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IF 1 HAD KNOWN," Bh? lay with lillies on her pulseless breast, Dim, woodland lilies wet with silver dew, "Dear heart," he said, "'in life she loved thei^ best! For her sweet sake the fragrant buds were blown, For her in April-haunted nooks they grow? . . . Oh, love, if I had known! "If I had known, when yesterday we walked, xier nana in niuie, aiong ine iieugus iair, That even then the while we careless talked, The shadow of a coming loss was there, And death's cold hand was leading us apart? If I had known the bud she would not wear Nor touch, lest she sliould mar that perfect grace, ' To-day would press its dewy, golden heart Against her poor, dead face! "Last year, when April woods were all aglow," She said, "if it be death to fall asleep," And, bending, kissed the lilies sweet and wet, "A dreamless sleep from which none wake to weep? When I lie down to that long slumber, dear, And life for you has dark and empty grown, Come to me then, aud though I shall not hear, Lay your sad lips to mine, and whisper low: {If I had known: Oh, love, if I had known I) That you would not rorget. ?Adelaide D. Rollston, in The Current, The Convict's Daughter. In the year 186? John Harlow started for San Francisco, Cal., on a tour of rccreation from a long course of legal study. Nothing of special note occurred to relieve the tediousness of his journey; he arrived at his destination much shattered and fatigued. Immediate rest was needed, so lie sought a boarding-house in a dull, quiet part of the city,and for some days enjoyed the seclusion and rest he ?tood so much in need of. His meals were brought to his room, and therefore he had no opportunity to make the acquaintance of his fellow-boarders. The house was run by a matronly-looking woman named Weutworth,whose only weakness seemed to be her Voluble tongue. However, she atoned somewhat for this in the excellent quality of her menu, and, as this is the paramount object sought for in a boarding-house, whatever foibies she possessed in the eyes of her tenants were graciously overlooked. Her dftncrhtpiv a rnmplv vnimor nrirl r?f e , j-?B.O" , seventeen years, assisted her in the household duties and at evening usually entertained the house with pleasiug music on the piano. One evening as Barlow was enjoying a fragrant Havana in his room, and musing retrotpectively over old scenes and faces, the oft plaintive strains of a delicate but musical voice seemed to emanate from th tarlor below. There was something in the tone of the voice that told him he had never heard it there before. The air ipoke volumes of sadness and breathed such pathos and distress that he turned involuntarily in his chair, and noticing in the mirror at the other side of the room what a change it had wrought in his "eatures, he jumped np suddenly and was ibout to shut out the voice from his Rearing, when it suddenly stopped. The iiusic had piqued his curiosity. He would know the owner of that pathetic toice. The chatting of two women below told him that some lady friend of Bertha? Mrs. Went worth's daughter?was prob- I ably paying her a friendly visit. He dressed himself hastily and repaired to the parlor, where, under the pretext of wishing to be called early in the morniug, he had opportunity of speaking to Bertha. She seemed pleased to be of service to him and invited him in. The Rubicon passed, he was soon engaged in delectable conversation with Cora Lane, to whom he had been introduced by Bertha? Of all fair faces he had ever seen here wafe the fairest. There was an air of melancholy suffusing the entire features that seemed in keeping with the sad, blue eyes, the expression of which completely Charmed him. Something indefinable in her sweet, gentle manner, felt its way 4 AOrtl ir inf A Kio KvAar^ nn/1 if f a iuiv xxio uiccwt uuu taiuuu it iv beat with rapture. He could have sat for hours and contemplated her lovely face, ?o great was his infatuation. That night as he lay on his couch, with the picture of one fair face engrossing his every thought, he felt, he knew, that Cora Lnna was the only woman he woufd tverlovf. It was late the next morning when ae arose, despite the fact that Bertha had done his bidding. His first impulse was to rush to her and learn all she knew of Cora, but better Judgment prevailed. He concluded to ascertain through quiet inquiries all he could about his new-found love. Bertha, however, anticipated him. She saw,with a woman's quickness, the profound look of admiration on his visage as he sat gazing at her friend the nigh*, previous, and intuitively surmising that he wished to know something of her friend, told him of her own accord all that she knew. uora was employed as saleslady in a millinery establishment. She was twenty years old, was supposed to be an orphan, and came originally from the East." This was all Bertha knew of her. although she dwelt eloquently on her amiable manners and goodness of heart. Every night for two weeks Harlow saw his love safely home, but not as an escort. He could not nerve himself to meet those great blue eyes, for he felt that the venture would lead him to a passionate avowal of the love that was surging against his heart like a vast billow. No, he must strive to beat down the vehement attachment that was almost consuming him and let time shape his fortunes. Harlow had passed two evenings at the house of Cora, and each time he set eyes on her some new-boru charm revealed itself to his enamored vision. A certain air of constant reserve in her demeanor aw^-d down all efforts on his part to divulge the dictates of his heart. If the mellow gaze that wreathed her face at times conveyed to his mind the looks of reciprocal affection, its relaxation into a inooav, apatactic stare dispelled. the telicitous thought. Still, his manner and . - conversation appeared to please and entertain her, and at times she grew eloquent in her responses. One gentle moonlight eveniug, when the stars studded the vaulted heaven with unwonted brilliancy and bracing breezes stole softly through the trees and flowers, bringing with them the in- j vigorating influences of a balmy evening 1 iu May, Harlow unbosomed his heart to her. He told her in impassioned tones of his adoration; how life without her would be a dismal blank; how ho had watched her night after night, and felt happy to know that he was close to the woman whom he loved; how eagerly he had looked forward to the time when he could tell her all. She listened demurely, with downcast eyes, but uttered not a word. That she did not remonstrate with him reconciled him to the belief that the affei tion was mutual. At last she spoke and her melodious voice thrilled hiai with delight. - B - She told liim 6he dearly loved him, loved him for his kindness to her ; that ever since she tirst saw him his image wiw indissolubly mingled with her daydreams; every moment in his presence "seemed an hour of happiness to her. These endearing words threw off the restraint he had sustained, and in the ardency of his fondness he drew her to his side, and repeatedly kissed the pale, upturned lips. "Corn, you will be my wife," he said, looking down upon her with unspeakable joy, as if the answer he sought was already his. She drew herself gently from his cmbrace and the gaze in her lovely eyes appeared to pass over him to space beyond. She spoke as if in a dream. That can never be," she uttered, at the same time throwing her arms about him and sobbing bitterly, as if in deep anguish. To be refused by a woman who had just avowed herself in love seemed a strange anomaly to him. A hundred conjectures filled his brain at that moment. Was her heart preocuppied? Was there a man on earth who aaored Cora Lane more than he did ? Why could she not be his wife ? ' Don't ask me why, John. It is better for us if we see* each other no more. Forgive me if I make you unhappy, but it can never be; to be your wife would only bring sorrow and distress to our home." Her enigmatical words puzzled him. "Cora, dearest, I will forgive everything. \vn *?>;n lifo nnpw hlnf. thr> mst from your sight; ouly say you will be j mine." She strove to auswer, but the profound anguish in her bosom mocked all efforts to scorn. The look of melancholy sadness that overspread her entire features told Harlow that his love was hopeless. When he left that night with the arrow of deep disappointment sunk deep into | his breast she exacted a vow from him ! never again to broach the subject of ! matrimony: but he left her with the sorry I assurance that she loved him better than auy one on earth. For a week Harlow never left his room. His sprightly, gay spirits vanished, and long tits of dejection supervened. If Bertha suspected the cause of the change in his appearance she never be[ trayed it. He pleaded an attack of malaria, to which he said he was a victim; j this was all he offered in explanation of i ins niuuuiuess. At the end of his hermitage a longing desire to see his love ajrain reasserted itself. He tore himself from his seclusion and went to her house. When he entered, to his bewildered consternation he learned she had left the city. A note was handed him by the lady of the house, which she gave him at Cora's request. He tremblingly tore open the envelope. The note read as follows: "In three years. Cora." Every one of those words seemed as if written in fire. He was mystified beyond reason. The thought, "Was she trifling with his affectiom?" took the place of all other considerations. But where was the motive? The more he cogitated over the short note the more he clothed it with an occult meaning. He left the house, repaired to his nnrl in fV*a TTPO^V nf 1*?Q lifo'fl QW_ 1WU1, auu iu vuv n* vva w i utu mv w uu piness wept poignant tears of woe. The Occident had no more charms for him; he determined to return East in the course of a fortnight. He left San Francisco an altered man and returned to his home, but the thought of Cora, ever present in his mind, drew a veil of sadness over his whole life. Some months afterward he finished his law studies and entered upon his chosen profession. At the end of three years his life was just as void of happiness as the day when Cora told him it could never be. He resolved at last to once again visit the West and learn, if possible, her whereabouts. When he arrived at San Francisco he callcd at the house where he had last seen her; she had never been heard from, and as far as the good lady could enlighten him she might be dead. Mrs. Wentworth and her daughter told the same despairing story?she had almost dropped from their memory. The one great ooject; 01 me now wa3 j to find her and learn from her own lips the meaning of those odd words: "In three years." If he failed?alas! he dared not contemplate the consequences. Find her he would, if it took years of constant search. Such is the love of some men, who in their constancy sacrifice years of happiness for the sake of one mortal. Not a stone was left unturned in his untiring search for her, but to no avail. No one could be found to give him one ray of hope as regards her whereabouts. But he found her at last?found her a new woman, even lovelier than lie had ever secu uci. What strange, impelling influcncc led him to -visit San Quentin he will never know. Was it a mere whim, a fancy, or , was it the hand of fate striving to make amends for past discourtesies? San Quentin is a small town, situated on the bay of San Francisco. It took him but a short time to ascertain that there was nothing there to interest his attention. But stay?the State's prison is located in this small village. Another train did not arrive for two hours; why not pass the the time there? It was the extravagant desire of a morbid temperament. He had no idea that the sights there would interest him any more than the commonplace realities of "the village itself. He repaired to the prison. The warden was very kind and urbane?lie could go through the Drison if he so desired. An I O ? i # usher who escorted him through the different departments explained every point in the workings of the plat-e, but he listened indifferently; he felt that not one of the hardened criminals he passed by could _be more chopfallen than he. In going out he had to pass by a waitingroom. He casually looked through a hole in the panel of the door that opened into that room. In that room a sight met his gaze the effect of which almost froze his blood. Was it Cora's face he saw, or was it the phantom of his love? To assure himself he peered again; the truth was very patent. Her arms were entwined around a tall, manly form, but I he could not see the face, as the back was turned toward him. The usher, I nnft/.!tir# Ti'ilrl fi vftfl fr'\ ! r\ ilr/nv Knn uuutui^ 5"*"* I to one side and a>kcd him if he was | sick. A glas3 of water was all that he requested, as he sat or rather fell into a chair. lie told the man that it was an attack of the vertigo; it would soon be over. He felt as though his reason was fast leaving him; strange phantasies shot through his brain. That Cora loved another, and that person a convictcd felon, was his first deduction. The terrible truth sank into his soul like a poisoned shaft. A craving for revenge on the man he had just seen all but controlled him. That man should never live to enjoy , Uic I^p;.iuias that should li: Ms. - The ushafc. in his dismay was about to shout for help, thinking he was caged with a mad-man, when Harlow suddenly sprang to his side and hoarsely whispered : "Who is that man in the other room?"' The latter seeing that his companion had subsided somewhat in his wildness, deigned to reply. It was John Lane, who was about to be J discharged from prison. He had been i convicted of forgery and had served a , fifteen years' sentence. The woman was j his daughter. This was all he knew. The sudden revulsion in Harlow's feel- i ings stunned him; he reeled and would have fallen had not the usher caught him . in time; tnen reason again iouna its way j to the brain. He slipped a gold coin into the hand of the usher and left the prison. He sought a tree near by, whose large, drooping branches afforded a good ensconcement, and, throwing himself on the green grasses, began to ruminate over the exciting circumstances which had just taken place. That, indeed, was one of the happiest moments of his life. His heart never beat so lightly before. The words "noble, grand girl," escaped his lips in the delirium of his delight. Ah! now he knew the reason of her magnanimous sacrifice; of her refusal to accept the hand of the man she loved. The filial love was paramount to all other affections. Why had she not told him all? So great was his love he could have forgiven everything. He lay on the cool grass for sometime, turning over future plans, but was at last roused from his blissful thoughts by the noise of the approaching train which was to bear him and his love back to San , Francisco. He watched the devoted couple until j they boarded the train, and then took a | seat himself in the rear coach. How clif- ' ferent was the journey back. Every object along the road sparkled like a dazzling gem; every plot of grass disclosed some new-born charm; the very airseemed to breathe happiness. John Harlow's new life began when he boarded the train that afternoon. For reasons better known to himself he did not see Cora Lane for two weeks after the prison episode. He allowed the excitement of the past few weeks to completely die out before he ventured to see her. Then he found her and reiterated his undying affection. They were soon married and returned to the East, but the father remained in San Francisco, where for many years he led a good, useful life, and fully expiated his past misdeeds. John buried the secret of his wife deep in his noble heart; as regards that his lips were forever silent. Often as be sits and gazes into her large, liquid eyes he wonders if she reads his thoughts; but as she never speaks of the reason why for three long years she avoided the man she loved, he rests contented that his secret is unknown to her. ?New York Journal. A Poultry Exchange. A poultry exchange for this city, saya the New York Mail and Express, has be- 1 come an established fact. The officers ! for the present year, who have just been J chosen, are: President, M. M. Pomeroy; i Vice-President, J. Frank Clark; Secretary, Henry C. Friuk; Treasurer and Manager, L. N. Clark. In a talk with Manager Clark to-day it was learned that the chief objects of the exchange are to be: 1. Holding an annual competitive exhibition of thoroughbred fowls and poultry appurtenances in one of the exhibition buildings of this city. 2. Conducting auction sales of fancy fowls j during the spring months, and at such other times as the board of trustt-es may direct. 3. Leasing and occupying a suitable store as headquarters of the exchange, and keeping on sale fowls, incubators, poultry supplies I and apparatus of all kinds pertaining to the ! poultry business. 4. Advancing the poultry interests of i America, disseminating poultry literature, improving shipping facilities, protecting buyers of fowls ana eggs against imposition, and assisting the members of the exchange in the sale and purchase of stock. Mr. Clark said that tlie annual exhibi- I tion will bo oh a larger scale than any : heretofore held in this country. The; American Institute building has been se- * cured for the lirst exhibition, to take 1 place next December. A number of 1 novel features are to be a part of the exhibition. Among these will be a sales dfmartmont in wTiif'b fnwls nrft to be entered at a moderate fee for sale only, j and at the end of the exhibition birds in that department will be sold at auction, i A collcction of pigeon9 will be made an especial feature, and premiums arc to be offered for the best record made by a flight of homing pigeons released during the exhibition. To make the show of an international character, the president of j the exchange is to go to Europe during the summer to arrange with the leading , poultrymen abroad for the entry, care and sale of their fowls. There is is to be 1 a separate department for market poultry, to contain capons, cross-brceds, , dressed poultry and eggs, and there will ' be a restaurant in the building where ' will be served the products of the poultry*yard cooked in every style. Garibaldi's Great Strength. After Gordon Garibaldi was my m#3t famous acquaintance. What impressed me most about him was the immense tri cep?, or shoulder musclcs, he had. They ! were just like two half coeoanuts sticking j up underneath his white Mexican mantle. From Hecuan and Morrissey to Mace (Savers had a remarkably small arm) I never saw anything like it. It would have made two of theirs. And the saber he used! Two of the Life guards' blades forged into one would have just made it. j Many a time have I seen that awful saber ; sweeping right, left, right, left, like j clockwork, as he mowed down the enemy like grass, seated on his old white charger, leaving "a lane'' (that is the only I word) for us who followed him closcly. "Avanti! Avanti" rang from his lips all J the while, and his trumpet voice rose high above the loudest artillery fire. His strength was simply herculean, and was ' J j?. n 1 n???? T>,,Vm i only surpasseu uy vxcm-iui ivuuu,..?+ ?? Mall Gazette. An EleTen-Year-Old Deorslayer. Mr. C. C. Richards, of Ward No. 2, ( tells us of au odd occurrcnce near his home last week. He and others went out for a deer drive, when the dogs got , up three and chased them so close that they jumped into his tield. Ilis little son, j Wychie, aged about eleven years, who ' was along, joined in the chasc, running his horse after the deer at break-neck . speed, and pressed them so closely that ' they attempted to avoid him by jumping over three logs lying close together. The 1 largest one succeeded in making the i jump, but the other two struck against the i ithira log and killed themselves, one ol being killed outright and the other being < dispatched by Master Wychie, who dismounted and finished the one which had ! only been stunned. We dare say this 1 circumstance, coupled with the grit and activity of the little fellow who per formed the exploit, lias never been | equaled in this State.?Colfax (La.) ChwnicU. | : frafc*???? ^? ? ? "AGRICULTURAL. ! ( TOPICS OF INTEREST RELATIVE ] TO FARM AND GARDEN. 1 Destroying Canker Worms, The female of the canker worm has not j the power of flying. and can only reach ( the extremities of the limbs, on which.she ( deposits her eggs, by crawling up the ( trunk. They begin this with the first j warm davs of snrinpr wpoks hpforn buds , - 'X o? * J and leaves are ready to put forth. It is C[iiite common for them to do this while the nights are cold enough to harden tar in vessels around the trees intended to obstruct their progress. This old method lias therefore given way to spraying the trees with water in which London purple or Paris green has been dissolved, thus killing the worms after they begin to eat. It requires .very little poison to do this, two teaspoonfuls of poison to a barrel of water being sufficient. Too strong a dose might burn the apple leaves which when young are very tender. Pruning Forest Trees. A few leading rules for the proper performance of this work should be carefully remembered, and then any one can do it reasonably well the first time and better every time afterward: First?Study the tree well, and note where it is not properly balanced and where limbs are interfering. Second?Cut everything that is to be removed irom trie smallest sprout to tne larger limbs quite close to the base, and * leave no stump. s Third?Cut away oil the smaller young wood which grows inward to the centre, or which crosses another, or which is evidently not wanted and will have to be removed at some future time. Fourth?The too luxuriant and lengthy new wood of young' trees should be shortened one-half, cutting hall: an inch beyond a bud on the outer side! of the branch, and never upon the insid?, which would force the new growth in tb.e wrong way. Fifth?Every cut should b<2 made smooth from ragged edges, and 3aw cuts should be smoothed over with a sharp 3 knife. c Sixth?Never use an axe.?lYew York i Times Keen Bees. 1 "We advise every farmer to keep bees, ( cot only for the money it may bring, but c for the gratification of his family. We 1 advise it, as we do the growing of an e abundance of strawberries, grapes, etc.? 1 as one of the ties to attach children to * the farm, by making it the best place on v earth. ."We also advise it for its influence t upon the young, in teaching them to ob- ? serve. Still, the main reason for keeping J bees is, the "sweet tooth;" if that be * gratified, all other benefits will follow. 0 The way to begin bee-keeping is to begin c small. If one procures a single colony a tn a modern, movable comb-hive, and by t the aid of one of the standard works a (such as Quinby's) cares for that colony 3 and its increase during the season, he will P have a knowledge of bee-keeping that \ will enable him to manage many hives, 1 and which will enable him, if he should I bo elect, to keep bees for profit. One piece c of advice should be heeded by all be- e ginners: Do not begiu bee-keeping un- * less with the determination to give if; that * thought and care which will make it a E success. Nothing can be more unprofit- y able and demoralizing than a neglected c ap'iary. Begin, then, with a single hive. I and experienced bee-keepers are agreed E that this is the proper month i:a which to F begin.?American Agriculturist. 0 A Point or two of Grailting. d An Old Grafter, says in the New York Tribune: It matters little how the graft is set if only the cut which exposes its wood and the line between bark and * wood is made smoothly, so that it can at some point at least come into close con- f tact with the same line or lace on the a stock, for this line is the only one on which new growth is made. The con- i: tact must be close and held firmly either e by a tie or by the natural pressure of a cleft stock. The wax used to cover e every part of the wound closely and com- v pletelv water tight, must not have any e free fat or oil to soak out and clog the circulation from cell to cell, and the formation of new ones to effect the desired c union. The grafts must bo of sound 0 wood, fresh and plump. Cherry and 0 plum (which must be grafted early to secure success) are usually kept through }: the winter in compact moss, roasted saw- 1 dust or mould, to secure theoi from in- c jury by winter winds and frosts by which they are liable to suffer. * c The stock should be cut buck, so that f the grafts may be set either near the col- c lar or near a main branch, in order to its a having a sufficiently copious supply of 6ap. The more we cut bacx the more c young wood we are likely to grow, and c the longer we are likely to wait for fruit- ? ing. If we set near the extremity of a ? healthy branch we see the fruit sooner, but have less of it and smaller specimens, because of the scantier supply of sap so far out from the roots. And there is risk . in setting grafts very early on small ex- i terior shoots of the graft drying too njuch to receive the sap when it arrives. 7 Grafts must be kept entirely dormant until set, the buds not startling in the least. They must neither be swelled with wetness nor shrunk by dryness. . Farm and Garden Notes. Good drainage is esseutial to a good garden. F Cauliflower is a delicious vegetable, s not as well known outside our large cities j as it should be. f( Horses need extra care and plenty of l< time to eat iu when first put to farm si work in the spring. n The thorough use of currjcouib and brush on horses and cows, that are shed- t ding their coats will pay. tl Plant Lima beans on the poorest soil you have, supply no manure and stop the c, growth of vines at the top of the poles by c successive pinchings. Cows that kick or draw milk from ,, tneir udders should t>e sent to me ^ butcher. Remedies to prevent such vices are not only useless as permanent cures, but also troublesome to apply. Y/hen sheep are hurdled on small areas it should not be overlooked that in ^ addition to the profit they may give the animals distribute the manure evenly, pressing it into tho soil with their hoofs, which is quite an item if the expense of a, hauling manure be considered. tj Whenever sheep arc afflicted with ticks ^ or other animals with vermin, it indicates tl a low condition of the system, caused tl either by the vermin in the first place, or tl by improper feeding. The better the o /]; AI _r il,* nnlmnlc fllfl IaOO lioVil'liflT xl OUilUlllUU Ui LUC auiliiiuj wi4v? u to attack. They will not improve until g relieved, and the longer thi;5 be delayed B( the more difficult it will become. I, The deeper the preparation of the soil d the deeper will the roots penetrate, thus h advancing closer to moisture, as well as fc permitting of the growth of a large pro- S portion of those rootlets that collect food, tl ; r' - j ' - "? > *4- ' < ' xr [f the soil' be shallo w and {he subsoil hard he roots will spread nearer the surface, hus rendering them not only more liable o being winter killed, but also to damage rom drought. The supposition that young sows are letter for breeding purposes than those ;wo or three years old has done much to mpair the vigor of swine. The custom >f using young sows grew out of the loss >f young pigs by pressure from the heavy loma Knf o lornrn re cnw cIiahIH AUUiJj UUV l? lUl^V WlVVVllU^ UW II lot be fat and heavy. A sow over two ,'ears old will give more milk than a ganger one, and, as a rule, she will prolucc stronger pigs. The reason poultry* killed at home, hough young, is not as tender as that nought at the market, is that the former s generally not killed until wanted, and vhen eaten is still rigid with death, while hat bought at the poulterer's has been villed at least hours?more often days. Poultry ought to be killed several days jefore being eaten, dressed at once, and, vith a few bits of charcoal in it, hung in i cool place. The hereditary law of transmission of rigor and health holds as strongly in the vegetable as in the animal kingdom, ac:ording to experiment. E. S. Goff secetcd seeds from a feeble tomato plant, ind also from a healthy plant of the same rariety. A row of feeble plants and a row >f healthy plants were the result. Suc;essive experiments showed the same diference. Seeds from an immature or green omato produced feeble plants. The easiest and surest way to destroy ?anada thistles is to give an absolute iuramer fallow, by which no green thing 3 allowed to appear above the surface, shallow plowing once in two weeks durng one seasou's growth will do this. If here be rocks, stump5;, ctc., all these )laces must be hoed thoroughly at each lowing. If the remaining weak roots hould send up tops the next season, a borough cultivation in corn will kill out hose remaining. The prevention of any jreen plant from making leaves for one vhole season will totally eradicate it. Origin of Some Political Phrases. "Are you going home to look after rour fences?" a reporter of the Cinlinnati Enquirer asked John Sherman, vho laughed heartily and replied: "Do you know how that expression >riginated? No? Then I'll tell you. When I was Secretary of the Treasury I :ame home to Mansfield for a few days at >ne time. As soon as I got there there vas an influx of newspaper correspond:nts from all parts. Some of them antounced that I was getting ready to run or Governor; others that I was working ip a boom for the presidential nominaion. One of them came to me and boldly ,sked me what I was doing in Ohio. It ust happened that on thatjday I had conracted with a man to repair some fences in my place that were in a tumble-down ondition. So when that newspaper man ,sked me what I was doing in Ohio I old him that I had come home to look iter my fences. He published what I aid, the expression was taken up by the >apers and went all over. It has even >een used on some occasions in the Britsh Parliament. It's funny how these >olitical expressions originate. In some ity just before election the Democrats mployed an immense number of laborers o lay water pipes. That's what gave me o the expression 'layin' pipes.' You reaember that at one time the Democrats vere called locofocos. During a Demoratic meeting in New York the partici>ants grew so turbulent that it became icccssary to extinguish the lights. The >articipants, left in total darkness, pulled iut locofocos, as the old fashioned aatches were calle'd. That's how that iame originated." Meat and Drink. Taking excessive care about diet is beieved to be a cause of dyspepsia. A white saccharine powder derived rom coal tar serves to sweeten the tea nd coffee of diabetic patients. Cotton seed oil is among the astonishog variety of things in the cheese we at which have no business there. The recent increase in the supply of ggs has Deen chiefly from the Southrest. . A heavy Northwestern surplus is xpected in this market. It is declared impossible to detect the otton seed oil adulteration of lard, the ase being much more difficult than that n Olive on inspection. One of the feminine butchers who has lad a place for twenty-five years in Washngton Market, boasts of being able to :ut up a calf quicker than any man. Good buttermilk made from sweet i ream and taken fresh, is a form of food ' ound serviceable in cases of diabetes. A liet of pure buckwheat flour cakes has lso proved advantageous glycosuria. No more oleomargarine under the name T butter in fair France. And the plain haracters of "margarine," or i(oIeomar;arine," must be burned into every form if article containing these manufactures. It is now the rule, according to "medial authority, " not to abstain from drinkag water, but to take three and a half >lnts daily, and large people must take our and a half pints. The next wave aav be something greater.?New York \Iail and Express. TIip Our ancestors of the eighteenth century, q fact, ate and drank more like swine han human beings, and long before they iad attained the age of 40 set up launches, the like of which are never een nowadays, and which made them a ubject of laughter for gods and men. Jlecdiug was necessary to preserve these oiks from apoplexy, and a man of the ist century resorted as regularly to his urgeon as his modern successor pays a lonthly visit to his hairdresser. Pomiinc wnrp olprrAntlv tftld hv .IflvPr i .. v.w O" iscment in the papers of 1701 that, "at lie Huminums in Covent Garden," they 'might sweat in the cleanest, and he upped after the newest, manner." The harge without the cupping was very high, ven in those days?5s 6d. The Humnuns, apparently a corniption oi Hammams," was simply the Turkish ath of the present day under its then amc.?London Times. Trousers of the "Swells." The "swells" never wear the samo -ousers two days in succession, and, hav1 g the "off" pairs carefully pressed, alavs display the crease or fold of newess down the front; but patent appli- , nces have placed it within the menus of 1 10 "sons of toil" to keep their trousers' nees from "blisteriug." Trousers with , le fold of freshuess or newness down 1 ic front are becoming so general that ] ic "swells" incline to the blister orbag- 1 incss, indicating wear. \> liKio uomns, le novelist, is as noticeable for the bagineas of the knees of his trousers as )me public men are for their shocking ad hats, and when here some years ago eclared that he did not feel entirely appy until wear had produced this ef- ( ict. He, however, was something of a j ybarite, and studied comfort rather lan style.?JVew York Tim's. ' *'*?: "]:. -a/zr-.v ~-*4W(y^JS*B&*p'-- ~ A CITY HOSPITAL _ 3 REMARKABLE WORK DONE WITH SURGEONS' KNIVES. ~ ( A Patient Relates Her Experience? ( A Baby's Club Foot Changed? | Catting Out a Cancer? i Wonderful Surgery. i \ A woman who was a private patient for several weeks in a leading hospital in New York city consented to tell a Mail and , Express reporter some iuteresting facts in . regard to the operations performed. They arc remarkable instances of medical 1 and surgical skill. The lady was never ' in an hospital bofore and was quite cun- ! ous to observe the actions of patients, nurses and surgeons. She had an interesting experience with her next door neighbor, who was suffering from dementia. The second night I of her stay, he jumped- out of bed and ran into the ward shouting "Murder 1" j and "Police!" until half the hospital was ' aroused and nurses aDd attendants, orderlies and doctors came rushing to the ' scene. As that weird cry of murder rang and echoed through the long halls and corridors the effcct was remarkable. An engineer in one of the private rooms, with crushed head and almost senseless, roacpd his lnw mnnns nf nnin and lis tened. He had been brought to the hospital two days before, after falling down an elevator shaft and striking on his head, sustaining an injury which upon examination proved to be a compound fracture of the skull. A very skilful operation was performed by the attending surgeons. His brains were entirely removed and broken pieces of the skull extracted and the uninjured portions of the brain returned to their place. Even the little threc-months-old babe, brought there with club feet, now straightened with brace and bandage, ccased its wailings of pain and listened, too. A little three-year old boy with a broken leg, who had been moaning all day and calling for his mother, hushed his cries and, clutching the bed clothes, lay with wide open eyes the remainder of the night. In the woman's ward was a poor creature who had fallen from a fourth-story window, breaking both legs, three ribs and sustaining internal injuries. The sound [of the alarm below partially aroused her from her lethargy and she began calling thp HtHp rhildrr>n who were nlavinc on the floor of her tenement room when she fell. Although everything was done for her at the hospital, the poor woman died the next day. The old man was finally coaxed back to his room and the door locked this time to prevent another escapade. "It is astonishing," said the lady, "to witness what is accomplished in difficult surgery at the hospitals, even in these days of scientific discoveries and achievements. After almost cutting people in pieces and putting them together again, and keeping them in bed a couple of weeks, they turn them out cured. And it is done so easily. The simplest remedies possible and system and regularity in every detail are strictly observed. The service is admirable. Only trained and experienced nurses, male and female, are employe^ and then the conveniences and paraphernalia are so perfect. The ambulance comes and goes, and brings patient after patient. If their injuries are slight fViatt nm oonf LUC (YUUUU3 ttic UICHCU, UUU LUbJ ui^ovuv away; if serious, they are immediately taken to the operating room and from tlience to the wards. No questions are asked, no gossiping is allowed, and oae of the nurses said to me, when she thought I was too inquisitive: 'We are here to worlf and not talk.' "One day I noticed unusual excitement among the orderlies and my nurse informed me she would have to leave mc for a couple of hours in charge of the nurse from the next ward. A middleaged gentleman suffering froim a cancer on his tongue had entered the hospital to be operated upon. The seriousness of the case caused the flutter of excitement among the nurses. The scent of ether was in the air and we knew the new patient was being conveyed to the operating room. Two hours passed and he did not return. Another hour and the orderlies bore him to his room. Ths operation Kflfln nnfirolv ClinnACfiflll KnmP nf I IIUVA UC6U VUW1V.J his teeth were extracted and the under jaw had to be sawn apart in sections and ] turned down over the neck, while about 1 two-thirds of the tongue and roots were * removed: then the separated jaw was re- 1 united, the head and face bandaged and two hours after he was sleeping like a babe. "The service in a first-class hospital, it seems to me, is the best medical and 1 surgical skill that science can command. The great benevolence and self-denial with which the physicians work in such institutions are to be greatly admired. I 1 want to say to all who are afflicted that , to be conveyed to a hospital is by no , means to be conveyed to the grave." ; Smiles as a Means of Expression. In the first place, there is the presenta- ( tion smile of society. You are presented . to a lady, who not only bows to show j that she puts herself at your feet, and ( perhaps gives her hand to show that she ( docs not meau to pull hair or scratch (I I j still follow the doubtless correct evolu-1 , tion theory of ceremonials), but she "smiles and smiles," to show that her mood is one of sweet amiability, and that you are, therefore, for the present, safe. Then there is the pretty, pearly, rippling laugh, with which your "nutbrown'1 anecdote, which has been heard already twice this evening, is received. Here, certainly, there is no put-up cascade of emotion that seeks for an outlet. The sweet lady's laugh is partly for your ? ii,.1,_:*i 1 ?c SaKC, mill yuu iu;ij iuci mc oun iiiim ui j self-applause, aud partly for her own, hecause she knows she laughs well.. She pulls it exactly as if it were a stop in an organ. Then there is the bitter laugh of the '' sad, sad young man who wishes to ira- ' press upon your mind the hollowness that ^ all things have for him; and the well- * managed smile of Jacques, the elder J1 cynic, who thinks thus to wither your youthful aspirations and, at the same P time, to suggest his own unfathomed * deeps of cruel disillusion.?Atlantic S; Monthly. The Position Taken During Sleep, s A very large number of adults form E the habit of sleeping iu one particular b position, such as lying upon their right * or left side. A smaller number sleep r< upon the back. Some persons sleep j r witli tliC neaa greatly exienueu; mure often it is flexed considerably upon the trunk. Many must have the head greatly elevated; others can only sleep with \ the head very low. Some observations ii made by Br. G. Nosovitch (Wratsch) ji upon 235 soldiers showed that 37.5 per c cent, slept upon the right side, 23 per t cent, on the left, and G.5 per cent, on e the back. h It has yet to be determined whether c liny particular harm caa comc from sleep- "V iug in a certain position which the indi- o vidtial unconsciously aasuincs.?Meilical tl Record. d 's\ / HOUSEHOLD MATTEKS. ?? * ro Restore Whiteness to Flannels. nnen nauaei uu uauuic jreuuw uj ige, it may be restored to whiteness br ;he use of a solution of twenty-four )unces of Marseilles soap in.fifty pounds < )f soft water, to which is addea two:hirds of an ounce of spirit of aaua immonia, and the whole thoroughly nixed. Immerse the flannel, stir around well then rinse in pure water. How to Clean Wallpaper. Take off the dust with a soft cloth. With a little flour and water make a iump of very stiff dough, and rub the wall gently downward, taking the length )f the arm at each stroke, and in this wav afo around the room. As the dough incomes dirty cut the solid part off. In the second round commence the stroke a Little above where the last one ended, and be very careful not to cross the paper or go up again. Ordinary paper cleaned in this way will look fresh and bright, and almost as goou ws new. oume papcro, however?and these most expensive ones ?will not elean nicely; and in order to ascertain whether a paper can bo cleaned, it is best to try it in some obscure corner, which will not be noticed if the result is unsatisfactory. If there be any broken places in the wall, fill them up with a mixture of equal parts of plaster of Paris and silver sand, made into a paste with a little water; then cover the place with a little piece of paper like the rest, if it can be had. Recipes. Tapioca Cream Pudding.? Soak two tablespoonfuls of tapioca in half a pint of milk over night. In the morning beat the yolks of three eggs very light and mix them with the tapioca and half a cup of sugar; stir into one quart of boiling milk and boil for five minutes. Flavor with lemon or vanilla, and when cool put j the whites of the eggs, beaten to a froth, ~ on the tpp. Dry Bread Fritters.?Two cujjs of dry, fine bread crumbs, two tablespoon* ? J il L-lf - ?'.i *Ua? IU1S prepared nour, nan a piuu ui mum less of milk, four well-bcaten eggs, half a cupful of sugar, a tablespoonful of butter anu a few currants. Boil the milk and pour over the bread, dredge the currants with flour and mix all into a stiff batter. Drop into hot lard 9s doughnuts and send to table in powdered sugar. Rice Podding Without Eggs.?Two 5 quarts of milk, one-half teacupful of rice, a little less than a teacupful of sugar, the same quantity of raisins, a teaspoonful of cinnamon or allspice; wash the rice and put it with the rest of the ingredient! into the milk. Bake rather slowly from two to three hours; stir two or three times the first hour of baking. If properly done, this nuddiaz is delicious. Scalloped Potatoes.?Cut up cold boiled potatoes until you have aDoat s quart. Put in a pan a generous cup of milk, one teaspoonful of flour and. one -J) tablespoonful of butter. Set on the store and let it thicken, then put a layer of potatoes in a pudding dish, season with salt and pepper, and pour on a little of the gravy. Continue until all is used. Cover the top with rolled cracker crumbs and bits of butter. Bake twenty minutes. Fricassee of Mutton.?Cut two pounds of the breast of mutton into inch cubes; dredge with salt, pepper and r flour; brown in a tablespoonful of butter or the fat of the mutton. Put them . > in a stew pan with a sliced onion, cove* with boiling water and simmer until the bones slip out; skim off the fat, and when ' the veal is tender add a quart of peas and simmer fifteen minutes. A pint of boilea macaroni or asparagus tips may be usea in place of the peas. Fried Celery.?"Wash and trim tw? heads of celery, cut off ends, leaving th? white part about eight inches lon/j divide each head into four, lengthwise, and put into a saucepan of cold water W whicn has been added the juice of half a * small lemon?this prevents the celery * from turning black; put in a small tea- 3 spoonful of salt, boil slowly until soft* j take up carefully, putting it on a sieve, to drain. Then take three tablespoon* fuls of brown flower, a little salt and pepper, one tablespoonful of salad oil, the yolk of one egg, enough cold water to mix a thick batter. The white of the egg must be whipped to a stiff froth and 3tirred lightly into the batters Dip the pieces of celery into the batter, letting it cover them well, and drop, gently into imoking hot oil; there should be enough to cover them; fry to a light brown. Customs of Sunny Spain. When you go to a lady's house there ire terrible ceremonies to be gone through. When you rise to leave you ire bound to say: "My lady, I place myself at your "feet." Then" the lady says: 4 'I kiss your hand, sir. May you depart with God,'and continue well." rhen you have to answer to that: "May rou remain with God." And so you your hat being handed to, you'a^i? jf were a new born baby. The salutation^ ind greetings and farewells amon? t common people are many of* them vefr poetical. When I left my first Spanish aotel, the waiter and the chambermaid came out with the landlord to seT^llf iff. Albert Edward and I laid ourselves figuratively at the chambermaid's fbet. ive invoked all the blessings of heava. jn the landlord's head, ana in accoraince with Spanish etiquette, we expressed a hope that the waiter might re? nain with God. The group returned our idieux, and the little chambermaid made is a sweet reverence in the Andalusiau nanner (she was of Seville, was our nnJ "fJnnd.hv vniir lnrd /UH/ttyj ?UU cum, v-w. ~J J J - ? ihips; may we all meet again someday n God's big parlor." Now, I think that vas very pretty?don't you? "Chica" neans sweetheart.?London Rtfcru. Handy to have lu the House. A veritable boon to harassed houaeceepers has been discovered. This is the 'Witch's Ladder," "charm of marvellous )0wer," says Watford's Antiquarian, rom which wc take the following trustrorthy directions for its manufacture: 'Take four wheaten straws, tie two toother, top and bottom, for one side of lie ladder. Tie the other two in the ime manner, and then insert short traws between for steps. Now take mall feathers and place them up each ide of the ladder, and the thing is done. fenv, if aught go wrqng, if fire wilt not urn, nor irons heat, let the ladder be raved to and fro in the air, while the 3i]ucst is muttered, and all will be ight." Doctors at the English Court. I saw a list of the household of Queea rictoria the other day, and I am astonilied that she has lived to celebrate her ubilec. She has three physicians in rdinary, five physicians extraordinary, wo sergeant surgeons, three surgeons xtraordinary, a physician to the houseold, a surgeon ditto, a surgeon apotheary, two surgeons and apothecaries at 1 Windsor and two at Osborne, a surgeon culist, a surgeon dentist, a dentist t? tie household and two chemutB and fl ruggiats.?Pittsburgh Qhronidc.