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The officers of Her Majesty's Twenty
fourth and Eighty-fourth Infantry were
sitting around their mess table, in Castle
town, the capital 01 the Isle of Man, one
evening more than thirty years agothat
is, all of them except one but then, that
one was only Jones. Nobody minded
Jones even his peculiarities had begun
to be an old subject for "chaffing" and,
indeed, he had paid such small attention
to their "chaffing" that they had come to
find it little pleasure and after some
weeks of discomfort Lieut. Jones had
been allowed to choose his own pleasures
without much interference.
These were not extravagant. A favor
ite book, a long walk in all kinds of
weather, and a sail when the weather
was favorable. He would not drink--he
said it hurt his health he would not
shoothe said it hurt his feelings he
would not gamble he said it hurt his
conscience and he did not care to flirt or
visit the belles of the capitol, he said it
hurt hia affections. Once Capt. De Reuzy
bspingly wondered whether it was poss
ible to "fruit his honor," a^d Jones calmly
answered that "it was not possible for
Capt. De Reuzy to do so."
Indeed, Jones constantly violated all
these gentlemen's ideas of proper behav
ior, but, for some reason or other, no one
brought him to account for it. It was
easier to shrug their shoulders and call
him "queer," or say "it was only Jones,"
or even to quietly assert his cowardice.
One evening Col. Underwood was dis
cussing a hunting-party for the next
day. Jones walked into the room and
was immediately accosted:
Something new, Lieutenant. I find
there are pleanty of. hares on tins island,
and we mean to give puss a 1 un to-mor
row. I have heard you are a good rider.
Will you join us?"
"You must excuse me, Colonel such a
thing is neither in the way of my duty nor
my pleasure." You forgot the honor the Colonel
does you, Jones," said young Ensign
I thank the Colonel for his courtesy,
but I can see no good reason for accept
ing it. I am sure my horse wiil not ap
prove of it and I am sure the hare will
not like it and I am*not a good rider
theiefore, I should not enjoy it."
"You need not be afarid," said the
Colonel, rather sneeringly "the country
is quite open and these low Manx walls
are easily taken."
"Excuse me, Colonel, I am afraid. If
I should be hurt it would cause my moth
er and sisters very great alarm and
anxiety. I am very much afraid of do
What was to be done with a man so
obtuse regarding conventionalities, and
who boldly asserted his cowardice. The
Colonel turned away, half contemptuous
ly, and Ensign Powell took Jones' place.
The morning proved to be a very bad
one, with the prospect of a rising storm
and as the party gathered in the bar
racks-yard Jones said earnestly to his
"I am afraid sir, you will meet witii
a severe storm."
"I thinkso, Lieutenant, but we prom
ised to dine at Gwynne Hall, and we shall
get that far, at any rate."
So they rode rather gloomily away in
the rain. Jones attended to the military
duties assigned him, and then, about
noon, woiked seaward. It was hard
work by this time to keep his footing on
the narrow quay: but amid the blinding
spray and mist he saw quite a crowd of
men going rapidly toward the great
shelving Scarlet" Rocks, a mile beyond
the town. He stopped an old sailor" and
"Is anything wrong?"
"A little steamer, sir, off the Calf of
Man she is driving this way: an' inteet
I fear she will be on ta rocks afore ta
Jones sood still a moment, and then
followed the. crowed as fast as the stcrm
would let him. When he joined them'
they wear gathered on the summit of a
huge cliff, watching the doomxl craft.
She was now within sight, and it wasevi
dent that her seaman had almost lo&t all"
control of her. She must, ere long, be
flung bv the waves upon the jagged and
frightful rocks toward which she was
driving. In the lulls of the wind, not on
ly the booming of the minute gun, but
also the shouts of the imperiled crew
could be heard.
"What can be done?" said Jcnes to an
old man, whose face betrayed the strong
"Nothing, sii, I am afrait. If she'd
managed to rount a rocks, she would
have go to pieces on the sand, and there
are plenty ol men who would have risket
life to save life. But how are we to reach
them from this height?'
"How far are we above the water?"
"This rock go^p down like a wall, for
ty fathoms, sir."
"Wnat depth of water at the foot?"
"Thirty feet or more."
"Good. Have you plenty of light
"Much as you want, sir but let me tell
you, sir, you can't live three minutes
down there ta first wave will throw you
on ta rocks, and dash you to pieces.
Plenty of us would put you down, sir, but
you can't swim if you get down."
"Do you know, old man, what 'surf
swimming' is? I have dived through the
surf at Nukuheva/'
"God bless you, sir! I thought' no
white man could do that same."
While this conversation was going on
Jones was divesting himself of all super
fluous clothing, and cutting out the
sleeves of his heavy pea-jacket with his
pocket-knife. When this was done he
passed some light, strong rope through
The men watched him with eager in
terest, and, seeing their inquisitive looks,
"The thick sleeves will prevent the rope
cutting my body, you see."
"Ay, ay, sir I see now what you are
"Now, men, I have only one request:
Give me plenty of rope as fast as I draw on
you. When I get on board you know
how to make a cradle, I suppose?"
Ay, ay, sir but how are you going to
reach the water?"
"I am going to plunge down. I have
dived from the main yard of the Ajax
before this. It was as high a leap.
He passed a double coil of the rope
round his waist, examined it thoroughly
to see that there was plenty to start with
and, saying: "Now, friends stand out of
the way and let me have a clear start,"
he raised his bare head one moment to
ward heaven, and taking a short run leap
ed 83 from the spring board of a plunge
Such an anxious crowd as followe
that leap! Great numbers, in spite of
the dangerous wind, lay flat on their
breasts and watched him. He struck the
water at least twenty-five feet beyond the
cliff and disappeared in its dark, foamy
When he rose from the surface he saw
just before him a gigantic wave, but he
had time to breathe and before it reached
him he divided below its center. It
broke in passionate fury upon the rocks,
but Jones rose far beyond it A mighty
cheer from the men on shore reached
him, and he now began in good earnest
to put his Pacific experience into prac
Drawing continually on the men for
more ropewhich they paid out with
deafening cheershe met wave after
wave in the same manner, diving under
them like an otter and getting nearer to
the wreck with every wave,reallv advanc
ing, however, more below the water than
Suddenly the despairing men on board
heard a clear, hopeful voice:
"Help at hand, Captain! Throw me a
And in another minute or two Jone3
was on deck, and the cheers on the httle
steamer were echoed by the cheers of the
crowd on the land. There was not a mo
ment to be lost, she was breaking up fast:
but it took but a few minutes to fasten a
strong cable to the small rope and draw
it on board, and then a second cable and
the communication was complete.
"There is a lady here, sir," said the Cap
tain. "We must rig up a chair for her
she can never walkt iat dangerous load."
"But we have not a moment to waste,
or we may all be lost. Is she very heavy?"
"A slight little thing half a child, sir."
"Bring her here."
This was no time ior ceremony without
a v/ord, save a few sentences of direction
and encouragement, he took her under
his left arm, and. steading himself by the
upper cable, walked on the lower with
his burden safely to the shore. The crew
rapidly followed, for in such moments of
extremity the soul masters the body, and
all things become possible.
There was plenty of help waiting for
the half-dead seamen and the lady, her
father and the Captain were put in the
carriage of 'Squire Braddon and driven
rapidly to his hospitable hall. Jones,
amid the contusion, disappeared he had
picked up an oil skin coat and cap, and
when the rescued turned to thank their
deliverer he was gone. No one knew
him the sailors said they believed him
to be one of the military gents, by his
rigging," but the individuality of the
hero had troubled no one until the danger
was over. In an hour the steamer was
driven on the rocks and went to pieces
and, it being by this time quite dark,
everyone went home.
The next day the hunting party re
turned from Gwynne Hall^ the storm
having compelled them to stop all night,
and at dinner that evening the wrpek .and
the hero of it were the theme of every
"Such a plucky fellow," said Ensign
Powell. I wonder who he was. Gwynne
says he was a stranger, perhaps cne of
that crowd staying at the abbey."
"Perhaps,'' said Capt. Marks, "it was
"Oii, Jones would be too afraid of his
Jones made a little satirical bow, and
said, pleasantly: "Perhaps it was Pow
ell at which Powell laughed, and said,
"not if he knew it."
In a week the event was pretty well ex
hausted especially as there was to be a
great dinner and ball at Bradon, and all
the officers had invitations. This Dall
had a peculiar interest, for the young
lady who had been saved from the "wreck
would be present, and rumors of her rich
es and beauty had been rife for several
days. It was said the little steamer w^s
her father's private yacht, and that he
was a man of rank and influence.
Jones said he should not go to the din
ner, as either he or Saville "must remain
for evening drill, and that Saville loved a
good dinner, while he cared very little
about it. Saville could return in time to
let him ride over about ten o'clock and
seethe dancing. Saville rather wondered
why Jones did not take his place all the
evening, and felt half injured at his de
fault. But Jones had a curiosity about
the girl he had saved. To tell the truth,
he was nearer in love with her than he
had ever been with a woman, and he
wished in calm blood to see if she was as
beautiful as his fancy had painted her du
ring those few awful minutes that he had
held her high above the waves.
She was exceedingly lovely, just tha
fresh, innocent girl he had known she
would be. He watched her dancing with
his brotherj officers, or talking to her fa
ther, or leaning on Braddon's arm, and
every time he saw her she looked fairer
and sweeter. Yet he had not courage to
ask for an introduction, and in the busy
ball-room no one semed to remember
that he needed one. He kept his post
against the conservatory door quite un
disturbed for some time. Presently he
saw 'Squire Braddon with the beauty on
his arm approaching him. As he passed,
the Squire remembered he had not been
to dinner, and stopped to say a few
courteous words, and introduced nis com
But no sooner did Miss Conyers hear
Lieut. Jones' yoice than she gave a joy
ful cry. and, clapping her hands together
"I have found him! Papa! Papa! I
have found him!"
Never was there such an interruption
to a ball. The company gathered in ex
cited groups, and papa knew the Lieuten
ant's voice, and the Captain knew it, and
poor Jones, unwilling enough, had to
acKnowledge the deed and be made a
It was wonderful, after this what a
change took place in Jones' quiet wavs.
His books and boat seemed to have lost
their charm, and as for his walks, chey
were all in one direction, and ended at
Braddon's Hall. In about a month Miss
Conyers went away, and then Jones be
gan to haunt the postman, and get pretty
little letters which always seemed to take
a great deal of answering.
Before the end of the winter he had an
invitation to Conyers to spend a month,
and, a furlough being granted, he started
off in great glee for Kent. Jones never
returned to the eightyfourth. The
month's furlough was indefinitely length
ened, in fact he sold out,and entered upon
a diplomatic career under the care of Sir
Eighteen months after the wreck Col.
Underwood read aloud at the mess a
description of the marriage of Thomas
Jones, of Milford Haved. to Mary, only
child and heiress of Sir Thomas Conyers,
of Conyers Castle, Kent. And a para
graph below stated that "The Hon.
Thomas Jones, with his bride, had gone
to Vienna on diplomatic service of great
"Just his luck," said Powell.
"Just his pluck," said Underwood "and
for my part, when I come across one of
those fellows again that are afraid of
hurting their mothers and sisters, and not
ashamed to say so, I shall treat him as a
hero just waiting for his opportunity.
Here is the Hon. Thomas Jones and his
lovely bride. We are going to India,
gentlemen, next month, and I am sorry
the Eighty-fourth has lost Lieut. Jones
for I have no doubt, whatever, that he
would have stormed a fort as bravely as
he boardud a wreck."English Maga-
BT CIIAKI,ES DICKSOXS.
When ihe lesson'and tusks are all ended,
And the school of the day is dismissed,
And the little ones gather around me.
To bid me good night and be kissed.
Oh, the little white arm3 that encircle
My neck in a tender embrace!
Oh, the smiles, that are halos of Heaven,
Shedding sunshine of love on my face.
And when they are gone, I sit dreaming
Of my childhood, too lovely to last
Of love that my heart will remember,
When it wakes to the pulse of the past.
Ere the world and the wickedness made me
A partner of sorrow and ain
When the glory of God was about me,
And the glorj of gladness within.
Oh, my heart grows weak as a woman's
And the fountains of feeling will flow,
As I think of the paths steep and stonr,
Where the feet of the dear ones must go:
Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them,
Of the tempest of fate blowing wildli
Oh, there is nothing on earth half so holy
As the innocent heart of a child!
The twig is so easily bended,
I have banished the rule and the rod,
I have taught them the goodness of kn*wledge,
They have taught m?the goodness of Ged.
My heart is a dungeon of darkness
Where I shut them from breaking a rule,
My frown is a sufficient correction,
My love is the law of the school.
I shall leave the whole house in the autumn,
To traverse its threshold no more
Ah! how shall I sigh for the dear ones
That meet me each morn at the door.
I shall mis, the good nights and the kisses,
And the gush of their innocent glee,
The group on the green, and the llowers
That are brought every morning to me.
I shall miss them at noon and c\ e,
Their song the school and the street
I shall miss the low hum of their voices
And the tramp of their delicate feet.
When the lessons and tasks are all ended,
And death says, "The school is dismissed,"
May the little ones gather around me
To bid me goodnight" and be kissed."
WORKING HOT1T WA\ 8.
When Horatio Flipper and his bosom
fiiend, Jo'siah Clemmens, on the same
day, in the same church, married Augusta
Lawton and her dearest friend, Anathusia
Meakim, a contract was made between
the two couplea contract entirely inde
pendent of that which in the eye of the
law they had made when each answered,
"I will," in reply to the somewhat in
quisitive question put by the clergyman
in regard to their future intentions "as to
supporting, loving and honoring each
other. It was this: They bound them
selves that if one family had a son and
if the other family had a daughter, that
son and daughter, when they arrived at a
proper age should become man and wife.
There was nothing so very novel or orig
inal in such an agreement if there had
been, the parties to the contract would
never have made it, for they were neither
novel nor original in anythingthey were
simply maudlin with romance, and this
covenant was merely the effect of which
a strict attention to novels, love tales and
plays was the cause.
So much by way of prologue. Now for
Flipper and Clemmens had died full
of years and gout and rheumatism, and
left each a large fortune to his wife.
They had each left, as well, a child
Flipper, a son named Richard, otherwise
Dick. The old men had forgotten long
before their deaths all about their agree
ment on their wedding day. but not so
with the mothers. They had been in
correspondence for the last five years
about nothing else. The children had
now reached their majority, and the
mothers were anxious for the consumma
tion of the plan.
"Mother," said Dick, at the breakfast
table "there is no use in urging that girl
Kitty's suit, for I vow I will never mar
"How do you know my son? Yoa have
not seen her for twelve years, and you
might be delighted with her," returned
Mrs. Clemmens, coaxingly.
"I know I shouldn't," Dick said. "She
was a red-headed abomination when she
was a child, and I'm certain she's the
"Even if she was as handsome as Hebe,
I wouldn't marry her. I'd feel disgusted
the moment I met her, and so *ould she
if she had any sense. We'd be introd uced,
we'd look at each other, and say to our
selves "And this is the person I've got
to marry, and then we would hate each
"Well, it seems to me, Dick, that you
might at least wait until you see each
other before you make up your mind.
This is to sad," whined Mrs. Clemmens,
whipping her tears with her napkin, and
not discovering her mistake until she rub
bed some mustard into her blue orbs,
which occasioned the use of her handker
cheif in good earnest"just when I
thought I had such news for you."
"What is the news?"
"She's coming here."
"Who, Kitty Flipper?"
"Yes. I received a letter this morning
from her mother, saying Kitty would
start in a day or two."
0 Lord groaned Dick, "You must
stop her," he said seriously. "If she comes
I go. I know what she'll be a stuck-up
little minx, full of the French airs she's
acquufcd by studying abroad for twelve
years. She'll swear 'Mon Dieu,' and 'ma
foi,' and she'll talk about her naivette,
and hergaucherie, and her chic she'll
speak bad French in the present tense,
indicative mode, of the first conjugation,
and she'll commence all her questions
with 'Esker,' and then stick like the young
man at the Veneerings' party. I shan't
see her, that's settled. Write to Mrs.
Fflpper, (mellifluous appellation!) and
say we are going on a visit, and we don't
know when we will return or, butter, go
to town, see Mrs F., and explain openly
that I will never marry a Frenchified
wax doll, but that I want a wife who
knows how to keep a house in order, can
cook, preserve, bake, darn, sew, dust,
sweep, and, as the advertisements say,
make herself generally useful. In short,
a woman like my respectable ma and, so
that you may kill two birds with one
stone, find a cook who can cook, and fetch
her back with you.
An idea seemed to strike Mrs. Clem
mens and she answerd gaily, "Well, Dick,
everything is for the best. If you won't
marry her, you won't, so I'll do as you
After baeakfast she made a hurried
toilet, and took the first train to the city.
Toward evening she returned with as
pretty a little piece of feminity as Dick
had ever seen withal. The dainty, curly
haired little woman straightway went to
the kitchen, and then Mrs. Clemmens in
formed her son that she had made mat
ters all right with Mrs. Flipper, and tha
the pretty conglomeration of muslin, curlt
and pink and white, was a new cooks
she had egasred.
Ah!" cries the intelligent reader, "you
can't deceive us the pink and white lit
tle cook is Kitty Flipper, and the three
women have planned to catch Dick una
wares." And the intelligent readers are
correct, but we vow and declare that we
never had any intention of shrouding the
dear girl in mystery and practicing de
ception. If we hadbut this is egotism,
and we digress. With the advent of the
new cook came luxuries such as had nev
er been seen on the Clemmens table be
fore. The cuisine (as Dick's Kitty Flip
per might say) was perfect. Richard's
stockings were mended so neatly that an
old pair of socks were better than new.
His shirts, too, were washed and ironed
se perfectly that their whiteness and gloss
caused envy in the bosoms of all his male
But another change had been effected
by the cook. The pink-and-white young
lady, whom the hottest fires never made
red and white, was accustomed to take a
seat in the sitting-room in the evening
and attend to her sewingthe kitchen
being locked upto save gas, Mrs. C.
said, and Dick remained home at nights,
something unusual for him.
In fact, Dick was in love with the
coak, and he found a hundred excuses a
day to go to the kitchen and have a word
or two with the curly headed little wo
At first she was very cold to him, but
gradually, she saw his respect increase
with his love, the ice of her reserve began
to melt under the warmth of his passion,
and the young man was correspondingly
Perhaps tnere were no conferences,
with comparing of notes, between the
cook and the mistress when our gentle
man took his afternoon walk! O noof
course notwhy should there be?
At length Dick found himself so entan
gled in the net of love that nothing but
marriage would free him, and so he enter
ed the kitchen one afternoon, and with a
preamble, proposed marriage.
And here is where we triumph over
the mtellgent reader, who says: "I knew
how it would beshe accepted him, they
were married, the fraua was exposed and
they lived happily evermore."
Wrong, oh, inteligent reader!
"Will you marry me?" said he.
"No, 1 will not," she answered.
"Why?" "I'm a cook and you're fa gentleman."
"You're a lady as well as a cook, and fit
to be a gentleman's wife."
"I dare say I am, but I don't want to
be a cook all my life."
"Then marry me."
"And work to support you!"
"Why, my dear, I'm rich!"
"You mean your mother is."
"Well, she would deny me nothing."
"I don't know about that. You don't
know how she'd act it you married her
cook. Besides, I've no fancy for a man
who can support himself and wife with
out help from his mother. I understand
you, Dick, and I admit that I love you
"My darling!" he cried, embracing
"There, now, stop. You wouldn't mar
ry a wax doll of a girl who couldn't keep
a house in order, cook, carve preserve,
darn, mend, sew, dust and sweep, I've
heard you say so."
"That is true," ruefully remarked
"Well, I will not marry a man who
ean not support me by his own labor. I
don't want a club-house swell or a lardy
tardy man of society for a husband: I
want a real man, a haid fisted workman
who can knock down a giant if he insults
me. A good, honest, son of toil, one
whom I'll be proud to point out as my
husband and on whose shoulder I can
lean my head and, confident of his strong
love, know no fear in the world."
What do you want me to do my dar-
Learn a trare, be a man, an independ
ent man. When you have earned enough
money to buy a set of furniture and can
show me that you are able to support me,
I'll say: Dick, my boy, I'm your's."
"I'll doit," cried.Dick.
Next day, without a word of opposition
from his mother, which he thought rather
strange, he left home, went to the city,
and made arrangements with a friend of
his, a carpenter and buildei, to learn the
Dick was a natural mechanic. No
workman was ever needed at home he
mended' everything. There was no tool
he couldn't use, and therefore at the end
of six months there was no journeyman in
the shop that could compare with him for
elegant work. Then he rented a little
shop and set up for himself.
Strange to say, his first order came
from the widow Flipper to thoroughly
repair three of her new houses. Of course
the little pink and white had nothing to
do with this.
At the end of the year he had a really
Then he went home on Saturday night
with a bank-bock and a plain gold ring
in his pocket. He went in the kitchen
way there was no one there.
On his way up stairs he met his moth
er. Embraces followed and he asked
"Not in," answered Mrs. Clemmens
"but Kitty Flipper is up stairs come up
and be presented."
"Hang Kitty Flipper!" he said.
"There need be no embarrassment,
Dick she's engaged."
"Oh, she is, eh? Well, then come
"Miss Flipper, my son," said Mrs.
Clemmens, presenting him.
Dick looked up.
"What!" he yelled, looking at the la
dy, "Kate, by Jupiter! what does this
"I'm Kitty Flipper and Kate the cook,
too, I tried you, my dear, and you've
stood the test nobly. You've proved
yourself my idea of a man. Take me if
you will my darling."
And he did take her, while the old la
dy discretly looked out of the window
and thought of her youth.
"And you were all in the plot against
me, eh?" asked he.
"Yes," exclaimed the ladies, half fright
ened now they were found out.
"Well, I'm glad of it. Kate, vou've
made a man of me. I insisted on my
wife being a wqrker, and it's^a poor rule
that won't work both ways."
Three days after the little vlilage church
but phsaw! the intelligent reader can
guess the rest.
Grandfather Lickshinqle's Stories.
From the Oil City Derrick.
Grandfather Lickshingle is very old.
His hair is silvered with the frosts of
many winters, and his eyes have long
since lost their lustre. His step is slow
and tottering, and when his cane is mis
laid, which is often the case, he cannot
walk alone. It is then that the children
help him to the window where he can
look out over the fields, for he grows tired
of gazing into the fire and dreaming of
days and years gone by. The only facul
ty which the dear old man has retained
unimpaired is his memory. This is as
clear as sunlight. He remembers as it
were but yesterday events which occur
red when he was a boy bent over his fa
ther's knee. Grandfather Lickshingle
loves to tell of the strange things which
happened in these early days, and the
children never weary listening to them.
Every evening he" gathers them close
about his knees so they can hear his fee
ble voice, and tells them a story. Last
night he recounted this bit of history:
"This," began grandpa, "will be a
story of Lo, the poor Indian, whose un
tutored mind sees grog in clouds and
smells it in the wind. It was in the
summer of 1721. I was a small boy, not
much larger than Charley here."
"Oh, how jolly'" exclaimed Charley,
clapping his chubby hands.
"Whatter yer soy?" yelled grandpa
savagely, at the same time rapping Char
ley on the hand to keep him quiet.
My father," continued grandpa, was
a heavy-handed son of a gHnsmith, but
was himself a far ner, preferring that vo
cation to that ot his father. He used to
put me to picking brush when he would
be at work, and keeping the Indians away
from our dinner-bucket. We lived in a
howling wilderness where the Indians
were always hungry and troublesome.
They pretended to own the land, but
when you asked them to show a deed
they could not b^gin to do it. The
houses which people occupied in those
days were the most primitive structures
imaginable, being made nearly altogether
of poles and bark. They were sorry
looking affairs, indeed, and reflected
great discredit upon the architects and
They contained but one room and a fire
place, which occupied one side of the
room. There were no frost steps to scrub
every morning, and no chandelier in the
parlor. That was the style of all the
houses with but one exception. We
built a seven-story brown-stone front, with
an absured roof, and hot and cold water
up and down stairs. We had velvet car
pets all over the house, and also light
ing-rods. Our place was the wonder of
the country. As soon as we could clear
off land enough we had a croquet ground,
a private trotting-park and a boulevard.
We had a silver plated door-bell and two
stone dogs that laid on the front porch
and looked savage if tramps came up the
gravel walk. One day an old Indian sat
on a stump a short distance from the
house, and tried his sweetest to whistle
the stone dogs over to him. The dogs
wouldn't go. Then he got some meat
and held it up so they could have seen it
if they had not been stone blind, and call
ed them all kinds of pet names. The
dogs were not only blind to the meat, but
they were deaf to flattery.
Then the Indian had recourse to a mis
erable swindle. He kicked the stump,
scratched in the ground with his fingers
and cried "rats, rats, rats!'' Not being
ratters, the dogs didn't prick up their
ears and run over to the stump as if they
had been shot out of a cannen. This
shows that a graven image isn't likely to
lose its presence of mind, even in a mo
ment of the most intense excitement.
When the dogs didn't take any notice of
the red man he got mad and swore at
them, and told them to get out.
One day a book agent came along, and
told the Indians that the dogs were made
of stone, and couldn't bite the flees that
infested them. After that the cussed
redskins used to come out of the woods
in droves, sneak up to the porch and
play wretched tunes on the door-bell.
When the servant would go to the door
they would say they had come to borrow
the smoothing-irons, or something like
that. The truth was they only wanted to
ring the bell, because they couldn't afford
any thing of the kind themselves. An
Indian is a great liar and dearly loves
Here grandfather fell asleep and began
to snore, when papa said that grandfather
had been associated with the Indians a
great deal when he was young.
Mamma said, "Well, I should
think he had!"
The Japanese railroads earn a great
deal but their expenses seems strangely
high, considering the cheapness of labor
and the facility of reaching ports. The
line from Yokohama to Tokio, eighteen
miles, earned in 1875 about $24,000 a
mile, and spent $19,800. That between
Kotoe to Osaka earned $12,600, and spent
I*ot the Kind ~She Wanted.
"Are these young chickens?" asked a/
lady of a market woman.
Oh, yes, indeed, lady. They're nice
and tender as fine as any you ever saw,"
said the woman,
"They dont look like it," remarked the
customer, pinchine one of them critically.
It's the honest Christian truth I'm
tlelling you, lady. 1 raised 'em myself
and could give you their age to a day if
my old man was here, for he put it down
in the almanac the self-sume day, they re
nice and fat, too, lady, see"holding* up
the choicest in the lot.
You're quite sure they are not tough,
then? Young chickens are sometimes
nearly as tough as old ones, you know."
"Yes, yes, very true. But I'm certain
you'll find these tender. I had a couple
out of the same brood for dinner, Tuesday,
and they were as nice as could be."
The customer opened her purse and
took out a brand-new trade dollar, as she
placed her basket on the stall, and the
market woman bustled around a feelin*
of chanty in her heart for all humanity^
as she brought out afresh quire of wrap
ping paper, and prepared to fill what she
believed would be the biggest order of
the morning. You'll stand by all you'vesaid about
those chickens?" queriid the lady, paus
ing with the coin in her hand and I
believe you are here every market, ain't
"Oh, yes, lady I'd sooner have everv
one of 'em spile on my hands then to say
a single word that wasn't true, and, if
you don't find it just as I told you, come
back and get your money."
"They won't do for me, then," said the
lady, putting back the money snd pick
ing up her basket I want a fowl that'll
do to make soup of fora couple o' days
without falling to pieces, and then do for
pot-pie afterward. Times are very hard,
and it takes close fighting to keep board
ers nowadays without losing money."
The market-woman stood with her
hands on her hips and watched the iand
ladjuin speechless wonder untilher figure
was lost in the crowd, and then she hud
dled down again over her charcoal furn
ace and muttered:
Why didn't I stick to the truth and
close out the lot to her. She may search
this market over and not find anything
ever wore feathers that can stand bilin'
like these old roosters will. Well, well
honesty's the best policy after all, but it
don't always look that way. Here you
are, ladychickens? Just the thing for
boarders. Three years old last fall, and
tougher'n a boot-black ncinnati
What "Chuck" Smelt.
There is a schoolboy in Detroit whom
all the boys call "Chuck." His full
name may be Woodchuck, or Chuck-a
luck"it makes no difference," as the
sweet singer of Michigan savs. The boy
has given a great deal of attention to
school panics, fire escapes and public
doors which open the wronr way, and it
was his belief until the other day that
the scholars in each school should be
trained to run down stairs en masse at the
cry of fire. As the teachers didn't seem
to agree with him, he determined to inau
gurate a new idea"Chuck's Celebrated
Rush Down Stairs.',
He couldn't keep the idea to himsel
alter inventing it, but confidentially in
formed some of his companions that ex
actly at ten o' clock in the forenoon he
should rise in his seat and call out to the
"I smell smokeI guess the building
is on fire!"
If that didn't start 'em he meant to crv
"fire!" till the tide of immigration began
to set down stairs. Everything went off
all right during the morning, and when
ten o'clock came "Chuck" was "there."
He rose up, according to programme, and
"Teacher, I smell''
At the third word some one picked
him up, tied him in a hard knot, untied
him, and played with him like a ball,
nnd finally sat him down in a badly de
moralized heap and asked:
"What was it that you smelt?"
Chuck got his breath, looked up into
the face of the principal, and humbly re
"It may h-have been n-new mown hay,
but I-I wont swear to it!"
The boys who peached on him come to
school late and go home early, but
"Chuck's" time is coming.Detroit Frm
J'aintiny Farm Implements.
I suppose that there are many farm
ers who never use a paint brush and I
can imagine how their old rusty wagons,
plows, etc. look, the wood-work badly
cracked, and going to ruin rapidly. It is
of as much importance to keep farm im
plements well painted, as it is to paint a
house and every farmer should have an
"outfit" of painting materials on hand,so
as to be prepared to do any job in that
line that may be necessary. All that is
necessary, is a two-gallon oil-can, a couple
of brushes of different sizes, and the
necessary paint but that can be bought
as wanted,yet it is better to buy a 25 pound
keg of white lead, and a can of oil (half
boiled and half raw) as they will keep a
long time. For plows, harrows, and the
running-gear of wagons,you need only red
lead and oil but for other colors you will
require the white lead. If you want a
common black paint, use lamp black and
oil but for a carriage body get black
coach paint at the wheel-wright's, also
some varnish to finish with. You would
be surprised to see the nice work that
you or the "bys" can do after a little
practice: and when you get in the way of
doing your own painting, your keg of
lead won't remain on your hands long.
Why, there is money in paintactually
bank bills, and gold, and silver dol
lars! For instance, you buy a new farm
wagon, and keep it well painted, and un
der cover when not in use. Now, your
neighbor buys one at the same time, and
doesn't paint at all for ten or fifteen
years and what is the result? Worn out
decayed wood-work, split and cracked,
must be thrown aside as "used up,"while
yours is as good almost as when new.
You have found a hundred dollars in your
paint but your neighbor, poor man! has
got, perhaps, to stint his family in the
necessaries of life to pay for a new wag