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"The World is Governed Too Much." SAT, Bsiness Manager. ALEXANDRIA, LOUISIANA, WEDNESDAY. MARCH 13, 1889. VO W WAIT CONTENT. m I wait content, W trials of a day, a month, a year, Cause no lament, th wts crowns surely are not won by fear. yst sweet victories are always near. I wait content, A6uman life is never fortunate Till it is spent, Yt We need good courage, and we need good cheer, fo for every day encounters are severe. s8 I wait content. p, And tho' to-day's sky may look dark and drear, ti I'11 not lament for sure to-morrow's sun will make it clear, And some day soon, all trials shall appear lst bought too dear. P --Good Housekeeping. FOR A ZWANZIG. te al The Poor Blind Minstrel's Deed of 01 Violence. to Sixty years ago, says The Servian, m a silver piece of money known in Ser- bi via as a zwanzig was worth fully six ye guldens (two dollars and a half) of our I present currency, for then we had neither railways, nor steamboats, nor tc hotels with German landlords, nor theaters, nor gas. Indeed, we hardly y knew what roads were. On the mili tary frontiers, where the soil is not at h all fertile, money was so rare that it tl might have passed for a chimera of a the imagination, as in the opera of a Robert le Diable. Even in our time. all along the banks of the Save, we trade c more by exchanging articles than in any other way. A peasant woman, for s' example, who wants to buy a silk e: handkerchief or any thing of that kind, w never thinks of giving money for it. She will pay the merchant with a b basket of fruit or eggs, or some other article of country produce. h Now sixty years ago even a small h piece of money was a great treasure. m And it was for the sake of a zwanzig al that the old blind minstrel Mirko be- ci came an assassin and was hung. Nevertheless the poor old man was w sot bad or cruel at heart; he had al- no ready endured several cold winters with no covering but a ragged cloak; ai but alas! the rags fell at last quite to m shreds, and it was absolutely neces- o0 mary to procure another cloak for the w coming winter if he wished to avoid g1 dying of cold. It was at this time that the old min- al strel first dreamed-and an insensible dream it was-of possessing for once ye in his life a zwanzig, in order that with ithe might buy himself a cloak. pi 'Whenever he earned a few kreutzers bhe usually spent them in having his w opaaule (shoes) mended, or else his e: hat, which was terribly battered by n wind and rain. It was only rarely that he had the pleasure of jinghling a some copper kreutzers in his pocket, for the peasants usually paid him for tl his music by a handful or two of corn or wheat or some bread, and a few of w the more generous by giving him some tl lard. Now even in Servia sixty years t( ago lard could be sold for money. g The poor old man suddenly re- h locted that if he put all his y lard aside and saved it he might, if he y had enough, go some day to the town lod sell his lard for a zwanzig. "Of b what use is it," said he to himself, "to comfort my stomach with lard if in a the winter I must die of the cold?" J When the autumn came Mirko tied G1 his provision of lard in the pocket of b his torba, and hired a little girl to lead e him by the hand to the nearest town. h The old minstrel was as happy as a h child at the thought of returning with a wanzig clasped in his hand. The tI pretty silver piece assumed in his im agination the really grandiose propor- o tions of a golden ducat. The zwanzig t was for him the alpha and omega of h wealth; he wished for nothing beyond; and though in his songs he frequently chanted the glories of heroes who re- v posed upon golden couches and threw h ducats about like water, his own c dreams were limited to the new a dalmotique which he hoped to buy. "o felt in imagination the comfort of a the thick folds over his back and hboulders, and he laughed in his heart i at the thought of rain or snow. "Are we very far from the town?" g he asked the little girl every moment. They were within sight of the church n Spire when they met a young man, who asked where they were going at such a pace. "I am going to sell the provision of lard that I have here," said the blind man, showing his torba, the pocket of which was stuffed to bursting and tied With twine. The little girl carried also some pieces of lard in a basket. "Iow much do you want for your lard?" said the young man. "A zwanzgt," replied the old man in a voice which trembled with emotion. "It is a large sum. Show me the lard." The blind man untied it. I "You will never sell it for that in the market," said the young man, as he weighed the basket the little girl ad carried. ,"Ah, you think so!" faltered the !,lnd man, trembling with a sudden "Bnt I have twenty pounds of Sit is not dear." Certainly not, if the lard were ; but yours has been picked up and there. Still, if you were not great a hurry for your money-" wanted to buy a cloak." ' that case you can wait two I ts longer; by that time the plums I lfhave been distilled, the slivovitza I 'l be sold, and I can pay you." T ou will give me a zwanzigP" cried old man, his face illuminated sud- w AJby a radiant joy. , sI.will give you a swansig." as returned to his house la S b *argua;i thes WtLa4 minstrel, still more delighted, returned I to his village. November came, and with November the first cold. The minstrel had him self led to the house of his debtor, and demanded the zwanzig. "Ah, what a pity!" exclaimed the young man. "The year is a bad one for plums; they are all spoiled, and the slivovitza is so bad that we are com peled to drink it ourselves. Have pa tience until the next winter, and then I will pay you." "I shall be very cold, but I will be patient," replied the blind man, and he returned home. All through the win ter he shivered with cold in his miser able rags. November and the snow returned once more. The minstrel again went to his debtor and claimed the money. "I had a little grain," said the young man, "but the Save has overflowed its banks, and my grain is lost. I entreat you to wait until next year; this time I will assuredly pay my debt." "My blood is no longer quick enough to warm me." replied the-blind man; "but since the Save has destroyed your fields, I will suffer and wait." Ah, how bitterly he repented the not having carried his lard to market! But the zwanzig still seemed to him such an immense sum that he was patient, and waited almost without murmuring. Before the end of the winter his old cloak was like a torn spider's web. Once more the autumn winds had swept away the very last of the with ered leaves, once more the hoar-frost whitened the fields. The old minstrel shivered and trem bled with the cold. He had himself led to the house of his debtor, but the young peasant met him at the door, saying: "I have lost my wife, and I am ruined. I will come and bring your money as soon as i can." The blind man returned home, but with the firm resolution to submit to no more delays. The winter passed, the summer also; autumn returned once more. The old man had heard nothing from his debt or, when lo! one day he heard that he was just about to marry a rich peasant girl who had a dot of many zwanzigs. The minstrel had himself immedi ately led to the young man's house. "Pay me," he said. "I know that you now have money." "Leave me in peace," answered the peasant. "I have suffered the cold of three winters; I have waited three years!" exclaimed the minstrel. "I will wait no longer." "Old fool!" replied the young peas ant, slamming the door in his face "old fool, to run after a zwanzig for three years!" The minstrel retired. But on the wedding-day he stationed himself on the side of the road just at the entrance to the village, and when the gay bride groom passed, the old man recognized his voice, and shouted: "Pay me what you owe me, if you wish God to bless your marriage!" The young peasant laughed, and brutally pushed him aside. The wedding procession advanced amid joyous shouts and pistol-shots. Just as the bridal pair were about to cross the threshold of the church the blind minstrel rose up and barred the entrance. "I will not let you enter," he said to the bridegroom, "until yo have paid me what you owe me." The assistants pushed him aside, and the procession entered. At night, just as the supper was over, and the bridegroom was about to lead the bride away to his own house, the blind minstrel entered. "Where is Franjo?" he said. But the guests, who were merry with wine, responded, mockingly: "You saw him so well on the rioad and at the church door, you ought now to see him as well as we do." The blind man groped his way along the room,° in the midst of loud peals of laughter, and suddenly seiz ing Franjo by the belt. he shouted, "Ah! this time I have you fast!" And stooping down, he said in his ear, in a stern, decided tone: "Franjo, pay me my zwanzig. Your wife has much money. Pay me. You can do so now." Franjo replied by a derisive laugh. "IPay me," repeated the blind man, in a threatening tone-"pay me, or I will kill you." "'Ah, what a good joke!-what a good-" Franjo did not finish his sentence. The minstrel, exasperated past endur ance, seized him by the throat with his left hand, and with his right drew a pistol, which he had concealed in his breast, and shot him in the head. Franjo fell dead at his feet. All had passed in the twinkling of an eye. The old minstrel did not attempt to escape; indeed, it would have been almost im possible for him to have done so if he had wished it. Without a word of complaint or an attempt at resistance he allowed him self to be led before the Captain of the company, who sent him under a strong guard to the etat major. His trial was short; he confessed every thing. According to the penal code there were many extenuating cir cumstances, but military justice could not take them into consideration. The poor old blind minstrel was hung. Harper's Bazar. -During a trial the judge called a witnesas. No one ansfered. An elder ly man arose and solemnly said: "He is gone." "Where is he goneP" asked the judge, in no tender tone. "I don't know; but he is deoadr' w .the guard' ed answer, STRIKING CHILDREN. A Lecture for Parents Who Do Not Know How to Control Their Temper. It is not unlikely that this article will ever meet the eyes of those for whom it is intended. The ones who t really need advice are usually those who can not, or will not, read it. But in the hope of arresting even one angry t hand which might otherwise do untold t damage by a single ill-aimed blow, f these lines are written. "A box on the ear," has become to be so common an expression that we t smile when it occurs in a racy narra- t tive; but it should never be smiled at. A box on the car may cause partial, or even total deafness for life; it may cause internal injuries, which may re sult in stupefying, or even entirely de stroying the intellect; it may cause illness-even death. Should an act freighted with such tremendous possi bilities ever be lightly spoken of P And what sort of a soul can the man or woman possess, who, knowing the I results that may follow the act, can recklessly give the child a box on the ear ? A blow on any part of the head may, and most likely will, be followed by grave consequences. A blow upon the chest, the stomach, the spine, is al most equally dangerous. In fact, there are only one or two places upon the human body which may be struck with comparative safety; and, when it seems necessary that corporal pun ishment should be administered to a child, it should be administered in those places. The teachings of Script ure and of common-sense seem to point to the occasional necessity of corporal punishment. It should never be be stowed in anger, however; never with out the most careful deliberation, and as a last resort. If a child has been trained from early infancy to habits of obedience, there will rarely, if ever, be found a necessity for whipping, after it has attained the age of five or six years. Other punishment equally effective can and should be devised for older children. In any case, never strike a child at random in a moment of impatience. The remark which is often made, that bright, precocious babies develop into the most commonplace men and wom en, may, perhaps, be accounted for in another way than that fond parents overestimate their brightness in in fancy. Blows, kicks and violent shak ings must have their effect upon the tender brain and nerve of childhood. It would not necessarily require much of such treatment to reduce an origi nally brilliant intellect to a condition little short of idiocy. -Congregational. ist. A HAPPY MARRIAGE. The Only WVay in Which an Ideal Union Becomes Possible. Two people may be of suitable age, temper, tastes and inclinations, but if they have not minds sufficiently orig inal or well stored to offer to each other fresh attractions they quickly find themselves at the melancholy stage of conning twice-told tales, and however comfortable their life together may be, their union can not be ideally happy. Only the man or woman who can offer to wife or husband or friend continual novelty, continual freshness, can hope to keep alive an affection of quick fer vor. The individuality of the race is far.too highly developed for us to fol low the fashion of our ancestors of taking friendship as a contract almost loyally binding. People fortunately do not demand a great deal in this line. A very little freshness, a new thought now and then, a slight growth, a small attainment in untried fields, suffices; but this is imperative to vitality of in terest. Unless a husband and wife fall in love with each other anew every day, their marriage has failed of its ideal possibilities. And from what has been said it is easy to perceive what nonsense is the talk about affinities which used to be called into account for the failure of a marriage. While some people are fitted to live together and others are not, the paucity of thought, of imagina tion, of originality, of ordinary people makes it impossible for them to realize the highest conditions of love or of friendship; and since the fault is in herently their own no affinity could remedy the effect. The moral, if one wishes to draw a moral, is sufficiently obvious. The only way in which an ideal marriage be comes possible is by the cultivation of the imagination and the creative powers. This may not secure the de sired blessing, but without it an ideal marriage is impossible.--Boston Cour. ier. The Pacific Ocean Islands. The Samoan difficulty is not easily appreciated by those who insist on thinking of the islands of the Pacific as only groups of savage-possessed territory, of which nothing better can be expected. The fact is that group after group is passing forward to a de gree of civilization comparable to the larger continents. Within the next century the larger islands will be un der the highest culture, and the homes of art and education. Railroads are SbeTng constructed on the Philippine Islands, and others are projected else where. The Philippine group pos sesses over 7,000,000 of inhabitants, is as fine a territory as New Zealand, an.t capable of becoming one of the Srichest parts of the globe. The Sa moan group is associated with a dozen other groups more nearly in the Cen tral Pacific, and possesses fine har bors, fine soil, natives of unusual in teliwance. and is desirable property GREEK CHURCH RITES. rhe Elaborate Ceremonies of the Russian Burial Service. I have just been a witness of the Russian burial service, in the church, over the remains of a Russian native, the widow of an American trader who -ied several years ago at Sitka. A mass began in the women's chapel, in the north transept, at ten o'clock in the morning, in the presence of about s forty Russians and natives, mostly e women. The responses of the mass c were made by a choir, composed of two venerable old men, standing at d the right of the chapel, facing the altar 0 screen, and a group of children, some h Russian and others Sitkan Indians. Those participating in these prelimi- q nary mortuary services either knelt i on the matting or prostrated them- 6 selves with their faces resting on the floor. The mass was intoned by the c priest in Slavonic, and the responses f by the choir in the same tongue, while I the worshippers silently and constant. ly showed their participation by al- a most continuously crossing themselves i on the breast and face with the right e hand, frequently using the left in con nection with the right for that pur pose. The intonation of the mass seemed more like a wail or a refrain than any thing else to which I can liken it. The Indian women were clad with brightly- C colored shawls and gaudy blankets, and wore black scarfs over their heads instead of hats, hoods, or bonnets. This service lasted an hour, when the priest made an address of about ten minutes in Russian respecting the de- 1 ceased, after which the sacred wafer t in the sacrament was given those who C advanced to the altar for that purpose. Children far younger than those ad- t mitted to the confirmation in other t churches were allowed to receive the r sacramental water. i The ceremony over, the choristcrs passed to the body of the church and t ranged themselves about the head of the open coffin, while the priest, after t exchanging his vestment for one of t deep black, embroidered with broad bands of silver lace, began a requiem mass behind the al tar screen, and the responses were made in the body of the church. At the same time a deacon placed three s'ender wax tapers, light ed, around the head of the deceased, a larger taper having been left burning at the foot of the coffin ever since it had been brought into the church. The men were ranged on the right side of the coffin and the women on the left, and the deacon then placed a similar wax taper or candle in the right hand of every man, woman and child among the friends and relatives of the de ceased and the communicants of the church. The sky outside was clouded and i lowering, and the deepest possible gloom pervaded the church, Which, with the scores of burning tapers, made a peculiar picture. Especially was this so when the tapers were flourished from side to side in making 1 the frequent signs of the cross during this part of the mass. The priest ap proached the coffin from behind the screen and passed around it a score of times, waiving the smoking censer and intoning the mass amid the responses of the choir. This mass lasted for three quarters of an hour, and then the four orphan children of the deceased approached and first kissed a small painted image of Jesus reclining on the breast of the dead mother and then her brow. Each communicant and immediate friend of the deceased repeated this ceremony, at the close of which a pall was placed on the coffin and its lid taken in charge by two pall-bearers, who bore it out of the church while six other pall-bearers passed out with the uncovered coffin, the priest with uncovered head and in his vestments preceding the body to the grave, where the mass was ended, the lid replaced, and the coffin lowered to the grave. A considerable portion of the revenue of the church comes on such occasions in payment for the necessary candles for that part of the ceremony, according to the wealth and circumstances of the deceased person, -Sitka Cor. N. Y. Times. Cured by an Accident. A Washington avenue hotel-keeper tells a curious story of how he got rid of an ailment by an accident. About five years ago he fell through a trap door in a Higginsville store, and, being a heavily built man, was quite badly hurt. When, after being con fined to the house for several weeks, he got around again, he discovered that he could scarcely open his mouth, his jaws having become stiffened. Thinking that after a time his jaws would relax, he did not consult a doctor and said nothing about his trouble. They did not resume their natural condition, and as he became accustomed to eating soup and munching his food he concluded to let matters stand as they were. When the Sleight fire occurred, a couple of weeks ago, among those who came to witness the conflagration was this hotel-keep or. He stood on Bernstein's corner, and, ias the water from the hose came over that way, he started to avoid it. He slipped and fell to the sidewalk, and as he struck there was a snapping of something in his jaw as if a bone had broken. He got up, and as he an swered an inquiry from a bystander as to whether he was injured, was agree ably surprised to find that his jaws had relaxed and that his ailment of five years was gone.--Kingston (N. Y.) Leader. - -Conscience lays oq h.avy taskg but gives high pay. _. PITH AND POINT. -Marriage would be more frequent ly a success if fewer men and women were failures. -A man never knows what he can do until he tries; and then, afterward, he is often very sorry that he found out. -He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is more excel ent who can suit his temper to any I circumstances. -One of the mistakes in the con duct of human life is to suppose that I other men's opinions will make us happy. -To an honest mind the best per quisites of a place are the advantages it gives a man of doing good-Addi son. -As charity requires forgetfulness of evil deeds, so patience requires forgetfulness of evil accidents. - Bishop Hall. -Youth is the time of hope. When a man gets a little older he stops hop ing and begins reaching out for what ever he can get.--Somerville Journal. -Trying to reform a man by reform ing his. surroundings, is like tying seckle pears or rambo apples to the rough twigs of a crab-tree.-Interior. -Every man is the architect of his own fortune. And it's lucky for most of us that there's nobuilding inspector around.-Puck. -Don't tell what you could have done under favorable circumstances. What the world is interested'in hear ing is what you have accomplished under unfavorable circumstances.-At chison Globe. -It is a saying worthy of an accep tation that "in all parts of the world the refinement, innocence and happi ness of the people may be measured by the flowers-they cultivate." -The only way to shine, even in this false world, is to be modest and unassuming. Falsehood may be a thick crust, but in the course of time truth will find a place to break through. -Bryant. -Our lives are like some compli cated machine, working on one side of a wall, and delivering the finished fabric on the other. We can not cross the barrier and see the end. The work is in our hands-the completion is not. -Pain and pleasure are so intimate ly interwoven in our human life that either alone seems to be incomplete. It is for us to accept them both; not for their own sakes, but for something higher than either, that we have at heart, and that will make all sacrifice easy and all burdens light.-N. Y. Ledger. -When we look back upon our lives, especially if we begin to feel that they are pretty far spent, how we amuse ourselves with thoughts of what we might have made out of them other than they are. But it is an amuse ment that may as well be sparingly in dulged in. Our better employment is to make as much as possible of what is left us.-United Presbyterian. AMERICAN TROTTERS. Noble Animals That Are Astonishing All Old-World lHorse-Mon. Within a very short time the exhila rating sight of American steppers driven to light harness will be among the ordinary road events in Buenos Ayres. The speedy pair of trotters, Spofford and Governor Hill, which were recently sold by Mr. J. B. Hous ton, of the Driving Club of New York, to Mr. Russell H. Hoadley, on an order from South America, started for their new home not long ago. If the team reaches Buenos Ayres in good condi tion, and are properly handled, they should show a mile to the polo in 2:16. Then will come more orders for first class American trotting stock, and the market will be a profitable one to American breeders. The foreign de mand for roadsters is growing apace. Recently the well-known trainer and driver, William E. Weeks, was offered a salary of eight thou sand dollars by Mr. N. W. Ellis to go to France and Germany and handle trotters for him. Mr. Charles Dicker man, of New Haven, who returned from Europe, after a year's absence, reports that trotting there is yet in its infancy, and that the people are be ginning to appreciate the beauties of trotting races. When in Boulogne a member of the Russian Government offeired him a liberal amount of money to visit Moscow and introduce the American trotter there. Mr. Dicker man took several fast steppers to Eu rope, among them Mollie Wilkes and Misty Morning. The venture was a success, financially and otherwise. Mollie Wilkes won two races at Vin cennes. On a half-mile tract at Vienna she trotted a mile in 2:20k, which Was three seconds faster than ever before made on a European track. The best trotting horses in Europe are American bred;but Mr. Dickerman said no real American horseflesh had been seen there until he appeared with his trotters. He also remarked that there is not a suitable trotting track for speed in all Europe, so far as he knew. The races are all running affairs, with courses laid out over hills and fields, such as would be found on any ordi nary New England farm. The courses vary in length from two and a half to four or live miles. There is a strong probability of great improvement in this respect in the near future. An asso ciation is now at work called the Trot ting Club de Paris. A circular printed by the society says that grounds ha-ve been leased for a period of five years and that a part of the capital of 350, 000 francs is already subscribed by SEADING FOR THE YOUNG. poi A CHILD'S MISTAKE. put Sald a dear little girl, and I heard her myself, lin As she reached for a book on the very top shelf: chi "How I sish I might live like the birds and the flowers, anI With nothing to do through the beautiful hours; Or else like the sun, that has only to shine, it 1 Or dance with the shadows that hide in the vine! be, But no! I must study from morning to night. Long sums I must add; there are copies to write. To school I must go, and for, oh, such a time! an It's just like a terrible mountain to climb. Dear! dear!" and the child, with a pitiful frown, And a heart-piercing cry, to her grammar sat an down. Then flashed a fair sunbeam full into her face, CI As if challenging frowns in so lovely a place. "Why, darlin;," it laughed, all a-quiver with glee, "If you want to see wtork you must travel witth le me. I never am idle the swift-rolling day, But I go to my tasks in the spirit of play; And wherever rm ordered tgere straightway I fly. ml Cheer up, little maid I" said this voice from the Bo sky. There was heard a quick flurry of wings over head From an army of birds; and, as southward they sped Came, clear as a bugle, the leader-bird's song: "You are wrong, little lady! rm sorry you're U wrong! And I can't stop to tell you," he sang, as be flew, bt I "But no one is happy with nothing to do!" w And the flowers? A rose, peeping in at the pane, b( Breathed gently this message: "In sunlight and di rain, We children of earth, dear to all who behold, Wear meekly our splendors of crimson or gold. pt And, born in the purple, we royally spend bi Our fragrance in blessing, until our lives end. We seem to be idle, I grant, but you know There's never a flower that has not to grow! r( And growing, dear child, means aspiring, see, el As I, when I whisper so softly to thee." She picked up the book; it had dropped from in her hand. "At least." said our pet, "I can this under stand: ul God gives all His creatures some duty each day, in And mine is, perhaps, just to trust and obey. I'll not think of the mountain before me to climb, se But cheerfully mount it, one step at a time." al -M. E. Sangster, in S. S. Times. A GREAT TROUBLE. The Plan by Whict! Dolly Sweet Paid si for and Was Oured of Her Cas eless Habit. o "Oh dear, I have dreadful trouble!" hi sighed Dolly Sweet. "It seems as if I hi couldn't bear it. Nobody knows how I d feel." 1l "What groat wave of sorrow has sc rolled over you now, Puss?" asked A brother Ben, looking up from his c( Latin. "Is your cake all dough?" p, "You know I haven't any cake. h, You are laughing at me, You'd think ai it was trouble!" sobbed Dolly. ti "Tell me all about it," said Ben. ir "Who knows but I can find a way out r( of it?" u "There isn't any way out of it," ii said the little girl. "You see mamma o. has got the idea that I am careless. re 'Tisn't so; I'm just as careful, but p some way my things get out of sight. H Last week one of my rubber over- t shoes got lost, and then I couldn't find ti one of my new red mittens, and my a handkerchiefs are always losing; and ti so mamma said if I lost any thing b more, I should have to earn the money ti and pay for it. She said 'twould teach t me to be careful." Si "Your mother is wise; it's a good e plan," laughed Ban. "But I would not cry yet." aS "You don't know the worst," said t Dolly. "This morning I borrowed t mamma's pearl-handled pen-knife, and C to-night I put it in my pocket just as a careful, and 'tisn't there, and mamma tl says I'll have to pay a dollar." i "Did she know you borrowed itP" askeaJ Ben. Dolly hung her head. "I asked her if I could take it to a sharpen my pencil," she said, very low; h "but may be she didn't know how I wanted to take it to school." i "I should think not," said Ben. "But i1 how will you earn the monev? I've , got a little I could lend you. " "Mamma says lv'e gotto earn it," , 'said Dolly. "She'll pay three cents every time I wipe the supper dishes, d and four cents if I go without dessert n for dinner. How long will it take to l earn a dollar?" 'I"Just about two weeks," answered SBen, "if you don't miss any days." , There were signs of another tear 6 shower, which the kind brother hast- j - ened to avert. f "I don't see as I can wipe your I dishes, or divide my pudding with t you," he said. "for in that case I sup ' pose you couldn't earn your money, a but I'll do this: whenever you wipe the i - dishes clean and bright, without any t tears, or frowns, I'll give you a ride Sdown the long hill on my 'traverse.' SWill that help any, Puss?" t "Oh goody!" cried Dolly, the tears - giving place to smiles. 1 a "And I'll give you the tfIt one a now," said Ben. "Put on your wraps, e and we'll have a jolly slide." e When Dolly came back her face was 0 so bright you would not suppose she d had ever had any trouble. a For two long veeks she wiped the s supper dishes, and went without des e sert for dinner. It was hard and they r all pitied her, but there came a day at Slast when Dolly stood before her moth h er, with a bright face. 5, "There, mamma, I've earned the - dollar to pay for the knife," she said, "s and I'm so glad." "I am glad, too," said mamma 8 "And I think, little daughter, that you n are improving. You haven't lost any Sthing for a week-have you?" t "No," said the little girl, "only a d lead pencil; but I most lost a button re off my cloak. Will you please sew it on? I put it in my pocket." S "Idon't flnd it," said mamma, look 1 ing in all the pockets.. '1 surely put It tere.'" sAP pDoUl. "You said you put the knife in your pocket, but-why, here's a hobl" Mrs. Sweet ripped a larger hole, and put her hand between the outside and lining, and took out two pencils, three chocolate-creams, the missing button and lost knife. "Oh! Oh!" cried Dolly. "I did put it there, mamma, and now i've paid it besides." "Well, dear," said mamma, "here is a little note-book I will give you, and you shall write it down whenever you lose any thing, and, also, what you earn by extra work, or self-denial, and we will balance accounts once a month. You will have a dollar on the credit side to begin with." "How nice!" cried Dolly. "And will you pay me all the money that's left over?" "Certainly I will," said mam ma. Dolly clapped her hands. "I'll have lots of money for next Christ mas!" she said. "You just wait and see."-Youths' Companion. A HOUSE IN THE AIR. What a Wide-Awake Reporter of a New York Dally Discovered. You may think, says the Christian Union, that the reporters of the daily papers need only know how to write. but that is a mistake. They must be wide awake all the time, see things that you would not notice. They must be patient, and willing to take a good deal of trouble for very small things. The following account given by a re porter shows how observant he must be. This reporter was in the habit of going up and down on the elevated road, and tells of a house he discov ered: "I saw this week the loftiest build ing in New York City. Not that it stood as high in air as the tall 'Trib une' tower, or soared a parallelogram into the clouds like the Potter and Mills buildings,: but its foundations are seventy feet above the earth, and that's about as high as any reasonable creat ure would care to lay the foundations' of his home-rather higher, in fact, than most of us relish. It stands on the highest point of the ele vated road, at the northeast corner of One Hundred and Tenth street and Man hattan avenue, does this little brown house, and is inhabitated by a well-to do pair of English sparrows. If you look closely as you -swing round the second curve on an uptown train, you can catch just a glimpse of the little cottage as you run by. Many timid people would object to putting their heads out of the window at this point and having it brought vividly home to them that they were swinging by an iron spider-web so many feet above the rocky earth. It isn't easy to, either, unless you know where it is, for the little residence is very nearly the color of the big iron girder against which it rests, and the train rattles by the place in a great hurry to reach One Hundred and Sixteenth street. My at tention was attracted to it first by no ticing the sparrows always wheeling about that place, no matter what time of day or year I went by. I tried and' tried again to discover what the attrac tion was, but in vain, for it seemed as if the train always put on an extra spurt of speed just there, and whirled me by before I could quite solve the puzzle. Finally, my curiosi ty was roused to such an ex tent that I counted the blocks to One Hundred and Sixteenth street, and, getting off there, walked back to the place, and, standing underneath, first saw the airy villa, which com mands, I think, a fine view of Central Park, stretching away south and east ward, and all Harlem lies at its feet for a happy hunting ground for its in habitants. It seemed such a queer place for the little bird-house that I inquired among the trainmen concern ing it. and was told that a track hand, who is English and very patrioticte, bit terly resented the persecutions and vituperations of his little fellow-coun trymen in featheras. He has always done his best to shield and help them, and, his duties of track inspection leading him over this bit of very ele vated road, he conceived the idea of erecting an asylum up here for his reviled compatriots, where they would be safe from marauders. A great iron rod runs through the mid die of the girder, and is finmly bolted at the end. The bolt protrudes four or five inches, and the section man climbed out to the edge of this dizzy eminence and lashed the bird-house in its place. It is on the south side of the structure, so that it is somewhat protected from the worst fury of the winds, but it must be an awful place to winter in, yet the sparrows don't seem to mind itf. A hardy couple took possession at once, and for two years Shave raised three or four broods an nually in it, and seem to enjoy railroad life very welL The section man takes an infinite pride and comfort in the success of his scheme, and as soon as the snow would permit after the blis ezard he went, with great anxiety, to I see whether it and its inhabitants had Sweathered the terrible storm, rejoicing t to find them safe and sound." S Amt,rico-African Philosophy. e Hit er easy toe killde hungry fly. , De steel-yard won't lie less yo' make hit. S De well.offenes' dipped gibs de sweet u es' watah. y De dawg er ez apt toe bahkat an hones' man es he ama at a t'ef. ::;:. a A many folks say t'ings dat hib.l . n hahd toe git any one toe sw'ar- toe. : It De tool dat keeps his mout agqto~ . 6 looks mo' wise on a- wedaah propbi . k- De man w'at's mos' discreet w'.u sobah maks a,.auv 511D w'. drwikq . -Jud ..e