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'M THE "SMOKER" IN A TUNNEL. The stun is shut from sight, The shadows deeper grow, Suddenly falls the night Of darkness like a blow. And, as though filmy mist Blobbom the clustering stars, 'Midst\iewless amethyst (How ember-tipned cigars. Lit by the headlight's glare, The steam-wreaths., past the pane 1 ike clouds through moonlit air Fly, and aie lost again. Lo' fiom the waning dark Dun shapes aie slowly drawn, And now eai li niddy spark Dies in the sudden dawn -Cbai lea 11 Luders, in Century Urie-a-lrac COKBIE WOODS: ^3i OOD morning, Miss Ellen. May I ask _^i~ what import antbus mess brings yon out so early tins morn- ing?-a quarter to seven exactly." "I shall answer your question, Air. Parsons, by ask ing the reason of your early rising. You ate decidedly the last person Bran don I expected to *ee thi morning." 'Well, I-see vou are going to the station AS well as me so, let me offer you an arm, and then I will enlighten you I am going to meet my cousin James \Yherton, and a young foreign er whom he has persuaded to join him in a week's holiday. I shall introduce them due form and if I had not a particular regard for a certain young towns nan ol my own, I should begin to speculate on the possibility of call ing you cousin eh. Ellen9'' Xcmsense, Mr. Parsons. You are a great deal too speculative as it is, oi I should try to help you out in tins matter. Hush' is that the Elton tram* I am expecting Lizzie and Mary by it. You shall introduce them to 3 our London friends." Tne ti am stopped and Ellen West wood soon discovered the two girls, whoxr-she affectionately greeted as her cousins, Lizzie and Mary Beau mont 'It is not likely that we can wait for the London train, Mr. Parsons," exciramed Ellen, in answer to a pro posal to that effect which her old friend had ventured to make. "If you are inclined to join us in a walk to the Abbey, we shall start directly aft er dinner and now, good morning." Leaving the three girls to pursue their walk into town and the gentle man to promenade the platform in expectation of the next arrival, it will be necessary to explain a little. Ellen Westwood was the only daughter ot a solicitor in Brandon, whose highest wish was to teehi child grow up a sensible, unaffected woman and tins wish promised to be fully re alized. Ellen, besides being accom plished, was distinguished ior plain sense and amiable simplicity. Though not strictly handsome, she possessed a qoiet intellectual beauty, wrhic gained many admirers. One of these alone seemed to have made an impres sion uvpon the yong girl. John Richards was a handsome, dashing young tradesman, who had known Ellen from childhood and the love, hich had begun in his school day gradually ripened into the ful ness a first affection, and John and Ellen were, in the eyes of their friends, engaged lovers Ellen Westwood's cousinsLizzie and Mary Beaumontwere the daugh ters of a country gentleman who had lately ettled near Brandon, and it had been lor some time apleasant an ticipation to the young people that they should, for a few days, escape the quiet ot their secluded hhome, to join in the comparatively gay society which Brandon afforded. They were both remarkably .amiable girls, with the usual amount of female accom plishments, and t-qqual amount of good looks. Lizzie,' the elder by four yearshad just completed her twen ty-second birthday the gayest, mer riest creature imaginable. Among iher foes( (for what t-pretty girl is entirely without foes)? Lizzie Beaumont was esteemed an, arrant flirt, and even those who loved her best could not wholly disguise from themselves the i fact tthat she\\ya a little too fomdrof miswiing admiration and a little too (Capricious imjtier re jection of it, iPolty .was a striking contrast to foer gay,little sister with a naturally warm a*id affectionate disposition, sihe-seenWl i more anxious to win love tlismttp .gain admiration and few who *a\v and knew -sweet Mary Beaumontiooilifliyefuse her either. The only serionas fault to the fouad with either of ttoe sgisle was a cer tain-tlegree of haughtiness, which ren dered them almotiUftaj)fp^pachable by the clftss of visitors itihey were-^ure to meet t their uncle"* ftwayse. Brought up with very comnmwa, ibut jyrong 110. tions qfotrue gentility,, tthey ,suppos*d that toanix with tradepeopl was ir retrievably to sink thtr ,w .dignity and ma*y were the ejaQlamatiQns of astonishoeent when they iound that most of tkeir cousin Ellen's friends were of ilfrat calibre- $ttfl (soorj amazed \\*m they when rejQrt -AvUiis jpered that Ml&e was actually engaged -to a druggist in Brandon, Howevtjr, tofcey wisely 4tftermined to enjoy thje, their first visit tto their cousin, keeping: .asssiuch as p^sible aloof tram W i'ljiejids. "Who is that gentlemanly nwin we a\v with you at itfoe station Ellen?" asked Lizzie Beamwont of her cousin, while they were putting on their bon nets promise stroll to the Ab bey. "He a stationer in Brandon and sub-editor of our paper. Nobody is so ready a Mr. Parson* to get up a pic-nic, or peasant party and as his wife is jut as good natured as himself they are most ^valuable to our little Oterje. Hejs#]jfeto join W at the y/rfw^^^^^^ Abbey for, if you remember he prom ised to introduce his cousin andfriend." Liizie said nothing: she did not like to confess that the gentlemanly man ners and good address of Mr. Parsons had taken her by surprise and still less did she choose that Ellen should imag ine that this circumstance would lesson her prejudices against those whom she considered her inferiors. The thre? girls soon descended to the drawing room, equipped for their walk, where they found the subject of their conver sation, and his guests, waiting for them. Notwithstanding her usual hauteur, Lizzie's pride was considera bly softened by the appearance of their visitors, and comforting herself with the reflection that, "after all, no body in Brandon knew her," she ac cepted Mr. Parson's arm with a tol erable good grace. Among the numerous devices for making people "acquainted," there is not 'one so successful as a long walk. An insight into each other's tastes and characters is gained, which seldom fails in setting comparative strangers upon a friendly footing. By the time Ellen Westwod and her cousins re turned from their ramble, Nizzie was woudering how she could possible have become such good friends with a tradesman, and Polly as full of aston ment to discover that she had enjoy ed a delightful walk with his cousin. "Ellen." said her cousin Lizzie, after their visitors had departed, "I am very anxious to see what your friend John Richards is like for, from the specimen I have had this evening of Brandon tradesmen, I am not so much horrified at the idea of owning one for my cousin as I had used to be. Why was not Mr. Richards of the party to-night?" "Because he was obliged to go into the country on business but we shall see him to-morrow. You must prepare for a regular flirtation tor I believe it would be as impossible for John to see a pretty girl without falling in love with her. as if would be for her to help liking him." "Well, Miss Ellen, a pretty charac ter for a gentleman to receive from his 'intended.' What an extraordinary pair of lovers you must be. And do you mean to tell me that you allow all this flirting without feeling jealous?" "Oh, yes. I have no right to be jealous, because I otten think that John may have mistaken the feeling of school-boy love, which has grown up with him, for that deeper affection which belongs to riper years." "And you, knowing this, continue an engagement which may end misera bly, Ellen?" "If I saw that John had formed any real attachment for another, Lizzie, I would release him at once but I do not think I should be justified in do ing so, simply because his natural light-heartedness may lead him a lit tle beyond the strict mark set for 'en- gaged' people. But I dare say you are pretty well tired." As the little party sat at breakfast next morning, a loud knocking at the hall-door gave notice of a visitor, who soon after entered the parlor without further announcement. "Good morning, Mrs. Westwood, good morning sir," exclaimed, a pleas ant, musical voice, as a tall, young man, with handsome features and manly bearing, walked up to the breakfast-table, and exchanged the usual friendly greetings with the family. Mr. John Richards was then formally introduced to the Misses Beaumont, and, seated in Mr. West wood's easy-chair, commenced an at tack upon that gentleman. "You have not yet asked what brings me here so early, Mr. West wood so I suppose I must break the ice myself, and tell you that we want the ladies to join a pic-nic to Corbie Woods to-morrow. If you will let us have your carriage and horse, I will put mine in too, and we can pack a good load. Of course you will not ob ject to trust so fair a freight to my care," added the young man, with a persuasive smile. Mr. Westwood looked up.and&hook his head as he replied, "Do not be so certain that I can trust you, either with my nieces and daughter or my horse John. I heard a terrible ac count of that last adventure of yours, when you chose to risk young Elwell's neck as well as your own, in driving tandem. To say the truth. I was al most soiry that his horse should have been taken home broken-kneed while your own escaped so well." "Skill, my dear sir, simply the driver's skill, with a little luck, per haps but that, you know, always at tends me. Is it not exemplified at this moment, when, in spite of these obtrusive ghosts of past accidents, you are seriously intending to let me have the horse ay, and the ladies too? We shall start at six o'clock, Ellen," he continded, as he rose to leave "but my mother is coming down to ask it you will all spend the evening with us, and we shall then arrange everything. What do you think of these friends of Parsons, Mr. Westwood?" "That they will be astonished at the specimen you afford of a county gen tleman, John. However, be it distinct ly understood that I do not allow the girls to he (driven tandem. If you promise tfiais,vyou may have the car riage, and intake you own arrange ments. Onilylbeihome in good time." "Thank you,eir I not only promise euB you reqtaine, but engage that the laiUies shall eewaae iback delighted with their excursion. And now I must say goad morning."' Pleasantly tfatda passed away, and imerrily did ithe young people "finisfa up" in Mrs- iftichard's hand some Crawing-room, .where music and singing, and a choice,collection of rare prints, ,nd beautiful.orajron drawings of John'jg, made even the fastidious Lizzie Beaumont forget that she was spending he evening in a ioom over "the shop."' "I thotigfe-t Mr. Richards was no acquainted with your cousins, Mis* Westwood," *.aid Geoi^e PUIKMS, the good-looking jFrenchmass., ^w,hQ was staying at Mr. Parson's. "If he was only introduced tfcis morning, he has made pretty goo use of hi* time in cultivating their goVd opinion. He and Miss Beaumont seem like old friends already," "John can make himself at honrn with anybody, and especially with a pretty girl," returned Ellen smiling "but see, they are projosin a dance we must move." "Allow me to claim you as my partner Miss Westwood and the young couple whirled off to the in spiriting tones of a Socnottische. The next morning's sun shone brill iantly upon the merry party assembled in Mr. Westwood's hall, to start for the day's pleasure in Corbie Woods. Such a confusion of baskets and hampers, of sanwiches and tarts, fowls and tongue, fruit and biscuits, besides a more suspicious-looking hamper, with black muzzles of sundry bottles peeping out from the hay. When these things were disposed of, came the bustle of arranging the pas sengers. At last all was satisfactorily arranged the handsome Frenchman duly installed next to Lizzie, and Mr. Wherton ensconscing himself be tween Ellen and Mary. Everybody knows, or ought to know, what a day in the woods is like, and therefore it is not our intention to re count all the accidents and adven tures which befel our young friends. Nor is it necessary to endeavor to ac count for the stupidity of all the young people, who, although the Corbie Walks are remarkably easy to find, would persist in mistaking the turns, and getting lost. And the harvest moon had risen in full splendour long ere the happy party reached Brandon. The last day of the week's holiday arrived. On the morrow the new friends were to part. "Oh, I wish papa would allow us to stay till Thursday'" exclaimed Lizzie Beaumount, as she left the drawing room, with her consin, to finish pack ing "I shall never exist in Rosedean after enjoying such a merry week among "Tradespeople, Lizzie, dear for with the exception of papa, all our friends are in business. I am so glad to find that this predjudice is weakened at last." Lizzie colored as she replied, "Sure ly I may have liked the society of my future cousin, without being accused of enjoying the company of tradespeo ple generally. Mr. Parsons, I know little of, except that he is a good-na tured, sensible man, and his cousin has still less occupied my thought." "Can you say as much of George Dunois, Lizzie? and yet he is no bet ter than a tradesman, although I fancy he may have wished to make it appear that a foreign clerk in a whole sale London house was a superior per son to the City trader himself. "What nonsense, Ellen as if I cared for Dunois! Now, Ellen, saj- no more, dear but help me with this boxlid. I wonder why Polly is not here," "Mamma wished to have a little chat with her. She is in no better spirits than you are, Lizzy and I should be worse than either of you, but for the hope that we shall tnaeet again at Christmas/7 Christmas came, aad went and the new year dawned in hopeful promise over the length and breadth of the land, as well as in the old woods Gorbie where the glisteniiag greeia the 'holhy ooughs, st-udded with scarlet berries, gave to one particrailar walk a gay and alamost siuinunaer aspect. 'What a cha/rnaiaag day it has been for the wedding. I Jowe to ee the -sun shiiue at sonch tiaaaes at -seems .like .an omeinoif ihjitenegofod.. Do\youittot think so?" "Yes, etw!rs 1 umtst believe the old adage. 'Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on,' returned Lizzie Beannaon-oaat, laughingly "and I fully ac cept the omen this'instance because I do believe that dear Ellen has ev ery prospect .of happiness, in jpite of John's old tendency for falling in love with .every pretty face he saw."" "Ah, Lizzie, you little know the mi ery that tendency caused me last sum mer but it is oversow. Let the leaves maibe hast to deck those old Corbip oaks again, and I shall not envy the ihappieet heart that .ever throbbed be meath tiheir shade." "Fiacle will want to return, 'George Jet us maake haste and find the rest of our party. It was very kind .of him to indulge nns wrath tikis visit rtso the woods." "Heme .eoanaes rand 'Wherton, tooth kxobrag remarkably conscious. After all, Lizide, dear," -whispered the young aiiana, "I sUaaill mot be much sur prised if you have .a tradesman for your tomtiher-mm-law, .a* well .as hus- band." Increase of Whites im VJlr^i-raia. A Richmond ((Va.) dispata ays: An analysis of tihe growth the population in Virginia, a* bwim'by the recent census,esMfoitsaaa immense increase of whites over ekue vter in that State since 1880. A State officer who has watehed the lyetuunns carefully has figured up the resoult in fifty-eight white counties in the State. He says in those the whites have gain ed 97,220 and lost 1,208, a net sain of 96,012. The negroes increased in these fifty-eight counties 18,220 and lost 17,985, a net gain of only 235. In the counties having colored ma jorities in 1880 the whites increased 36,725. In twelve of the counties having colored majorities in that year the whites decreased 3,137. making in the forty-two counties having colored majorities a net gain of 33,590. Albemarle, Campbell, Elizabeth City, Hanover, King George, Orange and Pittsylvania, which had colored ma jorities in 1880 now have white ma jorities. In seventeen counties of the black belt the negroes increased 26,- 863, and in twenty-five counties of the same section they decreased 20,- 248, making in the forty-two counties an increase of only 6,615. Men show particular folly on five different occasions when they estab lish their fortune on the ruin of an other when they expect to excite love by .coldness, and by showing more ma*fes of dislike than affection when they wish to become learned in the midst of repose and pleasure when they seeSt friends without making any advances of friendship? and when they are utMwJJujg to suceof tj|^j.r friends in distress*. SLUMBER SONG. The mill goes toiling slowly around, With steady and bolenin creak, And my little one hears in the kindly sound "ho voice of the old mill speak While round and round those big white 'Whigs uriiniy and ghostlike creep, My little one hears that the old mill singv. "Sleep, little tulip, sleep." The sails are reefed and the nets arc drawn, And, over his pot ol'beer, The hsher, against the moirow's da\\n, Lustily maUeth cheer. He niocks at the winds thatraper along From the far-oli clamorous deep, But wowe love tlioii lullaby ^ong Of "Sleep, little tulip, sleep." Shaggy old Frit/, in slumber sound, Oi oans ol the stony mart To-morrow how proudly he'll trot you around, Hitched to our new milk cart' And you shall help me blanket the kine, And fold the gentle sheep. And set the herring a-soak in brine But now, little tulip, sleep! A Dream-One oonie- to button the eyes That vveanly droop and blink, Wlnle the old mill bullets the frowning skies, And scolds at the stars that wink. Over that beautilul Dream-One sweep, And, rooking your ciadlo) she softly sings "Sleep, little tulip, sleep." Eugene Field. MABEL WATERS. OR, THE XKGLECTED GIRL. It was a pleasant day in June on which I call the reader's attention to a small but neat cottage situated in the suburbs of London. In a room on a bed lay a woman, apparently dying. She was about thirty years of age. She held by the hand a little girl of about four years. She was Avhat any one would call a beautiful child her hair of a dark brown fell in natural curls about her white neck her eyes wei'e black as midnight, from whose depths shone love for her mother, for such the dying woman Avas. The parent raihed her head from the pillow and spoke. 'Mabel, darling, you must be a good girl. Your mother is going try to meet me in the better world. Good bye. Kiss me once before I die." Mabel held up her lips for the last kiss from her mother, and sobbed aloud. Her mother then, turning to the doctor who stood at the foot of the bed, said in a feeble voice, '*I have an only brothera wealthy merchant residing at Clapham. Will you A\ rite to him when I am gone, and tell him hi sister, Mabel Waters, is dead' Ask him if he will take pity on my little friendless child, and take her as bib wn if he will not, she must be thrown upon the cold chai-ities of the 'world. Oh it Frank were only here!" she sighed. "What is your brother's address?" said the doctor mildly. "Henry .St. Clair, Clapham Com mon. She then sank back upon her pillow and died, leaving her earthly friends behind. Dr. Willis at 'do-w and wrote a note to Mr. -St. 'Clair, stating his saster's death. Then, calling the (neighbors from an adjoining vooni, he bade them prepaa-e her tor her last resting place. We will -now direct the reader's at tention to a mansion at Clapham. "I wonder who this is from?" aid Mr. St. Clair, as he unfolded a letter just handed him by the servant. He ran his eye over the contents then threw it aside, and began pacing the floor. He stopped suddenly in his walk and, jerking the bell-rope, or deredthe servant to tell Mrs. St. Clair he wished to see her in the library. The servant disappeared, and in a moment more Mrs. St. Clair entered. "Read that, May, and tell me what you think of.it." She read it in haste, and then said. "Why Henry, I did not know that you had a sister you never told me." "No, I never did I will now tell you why. When Avere both youngI scarce twrentyAve she eighteenshe had a lover whom I despised. I talked to liar in vain my father threatened,but all to no purpose. My sister's lover's name Avas Frank Waters. He sought my sister's hand in marriage my father would not consent that his -only daughter-should marry a man of no fortune ,he Isold her he Avould dis ow her, shut -she .heeded not my father's thneats nor my mother's Sprayers, nor any -OAvn threats. I told iber if she smarried him, I, for one \w0.ul never see her faoe .again. One DaigJat in August she eloped. I mever eem hearid from Jber ince, umtil mo"w.'" "Uoes siike think tihat we shall take her .child and adopt her? Or does she thamk shall divide the estate be tween her aaad Arthur* Why didn't she send her to the Avorkhouse?" "Well, May, I cannot bear to see my only sister's child go to the work house, when Ave have the means to spare for her comfort." "Then I suppose she Avill have to come here. But," she added, looking from the windoAV, "herecomes Arthur we Avill see what he says." As she spoke a lad came galloping up the path on a poAA'erful black steed. He was fourteen years of age, Avith jet black hair and eyes he Avas beautiful to perfection, and that his mother well kneAV. Mr. St. Clair pulled the bell-rope again, and Arthur Avas soon ushered into the presence of his parents. "Arthur," said Mrs. St. Clair, "do you Avant your cousin, Mabel Waters, to come and live here?" "I did not knoAv I had a cousin," said Arthur, in surprise. "I Avill explain to you," said his fa ther. After he had finished, he said, "Now what do you think?" "She will have to stay in the ser vants' hall!" said Mrs. St. Clair "she ihall not mingle with us. I do not, Aft wish people to know that she is any kindred of ours." In about an hour after the above conversation the carriage Avas on its Avay fm the poor orphan" child. It was about the middle of the afternoon Avhen Mable arrived at her new home, she had expected to find oneasgoodas her mother but little did she know that she was to be treated as a me nial. Months sped by, and she and Arthur met frequently, and they began to make friends Avith each other. Little did they know Avhat their friendship would ripen to! Still Mabel Avas kept as a menial. Ten long years passed, Aveary years to the orphan girl, A\ith no one to say a kind Avord to her except Arthur. Now Mabel Avas jiibt budding into womanhood. So far she had looked upon Arthur as an elder brother and not until he had returned from college did she know how dear he was to her. She loved him Avith all the ardour of her woman's nature. Arthur, AVIIO was destined for the bar, returned that love. Many happy hours had the young lovers spent in the vine-covered arbour in the garden. .v It i y. It Avas a pleasant June day, tAvelve years after Mabel Avas installed at the St. Clairs. Mrs. St. Clair Avas sum moned to the draAving-room, to the presence of a tall stranger. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mrs. St. Clair?" said the stranger. "You have," she returned, with a stiff boAv. "I heard you had a girl in your house by the name of Mabel Waters. I came to bring her news of her sup posed dead father. Will you call her?'' Mrs. St Clair summoned Mabel from the kitchen. She appeared before them in all the beauty and grace so natural to her. She Avas dressed in the plainest fashion a plain print, Avith spotless collar and cuffs. The gentleman sat Avith boAved head until she entered then, starting as if from a dream, exclaimed, "This, then, is my daughter, for Avhom I have sought so long. My childmy long-lost Mabel''' "Oh, father, my father, is it indeed you?" And she Avas clasped to the bosom of her parent. Mrs. St. Clair had stood as one in a trance. Could this distinguished gen tleman be the father of their house hold drudge? After the first burst of joy from the long-separated father and daughter, Sir Francis Watersfor he Avas now a Baronet, and richturned and said, "I thank you, Mrs. St. Clair, for the care you have taken of my daughter Ave Avill trouble you no more. Come, Mabel, the carriage is waiting "But, father," said Mabel. "I must see Arthur firstbut here he comes," and as she spoke, Arthur came into the room. "What, Mabel, going to lea\e me?" he said, advancing. "Oh, Arthur, said Mabel, "this is my father." Arthur advanced at once, and ex tended to him his hand. "My father tooshall it not be so, Mabel9 "Yes, if my neAv-found parent A\ill give me up so quickly." "We AA'ill all live together, my child," responded the Baronet. Need AA' add that, in two months from the time Avhen Mabel Avas thus claimed by her father, there was a grand Avedding at the St. Clair mansion, and Mabel Waters Avas made the happy Avife of Arthur St Clair? HAWAIIAN SUPERSTITION. Hideous Funeral Custom-Kala kaua's Belief in the Kahunas. It is the custom for the HaAvaiians to shave the right side of the head or beard at the death of the king, and many of the kahali bearers around Kalakaua's bier beautified themselves in this fashion. One old chap Avho crouched in the corner of the room had his beard chopped fancifully, so that the repulsiveness of his counten ance Avas magnified, He Avas Avhat the natives call a kaula, or prophet, and belonged to the race of kahunas. There were several of these gentry in the room constantly, and they managed to make their voices heard in all the Availing. Kalakaua was seA-eral sorts of a kahuna himself, and AA'rote on the subject at great length. It seems that shortly after he ascended the throne he Avas much terrified to learn that the kahunas, or "medicinemen," Avere endeavoring to "pray him to death," Avhereat he hastened to declare him self the chief priest of all the Kahunas, and after that held monthly meetings in his boat house, Avhich" he named the "House of Wisdom." All these meetings, Avhich were held behind curtained AvindoA\-s. and amid the greatest secrecy, a species of Eleus inian orgy was carried on. There were present the kahuna maoli or priests, the kahunasnaana or sorcer ers,the kahuna uhane or ghost doctors, and the kahuna pele, or doctors of volcanoes. Men of Cultivated Taste. There are about 200 tea tasters in this city, a AA-ell-paid class of men, most of Avhom in the course of nature will die of kidney disease superinduced by their umvholsome occupation. The habits of these men are exceedingly curious. Some of them refuse to ply their trade save in the morning, on the ground that the sense of taste cannot be trusted after it has been beAvilderedby hours of work. Most of them avoid the use of tobacco and of highly seasoned food. Their ac curacy of taste is astonishing. A tea taster will grade and price a dozen qualities of tea all from the same cargo. All this accuracy seems unnec essary, hoAvever, for grocers unhesitat ingly sell the same tea to different per son's at very different prices, so ignor ant are most persons of quality in teas.New York Sun. OBHa DESERVED A RECALL. A '-Super" Assumes Eight Parts in One Night. Young actors often find themselves in tight places, but I doubt if any Avas ever obliged to take eight parts at the same time AAithout a change of clothing, says "Walter Collier. We Avere playing at Philadelphia. "Mac beth" Avas the drama aud Louis James took the leading part. I Avas^ one of the accusing specters, that rise irom the caldron. As it was but the Avork of a moment and I had nothing else to do after my little act I merely threAV on the Avhite shroud over my street clothes, intending to visit some other theater. But when the ghosts came to A\alt/, the master of the supers found that in his hurry he hadforgottenall about the scene and had allowed the other seven spectors to go home. Evidently there Avas nothing for it bub for me to take the place of the others. As 1 had appeared once, and as I Avalked off supposing I Avas done, the master caught hold of me and literally fired me back. I had to run around behind the painted rocks in order to appear from, the kettle. The rock Avas a huge affam of canvass, propped up from behind bjl tAvo long supports. Then I began my race. I jumped out of the caldron ancl passed before Mackbeth. I Avas caugha again and hurled back by the manager* over the long props and out of the kettle again. This seven times, remem ber. By the fourth time the audience caught on, and you can imagine my dismay to find that my shroud Avas falling off. By the sixth successful appearance the thing hung by the neck only, my black coat tail sticking out behind. By the eighth it fell off com pletely, and I sunk exhausted amid the plaudits of the multitude. James was so convulsed Avith laugh ter that he had to take a seat upon a rock, and the curtain went doAvn. I A A as recalled by the house, being prob ably the only super who ever made such a pronounced hit. MAN'S FIRST DWELLING. A Remarkable Habitation Found in the Low Countries of South America. Long, long ago, some men traveling in the IOAV countries of South America came upon a remarkable dwelling. Only a little one-story habitation,. 7x9 feet, left by its owners SAAeet and clean. A cot of one room, just large enough to hold a A A hole family of little ones, provided they did not need too much room for running and jumping. Such a beautifullaymaster dwelling1 decorated littlear None but the could have fashioned the delicately ornamented roof reaching high above the mes clinging about it. and a root Avarranted not to leak during the heaviest rain, and sure to last for ages and ages. There AAere tAvo entrances to this primitive mansion, one at the front, and one at the rear, not very large, to be sure, but large enough tor one to craAvl through comfortably, and these entrances, scalloped and cut Avith a perfection not to be ex celled, A\ere always open, too, as if waiting for an occupant. And all to be had rent free. NOAV. Avas not this a remarkable structure for our tra\ el ers to find in the AAilderness? There Avere unmistakable proofs. to6, of its having been inhabited, and by savages, undoubtly of a very an cient day. On examining the dAvell ing and remnants of others [for the discoverers found only one perfect) one], the AAise men decided it must have been at one time the bony cover ings of some animal of the armadillo family. Further research and study con vinced them they had found not only a perfect armor of the Glyptodon, the gigantic armadillo of prehistoric times, but AAhat was still more Avonderful, that this armor, abandoned by its, original Avearer. had become, proba bly the very first habitation of man. The only perfect one of these dw ell ings IIOAV knoAvn to be in existence i* in the possession of the French go\ eminent, and is kept in the Jardiirde^. Plantes, in Paris. Why They Should Not Wear Tights." These garments, it seems, are of very fine and thin silk, and in the case of women they are draAvn on so* closely to the bare legs that they af ford no protection against the cruelty of stage draughts. They are also held in place by a strap or some other con trivance Avhich squeezes in the A\raist to such a degree that the circulation, in the legs is almost stopped. A nov ice in the wearing of tights, she says, suffers Avhat amounts to positive tor ture and even the old hands only put them on as a concession to public taste and demand. They would much prefer to appear in long gowns like the rest of their sisters if the require ments of their part and their desire to please the spectators Avere not more powerful with them than the desire to be comfortable themselves. They put their health in peril in order that they may the better gratify their audiences. mere sanitary and altruistie O" grounds, therefore, the wearing of tights by women of the stage might be discouraged A A ith some SIIOAV of reason. If physicians agreed that such an ex posure of their legs involved danger to the health of the wearers of tights, it might be profitable to consider whether they should be allowed to* make the sacrifice for the public pleas ure and for the gratifications of their OAvn craving for admiration.New York Sun. Poets view nature as a book in, which they read a language unknown to common minds, as astronomers regard the heavens and therein discov er objects that escape the vulgar ken- 4