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t. AxtWw for poblioation Aoald to vrittaa fai« dftftr, fagiblft toad, ttd oa oalj oa« rid* nt toft pftfft. 4, All toftag- la adtortlwHi mwat . (ftfthMM rriady. THE OLDEST CHRfSTVA S HI M A VOL. VII. NO. 24. BARNWELL, C. H., S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 14. 1884. $2 a Year. [In Book III of Clement of Alexandria ia riven (In Greek) the moat ancient liymn of the Primitive Church. It ia there (one hundred and fifty yean after the Apoatlee) aaeerted to be of much'earller ortl^ln^ ^Tne following venion will give some im- Bhepherd of tender youth, Guiding in love and truth. Through derioua ways; Chri-t our triumphant King 1 We come thy name to aing, And here our children bring To ahont thy praiae. Y e Thou art our holy Lord! The all-aubduing Word, Healer of atrife Thou did'st thyself abase 1 That from sin's deep disgrace Thou mightest save our race And give us life. Thou art wisdom's High Priest ? Thou bast prepared the feast Of holy love; And in our mortal pain None calls on thee in vain, Help thou dost not disdain, Help from above. Ever be thou our Guide. Our Shepherd and our pride, Our staff and song. Jesus, thou Christ of Ood ! By the perennial word, Lead us where thou hast trod, - *** * ■*-»*-» -«. - - mue our fAiiti strong. So now, and till we die, Sound we thy praise on high, And Joyful sing. Infanta, and the glad throng, Who to thy Church belong, Unite and swell the song To Christ onr King. Mak ing Amends * • letrndrd fer Hwalnraa IHea. BT DUD IB WHITE. "Christmas comes but once s jear, ” yet when it comes it brings—it brings— useless expense—a day’s lull in business —a laziness peculiar to all employees . for a snoceeding week—an unwise ex changing of gifts when the money is oft needed for other and necessary purposes —a harrying, scurrying, foolishly busy, topsy-turry people, wishing each other a “merry Christmas” to-day, and en deavoring, with a new vim, to rob each other to-morrow. The streets, full of itinerent ware men, with their cheap, trashy merchandise; leering, familiar beggars, with their alcoholic "jist a penny for Christmas, sir!” A gorging of dyspeptic sweets and un wholesome food — a—a—folly ! folly ! that I, Phineas Rngby, will omit year after year, as I have done since I arrived to years of discretion—bah ! bsh ! Yes, my nama’s Phineas Rngby. Not s very elegant one, you think, for Phineas, ac cording to the Hebrew, is "month of brass.” Hatha! And Rngby—well, is just Rngby, and one can’t Frenchify that. But I like it—it snits me. I’ve grown with it—liftol and succeeded with ii Bat it’s not a handsome name. Oh, no! I’m not a handsome man. Bat, some way, the little, uninteresting, bald- headed, hawk-eyed proprietor of one of the largest book-stores in a large city is looked np to, ia bowed to, for money’s money, whether in a silk parse or a greasy pocketbook. If yon look closely at me von will see. —all over my face, many seams and scars, that time alone did not imprint there. One has to work hard, very hard, if they would make money squarely and legiti mately. Most of it brain work, too, that is ten times the more wearying than real, downright mannal labor. Well* I know what it is to scrape and pinch to pay expenses, oft going to bed hungry and discouraged. It is, and al ways was, cash down with me. I owed nobody, and allowed nobody to owe me. ^ . ... ,, ; , If 1 lived through it, others could, and * thinking and thiuking of tbs story yon must I mode no excuses, I listened to none. And so, if this Christmas eve. in the year 18—, I can sit in my own lodg ing, knowing that I* am the Phineas Rngby, of the prosperous, house of that name. I can say I have earned it. Spent money, time, happiness, home comforts and all to earn it. And yet— are we ever satisfied. It's Christmas to-morrow, Phineas, 1 say to myself, watching the lighted coals smoldering nmid the ashes in the grate, before which I am sitting in gown and slippers—Christmas to-morrow; and Phineas, my boy, irtot is it yon have done daring the past twelve months that yon feel prond of this eve ? I guess yoa haven’t thought,of that before. Let’s see—let’s see—tbnmb. I owe no man—first finger—no man owes me -second finger. I, six months ago, discharged my bookkeeper Jacoby, :a '•ay, good-for-nothing rascal — third finger—I—I—I—well, I guess that’s 41L Not much to brag of, hey, Phineas ? So, so—well, a good night’s rest, and to morrow I will again lie—Phineas Rugby. Now to rouse that sleepy-looking Urn— there, I hope I haven’t put it ont I I’ve to be careful of my old enemy, rheuma- tisen, with hit troop of inflammations— and now—now for bed. Bed’s the place after all, Whare one can, aa Shakespeare says, "couch his limbs where golden deep doth reign. ” Feathers are restful, too (ymwningly), yea, foil of reat—full of mat, Full mom to night on the wall opposite; I can see its reflection. "The moon riees in (flooded taajeeiy,” and what a place for a magic lantern. boys, how Bob and I to wish, and wonder if we ever and when we had the money we wanted something eke we couldn't get Bob’s dead now, slid I—why I see the moon over my left shoulder. 'Wonder if one can wish if the moon is fulL I might try. Let's see—what do I wish. Yes, yes, an idea! I wish I could see object* ind things on that circle opposite, as I lay here and take it easy—that’s an ideal Am I dreaming. It can’t be that one gloss of porter! I ait up in bed—I take off my nightcap—I poll my hair—pinch myself—gaze helplessly forward, and see where late had been a circle of pale light A room—small—mean—uninvit ing—cheerless—cold. No carpet on the floor, save the little ugly green jstripee oefore a bed in one owner, and the dark fire-place. Two oane bottomed chain, feeble as to legs, and paint of no known color. A table, reminding one of the Rebellion. A tin candlestick, a few dishes, s mnch thumbed Bible on the mantle shelf. A picture of a sweet-faced lady, in an old-fashioned frame on the wall, and no more. A door to one side opens, and there enters—a wee body, scarce ten yean of age, but such a prematurely aged ten. Such a wizened face, hungry-looking ten. Bach a poorly clad, large head, large eyes, shivering, pnny-lobking ten. The head is good—I can see that, ideal ity a little too marked perhaps. Bat the hair is smooth, glossy and curling. He brings a chillness within that even I feel aa I pull the bedclothes closer np about my neck. Now the door is closed, and the faded old straw hat and ragged scarf hong on a nail. The basket, which he carries in one of'his claw-like hands, set upon the hearth, and he proceeds to remove the lid, whistling all the time—actually whistling, if that feeble little pucker of those bine lips can be termed a whistle. First theie comes from this mysterions basket two candles, then a box of matches. The old candlestick is taken down from the mantel, one of the matches ignited, a candle lit and placed proudly in the center of the table. Now be delves down again into the basket, and this time two bandies of wood and a loaf of bread are brought forth, bis face becoming perfectly radiant os he beholds them. He is sing ing now, over and over, "Won’t dear father be surprised!” There is not much music in this little song, yet there is a choked feeling in the throat of Phineas Rugby that he hasn't felt for years. What a busy little man be is now, running to and fro, building a fire, placing the most com fortable-looking chair before it invit ingly. Just putting the last finishing touches on mil as the door again opens, and there enters—bless me, Jacoby ! my ex-bookkeeper! "Father, father, see I” the boy cries, as he dances to his father’s side, and pulls him down in the chair, Christmas present from your little! son t I earned it myself—all myself. I'm most a big man now, and we won’t be hungry any more. Oh, father l”—his arms clasped about his neck, and his tiny face close to the elder one—"ain’t we pleased ?” Jacoby says nothing; but tears, such as I never knew a man could shed, fall onjhe dark curls of the little one. Ho had changed a good deal in six months, Jacoby had, and not for the better- no, no. "Phineas Rugby, take my tot and put it where it belongs,” he says, after a short and mournful silence; "then come and ait on father’s knee and tell him all about this wonderful surprise.” “You aee,” and the little head is pressed close to the faded great-coat of the man, "after you orent out I was had Just told me—of the good prince that went ont in the world to help his father, the king. And then I remem bered mamma used always to give yon a Christmas present, and something seemed saying: ‘Go, Dsvey, go, go [’ So I just put on my hat and that nice warm scarf of yours, took the basket, locked the door, and went out, just like the prince, in the cold world. I was a little ’(raid at first; bat nobody noticed iqie, and-1 hadn’t went very far when I came to a store—oh ! the most beautiful store, father, with two large windows, all fnll of snch nice books and pretty cards; and I was a wishing that yon and I owned! jiist such a place when I spelt under the window on a sign P-h-i-n-e-a-s —Phineas R-u-g-b-y—Rugby, and then I knew it was the place wliere you worked when mother was alive and we had snch a nice home. And Phineas Rugby was the man who toot you away because you couldn’t work when dear mamma was dying. "Just as if you could help it”—kissing the hand about his neck. "But I thought perhaps he never knew what was the matter when yon didn’t come to the store; and I waft agoing in to tell him all about it, when a little, oroas- looking man came ont and told me 'if I didn’t get away from the door in two minutes,’ he would hsve mf arrested. "I knew you didn’t want your little boy took np in the bad station-boose, so I ran away aa fast aa ever I could, and was a standing on the crossings shivering a little—yon see it wae getting pretty cold—when a kind lady asked me to carry her catchel foe tor to her hotel —which wae only a black away from onr street, father. And when I tod done it —and it was awful light—the gave me a could raise meaty enough to bay one j whole twenty ami-five cents. You ought to have seen me; I was that glad I near forgot I was a Prince, and cried. And, but I didn’t; I run fast to the grocery man and buy—now count, father—two candles, five oenta; two bandies of wood, five oenta; one loaf of bread, five cents; one box of matches, one cent. How mnch is that ?" "Sixteen oenta.” "And here’s nine for yoa, right here to my pocket, and .it’s all my Christmas present—all for you.” All ia qniet for a minute; then Jacoby says, huskily: "Keep the- money for Christmas sweets, Davey. I wish I could add more; bnt I have had no snooees; every one asks for reference. Rngby denied me^that. But we won’t think of it to night—'tis the blessed Christmas eve— and God watches over and will take care of ns, if we only ask Him, Davey.” A little figure slides ( to the floor and kneels with clasped hands, and reverent, upturned face, and the prayer ia an swered as it floats to me—miserable ! re penting ! "Dear God, I’m only a little boy, and a care to my father and Thee. Bui please, Uod, make Mr. Rngby see father couldn’t help it, for Jesus' sake. Amen. ” The room, Jacoby and little Davey I now cannot see through my tears, and I hide my head in the bedclothes and sot like a child. When I look np again, all is changed. A large store—books all about in theii gay, vari-oolored bindings. Fancy Christmas and New Year cards, fancy stationery—everything speaking of plenty. There’s no pne in the store now, save three yonug clerks, and a bookkeeper, perched on a high stool l>e- hiud his desk. Clerk No. 1. — "Most time for old Rugby. Fly &l>out, boys. Thank good ness, a holiday to-morrow.” Clerk No. 2.—“Yes, hurrah for Ohrist- mas ; he can’t take that away from ns.” Clerk No. 1.—"I wonder if he won’t break his heart this onoe. and give us a quarter. Or, to l>e honest, he might take us all out and treat us.” Bookkeeper (head hid in ledger).—"if he hears you, Simpkins, he’ll treat you to a grand bounce. The old miser! When he gets hold of a dollar it’s a pris oner forjife.” Chvk No. 3.—"I’m willing to do my duty every time. Bnt it’s work, work, from mom till mght, with never a ‘Thank yon.’ Never remembering we ore men as well as he, and a kind word once in a while does a fellow as mnch good as a dinner.” —* * * * • ^ Early, Christmas morning, and I’m up and dressed, a new man ! "It may have been a dream,” I say to the clock striking the hour of seven, "bnt I’U never believe it, I’ve been a selfish, mercenary, short-sighted man in the post, thinking of nothing but making and hoarding money, which never did me or anybody else any good. I’m an old man—I surely can’t take it with me in the other world. I haven't a kith or kin to leave it to to this. Phineas Rugby, wake up! Look about you! There is something in life after all.” Merry Christmas to everybody. Merry Christmas to all. THE UME-KILN CLUB. WORDS OF WISDOM BY GARDNER. BROTHES Fftacry Pm in the street now, walking along briskly; breathing in the fresh, effer vescing sir; humming to myself, drop ping s penny here, a penny there in the outstretched palm of every beggar I meet Feeling like a boy let loose from a rigid school, my feet so light, with the very thought of what I have in my mind—that they scarcely touch the walk. I go into a poulterer*. I buy (our large turkeys and send them, with an envelope containing twenty-five dol lars, to each of my clerks and my book keeper—from the "old miser” (my l^tla revenge. I chuckle). I can’t spend money enough. Every boy I meet that reminds me in the least of little Davey, I take in somewhere and buy him a turkey. Then I order one of the best dinners that money can procure to be sent to No. 10 Marks Place, Jacoby’s and Davey’s home. (I knew where they lived, I had kept an eye on them, but it had been a blind eye, Phineas). And laden-with all the pret tiest books and cords I con get from the store—my store—the store he thought so beautiful, I go to their mean hpuse, not to be so any longer, if old man Phineas Rngby lived long enough to charge it Such oereipony as knocking on the door, I forget in my excitement as I burst in like s whirlwind—tearful, fool ish—trying to bel merry, and failing. "Jacoby,’’ I say, “forgive me, I have been an old fool—let’s—let’s—’’ He has hold of ny hand now, and I hold the other one out to little Davey as I ftay: “Davey, my little map^yonr prayer is answered, Mr. Rugby secs lather oonld not help it, and will make reparatu.n, for to morrow morning the sign of Phineas Rugby wilt make ns a warm fire, and in its place a new one shall bear the names of Rugby A Jacoby—God bless’em.” N • "Christmas comes bat once a year— "Yet when it oomes it brings Uncle" Rngby,” says Da^y. Jones aakedjns wife, "Why is a hus band like dough ?” He expected she wooldgive it up, and he was going to (ell her that it was because a woman needs him; bnt she said it wm beoeoee he was hard to get off her hands. [From the Detroit Free Press.) The Chairman of the Committee on Harmony of the Lime-Kiln Glob, an nounced his desire to submit a report, and being encouraged by a smile ten inches long he read twelve pegea of closely written manuscript. Waydown Bebee has for the last three yean done everything in his power to bring out and., encourage poets. Several months since Judge Congo demanded an investiga tion, stating his belief that the principle was calculated to work evil to society, end the matter wea tamed over to the Harmony Committee. The Chairman now reported that he had personally investigated several oases as follows: 1. William Henry Green, of Indiana, formerly an industrious mechanic with money in the bank. Had written three poems and one idyl, and was now in jail for stealing -w giraffa belonging to a circus. 2. Bradawl Watkins, of Ontario, formerly one of the best whitewasbers in the civilized world. He had written two odes and an obituary to verse, and had been fined 425 for pounding his wife. 8. Judge Glucose Blindhoof, of Ohio, formerly a blacksmith earning $3 per day and having a laugh which oonld be heard half a mile away. Had written four verses on “The Dying Year,” and vet his whole natnre seemed to have un dergone a change. Had had three fights with neighbors, lost his situation, been drunk and had applied for a divorce. The Chairman said he could give sev eral farther instances of the fiendish re sults of Brother Bebee’s efforts, bnt be fore he had time to do so Giveadam Jones presented toe following: "JRetolred, Dat from dis date de Lime- Kiln Club will use ebery means widin its power to discourage de makin’ of poets an’ de prodnekahon of poetry.” Waydown Bebee arose to begin an ar gument, bnt was shouted down and toe resolution put to vote and carried with a whoop. A WARNING. Samuel Shin then presented the peti tion of Liveforever Smith, a colored resident of Detroit, bnt not a member of the Lime-Kiln Club, who desired the club to indorse his application for a pen sion from toe government for injuries reoeived during the war. “Brudder Shin,” sternly replied the President, “you raise the winder an’ drop dat paper into de alley.” Samuel obeyed. "Now, sab, I want to say to yon an to all odder members, dat dis club am not workin’ de pension racket. De man who went to wah an’ was crippled an* disabled desarves recompense at de hands of his gov'ment, an’ has probably had it for y’ars past De pension biz- ness of to-day am fo’-fifth swindle an’ one-fifth claim agent Uncle Sam pays ebery dollar dat he owes to his defend ers, on’ an applicashun at dis day should be regarded wid astonishment, if not suspishnn. We doan’t assist any man, black or white, to make out dat twenty y’ars arter he come back from wah ha suddenly falls lame from havin’ slept ca de ground. Let ns now blow oat da 'amps an’ go home." How to Make a Bed. Says the Philadelphia Pre«»: Let every bed-maker, as soon as all the coven are spread, tarn down the upper sheet, and all above it, leaving a gener ous margin below the bolster. Soma people, yon know, poll all the coven straight np to the top and lay the bolster upon them, so that when bedtime oomes they must be rearranged at the head. Boys don’t like this way, and perhaps some other folks don’t either. It is toe custom to pile two big, square pillows on the top of the bolster, and then put on two pillow-shams, and then, some times, or perhaps before the pillow- shams, a sheet-sham. This is setting a trap for the unwary. Only a remark ably carefnl woman is equal to the task of getting off nil toe "finery” properly. Why not almost, if not altogether, abol ish shams of all kinds. Why not hon estly take off the big, square pilloi and supply every bed with a comfortable bolster to take the place of pillows? If you like adornment, embroider or deco rate the slips and sheets themselves without any make-belieye. Silk, lace and the like seem oat of place on a bed, which should suggest repose. Imagine a big boy with boots on flinging himself into the midst of a fairy creation of pink satin and torchon ! Let beds be what theylook like, and let them look like what they are—real resting places. Confront improper eonduet, opt by retaliation, but by example. r Co An Output.—The quantity sent from anthracite mines in the year 1883 has been 30,408,061 tons, against 28,066,- 602 tons in 1882. There has been an in crease of over 2,000,000 tons in toe Wyoming regions, over 400,000 each by the Delaware and Hudson and Delaware and Lackawana and naarly 500,000 by the Pennsylvania; and about 600,000 from the Schuylkill district, nearly all by the Reading. The delivery from the ftehigh district allows a decrease. SENDING INDIANS TO COLLEGE. -Wkat A Wpatera flaw al tbs MltaatUa Pa*r l* W*aM Hava ta A gentleman named Kntchin, living in Green Lake- eonnty, Wia., has isd several Indian boys at work for him the past summer on a farm, and they proved so valuable, and so willing to work, and so anxious to leave the roving life of toe tribe and engage in the civil ised pursuits, that he baa interceded with the government to educate the young Indians, and they are to be sent to -eolle^a. This seems tons to be a il mistake? - If they would send the young Indians to a district school, and teach them the English language, snr- rounded by the boys of farmers and mechanics, it would be well for the Indians, but to put them into a college will break them all up. The Indian who goea to a college will find it hard, after the life he has led, to adopt the ways of civilized college 'students, and become hazere, who practice cruelty on boys who are physically weak. The Indian boy who has never been on the war-path would be sick at heart at wit nessing a hazing match, where a con sumptive freshman is taken from his warm room, undressed, and held out of a fourth story window until the marrow n his bones is frozen, as has been done within the last year by civilized sons of rich men attending college. The Indian boy is not naturally hard hearted, and to be thrown into the sooiety of boys who think it fnn to take a freabmsE blindfolded, in a hack, ten miles from the college, strip him, and torn him loose to find bis way back throngh toe blinding snow, would be too mnch for 4 them, and they would drift ba6k to the uncivilized life to which they have been accustomed. Again, it would be hard to inake col lege dudes of sensible Indian boys. Yon take a plain, unvarnished Indian boy, put on his head s visorless college cap, a collar four inches high, a tight coat, cut off too short at the lower end, a pair of pants that he'would have to pat French chalk inside df, to get his legs in, and long tooth-pick shoes with yel low tops, and give him a oane, and teach him to say, "Ah, by Jove, yon know,” and he would be a picture that would cause his tribe to weep. Suppose toe father and mother of the Indian student, thus attired,should give the muskratsthat they trap, a holiday, and go to the col lege to visit their sons, and should find him as described, and he oonld put his eye-glass into one eye and say, "Ah, governor, glad to see yon, yon know; and msdame, I am yours truly,” the aged rat trapper would pull his gun and if he oonld get two of them in range he would shoot them, though he would hesitate to waste a charge of powder on a single one, while the squaw mother would wrap her blanket around her form and go and lean against a fence and be siok. The Indian would have too mnch sense, uncultured thoucrh he may be, to be proud of such an outfit as a son, and instead of blessing the day that his son decided to become cultivated, he would curse it. If it is deemed advisable to educate the Indian boys, let ns com mence at the right place, the country school, and when the Indian has learned enough to be able to transact business, let him go into some business that he can do, and if he has got it in him to become a man, he will have encourage ment from all decent people, bnt if we start him in a college, where half the boys go because all the other places to get rid of them are oloaed, the Indian will come ont a big-headed piece of use lessness, and when he gets out there will be no place good enough for him. He will be above catching rats, and the world will owe him a living.—EccEi •Vim. r - . —i - —--••••-' - ' The Irish. ' At the last census the natives of Ire- and who were present in England and Wales numbered 562,374, being in the proportion of 21.65 to 1,000 of the en tire population. The number is not an increasing quantity, for in 1861 it was 601,634, and at each census since it has fallen gradually. These figures show that relatively to the whole population of the country the Irish element is not formidable, but its unequal division over the country concentrates its strength in certain districts. In the agricultural counties the number of Irish is insignifi cant, bnt bat in the manufacturing and mining counties and borooghs they form a large proportion of the popula tion. Thus, in Liverpool they are reckoned at 12.8 per cent, in Birken head &8, in 8t Helen’* 8.5, in Man- eheater 7.5, in Salford 7.4, in Lan cashire 6.1, in Cumberland 5.6 per cent, and so on. Bogus Butteb.—The steward of a prominent hotel gives this advioe; "Any housekeeper can prove the honesty of her grocer, or hi* batter, by. melting it Pare batter melted product's a pore, limpid, golden oil, and it retains the batter flavor. Melt oleomargarine, and the oil smells like tallow and looks like tallow, and a seam riees to the surface. Butterine is a mixture of dairy batter and fata. Melt that, and the batter oil will rise to the top. Poor this off, and yon will*find the fats at the bottom, whitish in color and giving off a dis agreeable smell.” AN IRISH GIKL’8 HEROISM. teraslag la Hwaar Falaalr I* Nava 0*Oaa> — aalPa Lila. The Dublin Ncu'i publishes a letter frfim Mr. A. M. Sullivan, who was one of Patriek O'DonneU’a counsel, entitled: "Susan Gallagher, the Irish Jeannie Deans—an Episode of the O’Donnell Trial." Mr. Sullivan describes the con nection of Susan Gallagher with the killing of James Carey, and argues that the facta redound to the credit of the Irish peasantry. In this case, he says, a simple Donegal girl outrivaled the Midlothian heroine in her anguish, sacri fice, devotion and truth. Mr. Russell's masterly and irresistible argument proved s hundred ciroomstanoesand con siderations in favor of Carey having handled a pistol daring the tragedy. Yean ago O’Donnell separated from his wife in America, \yhile revisiting Done gal, O'Donnell (net Susan, who con sented, under the representation that she was his sister, to accompany him to toe Cape, where they intended to marry. When after he returned to England she was questioned by Messrs. Pryor and Sullivan, Susan stated that after leaving Gape Town ahe sat listless, seasick, and dazed in the steamer’s saloon on a bench; and when Mr. Sullivan ap proached the critical point concerning Carey’s pistol, Susan realizing the tre mendous importance of toe question, suffered intense mental anguish and trembled like an aspen-leaf. Sobbing, she replied: "My back was turned toward them, Sir. Oh, if T hxd on tamed round before! Oh, Sir, I was not looking the right way. I heard some noise on the floor. It might have been he shuffling of feet It was a small matter.” Mr. Sullivan adds: "Whc oonld contradict her if she testified that she beheld Carey with pistol in hand ? Or what could be easier than for her to decline that she heard the pistol fslL” In conclusion he says : "The people of Tyroonneil may claim with [wide the hnmble heroine of religion and truth, Susan Gallagher, the Irish Jeannia Deans.” Aidrem, THE PEOPLE B*BwEiiag.*a THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. WHAT WE FIND IN THEM TO LAUGH OVER. fad that WET NX WOESIXD. Doctor—"And bow do yoa morning, my poor fellow F* Sufferer—"Much better in moat ways, bat lam afraid I won’t Bread very tat; I worry too much.” Doctor—"Yon have nothing to worry about. You will not lose any of you limbs and the railroad company oaa b# made to pay heavy damages. ” Sufferer—"I know that; but just think of the humiliation 1" Doctor—"The humiliation 1” Sufferer—Yes; I wee always con sidered a man of energy and activity, but now my reputation is rained. Ho one will want to employ a man who' so lazy as to get ran over by aa modation Inin."—Philadelphia Cull. MARRIED TWO WOMEN. ‘Did you beer of that man down town who married two women in on: Jayr asked Fogg at the tea table toe other evening. “Isn’t it awful!” exclaimed the landlady. "Do tell us all about it, Mr. Fogg.” "Oh, there isn’t much to tell,” replied Fogg; “ydu know him well. "1 know him! the villainf* shrieked the landlady. “Don’t Bay that, ma'am," said Fogg, soothingly; "don’t say that. It was the Rev. Mr. Textual, your beloved paator, and be wouldn't like to hear yon talk so about him. And, by the by, he married the women to aa two likely young fellows as there are In town.” The landlady says she never could bear that Fogg.—Boston TVon- icript. The Decline of Wlnnepeg. This is not a very jolly British city to visit just now, seye a newspaper corree- spondent, although bed and board were in such demand a year or eighteen months ago that the owner of a can vas tent twenty by sixty feet oonld retire to the LaKe aT Oomo for toe remainder of hie Ufa after a month’s rental from it. But now all ia changed; city lota that sold aa high ae $1,400 a front foot are held for an offer, and there ia no one to m^ke it The city has had its booth and high fever; and relaepe, and oojla^pe in in (sot, is upon the capital of Jh« Prov ince of Manitoba, the first city of the great Northwest Within two yesrrt&ff rush was so great from Upper Canada that there was not room in the care nor in the hotels of Winnipeg for the crowds- Demand for anything soon begets supply, of course, and so frame buildings quick ly went np for hotels, and then more leisurely brick buildings followed, and now it is said the hotels in that city are as numerous as churches in Rome, where the learned reader of "Hare” and other guide-books will remember, there are churches, or, more accurately speaking, a church, for every day in toe year. Be the number aa it may, they are numer ous and varied in style, from "The Queen’s," which ia very English in its musty atmosphere and in the solid silver or plated service on the tables to the lodging houses, in imitation of the English, where for twopence one can get a musty if not nasty shake-down. "Yon can Uve on a crust a day in Eu rope,” says Bayard Taylor, "but below four cents for a bed you can’t go.” But Winnipeg, save in the name and air of ita principal hotel, is not in any manner an English city. You don’t see a"red-ooat,’’ and the "bob”—the learned traveler will remember that a London policeman is called a "bob,” and be will also remember that an English shilling is called a bob—the "bob” in the huge bnffalo coat will tell you that he came here from Wisconsin. The people in the streets are Americans, and the wares in the shops are Yankee.Bnt the heavy swell with the glass disc in the left eye tethered by a string his coat, is, of course, a Britisher. He is yaw-yawing ui>on one subject or snother. The city is American, and in the character of its houses yon could imagine yourself in Kansas or Minnesota. The collapse has l*een a serious one, but bottom is not touched, and-from the mattering* one hears, it is not difficolt to imsgine that the mother oonntiy may have a refractory South Carolina on hex hands in the hear future; that, in faet, there may be a seceding State from the Dominion of Canada. Then the pre cedent of aid and comfort and rebel rams will arise to disturb the Britisher. AN INVALID. "Your daughter has a toneh of laris,” said a physician to a Haw Tosh lady. "I will call again in tha nun* ing.” The mother then went to bar daugh ter’s room with a look of great anxiety on her fsoe, and said: "My dear, the doctor Bays yon have malaria. What is it? Is it dangerousF "Not very, mamma, and oh, it’s so aristocratic I I will wear my Una eflk wrapper, and we most get some ont glass bottles for the medicines, and if any of the Scuffles girls call have them brought to my room. It will taka them down a peg or two, I can tall yon.'' And tha sick young woman looked tha very picture of happiness and oontaut— Philadelphia OalL - WHAT IT MEANT. "I never saw a man who would pick np his clothes and pat them where they belonged,” growled Mrs. Edsell as aha .slammed her hnsbaad’e pants across tha back of a chair. "And I never saw. a woman who wouldn’t,” replied his nibs, "and go through ail his pockets and sift ont tha best parts of his money and rand all Ms hittinf notes, and ask what 14-lh-H meant on an insnranoe company’s asm* orandum.” "I don’t,” said she. "Yon do,” said ha, and aa ha dodged tha hair brash ha ran into Jana both hands fall of oofflee and then went out to buy hie breakfast at some dining room. —Hartford Sunday Journal. V L. ~ A STRIKE IN CHICAGO. The proprietor of a Chicago <vas sitting in his private offlea w announced that a strike had jnrt bMR inaugurated. ‘Great Scott!” exclaimed the propri etor, turning to the boy. "What’s tha matter with the printers this \ "It’s not the printers, n he ‘it’s the editors. The hall struck. ” "Oh,” said the proprietor, with a sigh of relief. "I thought it was the print er*. Tell them their demands are not complied with, and then go to tha poet- office and get the exchanges. It won’t take me long to write editorials to last a month. I don’t need anyway.”—Philadelphia (ML editors, "Mr. White," said; a Harrisbmrg law yer to avritness in the box, "at t!he time these papers were executed you were speculating, were you not?” "Yes, sir." "You were in oil?” "I was.” "And what arc yon iu now ?” "Bankruptcy,' was the solemn reply. The Pullman Oar Company have 13,- 000 blankets. If you don’t believe this give the potter fifty cents )to a cold iiHxkt and be will show you one. HEARD IE a HOTEL. "Who is that man, papa?" "He ia one of our eity fathers.” "What is he doing?” "He is trying to get his dinner charged to the city account.” "Is he not able to pay for his food?” "Perhaps; but it is noi tbs of doing business.” , "Will be succeed in converting tfan clerk to his way of thinking?" "Not this time.” "la he what yon oal] a tnatad titty official’ ?” "He was, but he got frnstod teti much; he pays cash now for his or gata them somewhere "Will he go homer "No, he preferb togo hungry." “Perhaps he will go to work r "Yes, working the (me according to slang parianee." "Yea, papa, bnt I thought it nae Mm proprietor,^ tha hotat tha free lunch route, ana- "My child, when yon will know more. Ho aonuff Mi —Bomon cutirtfr, a