare from her own sorrows for poor Jack Marble and the young wife who wept for him. She had been proud and held herself above them; bnt they forgot that when they saw her cost* down npon the sand in the gray dawn, all her golden hair about her face. She had heard the story of her husband's compact with the stran ger, and knew why he had been so ready to barier his life for gold Knew os none there knew that he had no hope of ever eoaung back. Touch that money—not she—never, though the starved. Nor would she go book to bar luxurious home, where, doubtless, now she would be welcomed There she would die, and they should bury her in the sea, to float away and find Jack. All the world was nothing without Mm; nothing, she knew that. Life was worthless without Jock. And no one gave her any hope. No one dared. ‘ The wreck had vanished. Bits of her came in with the tide. Boon it might bring that whieb had bean Jack to her feet. All day she watched for It with maddening eyes, with a horrible scab rending hope and fear mingling in her omul. But the sea brought only in the dusk a little boei. One old man in rad •annel, with a tarpaulin upon hia head, at the can. A stranger who earn# up to the men on the beech, and thing to them something that set them all a shouting, screaming, cheering, ut- Jaek Marble's bum with odd and sobs; and before they told her Bell knew that her hmfaand had by wave and wind to an infant’s nem, and she bent over Mm, bar Bps to his, sod words were spoken then that bound their hearts more firmly than they •ter had been bound before,. „ ..r*' % JOHNNY JONES. (KTORTORIAL KRTEBWMt. IMFKMOMMKNT KHVIIK. lath Ttrurt tells the following ■toryThere need to be considerable lumber banners done on Bay, and there lived a noted on the bay shore, named—say Johnny Jones, who was noted for the handy way in which ha could make a rhyme. He used to ■teal kgs from a oertain man, who was Justice of tha tooe, and cut he was convicted, and boil wanted for his appearance at a higher court, bnt ha canids’! get it, so he appealed to the Jasttee to go hia bail. “If you will make ms a rhyme I will,” ■aid the Justice. He agreed tot hot said he must make it from hie boat. So he got into the Imat and took np his paddle. “Now, Johnny, for the rhyme,” said the Justice, who was afraid he might deceive him. But Johnny was true to his promise and gave Mm this one: “As true as I am in this boat, and you are on the shore, I have stole forty logs from yoa sad IB stool forty more,” and he want They need to deet at a town meeting, Well, (hay Tfee Aastetr a lb* PelW. The London Rehu newspaper was ia a London poHoe court aa an intonated party to one of the moat ludicrous cooes which ever oouvntaad a court. The de- fendant was arranged upon ttan nhaigme. The first aeonoed him of being a “va grant, without visible and the eteond alleged^ that fhod toaae to snspeet that ha waa alaoa “suspicious character, "perhaps a et dynamite oonapimfle aolntoly refused do give arrested him any himself and had destined to noma. When the Court demanded to know tha latter the prieoner said it “Hugh MacLaaghlin,” end upon being addressed as “Mister, be cause he was a real gentleman.” The grave sincerity with which this claim was put forth by the ragged and be grimed onfortunaie made the eeurt rear, and the police significantly alluded to the • Trisha am of the name.” The testimony against the prioooet was that he had been detected prowling about Hanover square and placed under “shadow.” When he Amt attracted pottee attention he waa diognioed as a match peddler, in which character ha had scoured so trance to many of the artato- . , . ..J erotic residences of that neighborhood. ,t — to .rnpomd to THE HUMOKOCS PAPEH& «rmA* mu _—_——=' : - a saow-aau. “Oh, the mow, the toauttfal mow, (But the not of thb beautiful know.) 1 Tlu the sttaf that Iks mu* bay 1 a qibm, (lbs mow, sot “poms"), sod four The unfortuoata sMuthat hops to to 1 Tha the msl^boy who bolds it Is j At bis baek, a* he paw, the I - oil cay Utoarfl, compared with the tortare that followed the tearing of it from my head. Streaks of pain shot to every nerve. My knees were drawn up almost to my chin, and my fingers dosed convulsively together in the snow, and tha was all that I re membered.” “The Air He waa mate of a vessel commanded by a N An tucket skipper, returning from a long cruise. They had got aa far aa the “South shoal," when the-mate went aft and reported that the provisions were entirely out. “It can’t be,” ah- swered the skipper. “How can tha 1)6?” '\l do’no, but it’s a fact.” V'Have you examined alK the casks?” “Yea, sir.” “Can’t the cook scrape something out of the bread barge?” (a box the sailors’ hard bread is kept in). “He’s scraped it all out long ago.” The crew grew clamorous, and the “old man” called them aft to take “pot lack” with him on the quarter deck. In wonder they went to see what was coming. “Now, boys," said the skipper, pointing to where Nantucket lay, and from which quarter a fresh breeae waa blearing, “now, lads, I will trea you to something delicious I Open yoar mouths wide!” They did so. “Now, men, fill your mouths and stomachs with this beautiful air pudding!” The socnewms so ludi crous tha it kept their spirits up until they obtained succor and a fair wind carried them into port. they aloe acted aa fence viewers, elected a fellow named old Johnny didn’t like. AA aba® as they voted Johnny got np and got off Mm following ; “It appears very strange to my weak brains, tha bsm atamild hepnasaased, to pass a vote to sImqm a sheet to govern all the rest.” A jmimm a Bowdoin, it ta said, gave hiss a suit of clothes for (ha rhyme. 1 Johnny picked np a canoe ooe day ou the bay and pat it in his boom. A man named Hunter, of Topsham, heard of the find and declared he was going down to get the canoe, although it was not hia, Johnny beard of it and waa on the look out for the enemy’s approach. It was on a bright moonlight night that Hnnter started to fulfill hia oath. He unlocked the bom® and proceeded to the canoe and stepped into it. Just a that moment Johsmj stepped oat from some birches tha greta by the shore, gun in h.*d, sail spoke ss follows : “If yea get that i’ll pawn my hat I’ll stand not to dis pute you. I hsve got both powder and good shot, and I swear by god I’ll shoot yon.” The canoe was not taken. Aa OM Mferjr Revived. The Broad Arrow, an English paper, reviews the following story which has been told of many soldiers and national ities. It says: “Who is the hero of the following true story ? A mild but zeal ous disciplinarian was briskly passing a sentinel on his way to Ms official res idence, when he turned npon the stal wart gaurdian and demanded the reason why he did not challenge him. In vain the sentry declared tha he knew him to be the ; he was emphatically told Ms duty was to challenge every one who approached him, and, warming with ex citement, the gallant officer exclaimed, ‘Challenge all, challenge me, Or] ‘Well, then,’ sad the sturdy pupil, low' ering his rifle and bringing it to the charge, T do challenge you. Give the- countersign, sir!’ and the hasty superior, having in the course of his practical in struction allowed the word to slip Ms memory, was forthwith made a prisoner and driven into the sentry-box. So sit uated, the worthy preceptor was soon granted another opportunity of estimat ing the effects of his teaching. A police man, passing, demanded why the sen tinel had imprisoned the gentleman. 'You foolish fellow,’ said he, 'why, it is the 1* But the only reply from the sentry, was the vociferous demand, ‘Give the countersign!’ The police man, deeming his uniform to be a suffi- cient authority for passing the sentry had also forgotten to learn the word, and he too was ordered into the sentry- box, from which he and Ms distinguished fellow prisoner were rescued only when the sentry was relieved.” 1ST A MW TOM aocDoia. “No, indeed, nothing eould I to live in “Nor town just! “Yes, s*k questions about “That is jMt what I Httoabout it.’ “No one aakfl such impudent qn wttous in New York.” “No, hMtoed; if they did some one might ask who their giuudfsthei 1 Reemkmg Call. mente under several other dtagutaas and was finally arrested while tramping around collecting tribute aa s troubadour with a good voice and a very bad bus jo. a sxoiurr MISSION. The prieoner listened to the testimony with mingled cons terns tion and despair, but made no defence. He, however, pleaded, with choice and eloquent rhet oric, against being committed, but the contrast between hie acoompUshmeota and the rMxprejodioed Me esse. Final ly, iq dtoperafkm, the tramp admitted that be had been engaged in a secret mission j but claimed that he eould prove his respectability by persona in the office of the Evening Mho. Sure of their game now, the detectives lost no time to procuring the attendance of the chief editor of the AW*o. He failed at first to recognize the prisoner, but after a more nsrvfot sera tiny exclaimed. "Wh^, Mae I is that you?” and satisfied tbs Jndgethat the prisoner was no other then Mr. MscLaagMto, of the /fcAo staff, one of the best known of London journalists. He had been almeut from the office for several days engaged in the task of gathering data concerning the profits of London beggars, and, to his superiors, hod chosen to aecurt a standard by playing the beggar himself. After a hearty laugh around “Mac” was liberated. ___ IT MARS A DIFVBMXUK. “So yon have been fighting again on your way home from school 1” “Y-yea, sir.” “Didn’t I tell you that this sort of business had got to stop?” .. “Yes, pa, but—” “No exeusca. sir! You probably pro voked the qnarrel 1” MATTSK. ■* * ‘ ■ Customer—“Those shoes you osM flat ore frauds.” Shoemaker—"You moat be 1 They are aa gnodffl shoes sa 11 in my life. The leather in of l**d, they are well mode and a lent fit." Customer -“Yes; I admit AH that.’ Shoemaker—“Then who* is tha amt ter?" Customer—“Why, you osa, they seas five-dollar shoe bnt they have a two flni lar and-a-half squeak. ”-/»*««. JfWp (ta//. - “Oh, no! no! He colled me namesT" J«i And the Major must work talk Isas.”—Austin Sifting*. Agrfcultare iu Great Art tala The agricultural changes iu Great Britain continued to be of a marked character. The area devoted to grain crops the past year was 8,618,(175 acres, which is 214,705 acres lest than to 1882. Potatoes were planted cm 548,000 acres, and turnips and swedes 00 2,029,000 seres—all showing a slight increase; but mangolds, retches and other green crops have declined by 21,000 acres 00 the fig- urea for the previous year. Clover and other grasses show aa increase of 68,- 500 acres. The change from tilth to permanent pasturage ia again conspicu ous, there being 15,066,800 acres sa com pared with 14,821,600 tost year. Tan years ago grass covered 13,000,000 orres, while arable land has fallen during that period freu 18,186,000 to 17,819,000 acres. Orchards mo ou the end also market gardening, tar of live stock there la which leads to th of Meant vemn wil] he He Csrreeted Himself. “I notice in a paper that it ia no longer fashionable for (be minister to Mm the bride at the wedding ceremony,” said a wife to her husband, who was a clergy- Tbn boon ia conoiderad a full day a work, and yet some young men act as if a giii could be courted sixteen hours without being tired. “Yes," sadly responded the good man with a long-drawn sigh ; “many of the plessant featurea connected with the old- iashioned wedding ceremony have been discarded, and—” “What’s that?” demanded Ms wife ominously. J “I—I mean,” he stammered, “that the asneelem custom of k taring the bride should have been abolished long ago.” “Oh I” replied the mollified lady, re suming her paper. — Philadelphia fii'ening Cull. Wit,, win BaXMAC, who came to Amerii the express purpose of doing what poor Webb lost hia life in iltzmpttag, and who, attar vtatttng Niagara, wisely went assay, la now said to have onnonneedhia purpose to swim the whirlpool rapids to the spring. The French diver m taflof confidence; bui m-be hoe obtained a safe occupation to the leather hnatomfl, he wonld do well to stick to It. He will “Nrines ? Whst of it ? When • boy calls yon names walk along shout your business. Take off that cost!" “Bnt he didn’t call me names I” “Oh, he didn’t ? Take off that vest!’ “When be called me names I never looked at him, bnt when he pitched into you I-I had to fight r “What 1 Did he coll me names ?” “Lots of 'em, father! Ho said you lied to your constituents, and went back on the caucus and had— !” “William, put ou yoar coat end vest, and hole's a nickel to buy peanuts! I don’t want yon to oome up a slogger, and I wish yon to stand well with yonr teacher, hut if you can lick that boy who says I ever bolted a regular nomination or went book on my end of the word, don’t be afraid to sail to 1”—Detroit Free Fret. Struck (ML It was a Woodward avenue dor. A lad/ richly dressed sat in a corner of the <w and said to some one with her: 'I smell kerosene oil.” “So do L” answered her friend. One after another got into the oar, and the lady in the corner sniffed suopsrions- ly, and at last fixed her cyea upon a quiet looking little man near (he door. “I believe he’s got the oil,’’she iu e stage whisper to her friend. “I know it,” replied the friend. “There ought to be a tow against carry tog keroaene oil in the street ears. Such sn odor r end she glared at the little man. “I shall inform the superintendent, •aid the first tody, aloud. — “I shall inform the president of the road,” said her friend, with a fixed and glossy stare. “Ladiea,” said the little men, cheer fully, “hadn’tyou better move!- The kerosene from that lamp to the corner of the eafl has been dripping down on ye ever since we started, bnt serin’ ye both knew so much I thought I wouldn’t ■ay nything."—Detroit Free Prate. “flew shall ThtotoadW cult qnsetine to anew* beat plan would be to petrify •ril them tor cigar-store stone. This MB WAS OmWOBSBD. “Ho you have left your situation F’ "Yea; gave it np tost week.” “What’s the matter ? Can’t yon got •long pleeaeutly with the boas?” “Oh, yea; wu got along plineefltty enough; but he expected me to do too much. I had to open the store at 6 o'clock every morning, sweep out, weak the windows, keep the stoc|| in onflta^ sod finally whet does be do tapl pu^nfl advertieument in the newspaper, settled it. I am willing to work but I won’t kill myself for any an Philatlelphia Cult. wmrr point on OBADCATSa octal. Gol Play Poker (who ta to for dapH- eating hia pay accounts)—“Horrible 1 It will destroy all diaripliae to the ansy. Sergeant Mason has bean pardoned by the President.” Major Love tody (wfaoto ja for bigamy) —“Is it possible that the Ptarifcut has iltted such aa outrage on as offi- ? Why, it to calculated to our social statue as military ^ After this, 111 deny that I ever wore the uniform of on officer of the United States Amy.” Private Snooks (on guard)—“Ootonel, OPPOSED TO “fee,- said the Widow Flapjack, who ta chief executive officer of an Aus tin boarding house, “yea, I must mj I am very maeb opposed to prohMltou sod dosing up the saloons, and all that sort of thing. It’s all against the beat tatemsto of keepers and landlady*.” “Why, I am surprised to hear yon sn- press such imohrtattop ssnthnenta, and Too a church member, too. How do you make out that prohibition is against (he interests of the tandtodtos f* "If prohibition goes into effect ell the saloons will be closed up and then all the frae lunches will stop. Now, Fue noticed that among my young man 1 murders the dissipated ones ora t&e most profitable. Before they eonae to dinner they always step into the saloon and get a sour tmev or a schooner of toddy, or something of that kind, end they fill up on the free lunch, and When they oome to the dinner table they don’t oat hardly anything, while the riseffir young men who never drink just gorge themselves. Oh, my, yon ought to see ’em eat! They just take 1 and if it was'ttt for the I the ‘next moaning' feeling of the boarders suffer from I don’t know wbet we poor would do. Thete’d be no profit In the business. Yes, I hibitiou for purely 1 And the Widow went out and gave orders to < into seven pieeee inatcefiUf Siftinu*. * m .. . _ < ~ V,- V