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Contentment. We war glttin' on tol'able well? Matildy, the cliilders an' mo? If wo didn't out much of a swell, Wo war snug as wo wantod to bo. Thor war plenty to do in them times, An,' a'tliough 'twa'n't so very big pay, Wo managed to save a few dimos On our dollar'n a quarter a day. But there camo a rioh banker along, An' he built a house over the way. Then ov'rvthing seemed to go wrong With Matildy nn' me Tm that day? Our cottage got dreadfully email, An' we wanted, as never before, A porch, Hn' bay-window, an' hall, An' our name on a plate on the door.. Now, I never was much on advioo, But thero's one thing I reckon I know: "When a man's got enough to suffice, He'd bbtter just keep along so, An' mind his own business alono, An' not give his jealousy vent, For the best thing a poor man cau own Is a stock of good-natured content. ?Chicatio JMewa. CURED. Yeter Patterson was ill?at least he thought so?and depressed; he had a headache and he hated the dusty streets, in which the summer heat burnt and the summer sun shone before the green leaves had draped the trees, and potted geraniums, which had come to be so blessedly popular in New York, lent their summer freshness. "What shall I do, doctor?" he said. "'You say nothing ails me, but I can tell what my feelings are better than you can. I know I shall be down with something soon. I rode in a car with a half-dozen dirty children the other day?to the small-pox hospital, I haven't a doubt -very red and nasty looking, all of them; and while I was buying something in a store down Broadway the other day a horrid old woman begged of me because her husband was sick with typhoid fever. No doubt I have caught both diseases, and it's the complication that puzzles you. Couldn't relish my coffee this ^ morning; left my milk toast untouched. Hateful life, that of a bachelor at a hotel. Oh, dear me !" "Why don't you marry, then ?" said the doctor. "They need s? much courting," said Patterson. "You Bpend six months or so, at least, dangling at a woman's apron strings. You must go to the theatre and opera if she is gay, and to church if she is pious. At fifty a man likes his slippers and dressing-gown and chair of an evening. Jf it was just stepping over to the clergyman's and getting married, putting a ring on her linger and saying or nodding yes two or three times, why I wouldn't mind it, you know." Ah, well, courting is the fun of it all, in my opinion," said the old doctor, "bu-t every one to his taste. And my advice to you is to get out into the country." "To another hotel and more merceoy ary waiters I" said Mr. Patterson. "No," said the doctor; "go to a nice, private home. I know one?a motherly widow lady, who cooks a dinner fit for a king. River before the house, woods behind it, orchard to the left, kitchen garden to the right; no fever and ague; txo mosquitoes. Heavenly ! I am going up there to-morrow, and I'll see if she'll take you." "Very well," said Mr. Patterson; "I think I will try it." "And you must drink plenty of milk and eat plenty of nice home-made . bread." 'Yes, I will," said Patterson, overjoyed at least at hearing something that sounded like a prescription. "And yon would advise milk?" "Quart of it every day,'* said the doctor. "I'll take a note of it," said Patterson, "and if I should be very ill she'll nurse me." "Splendidly", said the doctor, and went his way. Mr. Patterson thought the matter over and (bought better of it every day, and when the little note informing hiin that the widow Would be willing to "take him . in an# do for him" reached him, he had his trunjc and portmanteau already packed, and was Teadv to start that afternoon. As for mo whiuw, ins aocwr naa prepared her for her boarders peculiarities thus: "Nice fellow; social; plenty of mon> -ev; thinks himself ill, but isu't; ought to be married; told him so, but he hates the idea of courting; marry oft some day, no doubt. 'Will you have me?* *Yes.' Call in clergyman, but then old bachelors are peculiar generally." The widow was a smart woman. She had married at sixteen, and had f, never fatfed to have her washing ovei when other people were hanging out theirs. Her bread always rose, her -cake wa* always good and her butter always aw^et,. At forty-five she had >married off all her daughters, was ^ , well-to-do, buxom and happy. ^ Her son and his wife boarded with A her, and she added to her plenHful savings by taking a summer boarder or two, if they happened to offer. "Fifty and a bachelor," said Mrs. Muntle, looking in the glass. "Well, it seems a pity; but when elderly gentlemen marry it is to some hitytity girl that leads them a terrible life, and likely it's for the best." Then she looked in the glass again; for the widow was but a woman, after all. Mr. Patterson came to the widow's and obeyed the doctor's prescription carefully. He ate bread and milk, robbed the orchard like a school-boy, and reclined over the strawberry shortcake after a fashion that would have inaue nis reputation at tne oar. xnen, too, Mrs. Muntle did not smile at his aches and pains and insist that he must be perpetually well because he had a fresh complexion and dimples on his cheeks. She had savory herb teas and potions which she produced when he complained of feeling miserable. For two months and more, Mr. Patterson boarded with Mrs. Muntle, and j happier months he never lived through, j Then he went back to the city for a 1 few weeks, returning in urgent need i of more pellets from the medicine i chest, and staying until the last pink ! chrysanthemum was blooming on its j withered branches. lie had grown so : fond of his little room, with its white j curtains and fresh grass-bleached linen, I of the country good things and of the i buxom Mrs. Muntle, that he could not I : bear the thought of parting with them altogether. | After all, why could he not buy a house and get Mrs. Muntle to keep it ior mm? ferliaps she would. He would offer a high salary, and she could have plenty of servants. Then, ; indeed, he might have friends to dine | with him, and be as happy as possible, j If only he could approach his hostess, showing her as he did so that he con sidered her his equal and a lady?and all that she certainly was; a clergy. man's daughter and the widow of a | country doctor. ! if?n. ?...k - : J 11 i. _ e 11 ? | aivci uiuui uuuaiuuiiiuuu lie iiuttuy i mustered courage for the effort, and | walked into the front parlor and sent ; the servant to ask Mrs. Muntle to ! please step there for a moment, j "Gracious !" thought Mrs. Muntle ! to herself; "what can he want?" | Then she blushed brightly, settled her necktie, took off her apron and ; walked demurely in. I "Be seated, ma'am," said Mr. Patterson. "Sit here please. Allow me to sit near you, as I have something to ask which may require some consideration." "Oh, dear, it is coming I" thought Mrs. Muntle. "I suppose you know I'm a man of considerable means, ma'am," said the oia bachelor, "able to buy a nice house, furnish it well and live in it i comfortably?" j "So I've understood, Mr. Patterson," i said the widow. "And of course it is 'pleasanter to ; live that way than at a hotel," said Mr. Patterson. j "I should judge it might be," said J Mrs. Muntlo cautiously. j "You judge rightly," said Mr. Patterson; "but you know a bachelor must be in the hands of servants if he i keeps a house. A gentleman doesn't want that; he wants a lady to superinj tend things for him?some one of taste and refinement and all that. Common people don't understand his .1!-. > : iceuuga, uuu mercenary servants are a poor dependence." "1 know that," said Mrs. Muntle. "You are almost as much alone as I, aren't you, Mrs. Muntle?" said Mr. Patterson, coaxingly. "The doctor knew him. He's going ; to do it just as he said he would if he ever did," said the lady to herself, j Aloud she answered: "Well, sir, I am pretty free, it is true. All my chili dren are married well." "I know money would be no object to you," said Mr. Patterson. "You V. l- T1..J. 1AT a i ** uavo euuugu. jjui n i was io ieu you that I hated boarding-houses and ; wanted a home, I think you would have pity on me. I'll buy a beautiful house, and you shall have complete control of everything; only to make 1 my strawberry short-cake for me all : my life." He paused and looked at the lady. "That is delicately put," he thought , "Now will you hire out for a houae> keeper, I wonder." , "I ain't romantic, though," said Mrs. Muntle; "but still we ain't young M --- J ii A- - i - ^ ueitucr ul us, uuu iu guui to utJ jusi j that with the most sentimental aftei I awhile." "Don't refuse me," pleaded Mr. Patterson. "Well, Mr. Patterson, I won't," said Mrs. Muntle. "I'm my own mistress and though I've never thought of i second marriage, why I think l'n 1 warranted in making one. And n< 1, doubt I shall never repent, for 1 thinfc i you've a fine disposition, and I under1 stand your ways and tastes." ' . ." ' ' ' \ Mr. Patterson listened. lie saw what he had done?proposed and been accepted without having any idea of what he was about. He looked at Mrs. Muntle. She was very nice and comely and ten years his junior, at least, if she was forty. He could not have done a better thing, and would be married without any troublesome courting. So he at once put his arm around Mrs. Muntle's waist and said: "Thank you, my dear. I consider myself very fortunate." He wrote to hi3 good doctor in about a fortnight's time, to tell him that he had taken both his prescriptions; was a married man and intended to bring his bride home about the first of the new. year. Elephant Talk. Mr. George P. Sanderson, whose position as officer in charge of the Government elephant-catching establishment in India has given him a greater familiarity with that animal and its i u:i- 1 *? uiiuits iuaa pernaps any oiner man living, says that elephants make use of a great variety of sounds in communicating with each other, and in expressing their wants and feelings. Some are uttered by the trunk, some by the throat. The conjunctures in which either meaDs of expression is employed cannot be strictly classified, as fear, pleasure, want, and other emoi tions, are sometimes indicated by the I trunk, sometimes by the throat. An elephant rushing upon an assailant trumpets shrilly with fury, but if enraged by wounds or other causes, and brooding by itself, it expresses its anI /*or Vvrr o nnrxfin J ?- ? I gvi WJ u buubiuucu IIUU1SC )^1 UI11U1ILIX | from the throat. ] Fear is similarly expressed in a i shrill, brassy trumpet, or by a roar from the lungs. Pleasure by a continued low squeaking through the trunk, or an almost inaudible purring sound I from the throat. Want?as a calf calling its mother?is chiefly expressed by the throat. A peculiar sound is i made use of by elephants to express | dislike or apprehension, and at the | same time to intimidate, as when the j cause of* some alarm has not been ; clearly ascertained, and the animals j wish to deter an intruder. It is proj duced by rapping the end of the trunk : smartly on the ground, a current of {air hitherto retained being sharply emitted through the trunk, as from a valve, at the moment of impact. The sound made resembles that of a large sheet of tin rapidly doubled. It has I been erroneously ascribed by some , writers to the animals beating their sides with th*?ir t.rnnlr The name waiter, in treating of elephantine traits, says: "It is exceedingly entertaining to note the gravity of young calves, and the way in which they keep close to their bulky mothers. The extreme gentleness of elephants, the care they take never to push against, or step upon, their attendants, doubtless arises from instinctive feeling designed for the protection of their young, which a rough, though unintentional, push or blow with the legs of such huge animals would at once kill. "Amongst all created creatures the elephant stands unrivalled in gentleness. The most intelligent horse can not be depended upon not to tread on his master's toes, and if terriUe^, makes no hesitation in dashing away, even should he upset any one in so doing. But elephants, even huge tuskers, whose heads are high in the Air, and whose keepers are mere pigmies beside them, are so cautious that accidents very seldom occur through carelessness on their part."?Youth's Companion. Formation of an Iceberg. The birth of a huge iceberg, a phenomenon that has been seen only once or twice by a European, and to a certain extent has remained a matter of theory, was observed by the Danish ' | explorers on the east coast of Greenland last summer. The bergs are | j formed by breaking oft from the end of glaciers extending from the perpetual | j ice of the unexplored interior to the coast and into the sea. The water buoys up the sea end of the glacier un^ til it breaks by its own weight with a noise that sounds like loud thunder miles away. The commotion of the water, as the iceberg turns over and over in the effort to attain its balance is felt to a great distance along the coast. The natives regard it as the work of evil spirits, and believe that ' to look upon the glacier in its throes is ' death. The Danish officers, when observing the breaking off of the end of the ffreat irlacier Pnfnsnrti?lr fhrnnoh their telescope*, were roughly ordered 1 by their Esquimau escort, usually sub; missive enough, to follow their exami pie and turn their backs on the infceri esting scene. They had happily com> pleted their observations, and avoided : an embarrassing conflict with their crew by a seaming compliance with the order. FROM BULL RUN TO LIBBY. j A. Reminiscence of the Noted Confederate Prison. What it Ooet a Congressman to See the Pirst Fight of the "War. "It was a happy morning for Alfred Ely when Charles J. Faulkner walked into our office at Libby," said Captain Warner, the former Quartermaster at Libby Prison, to a Chicago Herald correspondent at Centralia, 111. "Ely had exhausted the vast resources of an inventive mind to have his government get him out of the predicament which had befallen him by reason of his venturesome trip to see the first battle of Ball Run. The Lincoln Adminstration, while anxious and willing l-A k : ? 1. 1 - 1 ? * iu icbuiu linn t.u ins peupio, uouiu nob make a general exchange of prisoner h (a consummation repeatedly sought for by El) ) without recognizing the seceding states a belligerent power, and, along with other men who had met a similar fate, he was forced to remain our prisoner. "I well remember the morning Faulkner arrived at Richmond. He, as you know, had been Minister to the Court of St. James's, and when the war broke out lie came home and was arrested and cast into a Northern prison. He was afterward allowed to proceed on his parole to the South for the purpose of bringing about his exchange with Ely. The people in Richmond received him with open arms. He was exceedingly popular and when he made known the terms of his exchange the authorities said they would give a half dozen Elys j for him. He came to the prison office and in the absence of General j Winder I received him, and he at once made known his business. I was much pleased, not only because of Faulkner's return, but because 1 was glad to see Ely return to his home. I at once went to hunt Ely, and finding him T qoiiI 1 | tjutu* JJIT y J UUl I tTU tJt3LLl t3L H<iS come.' I took him into the office and there introduced them. Of course the meeting was mutually agreeable. Some Northern people had intrusted to Faulkner a sum of money ($200) in gold dollars to be distributed among the most needy prisoners. The money Captain Gibbs, the prison commander, turned over to Ely, who, in company with Lieutenant Booker, officer of the d?iy, went among the men and faithfully discharged their duty. It so happened that a certain Carpenter thought Ely had not dealt fairly with iiim in the distribution of the money, and he get even with him in a manner which 1 shall now relate. Ely had done a great deal of writing while a prisoner, and he wanted to take all of his papers along with him should he ever be released, lie therefore asked me to allow tho carpenter to make him a trunk in which to pack his effects. I did so, but Ely imagined that we would not allow him to take all, so he prevailed on the carpenter to construct a secret receptacle in the bottom of the box. Afterward he found out that there would be no trouble in his taking anything he wanted, and, for fear we would discover his trick, he tore out the fixture without telling the carpenter what he had done. After Faulkner came and Ely was exchanged the carpenter blowed the wholebusinessto an officer. uuu ? man was sent out in. not haste to capture both Ely and his trunk. Tie went aboard the truce boat and bored a biff hole in the bottom of the box, but of course it was a false alarm, and the distinguished ex-prisoner was allowed to proceed on his way rejoicing." Captain "Warner, who related the above, now resides here. lie is favorably mentioned in Ely's book on Libby Prison as being kind to Union prisoners. Ely, as all remember, was the Congressman from the Rochester, N". V.. district, who went down to soe the sights at J lull Hun tight, and was aU?Mi a prisoner and taken to Libby. IIh is now residing at Rochester, X. Y. i IVaiiiIikv nf IViifnt* The tannin of tea is thrown down l?y the lime of hard water, so th it if i?-a is infused in hard water at least me-third is wasted. II;ir?l water used for boiling meat and vefletaihles extracts their juices less thoroughly than nofc water does. Potatoes contain 75 per cent, of water; turnips, 90( per cent:; milk, 873 parts. The quality of water when pure is not impaired by stagnancy nor liable to fermentation, decay or putrescence; it would keep 5000 years and be neither better nor worse for keeping. Four closed jars, burled seventeen centuries at Pompeii, and taken from there, were found to contain atom 'or atom as the satna free air we breathe. The same Is said of water. An influx of organic refuse into a stream will affect it for several miles in its course, but at a longer distance the oxidation of the foreign mutter will take place and will rpstori* the water to> a purified state.?Philadelphia News. ^^sbSBSBKSKBB^^^^BSSSBSSSL The Mussel. What really prevents the mussel being more extensively used In thie country is the dread of its poisonous qualities. This evil reputation is not unfounded, though in reality a death or an illness from mussel poisoning is much rarer than a similar misadventure from eating the wrong kind oi fungus. Along the coast, in theii natural condition, especially wheu picked from the coppered piles ol wharves and piers, they are sometimes ill-conditioned. But reared in beds, the are invariably plump, delicate in llavor, and perfectly safe as food. It is generally something extraneous rathei than any disease inherent in the mussel, that occasions the bad repute under which they labor. The worst case happened some sixty years ago, when no fewer than thirty people in Leith showed serious symptoms of poisoning, and two of them died; but it was proved that the mussels had been gathered from the copper sheathed piles of the docks. It is true, however, that under certain circumstances, putrescent sewage matter and the poisonous spawn of its enemy, the star fish, have been believed to make the mussel unwholesome food. At particular periods, also, various molluscs are injurious, while at others they are perfectly wholesome. The ovster. though not actually poisonous when out of season, is by no means suitable for the table, and probably the mussel shares its peculiarities in this respect. A near ally of the mussel, the Mediterranean Noah's Ark shell, is eaten with perfect safety during the entire year, except summer months?a fact well known to the Neapolitans, who rarely infringe the rule without disastrous consequences. Every sort of shell fish is liable to this drawback; three years ago two children were alleged to have died at Rothesay from the eating of periwinkles. The nature of the ground has likewise a marked effect on the quality. In Falmouth Bay, some mussels, picked over the place where a copper loba cropped out, were so impregnated with verdigris that a hundred of them calcined in a crucible yielded a bead of metal as big as a pin's head. However, if proper precautions are taken, the mussel is perfectly safe. It is, moreover, so easily cultivated that, in Kiel Bay, branches laid down in the sea are taken up two or three years later laden with a marketable crop. The alarm produced by the idea of its noxious qualities undoubtedly does much to stop its consumption. Fashion, nevertheless, is not guiltless in the matter. At one time, for example, tho mussel was extensively eaten in Edinburgh. Nowadays it is in such scant demand that a Newhaven fishwife is recorded, in describing the condition of a spiritless sister, to have lamented that she never "rose aboon mussels."?London TeUgrapli. Til A Wolllth A# <'1.111 t* vauiu V? VltllAt The world's supply of nitrate ol soda and guano has been obtained from the arid rainless west coast regions of South America. Along the southern coast of Peru are a series of rocky, desolate islands on which no rain ever falls and only the gentlest breezes sweep. There are at present, . as there have been for centuries, myriads of sea-birds along the coast, and they, with thousands of sea lions, live, breed and die upon these islands. Guano is a mixture of the excrement of these seals and birds, the decomposed bodies of both smd the bones of the fishes which have been their food. These deposits have been accumulat| ing for centuries and in many places are hundreds of feet deep, baked into a solid mass by the tropical sun. These masses of guano were worked by the Peruvian Government from j 184D, wncn ttietr value as fertilizers j became understood, up to the war ' witb Ohili in 1H80. The annual shipments to Europe and the United States amounted to millions of tons, valued at between $20,000,000 and $530,000,000, all above the expense of working being clear profit. Thia should have enriched Peru, but it morely enriched her governing classes. ; During the war the Chilians seized the islands and annexed them to Chili. There have been no exports of guano since, but the Chilian Government is making preparations to resume the shipments, and it will probably be in f Ko o 1 ?> ??* ...u uiutnvv UCM jroiM'.? JJUHOOn Commercial Bulletin. Mistake of a President's Wife, A humorous incident is told around town, gays a City of Mexico letter. General Lallane sent President Diaz a sack of locuHts to show the enormous size, and the messenger, in*teasl of delivering the same at the offic?*,* delivered them at the residence, where the cook, mistaking them for some new species of crab, served them up. and when on tho table the mistake was discovered by Mrs. Diaz, but not "bii fore the family had partaken of some. Till Thon, Good Night. 1 Good night ! I havo to Bay good night To such a host of hostlcss thing* ! Good night unto that fragile hand, All quoenly with i(a weight of ringa; Go<k1 night to fond uplilted eves, Good night to chestnut braids ol hair. Good night unto the perfect mouth And all the sweetness nestled Uioro ! The snowy hand detains me?thon I'll have to say good night again. But thero will corao a timo, my love ! When, if I read our stars aright, [ shall not linger by this porch With my adieus. Till then, good night! Tou wish the time wore now ? And I. You do not blush to wish it so ? Ifou would have blushed yourself to doath To own so much a year ago. , What? Both thuso snowy hands! Ah? then, i I'll havo to say good night again. ? Thomas Bailey Jlldrich. HUMOROUS. The first thing in a boot is the last. ! "Foreign relations"?French novils. A seamstress' exclamation ? u A. aem!" .Nothing tries the sole of a maa more than a shoe-peg. The crow is not a particularly musical bird, but the farmer always associates him with the corn-et. Talking about antiquity and the age >f things, we submit that the o)?loat Derry is the elder-berry. The only persons in the world who lo not like to see redeeming qualities in the human race are the pawnbrokers. Two stupid Michigan hunters shot ft woman, mistaking her for a bear. A woman should never be mistaken for anything but a dear. A snail who goes about his business I and doesn't stop to gossip with everyi bug he meets can creep 300 feet bo i i.wDeu ouiiup auu sunaown. xuacs Eur enough for any snaiL 44 Johnny, is your sister in?" "I don't know. Lerome see?what's your name?" Barnes?Mr. Barnes." 4 All right, Mr. Barnes. You just sit down and I'll ask Sis whether she's home, but I don't think that's the name." Professor?Why does a duok put his head under watery Pupil?Fori divers reasons. Professor?Why does he go on land? Pupil?For sundry reasons. Professor?Next. You may tell us why a duck puts his head under water. Second Pupil?To liquidate j his bill. Professor?And why does i he go on land ? Second Pupil?To | niaKo a run on tne bank. How Many Eggs Will a Hen Layl We often read of hens that lay 200 eggs a year, says the Farm and Garden, but such statements do more harm than good, by Inducing the inexperienced to believe such to be a fact. Any one who is familiar at all with poultry knows that during the fall all hens undergo the process of moulting or. shedding of feathers. This requires usually about three months, or one hundred days. Aa there are only 365 days in a year, we have 265 days left after deducting the moulting period. If a hen lays regularly an egg every other day she will lay 133 eggs; but but) win prouaoiy lose tnree montns In batching out her broods; even if she is a non-sitter she will take a restingplace. As moulting is a heavy drain on the system, but few hens lay during that process, though there are ex options, and where the number of eggs exceed one every two days, it will be found that a corresponding reduction occurs during some portion of the year. While we admit that certain individual hens have been known to lay as many as 150 to even 175 eggs in a year, such cases are rare; and if one has a flock of twenty hens or more he " should be satisfied if there is an average of one hundred eggs a year for the i n _ ? * wnuio iiuuk, or ramer nine aozen. Four dozen out of the nine should realize thirty cents per dozen, three dozen should bring about twenty oeats per dozen, and two dozen should realize fifteen cents per dozen, on an average of about twenty-three cents. Of course this calculation may be wrong, but it will convey an idea of what may be expected. Where Solitude ltelgns. " Then you don't like solitude, Me. Snipps ?** "No, indeed, Miss Gusher; I don't like it a bit." "I always thought it would be so grand to have a chance to meditate In absolute quiet." "You'd get precious tired of it in a little while; I can tell you that." "Did you ever try it, Mr. Snipps?" 'Did 1 ever try it? Well, 1 should' shudder." "Oh, dear, how charming. When was it, Mr. Snipps?" "Last summer. Miss Gusher." "Oh, I know; you went to thej wo ds< " "Not much I didn't I clerked in a store that didn't advertise."?Chicago Ledger, : -g