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MBS JPATIBNT WITH THE LIVING. I 8weet friend?, when tliou end I ark gone Beyond earth's weary labor, When small shall be our need of grace From comrado or from neighbor; I Passed all the strife, tho toil, the care, I And done with all the sighing? What tender trnth Bhall we liavo gained Alas ! by simply dying ! E Then lips too chary of tbeir praise I Will tell our merits over, I And eyes too swift our faults to see, < I Shall no dofoct discover, "Then hands that would not lift a stone Where stones were thick to cumber Onr steep bill path will scatter dowers I Above our pillowed slumber. iSweet friends, perchance, both thou and I, Ere love is past forgiving, Should take tho earnest lesson home? Be uutient with thn living ! To-day's repressed rebuke may save Our blinding tears to-morrow; Then patience, e'en when kconest edge May whet a nameless sorrow. *Tis easy to be gentle when ! Death'* Bilenco shames otir clamor, 1 And easy to disccrn the best Through memory's mystic glamou 1 But wise it were for thee and me, 1 Ere love is past forgiving, ' To tako tho tender lessou homo? ' Be patient with the living ! 1 ?Good Cheer. 1 iOLLY'S ALLOWANCE. , IV ISA CAIUUNOTON CABEI.L. ( i Indies of St. Philip's Sewing j j always spoke of Mrs. Fuller's six liters as if they were an extravu- ( ! in which she had wilfully in- j ;d, and by good management j have avoided. "If they had only j bo3'fc, now!'' Mrs. Archdeaeoness ^ :?lly Fuller callcd her behind her l jit back) Nevins would say. "But j food for nothing, useless girls!" } ips the reason Mrs. Nevins ob- j ;l so strenuously to Mrs. Fuller's j rencc for the female sex was that s ad had boys; that is, she had had toy, college- bred, European toured, ,, a fortune in his own right, to say . ug of his prospective heirship j igh Jeremiah Nevins. Sen.,' the , st vestry-man in St. Philip's J :h. And this adored, petted, and boy was very fond of the Fuller t and so attentive to Polly, the l iest of the lot. that Biooniingdale g kgog with excitement on the subSo she would repeat: "If they ^ only been bovs ? stalwart hnrrl Itlting boj\s! But six girls!'' Sow it was hard to believe?for the j chdenconess was tall, grizzled, bony, i she might have left Jericho at any -j i?r "for her beard was fully grown'' t that she, too, must at one time have sp a girl, as Mr. Bardcll was once a ^?-gentleman; but this fact did not c Iten her toward her sex. If Jerry? ? it We arc anticipating. certainly were six Fullers? affit, Jen, Julie, Polly, Lillian, f They lived in a little cramped- n ctory that belonged to St. Philip's, * >r little church.on the outskirts of * mingdale. Tlniir papa was a dear, g-heuded, clever, impractical 11 yman, who could mver see his way c tliodoxy, and yet was not sufficient- A trodox for his bishop's dismissal. t 2 put him where his scientific ser- " \ could do least harm and his holy 1 most good. Their mamma was -v a shade better, as she proved b^^ ag six girls instead of boys. Her , bread was apt to refuse to rise, tier preserves ad a way of working * (he second week. the Archdeacouess could have 1 en off the engagement between s Hev. Alplionso Fuller and Susan his s , which had existed for twentyl% vonrc nnd 4- *! ?? ' -v it* 1 * s>v * *< *? jviuo, tinu PViUt llll* :>J.\ WllfllUIIl^ I maidens back to chaos or to paradise, t and married them boch to more suitable 1 and more practical people. I suppose it i would have beer, better. Providence is 1 a poor manager, compared to Mrs. Jeremiah Nevins; but she couldn't. So St. Philip's had to put up with a thou- t sand doriar a year rector, his shiftless < "Wife, and hi9 half a dozen daughters. t i The Fullers were generally absurdly, 1 rprovokingly happy. As long as one has i no "objects of bigotry and virtue," it < makes little difference if the cat docs 5 jump on the parlor tublc. It the car- 1 *\nf ?0 Ti?A?m fr* A.V. A *-' 1 h |/vv nuia iu till." iniru OI II1C maid-of-all work nmy be dried with the . reflection that u cinder or two dropped 1 from the ash-pan will do little damage. But about six months previous it Was 1 borne on the minda of these six females i that if they had an allowuncc they would all prcsdnt much better appear- j anccs, and spend less money in doing , it. And when the s x Fuller girls made up their minds, there was an end 4 W of it. They interviewed their mamma, they bullied their papa, they built such wpjendid air castles of what they would ao if they only could be allowed to j judge for themselves, that the long-suf- < ' fering martyr consented, and promised ' to let them have their way. Now a ' promise in the Fuller family was as r' good as a bond?better, for I have 1 heard many a man besides St. Paul declare himself happy, especially after a ' . ?< ?. ? '? - I / |iumu 1^1 tnu pnuutj int'xj Donus. y But the difficulty about the allowance ; was this: the day these girls got their 1 ii money they felt so enormously rich that they could not contain themselves and r it. They forgot it must last ?ix months, { and represented boots, gloves, gowns, ? ' bojib ets?a thousand necessaries. They ? */drgot the waste the lack of a parasol * '; makes in the life of the American girl; l they only saw the beautiful (no, I ?y- witf not hold them up to ridicule), and I' thoy longed to spend it. and it biirncd . in their pockets, till, alas! sometimes they lived like prodigals for three \ weeks, and starved and were almost '(] naked the rest of the twenty-six. On this, particular morning the whole ' " ^fsujily wcro assembled in the sittings' room. ;lt was a June day, a dewy, rosy, ^dimpled day, and "all the trees oti all ^tho hill* had opened their thousand W ieaYOi"; the ait itself was as fresh and , fWeefc as the first day that over broke in paradise. Even the orphan-school children liad como out the Sunday be;? far# iu little pink-sprigged calicoes. All Fullers but ono had gone to church tilso in their neat spring suits, looking ^ bo stylish, and jaunty, so sweet and i violet-eyed, that the Archdeaconess failed in her responses, and seanned , each figure as it went up the aisle with ' a glance that Julie declared amounted i to an indictment for larceny. Yes, all the Fullers out one. One wretched, forlorn, spendthrift of a Fuller staid at home. She had neither spring gown, nor spring hat, nor boots, nAP nnruo/J t>lm *- '?? ..11??. "wi jfuiuout, oau naii xiui llliuw ance long ago on concert tickets, and candy, and a set of silver jewelry. So she spent the day in a disrepu- | table gingham, and a hat that deserves I u chapter to itself, swinging in the big apple tree, and wishing she had her money bnek. And this unfortunate was named Polly, and she was nineteen years old?old enough and pretty I enough to know better. "If we had only known how much of . u hole you were in, Polly," said J eh, 1 "we'd have clubbed in and helped you buy your spring things." I "No, my dears," said papa, from what was by courtesy called "the study," though in reality it was the china closet and canned fruit room (the Fullers ate a good deal f canned things; their preserves weren't generally I successful). "It is not' so recorded in , the bond. You know you bargained ! Biich to make the most of her allow- j ance, and bear the consequences of her tjood or evil judgment. If Polly has I spent her money, she must do without." | Alas! each remembered; it was so* written in the bond. "What have you got toward spring j things, Polly dear?" asked mamma, j looking up from Herbert Spencer's "Sociology" in a dazed way, and endeavoring to set her cap at right angles, which, if the truth be told, was iiul ijiiiie us straignt lis si piuuio-linc. | "1 have my black sattcen, mamma to be sure, the front is stained with lemonade, but I don't caret, and my joots arc pretty good, and I have one ong, nice, cream-colored gant <lr Suede ;liat luckily is for my right hand, and ' ny turquoise ring on my left, so it docs j lot matter about the other's being lost, . ind my white muslin, and my white null (to be sure, it has shrunken up to ; ny knees, but I can let it down), ' she ! laid, eagerly; then, seeing amusement n her sisters' eyes, she burst into tears ind rushed out, callinir. in a loud voice: 'I do not care if I do not have another ag to my back so long as I live. I am ' roing to bed, and will stay there till I j lie for want of exercise, and then you vill all be sorry, and not laugh at me, I ind taunt me, because I am not mean, | niserly, niggardly tilings like your- j ielves." "Come back, Polly, love," cried all he five unoffending sisters, deeply grieved, but not at all hurt by Polly's mtburst. "Tell us about y ur hats, and low much mouey have you ?" i "I have no hat but this," said Jolly, sobbing bitterly"and fifteen lollars." I Tears of sympathy stood in mamma's" syes; "Sociology" slipped off her lan ind fell to the ground. Papa tapped lis finger reflectively on the pane. For he first time he half wished he had not riven the bishop so positive a reply ibout the doctrine of original sin. One night bo mistaken,., and?this~ was. ?olly's hat. As I remarked, it was her only one, ind deserved a chapter to itself. It was i little round bonnet, originally of ' vhite straw, which was now sunburned o a dirty yellow; a faded red rose ; idorned one side; the crown was j nashed in; a limp, draggled feather itood up in front. Nothing could have jeen more hopeless, more disreputable, i 'Poor dear!" But Polly had flown; the subject was oo tender to be discussed. ' i .. 1.-11 " * uuai niuii me uum rang. "A. noie ior Hiss Polly; from Mr. Jerry Nevina, I i'pose," said the little maitl-of-all-work, lym pathetically. She was a very black fisted Mercury, ' nit never did Cupid select a more inerested one; and the note was seized )y Jen, and eagerly welcomed by the A'liulc family as a diversion for the unrnppy damsel. "Let's find her." Strange to say, the chorus did not ' leek Polly in her little white-curtained dnunbrr, where she vowed she would , spend the rest of her hapless existence; ' ;hey made straight for the apple tree, md there, perched on one of the high.- j ist bou?hs, was the penniless Polly, | singing in her high clear voice, "I sent j :hec late a rosy wreath." "Here, Poll?here's a note from j Terry Kevins," cried the chorus, delightedly. "Get down and read it." Miss Fuller slipped at once from her leafy throne, and read aloud the following missive : "My de.vu Miss Polly?I am going ; in my drag, with Miss Mivorton and | Sam Hennolds, to the polo match.tolay at lour o'clock. Won't you let uscall for you? I want you to drive. Please say yes. Yours always, "J. M. Nkvins, Jun." On ominous silence fell for the space , of one moment. It was broken by the ; voice of our heroine. "I'm going," j ?aid Pollv. "But your clothes, Polly," cried the chorus. "I don't care one bit about my ; clothes," said she definntly. "I'll take your parasol, Margaret, and I'll get you to smooth my muslin Jen, *nd I've got one glove, and I'm going." "But your hat, dear," said Julie. "I'll gladly lend you mine, but it belongs to my suit, and is all gray, and you'd look like a guv in it." "Never mind," said Polly, dismissing the whole crew with a wave of the hand; "I will get me a hat. Give yourselves no concern." With these words she rushed into the house, and in a few minutes had disappeared down the long, irregular street. Half an hour later a tall young lady in a disreputable bonnet and a gingham dress made her t-ntrer into a fashionable millinery. All the shop girls, and that superior person who presided over the establishment, knew her by sight as one of the rector of 8t. Philip's six daughters?the prettiest one. More valuable customers were being served, so she received no Bpecial attention. But presently the ne&d of the establishment herself heard those unmistakable tones of command that, though they came from this insignificant customer, brought ' ' - V1": .V" i aw.. ; \.. f v me," said the young lady, calmly. "Ah! mademoiselle this is a Frencl hat," Madame exclaimed, "a love, i beauty, cxactly your style, made ex pressly for you?bought for you," sh< cried, growing bolder, and eneourngcc by Polly's pleased gaze at herself in tin mirror. "What is the p ice?" "Only fifteen dollars," said Madame "to you, "Miss Fuller, the daughter of i clergyman and a customer" (Margare had bought a pair of ribbon string there a year ago). "Fifteen dollar: only." "I will take it with me," said Polly lay>ig her moist, hot money on tlx counter, for she had carried it in he hand?her gloveless hand?all the wa; from the rectory. Madame smilingly did up the parcel She had just otTen^l the hat to Mrs. Vai Dyke for ten dollars, and it was wortl six?a bit of la^e, an embroidered crowi and a pink rose at the side: that wa: nil. Bnt one must take money when one finds it. Polly's fifteen dollar, her down to her marrow bones, so t< speak, and half a dozen obedient at tendants to her side. "Here," sh< ericd, with her mouth full of pins "show Mrs. Van Dyke these bonnets; ] myself will wait on Miss Fuller." "I wish a bonnet that is becoming tc were as good as cross Mrs. Van Dyke's ten?better by five. Our young lady got home about hall past three o'clock. Everybody hac gone out but Jen, who, exhausted with smoothing the muslin, was fast asleep, She rushed into her tiny bedroom, anci began her preparations. Notwithstanding all speed .Terry was at the door witl: his drag and his guests ere Miss Polly's muslin was donned. With all her faults, Polly had little personal vanity. She seldom looked ir the glass. One reason was that the inir ror was cracked exactly through the middle; another, that her sisters' criticisms held up to candid view all faults and defects. She never thought of he? face or head. She threw on her dress, pitched a bonnet on the back of liei curly brown hair, flew clown the steps and was assisted into the drag by twe grooms and a slhiling host. Miss Mivcrton leaned back in a perfeetly-fitting driving costume, and gave her the friendliest of smiles?a little condescending, indeed, and was it slightly amused? That was'not possible. To be sure, one dimpled hand was bare, but she had no right to suspect that the other glove would not soon be used tei cover it. White was always rn regie. and becoming, and she had on her fifteendollar bonnet. So Polly bowexl and smiled back again, and was altogethei so sweet and lovely and like a June rose that Mr. Jerry Ncvins had hard work to keep from eleclarinir himself oh the spot. The Ivenncls, at which the polo game was played was a very fashionable place. Everybody was out that after nodn. Polly was so happy?happy with that consolation religion itself does not always give of being appropriately and becomingly dressed. To be sure, all her income was swallowed up; she wai a wretched, penniless, forlorn creaturc on the morrow, but this was to-day. "Let to-morrow take care of the things of itself." quoted Polly, piously. "Every one is so kind," she whispered to Jerry, confidingly. "See, they art all bowing and smiling." "How pretty Polly Fuller is!" she neard somebody say as she passed. "Poor little thing! Did you ever set 1? The rest was lost. Polly drew hersell up rather indignantly. "They are commenting on my bonnet, and wondering where I got it?impertinent things!" Then she looked up and saw Jerry'f eyes fixed on it, and there was the greatest tenderness in his gianee, as il he were sorry for her, and yet loved her. "He thinks, I suppose," said Polly tc her alter ego, "that this is the first time I ever had any thing nice, aud he i* sorry for me." And then she hall wished she had not worn it. "Are you very fond of dress ?" she inquired, presently. "Yes, very; that is, I like a woman properly and handsomely dressed, as ] want my wife to be" (here Polly's hand ?her ungloved hand?got the least possible little squeeze); "but what ] care for more is a sweet, lovely, brav< spirit which rises above criticism, and ii true enough and well-bred enough tt look beautiful and be happy in spite cl the garb." <41*..+ i.1. 214.? Tl ?II uiii,, iiiuccu, ?mu inu ^uui^ rony, "sometimes it is so hard to be that sometimes one wants things, so on< yields to the temptation. You must noi be too hard on people if they do noi dress according to your ideas," sh< added, with tears in her big brown eyes "I hard on you ?" cried Jerry?it was in the moonlight, and they were driv ing down a lane of flaming chestnuts? "i hard ? I just love and admire yoi for it. I think you are the prettiest sweetest thing in the world; 1 long t< deck you with jewels and tine raiment just to pay you back for all your brav ery. Oh, Polly, I love you!" Tliore! Miss Miverton and Mr. Ren nolds occupied back seats; they botl looked engrossed in each other. Wha Polly said I don't know?something that was satisfactory to the driver Then she looked up conscience-stricken "Oh, Jerry!" she cried, 4 it isn't ] you love; it's my bonnet,"and you hav< no idea what I sacrificed to get it. spent all my allowance. I was the mos extravagant creature; I got angry witl all my sisters, even mamma and papa Now you have loved me and told mo s< just because of it, 1 will take it otT,"sh? ~ :? ^.t ...in ui'iuu, in it jmsMuii. "i win never wen; it ngain." She seized the structure witl both hands?it fell into her lap. Oh, careless, absent-minded Polly Where were your senses ! Stupidly sh< gazed one moment at the dreadful ob ject. It was her wretched, ragged withered, limp, disreputable old hat and her beautiful one of laces and rose was lyiner in the bandbox ou her owi bed. The Archdeaconess didn't like thi match at all, of course, but she wa heard to congratulate herself that'Jerry' wife was an economical little thing, an( wouldn't throw away his money. "You remomber that horrid littl straw bonnet she wore ,to the pol< match, don't you, Sue ?" she asked o 7 ' .=? ' v Miss Mivcrton, who was Miss Miveston ! 1 still. i Miss Mivcrton remembered. ******* 15 "One thing I will never do," snid I Polly to her husband during the honeyu moon. "What?" lie asked, with the insatiate curiosity of a weak-minded bride? groom. * "I will never have an allowance t again." And she never did. 3 HOW TO RUN A UNIVERSE. ' Why Homo TliingM nIioiiIiI Not be nn well us l Others. r ^ Mr. Burdettc remarks: "My son, there are just two things in this world that I ' don't know about, and you have just 1 asked me ultout one of theui I don't 1 know why there is trouble and sorrow 1 and toil and poverty and sickness and 3 death in this beautiful world. I used 3 to know, when I was much younger, 1 but I find that as I grow older I don't > know a great deal more than I used to ^ know. I don't know why the best people J \ seem to have all the suffering and the ! great sinners have all the fun. I don't know why innocent men suffer for the wickedness of guilty men. I don't know * why the man who cast the faulty column } in Pemberton Mills wasn't crushed when the mills vent down. I can't see why ^ my neck should be broken in a railway ' accident because a train dispatchcrscnds 1 out a wrong order or a signal man goes to sleep. I don't see why my neighbor l should be cursed with ill health ahd suffering just because his grandfather 1 was a rollicking, hard-drinking old } profligate. I don't see why I should have neuralgia just when I want to feel at my ; best. I don't know the reason why i some people starve while worse people feast. Well, you say, wouldn't it be i plcnsanter if all these crooked things were straightened out? Yes, oh. yes! < And wouldn't I run things a little bct ter if I had the running of them? Ye?e hold on a minute ?ye?I 'don't know, r really, that I want to try. There are ? everal things to consider, when you sit k .1 _ rr% " * ' uuwii iu run 11 universe. i rue, i( i managed things, I could make several improvements at once. I would never i again have the neuralgia, for one thing; s my boots would not run over at the : heels like an italic <!; my pantaloons j would not work up, nor bag at the knees, | and my collars would not climb the back I of my neck, and my mustache wouldn't > ' keep waxed like a bristle at one cnct I and out like a satin ribbon at the other, and?but there are some tluugs to look 1 after. The little matter of day and " night I- think I might mnnaire for a ; week, may be, but there would be an 1 eclipse of two to look after, with i occasional rain, some snow, a late spring or an early autumn or a capricious har> vest time to manage; there arc certnin > movements of the sun and other planets . that have rather delicate relations with i the earth?come to think of it, my boy, ; I have never yet been able t? control my [ own personal neuralgia. Now, yon are [ very kind, but I will most respectfully i decline the appointment. I find on look> ing into the varied and trying duties connected with the office that my bodilv i and mental strength would not stand the great tax that would be laid upon 1 them. While I am in the heartiest accord with the Administration, and wish to give it, and to the extent of my poor ability do give it my most earnest , ! support and encouragement, yet I much > |l prefer to do this in my capacity as a private citizen." 1 Our ltaee in Life. Go ahead" was only half of David , Crockett's motto?and not the most iin, portant half. "Be sure you are right" \ precedes. The faster a ship goes ahead L the greater the danger, if there is not a good watch on the bow and a strong , y hand on the wheel. To run well is of . importance; to start right is of prime \ importance. Let us run with patience f the race that is net In-fore //*, says the sacred writer. A great many men lose the prize by dropping, out of the text Altogether the clause which we have put t in italics. Every man must find his [ own race before he begins to run; and a I grfeat many spend their stiength in trv. ing to find some one else's race, and a [ great many more in making false starts ; in one race after another, and so getting , nowhere. The jack of all trades isgenj erally master of none. The world is f | full of square men in round holes, and rounrt men in square hole: and though it is true that a man can whittle himself off a little to fit the place lie is in. the I energy so spent cannot be spent in life's [ legitimate work. JMy watch does me no |. service while it is in the repairer's j hands. Blessed is the boy that has a bent; wise the parent or teacher that j can either find one in him or give one to him. God has a wo.'k for every man that no other man can do quite as well; 1 and he succeeds best who quickest finds what that' work is and sets himself j to do it. Many a good writer has been spoiled to make an insolvent merchant; ' not a few good housekeepers to make execrable poets:' now and then an excellent mechanic to make a poor preacher. A race has been set before me; and J it is my duty to find out what that race J is, and run it, and not waste life in rc* grots that I cannot run a dillerent one, * or life's energies in unsuccessful atj tempts to do so.?Christian Union. 3 [ A Welcome.?An Albuquerque editor t who expected a gang of lynchers to t come for him about the middle of the night took himself to the cellar, leav> ing a pet grizzly bear in his placc in ? bed. The lynchers didn't bring any , r lights, but made a plucky attempt to , tro.t tbp. lw?nr nnt nnil IrnoJi U Knf mnfo I ? p-- ?, I it up after three of them hart lost an I eye apiece, two had suffered the Ions of j thumbs chewed off, and the other six _ were more or less deprived of skin. That man now has a tremenduous repn' tation as a fighter; and the bear didn't a mind the work one bit. i ? They tell in Louisville of a citizen B of that town who came to New York s recently and lived in one of the most s expensive hotels. He stayed four days 1 and asked for his biM. "Fifty-one dollars," said the .clerk. "Guess again," j b said the Kentuckian "You haven't ? sized my pile yet. I've mote money ? than that." \ ' ' _ ;w - : ? ...... t. RIDING AN AVALANCHE. The Terrible Kxpericnre ol Two IHInera In Colnrudo. During: the great storm in Colorado, two sturdy miners started to ascend one of the mountains with the intention of working a claim that lay near its crest. They made the trip 011 Norwegian snow-shoes, on which they worked their; way up a narrow gulch leading to their property. As they journeyed on, one of them got to be some two hundred yards in advance of the other, and it was while this distance separated them that the leader bv an unhappy step overturned a top-heavy mass of snow and started a dreadful slide. II seized hold of a convenient tree and called to his companion to "look out!" The tree was small, and hent over under the weight of the moving snow. He let go and started with the moving snow. The long shoes by this time were firmly anchored in the moving mass, and he was hurled alonx with no power to stop himself by seizing the trees which he passed. Fortunately, he was on the tail end of the avalanche, and thus rode | it in saicty, with nothing coming be- I hind to eovcr liiin up. When he found he had thus to be an unwilling passenger upon the terrible trnin, lie looked ahead to see what had become of his partner. The latter, seeing that there was no escape 011 either side, turned heels on the roaring mass and started on a lifc-and-dcath nan right' down the gulch. Then followed a wild and thrilling chase. The man who was anchored 011 top of the snow veiled at the man in front to run. while In- who was pursued strained every muscle to keep out of the jaws of the death that was close at liis heels. The sight would have been amusing if it had not been of such a serious nature. The race was kci>t up for more than a mile, and during the entire distance the fellow who was on top kept yelling, "Run. you fool, run/' and the hair of the fellow who was running held his hat poised four inches from his head while \ lie headed for the valley. Often the rolling snow struck the heels of his shoes, but it did not quite get him. More quickly than it takes to tell it the hunted man dashed out into the valley, swiil what ho thought was safety. The valley, however, was more dangerous than the mountain, as an unseen gulch i crossed it. into which the hunted man fell. Providence, though, was kind to him. for the slide had spent its force, iinil the snow piled up on the bank over which he had fallen. When the two were able to lookaround one was lying at the bottom of the gulch, while the other was seuteri upon the crest of the snow bank that looked over its edge. A South African Sea Serpent. From advices brought by the hist nrriving Cape niail steamer it would "hiu that the great sea mystery, the n-it sea serpent, has just made itu ap "tnce in South African waters, in instance it was not seen to the irsror of the sailors, but was observed i ruin the shore. According to the despatch a huge monster was observed about October -i in the afternoon in Morewood's Hay, Umhali, by eight or nine people. It was first seen seven or eight miles from the shore, swimming in a very erect manner. From first sight it seemed as there were two fish, but a flnsor iniinnptiim ?!...* ...?I?VV^WII |iivivu iiiui inc icur one was the tail of the serpent. According to the account furnished by those who witnessed the sight, the monster appeared to proceed at the rate of about eight miles an hour, occasionally plunging into the water, making a noise as if a sea was breaking heavily on an open shore and causing foam to extend about twenty yards on either side of it. It appeared to be about fifteen or twenty feet out of the *vater, and its whole length was computed at not less than ninety or a hundred feet. Fins like immense oars were seen striking the water on either side. It had a large stripe down the body, the remaining portion being of a dirty yellowish color.?I.ami on StantIftri/. Aii Irish Rent Raid. . From Dungarvan in Ireland a remarkable raid for rent in the dead of night is reported. A large number of tenants in County "VVaterford refused to pay their rents, being indignant that one of ' the local landlords had charged the Ito- ! inan Catholic Bishop with inciting them j to this course. The tenants having de- j ciucu to maintain possession of their holdings, and to remove their cattle and effects to avoid seizure, a number of writs were issued, and the Sheriff was called upon.to make a raid at night on the tenants. This was accordingly attempted, 100 police being sent from a distance to assist the Sheriff; the local force being left in ignorance, to prevent information reaching the tenants. The Sheriff and his men proceeded ou the expedition, w%ich however, was a total failure, all the tenants having removed their stock, and not a single seizure was made. During the march snow fell thickly, and the large body of police, silently marching over the mountains at such an unusual hour, created the greatest surprise and excitement. In every instance where a house was visited, the resident magistrate and Sheriff, who drove on before the police, were informed that their attempts to collect the rent would prove abortive. She Stood High. ".ionn, dear, our Susie is fairly siclc over her algebra. But she is getting along so nicely aud has niuetv in her re port this wwk, and iiincty-five in Latin, ami 100 in philosophy, the dear girl." "Good enough, wife. But <what is tho matter with the breakfast to-day? Worst meal we have had in a month." "Well, .John, I felt out of sorts this morning, nnd the cook is away, and I let Susie attend to the things. The poor pcirl really knows so little about housework, you know.'"?Boston Traveler. T' u 1$ Actor: "Have you been down t-? *ee me act lately, old boy ?" Friend: "No; too poor " Young Actor: *4NonBcnse. Why, you spend enough money for cigars in a week to buy a dozen tickets.".. Friend: "Oh, I don't mean I'm too poor. You're too poor." \ A Horse's Intelligence. ACTS OK A DITMIl 1HIUTE THAT IN A HUMAN II ICING WOULD BE CALLED REASON. A horse which hud been in possession of the Peters family, in Hushkill, Penn., for twenty years, and which was famous for the almost human intelligence he displayed, died recently. During the Inst few years of the horse's life he hud been permitted to run at liberty, but was frequently hitched up to haul the dead bodies of cattle or horses that died on the farm to a place near the Delaware River, where the carcasses were buried. The old horse always stood near nnd watched the burials with great interest and attention. borne time ago this horse fell sick. One day he was missed from an inclosure where he was being cared for. A search was made for him, and he was tinnlly found lying dead on the spot where he had hauled the dead bodies of so many of his kind. As the place was out of the way of the horse's usual haunts and as he had never been known to go there except when driven there with some dead animal, no one who knew the horse believes that he did not seek the spot feeling that he was about to die and'to save tlietroublcof hauling his dead body there to be buried. Among the instances told of his intel1 i (TPti lira T --I-, ~ V/W uiv V11V 1V/1IV/YY UI^ . J jUIU UIll? night members of the family thnt owned him were awakened by a great noise on a piazza of the house. There was the loud neighing of a horse and a heavy stamping on the piazza floor. One of the inmates of the house went to the door. There was the old horse stamping and kicking and neighing with all his power. The discovery was made that an outhouse near the dwelling was on lire. The old horse' had given the alarm, and a disastrous fire was prevented. One spring there was a flood in a stream on the place. A blind horse belonging to a neighbor got out of its pasture, and wandering down to the swollen stream in someway got into the water. It swam about in a circle, and was unable to reach either shore. No one could render any aid to the poor animal, and there seemed no escape for it from drowning. The old Peters horse came along while the blind horse was struggling in the water, and, after a moment's survey of the situation, plunged in. He swam out to the blind horse, and headed it oil as it turned to make the usual circle, thus keeping its head pointed straight for shore as it swum. By heading the blind horse first on one side and then on the other, he guided it safely to shore. Housekeeping in Japan. A lady writing from Japan says: "Housekeeping here has no trials. The worn and vexed spirits of American chatelaines ought to rest in Japan aftei death. Capable and faithful servants are plenty and cheap. Our establishment boasts five, and for these we pay about what two would cost in Is'ew York. I do not visit my kitchen once a month, never give an order outside of a spoken wish, yet the domestic machinery moves with an ease and perfection unattainable at home by almost any effort ou the part of the mistress. The manners of the servants are amusing, not to say startling, to an American accustomed to the cheerful familiarity of her native help. Every night at bedtime our live retainers appear, prostrate themselves in succession to the earth, and retire. This is to wish me good nisrht and to renew their testimnnv nf profound respect and pleasure over the privilege of serving me. It was difficult at first to preserve the necessary ditrnitj for the ceremony, but now I am as majestically gracious as any other potentate. The other day, on one of my rare visits to the kitchen, a hairpin became loosened and dropped without my notice. I had been seated in my own room only a fe.w moments when my houseman entered, bearing a small salver, which he presented to me with many genuflections. Fancy my surprise to sec a little huirnin unon it. and to learn from my proud but embarrassed servitor that it had fallen to the kitchen floor from my head. Afterward I found there had been a discussion as to who should pick it up, and almost a quarrel as to whom belonged the inestimable honor of bearing it to its owner," A Lost Will. When I was a boy I hoard of a tawyer who was called up in the middle of a Winter's night to draw out the will of an old farmer who lived some three miles away, and who was dying. The messenger luul brought a cart to convey the lawyer to the farm; and the latter in due time arrived at his destination. When ho entered the house, he was immediately ushered into the sick room, and lie then requested to be supplied with pen, ink and paper. There were none in the house! The lawyer had not brought any himself, and what was he to do? Any lead-pencil ? he inquired. No: they had none. The farmer waa sinking fast, though quite conscious. At last the legal gentleman saw chalked up on the back of the bedroom doox column upon column of figure* in chalk. These were milk "scores" or "shots." He immediately asked for a piece of chalk, and then kneeling on the floor, he wrote out concisely U|>on the smooth hearthstone the last will and testament of the dying man. The farmer subsequently died. The hearthstone will waa sent to the principal registry in London TX7 i f V* onft/tiol n Ai / ! ? ?f 1 fn on/1 '** *" ^ *!** mvu o^vvmt oiiiuaT kkOy uuu woo uuij proved, the will being deposited in the archives of the registry. I may mention that the law does net state upon what * substance or with what instrument a will must be written.?All1 the Tear Round,, People Who Buy Osmonds. During a trial, in which it was neces> sary to call in some expert testimony as to the value and quality of diamonds, a certain pawnbroker took the stand. "Well, sir," asked the attorney, "do you sell diamonds?" "Yes, when I can," was the reply. "Who buys the most diamonds ?" "The biggest fools sir, who have the money." The testimony was considered decidedly expert. ,7>yr J . ,J ... . ,..'v v'fV-.Vv