A CHILD AN1) A WASP. | U Bit Mother Telia tlie Norn? to Let Him Have It and He Geta It " ' Among tho passengers on the St. Louis express on the Erie Railway, between Port Jervis anil Jersey City, Friday morning, was a very much overdressed woman, accompanied by a bright looking Irish nurse gill, who had charge of a self-willed, tryannical two-year old boy, of whom the over-dressed woman was plainly the mother. The mother occupied a seat by herself. The nurse and child were in the seat immediately in front of her. The child irave such frequent exhibitions of temper and kept the car filled with such vicious yells and shrieks, that there was a general leeling of savage indignation among the passengers. Although he time and again spat in his nurse's face, and scratched her hands until the blood came, and tore i at her hair and bonnet, she bore with him patiently. The indignation of the passengers was made the greater because the child's mother made no effort to cor. rect or quiet hini, but, on the contrary, sharply chided the nurse whenever she manifested any firmness. "Whatever the boy yelped for, the mother's cry was, y' uniformly, V "Let him have it, 3Iarv. mi By the time the train passed Turners j-V. the feelings of the passengers had been wrought up to the boiling point. The remark was made audibly here and there 'that it Avould be worth paying for to have the young one chucked out of the window." The hopeful's mother was not moved by the very evident annoyance the passengers felt, and at last fixed herself down in her scat for a comfortable . nap. The child had just slapped the nurse's face for the hundredth time and was preparing for a fresh attack, when a wasp came from somewhere in the car and flew against the window of the nurse's scat. The boy at once made a dive for the wasp as it struggled upward on the glass. The nurse quietly caught his hand and said to him coaxingly: "Harry musn't touch! Bug will bite Harry!" Harry gave a savage yell and began to kick and slap the nurse. The mother awoke from her nap. She heard her son's screams and without lifting her head or opening her eyes she cried out sharply to the nurse; "Why Avill you tease that child so, Mary? Let him have it at once." Mary let go of Harry. She settled back in her seat with an air of resignation, but there was a sparkle in her eye. The boy clutched at the wasp and finally caught it. The yell that- followed caused joy to the entire car, for every eye was on the boy. The mother awoke again. "Mary," she cried, "let him have it?" Mary turned calmly in her seat, and with a wicked twinkle in licr eye t?:iid: "Sure, he's got it, mum!" This brought the car down. Every one in it roared. The child's mother rose up in her seat with a jerk. When she learned what the matter was she pulled her boy over the back of the seat and awoke some sympathy for him by laying him across her knee and warming him nicely. In ten minutes he was as quiet and meek as a lamb, and he never opened his head again until the train reached Jersey City.?N. Y. Sun. Wives and Wives. Considerable light is being thrown from Chicago upon the wives of that city and their capacities. One reporter pays a tribute to "good" wives and shows that theie is at least one sphere of woman's usefulness that is not overdone. The reporter started out with the commendable purpose of finding out on what wages the artisan could live and lay up something for a rainy day. lie had not gone far before he found that it was not a question of wages, but of wives. A stained irlass workman, who earns $3/5 a week and has a wife and four children saves nothing:. "It costs me $30 a month for rent and $20 a week to set my table. We live well but save nothing," lie said. It needs no reporter to tell us that that man is an American. "We live well but save nothing'' is as trustworthy lor identification as his family tree would be. A German chairmaker on $12 a week also had four children. His family have lots to eat and bis children h ve never been sick a day. In the five years since his marriage this man has almost paid for a $1500 house and lot, and now that he pays no liousc rent he lays aside $5 a week. A tinner earning $10.50 a week, with two children, saves $5 of it; a man on $21 a week, with nine children and a brother-in-law to support, has paid for a house since liis marriage; and a carpenter earning $3 a day supports three children and saves $0 a week. But every one of these men chanted the praises of "a good wife." Most of them knew little about their expenses, except that they carried home their money on Saturday night and cannot tell where the Ravings come from. The man who lives well but saves nothing naturally said nothing about his wife.?Springfield liepuhlican. Where She W ished to be Buried. She was a remarkably sensible young lady who made the request of her friends that after her decease she should not be buried by the side of a brook, where babbling lovers would wake her from her dreams; nor in any grand cemetry, where sight-seers, coining over epitaphs, inisrht distrar.f. bor Hut L.PWW ..im ?v??J W lake her last sleep under the counter of i-ome merchant who did not advertise in 'he newspapers. There, she said, was to be found peaco surpassing all understanding?a depth of quiet slumber, on which neither the sound of the buoyant ... foot of youth nor the weary shuffle of >ld age would ever intrude.?Albany {Ga.) News. Mr. Wm, Bender, of Cincinnati, has been sent to a sanitarium because of the little eccentricity of throwing in ;i the fire a package containing over : $40,000 in Government bond8. William had been on a prolonged bonder, he /ancied some of his relations were seek,n8 his weahh; hence he is now in &#:. bonds as a lunatic. Fas h wing nuehlne i* not vvhat it seem?. ?fcV' 'tSK^'ST^ CHILD AND THE SNOWFLAKES. And the Days Went On and tbo Mgh Cnme. . [From tbo Detroit Free Frees.] One day us she stood at the -window watching the busy street and wonderinj why she alono of all children was crip pled and thin and weak, a snowflak came sailing down through the Decern bcrsky, paused a moment at the windov and then crept in at a broken pane an< rested on her wasted hand. The cliih smiled and was glad, and said: "Did you pity me that you came t< see me?" 4,I have only pity for the poor am helpless," replied the snowtlake. "Where are your companions?" "They will be here. 1 had a rac with them and I reached earth lirst. ' "It was so good of you to come ii and see me," whispered the child. "I)< you know that I am lame and ill, an< that no one loves me; All the sunshin and the happiness seems for others ?al the suffering and the shadows for mc I wish I had been a snowtlake. It mus be so jolly to go roving about as?" The snowtlake had disappeared, an< in its place was a tiny drop of water The child- was grieved, and she wep that hei poor ray of sunshine had beei dimmed almost as it reached her. Bu other Hakes came and danced befor the window and made merry and callc< to her : "Come and be merry with \is! 1 child should not wee]) and grieve." "But I have no friends," she an swcrcd. "Then the snowflakes will be you friends. Almost every day we will com to talk to you." "Do you know of ITcaven?" whisperc< the child as she dried her tears. "It is a long, long way off," was til reply. "Would they let a crippled girl lik me in there?" "As surely as you reach the gates o | pearl. Heaven is for sucli as you." ' When may I go? Earth has onl; misery for me." 4'When the time is come we wil whisper at your window. The night i coming on and we must go. I?c o good cheer, for we will surely com again." And the days went on and on, and th nights came and went, and the chil< grieved and wept because the snowflake did not come to tell her. Millions o them floated in the air. and the win* drove them in millions up and down th streets, but never a one came to th broken pane. One day. when the child' great blue eyes had scarcely been fre of tears?when her heart ached as neve before?when there was a fierce struggl to cast otV the emaciated, deformed bod; as one might throw away n garmenton this dnv as the bleak winter after noon was fading to dusk, there was tapping at the window-pane. The eliih neard the sounds with beating heart, an< as she dragged herself to the windov she cried out in exultation : "Oh ! it is the snowllakcs com again! You are here to tell me o Heaven!" 4'Yes,"they whispered. "And God will take me?" i/TT _ 1 ? * ? - ne nus sent ior you." "Wait?wait! I will go with you! But the snowllakes whispered : "Child jou must sleep first. Hewven is a lorn way off. We will awaken you when i is time." The child lay down on her bed 0 rags and slept. At midnight the snow flakes crept in and rested on her hairon her ragged gown?on her thin hands and some of the boldest touched lie face. "Come! It is time!" they whisperec She did not move. "Child! we are here to guide you o: your path to Heaven!" they called. There was no answer, but a brigh star suddenly threw his light in at th window nnd over the bed of rags, an< the snowtlnkes gathered together an< whispered: "She is dead! While we lingend ii sport with the winds an angel has com and borne her away!" Hi* We Talks On The Train. Now I'll tell you why I wouldn't g into the restaurant and have a cup 0 coffee with you while we were waitin. for the train. I didn't like the way yo asked me. Keep quiet, I have the flooi Not half an hour before, you said to Mi Puffer, "Come, let's get a cigar," an< away you went, holding his arm an not giving' him a chance to declinc When we met John O'llowdy on 011 way to luncheon you said, "Just i time, John, come take lunch with us. And then to-night, when we found th train nearly an hour late, you looked n I your watch, turned to me and said, i I a questioning way; Would you like j cup of coffee?" And I did want it; I was tired and a little hungry, but 1 would hni'n filintOfl Imfnrn T such nn invitation. And you wen away a little bit vexed with me nnd ha your coffee and bread nnd butter by youi self nnd didn't enjoy it very mucli In effect.yon said to me: "If you want cup of colTce, if you really want it, I wi buy it for yo;*.." You are the best hus band in the world, but you do ns ncurl all the best husbands do. Why d you men seem to dole things out to yon wives when you fairly throw them t the men you know? Why don't you ei vite me heartily, ns you envitc men Why didn't you say "Come: let's get little coffce nnd something," nnd tnk me right along with you? You wouldn say to a man, "Would you like me t go nnd buy you a cigar?" Then why <1 you always issue your little invitntioi to treats in that wny to me? Indeed, ir . deed, my dear husband, if mer. woul Ioniy act lowiini incir wives as ncartiM cordially, frankly as they do toward ill men whom they meet, they would fin cheerier companions at home than the could at the club:?JJurJette. A New Haven boy recently. "f< fun," inserted an advertisement in a.l< cal paper for a husband. A Wester farmer answered ir, nnd the \oung ma wrote at length, describing h:m*elf as handsome, middle-ogfd wom?:\, v.ith long bank account. I'h? gringo enin on last week to aee th* w?Tn*n He now after the young mnn with a nnt fc fraud and loss of. timo and money. ', - It % iiWfa.* SOCIALISM IN GERMANY. t A TIew of the Quention an It looks to the .London .Times. In Berlin itself there is no sensible decline from the extraordinary height \ reached by the Social-Democratic move* mcnt at the time of the general elections e last autumn, and the seeds then sown continue to grow with luxuriant strength. v Within the Inst year the police have had I to dissolve meetings and issue interj diets in 175 cases. On several occasions violent resistance was offered, and the ^ numerous strikes which have lately occured in the capita! are in a great j measures traceable to the influence acquired by the Social-Democrats in trade unions and -other workingmcn's soe cieties. To the initiative of these clubs also arc due the country excursion? ^ which degenerated into disorderly de~ nionstrations. marked bv ji flisnlnv r?l j red flags and flowers, as well as by the e singing of the "Marseillaise of Labor.'' I and other forbidden caticles. The ItcM', a violent print, published monthly in ^ London, also finds its way in considerable numbers to Berlin. ^ In Hamburg and Atlone, which art still under the minor state of scigc, there ^ has been no perecpiblc diminution of t the Social-Democratic movement, whicfc t is guided by an administative organizG ation that defies the detective power ol j the police: and here the doctrines ol the Social Democrat fall upon fertile ^ ground. It is the same in Liepsic, where the arbitrary police powers conferred by the minor state of scigc clause cannot yet be r dispensed with. In the period betwecr c the general Imperial election of 187i and 18f<4 the number of Socialist vote I returned by the city irn:' .Mansfield. ITe insisted that a witnea might give valuable testimony, and yei j be unable to support it by a good reason. In support of his assertion, he tolc this anecdote. ,f In a case of great importance, a tailor _ whose evidence would decide the ver _ diet, affirmed that he had made the coat ; which had been produced in court, foj r the prisoner. The prisoner's counse tried to create a doubt as to the identity I of the coat, and asked the tailor how lit knew it was the same coat. n "Why, I know it by my stitches, o: course." t "Arc your stitches longer than thos< e of other tailors?" "Oh, no." 1 "Are they shorter?" "No, not a bit shorter." n "Anything peculiar about them?" (i "I don't believe there is." "IIow dare you, then, swear that thej are yours?" Th ~ 21 ? a r I i iic wmiuas was miciil lor u moment ?the question seemed to have perplexec him,?and then, throwing up his hands. ? he exclaimed,? "Mercy on us! As if I didn't know c? mv own stitches!" 11 The jury believed him and his tcsti * mony convicted the prisoner. " Mr. "Webster insisted that the jur c* were right, and said 4'The fact is, w< " continually build our judgement upoi details too fine for distinct cognizance ir And these nice shades arc trustworthy. n though we can give no good account o " them." c The Old Writers. n * 'Journalism nuist be a healthy pro * fessiorf," said old Mrs. Hquaggs, as sin | laid the paper on her knee and rubbec 11 her eyeglasses with her apron. "Wha: 'makes you think so ?" asked old Mr " Squaggs. "Because I see the writer r~ who used to have pieces in the papei ' when I was a girl, arc still living; thei a must be very old." "Who arc they?' ^ asked Mr. Squaggs. "Well, there ii '* 'Veritas' for one. and'Anon,' and'Voj y Populi' and 'Pro Bono Publico', anc ? many others. I see some of their namei lr every day, and I declare if the sight o: ? 'em don't bring back the old school l" days." Then the old lady gazed mcdi tativcly into the fire, and old Mr a Squaggs wen out on the back stoop t< indulge in a (juiet laugh to himself.? ** ImmIoii Courier. o j ? " O I U .l.l.._ wi r- r, .mining i,su ?i congressmen. '* Some strange requests are made at th< fl hands of members of Congress snvs i '' Washington letter. For instance. (Jen Tom Brown, of Indiana, opened hii package of letters at his desk in tlw y House of Representatives. The vorj first one was from a woman living ii Posey County, Ind. She first, declared >r that she wus a good Democrat. Thci >- came the statement that her husb:iur ister at Rome to j;et bin u Hallat queen bee. ^B ' }^S ''' I THE GOOD WIFE KNEW IT." Tbe Experience of a Drunknrd who On Day Broke the Habit tbat Enalnved lliui. There is a retired cobbler living i Angelica, N. Y., says a local correspoi dent, who deserves the respect of hi countrymen for moral courage. ! Ten years ago he was, and had bee for a long time, a confirmed inebriatenot 11 periodical sprecr, but a genuin soaker, warranted not to draw a sobi breath from sun to sun. Occasionall the funics of the whiskey with which h plied himself would clear away from hi befogged brain, and at such time hi mental cqilibrium would wrestle wit the problem of total or even pnrtu abstinence, to be utterly wrecked at th sight of his haunts or the lirst faint ca of his system for the stimulant whic long use had rendered peremptory. One day, however, a halt was called and this is the way he tells of it. "I was on my way to the barn whe I saw a small snake in my puth. kicked it with my boot and it turned t a bit of crooked twig, which I snappe in my luind and threw away. I though nothing more " " "What on earth's the matter wit .hem?" I asked. "Stage fright?" ' Not much," was the reply. "Yo ;ouldn't scare them with an audience c Booths and Irvings They've not ha sheir bloom put on yet. Here is thei painter. Watch him." The girls ranged themselves facing jtroug i:ght. A man with a pallet am icvcral brushes went tip to the one si the end of the line. She stopped he ;o:igue, nnd shut her saucy mouth, am aeld her face expressionlessly still The artist dabbled a brush in th smutch of black paint on the pallet am leftly shaped her eyebrows and riinme her evelids. Then ho tnnl- nn n lwnoV I ful of red, spotted her cheeks, and co\ ired her lips. Stepping bnck a pace, h gazed critically at his job. The gii zrinned so suddenly and meehanicall ;hat I got the impression that she ha yonc daft, but that was tjuite in th way cf professional duty, and was ir tended to show how she would loo tvhen she smiled at the audience, s ;hat he could see how to outline the re >f her lips. This he did with a fei rapid strokes. Finally he nibbed th ;olor on her cheeks until it blende 1 ratisfactorily with the white groun work, gave her a critical examinatio I from a dozen feet, and she wns read for exhibition. She thereupon droppc 1 >ff the end of the line, and th? mtmo nr iration, varied only us the difference c Jie subject required, was repeated o ;he next girl. The man's movement were wondc. fully quick and dcxteroui ind the eleventh charmer wns finishc n a space of time , that may as well lb ;alled a jiffy. Fabbab mude 11.600 lecturing in New fori si-', ' '! > : r i.>j ;y" ' ."-r ;.,' : '' ' ,v ' f 'v'''" v" The RIgZit Spirit. ie We do not doubt that the following > touching little story is quite true. There is 21 lesson and a moral in it for boys and girls disposed to shirk even n the light duties imposed upon them in i 1- the way of "chores" and errands, t is Think of this courageous little fellow tak c ing upon himself the responsibilities of c n the head of a family, and so manfully t - discharging them! t c "Oh yes, I have all kinds of tenants," ' !l" said a kind faced old gentleman; "but * y the one I like best is a child not more A c than ten years of age. A few years ago A Is I got a chance to buy a peicc of land !] 18 over 011 the West Side, and did so. I 'I noticed that telire was an old coop of a t house 011 it. bnt naid 110 attention tn if 1 e After a while a man came to me an I you.' i 0 "The first month lie brought two doll- 1 d arB and the second month a little boy, r it who said he was the man's son, came ( 1 with three dollars. After that I saw the j e man once in a while, but in the course i e of time the boy paid the rent regularly, 1 d sometimes two dollars and sometimes t \ three dollars. One day 1 asked the boy < d what had become of his father* 1 >f " 'He's dead, sir,' was the replbv. 1 d "'Is that so?' said I. 'How long ( since?' 1; "'More'n a year,' he answered. 1 "I took his money, but 1 made up ? my mind that I would go over and in- ' ? vestigate. and the next day I drove over * there. The old shed looked t never seen her since.' 1 ".Tust then a little girl about three ; years old came in, and I learned that J y these three children had been keeping n house together for a year and a half, 1 the boy supporting his two little sisters ' ^ by blacking boots and selling news- ' papers, and the cider girl managing the * 't house and taking care of the baby. "The xext time the boy came with ( "? the rent I said! "My boy, you are a ( I little man! You keep right on as you * e have beffun, and you will never be*sorry. x Keep your little sisters together, and t ' never leave them. Now look at this.' 3 ^ <4I showed him a ledger in which I 1 had entered up all the money that he \ had payed me for rent, and I told him it 1 was all his with interest. 'You keep ( V right on,'1 says I, 'and I'll be your ban- * 1 ker. and when this amounts to a little f ? more I'll see that you get a house some- ' 1 where of your own.' That's the kind of ' ? tenant to have."?Chicago Herald. ] e 1 d ] Dob Bnrdcttcs? Sermon. Two hundred as able-bodied tramps 1 as ever lodged in a police station on a P rold night tendered Bob Burdette, the T ' funny man of the Brooklyn Eagle, a re- s ' ception at the lecture room of the s c Sunday Breakfast Association, on y Twelfth street, above Iiace, one evening * lt recently. ^ ir "Heard about the Prodical Son? Of ! p course you have. You were all of you e prodicals, only you haven't gone back to c the old man yet. The prodigal was a ] >t gallus young chap. His father was e mayor of the town, I believe. When he k went out of town he had a Saratoga lull 1 of store cloths, a high hat, a cane, a t shirt that, buttoned behind, two-button- i 1 cd lemon-colored kid gloves and a dia- j , mond. And he had a stocking full of t 1 money. , "The prodigal had a good time?a i ' right down uproarious good time? 1 e drunk every night and a head on him in < the morning. Didn't know what to do i with his money. His friends did thoucrh. ( "They always find out. There had to comejthat dreadful fifteen minutes when a t ... I man goes though his cloths and finds '* not a red. Then the barkeeper threw s t him out. When that prodigal boy foot- c edit back in his old straw hat rim, agun.* ning sack and nothing but stone bruises 1 )r on his feet, he arranged a pretty little ( \ speech for the old man. lie didn't want J to get into the parlor. He wanted a soft c berth in the kitchen. But before he t got near enough for the dogs to bark at ( him the old man saw him and he 6et j things up handsomely. He put his own i j" cloths on him, put a bloodstone ring on r, his linger and put fiddlers in the cor- 1 ner. a k "Now turn your backs upon the husks \ and the swine, my friends, and come home to the old man?come home to t " your friends." e ^ Under the, genial influence of Mr. f Burdette's semnon a dozen of his hearers t ir signed the pledge. t a cl Eggs are Eggs. j t i r The wife of a certain suburban was r i that nuisance among good cooks?a per|. petual borrower. One day it was a cup- j. e ful of sugar; the next, a box of blueing ( and the cloths wringer, and so on. And ^ d she wasn't half as good at returning as she i- was at borrowing. One day in the A r. midst of her cooking not an egg was to e be found. Over she went to one of her ^ :1 neighbors, a widow of small means, and < y borrowed the two or three eggs she Impel pened to have in the house. Several s a >?eeks elapsed, when one forenoon she i- appeared in the widow's kitchen with -> k three eggs in a paper bag. ^ o "Good morning, Mrs. S. I have come A d to return something you let me have the f iv otner any. 1 unci boiled eggs lor break- j e fast this morning and these arc three I A r| had left over. Eggs are eggs you d know. g n m y TnE vast extent of British commerce f d is indicated by the fact that no day >- passes without some English vessel be>f ing lost with all its crew. Indeed, the n statistics for the month of November I :s show a much greater average loss than c j, this, for during its thirty days no fewer s d than seventy-four ships with all hinds s ie perished. This constitutes a tremen- I dous toll, but, having the carrying trade i of the world chiefly in her hands, Brit- 8 t. annia is able to bear the strain. 1 .. -- -f>p- -v-;s ? TOLD OF A MOONLIGHTER. >entb of One ofthr Advrnturnh vrlio Dvfic?l the Kobcrlw Torpedo .llonopolv. A cheap pine coflin and an obscure lot n Potter's Field of Bradford Pa., form he last resting place of William McNeil, me of the famous well shooters of the >il regions. When death came it overook him in an obscure alley, within wo paces of the door of a rum hole, iitjuor killed him. The body was bund by the proprietor of the groggcry, vho stumbled over it in the dark, and vas by him turned over to the poo? uitliorities. After the war was over McNeil, in :ompany with hundreds of othei lonorably discharged soldiers, drifted nto Pithole the booming capitol of oil lom. lie worked as driller about the veils until the birth of the Roberts tcrjedo monopoly, and then became one oi he first, of an adventurous circle ol spirits who fought it. In those days it vas unlawful to explode nitro-glycerine n wells without Roberts's consent. Respite the law the hardy moonlighters, is the opposition well shooters were :alled, flourished. Hundreds of men rrew rich out of Ihe illegal traffic, ilthough McNeil, who led a wild career, .vas not one of them, lie had many bribing escapes from death. On one occasion tbr<>c of his companions were Mown out of the world. The three men .vere unloading the stuff from the shooters'1 wagon, McNeil being at the well, ibout two rods away. McNeil heard a crrible noise and fainted. When he rerained his senses he found himself in o lump of underbrush eighty feet from he well. Scattered through the treeops were shreds of flesh and clothing. In the earth was a ureat hole. Close by ay a disemboweled horse.. A rubber joot with a portion of a foot in it and in ear were picked up the day after fully i half mile distant, from the sccne of he disaster. One of the men had probibly dropped one of the cans of nitrorlycerine. Aside from a few bruises McNeil was uninjured. After this he married a rich v/idow who happened to possess an oil farm, ind for :i few years lived a life of respectibilitv. The marriage was not a happy ?nc, however, and lie took to dri\ k. tfrs. McNeil became disgusted. and >nc day when her husband was in town >n a spree she packed up her dunnage, ook the fourcliildren. and disappeared rom McNeil's life forever. She went o Kansas City, whore she died a few rears later. McNeil went back to moonlighting. SVlien under the influence of liquor he vas a man to steer clear of. Anions )tl;er stories told of him, it is related hat lie once boarded a train at Hickory, mi route to Oil City. His lust cent had )een spent for whiskey at Hickorv itation. "When the conductor demanded lis fare McNeil lauahed and consigned lim to a place which has no existence in Bob Ingersoll's religion. "I'll put you oir the train," angrily :aid the conductor, as lie beckoned to lis brakeman. "Naw, you won't." sneered McNeil, vavinpr a tin can in the air which reiemhled an overfat rocket without the ;tick. "Great Scott! Glycerine!" shouted he conductor. In thirty seconds the car vas cleared, and McNeil monopolized he entire coacli until the train reached )il City. Wr. Yanderbilt and his Architect. Mr. Yanderbilt never gave a thought o an artist's or an architect's rcpuation. He couldn't understand why a nan should complain of a change in his ilans which would injure him. so long is the owner and employer paid for it. lYhen the plans for his big house were n course.of preparation lie was urged >v his architect to prepare for a larger iining room than he was contemplatng. "Why," said the man of art, "j-ou :an't give banquets in such a room." "Oh. hang banquets. I'm not goingo give any." "lint you must. A man can't live in lucli a hou?e as you are building with>ut givinjr larire entertainments." "Well, if I jjive any,'' said Vandcr?ilt, I'll give them in the picture gallsry." The picture gallery adjoined the lining room, so the butler's pantry was irranged to open into both rooms. But >ne morning, when the walls of the rreat house had gone up two stories, Mr. fnndcrbilt made his appearance in his irchitect's ofiicc. Hunt was buildinc William K's house, and was sriving the roung man a noble banquet hall, thirty ect hi?h, and splendid, with carving. "Why, my son's dining room's going o be bigger than mine." shouted the ixcited millonaire, wiping the peripiration from his brow. "I can't have hat anyhow," he continued."I thought this was all settled. I hought?" "Oh, 110 matter about that. I won't lave my son's dining room bigger than nine. IIow much will it cost to change nine and make it bigger?" "A. good deal." answered the arehiect. ''There will have to be new foun- s lations, the walls that are up will have o be taken down, and?" "What do I care for that? How mucb vill it cost?" The architect made some figures, and old Mr. Vanderbilt that it would cost ittO.OOO. "Well, go on and do it." was the aniwer. Rut the architect objected. He told Hr. Vanderbilt that to tear down the vails would hurt his reputation. People vould think thnt there had been a deect in his plans. The Croesus heard thia n rtnwi.mnnthnrl astnnislimnnt nnrl vhon' the architect at Inst asked: "What will the sidewalk committee iay?" answered: "What is that to you?* Dont I pay or it?"?Boston Pont. "Confound these matches 1" sairl *hiiip, as he attempted to light hist :igar. "They are the poorest I ever aw." "I like parlor matches best," aid Cordelia. "Why ?" asked innocent >hilip. 4!Oh, for'Several reasons. They lever hang fire, and it don't take them :o long to come 10 the starting point." ?hilip came to the scratch. . , . 'A