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VOL. VI. RUSSELLVILLE, POPE COUNTY, ARKANSAS, THURSDAY,MAY 20, 1880. NO. IT.
uncertainty. BY JOHN MORAN. All ye who dwell beside the sea, And hear its inarticulate speech, That no one soul mat wholly reach Nor one ear com pass utterly, Kemember that the fluctuant sounds Which miss your heart, nor thrill your sense. May touch another s with intense Conjecture, owning not your bounds. A< myriad streams conjoin to east The murmurs ol all times and lands. Cm countless alien sea-washed strands, And altogether blend at last, So those who different ways hare trod. Of thought and speech, of frost and fire, May, at the end of all desire. Come to the Silence known for God. Wherefore, alone, to vr,u and me. The sea abides, not calm or storm, The truth, and not the outwarm form— But still the old uncertainty. And if two souls should haply come i o where His oracles enscone, Would I,ore accord them some response, Or be to ail their questioning dumb? A STORY OK THE GAMING TABLE. "Re-1 wine!” It was the croupier’s hoarse cry. again and again reiterated, only diversified with that of “Red loses!” which broke the stillness in the superbly appoi ted room at Hamburg, with the gaining table in its center, round whicli were gathered its eager votaries, behind whom were the scarcely less interested groups of lookers-on. “Come away, my dear,” said a very lovely woman among the spectators, in a whisper to her husband. “I am sorry that we came. This is no place for i tfitri, 111* lit ill 11if. wiiii u ayuui mv; iiv-iiva as she spoke, an exquisitely beautiful girl, scarcely more than a child, of some twelve or thirteen summers, who stood beside them. “Come, Pearl,” the father said. But the girl stood entranced, her eyes fixed upon a man’s face seated at the furthest end of the table. It was a strikingly handsome face, even when wearing as it now did, the expression of calm born of desperation. No tinge of color was either in cheek or lip. His eyes shone with a strange and hard glitter, and were fixed upon the balls as they were swung round, as though on the color uppermost hung his hope of life or death. And so it was. lie had sat down pos sessed of a fortune; he arose a beggar! Fate had steadily pursued him with mocki nr hopelessness, until he had placed his last stake, only to see it mer cilessly swept from him. He half rose from the table. What more was to Ire done save to go out somewhere into the still night air and send a bullet through his heart or brain. It was at this moment the girl, with flushed cheeks and half-parted lips, darted up to his side. “Take this,” she pleaded, “for my sake,” and pressed a gold piece into his ertd hand. He turned. To his excited imagina tion she seemed scarcely mortal in her pure, childlike loveliness. His first im pulse was to return her offering—he was not vet an alms-taker—hut again rang out the croupier’s cry of command to place the stakes. The child stood breathless in her eager expectancy, her eyes burning with le verish interest. A sudden impulse overmastered him. Without speaking a word lie placed the gold upon the table. The next minute a small tide of geld was at his elbow, lie staked it all again. Again he won. A bright spot of scarlet replaced the palor in his cheek, which spread and deepened as Dame Fortune, who had so persistently frowned upon him, now reserved for him only her smiles. Morning was breaking when he arose from the tallies, no longer a desperate man, but with his fortune threefold re stored to him. After his first winning he had turned to restore to the child ner offering} hut she had vanished. Should he ever find her—ever repay the debt ? lie knew not; bet standing at last under the clear blue sky, with a great weight lifted from his heart and brain. Ilarold Clayton vowed that it should be ins life search, hut liiut the lesson taught him should never be forgotten, and the gaming table should know him nevermore. Six years passed, and Harold Clayton was winning name and fame in his own land in his profession as an artist, Standing one night in a crowded as sembly, someone in passing touched him lightly on the arm with her fan, and glancing round lie met the smiling face of his hostess. “Come,” she said, “I want to present you to my belle, it you can prevail upon her to give you a sitting, and trans fer her coloring to canvas, you will ren der yourself immortal.” “is she, then, so beautiful?” he ques tioned. "Judge for yourself,” she lightly re joined, leading him to a little group do ing homage to tiie fu’r girl in its center "Miss Kayourn—Mr. Clayton,” were tfce lormal words of tire introduction, at Harold bowed an acknowledgement be fore the woman whom ins artistic eye confessed the moat beautiful that in all his wanderings he hud met. > Before the evening was ended he might have added, the first woman whom he had ever loved, since she had awakened in him an interest as new ai it was strange. Through the next week her face haunted him. Then they met again ami the charm grew and deepened. He could not define it; away from Miss Ray burn he was restless and uneasy, until l:e again found hiiuscll within the scope of her fucination. Yet her nature remained an enigms to him. Although so young in yeurs, sc beautiful in tonnaud nature she seemet cold even to haughtiness, reticent almos to scorn. It was as though some exquisite marble statue had risen in his pathway, whiel might some day warm into life. •She welcomed Him whenever they me’ with a manner which, while it yave bin no cause for complaint, yet chilled tin hope springing within his breast. One day, on going to her home, tin servant met him at the door witli the nn nouneeuient that she was very ill. Thii knowledge brought other Knowledge— the fact t iiut lie could no longer concea from himself that he loved her, and Ilia oil the hope of ids winning her hung liii 1 lc’s happiness. He went back to bis studio, wretchec and despairing, and seated himself ai the easel. He hud not meant to pain her face—His brain seemed uncouciou of ids lingers’toil—yet, when the morn ing broke, it was her features smihni upon him from the canvas, and he re membered the words his hostess had uttered on the night he first had met her—that thus should he render himself immortal. He grew pale and wan in the days of anxious suspence. when those who watched over her couch knew not which would conquer, the angel of life or death. But there came an hour, never to bo forgotten, when he was admitted into her presence. She was very white and fragile, but more beautiful than in the coloring of perfect health. A new expression, too, I was in the violet eyes raised to welcome him. "I am very glad to meet you ngain,” she said gently. “I hear you have been anxious about me. You are very kind.” Then the words he had not meant to speak hurst from his lips. “Anxious?’’ he said. “Can a man. Miss Rayburn, perishing of hunger, hear of the famine without a shudder? I am presumptuous, you will say. It is true. What is my life, with its many settled pages into which your eyes could never look, that 1 should dare offer it to you? And yet, purified by your love, I would try to muke it more worthy. Tell me— answer me! If I serve as Jacob served for Rachel, is there hope tliat I may win you? My darling! my darling! I love vou! 1 cannot live my life without you! Will you not share it?” Lower and lower dropped the lids un til the long, dark lashes swept the mar ble cheek, when the sweet mouth trem bled; but the momentary weakness pass ed as she spoke: rorgei an mai you nave saw, air. Clavton. It can never be.” “You do not love me?” he questioned sadly. Again that swift expression of pain flitted across the lovely face. “I shall never marry,” she answered, “but,” and in her voice crept an almost pleading tone, “I need my friends very much, Mr. Clayton. Do not desert me!” “I can not,” he replied. “To desert you would be to desert the hope of one day forcing you to unsay those cruel words—the hope which will go with me to my grave.” W nat was the barrier between them? This was the question ever ringing in Harold Clayton’s ears. As shelooked when she pronounced his doom, so he had fancied she might have looked when the statue warmed into life. Since then she had been colder, more distant than before; but he had caught the momentary expression, and trans ferred it to the picture on which his every leisure moment was spent. He was thus engrossed one morning, ever striving to add new beauty to his almost perfect work, when a low knock at the door aroused him. “Come in," he called, and then he bent anew to his task, without so much as raisinghis head, until a low, laughing voice sounded beside him. “We were caught in the shower, Mr. Clavton, and I persuaded Margaret to seek shelter with me here. I did not dream she would find herself fore stalled." It was Mrs. Somers who spoke—the lady who had first presented him to Miss ltayburn—whose instructiont be had, unknown to her, carried out. “Margaret,” she added, turning to her friend, “you have lieen sitting for vour portrait, and did not let me know. Why have you kept it such a secret?” He laid now sprung to his feet in time to see the rosy tide spread over Marga ret Rayburn’s’ face. It is a liberty I took without Miss Rayburn’s knowledge, Mrs. Somers,” he explained. “I assure you I have never been so fortunate as to secure a sitting.” “Well, you shall have one now, and you must thank ine for it,” she rejoined, while Margaret turned away to examine the sketches and studies lying about in profuse confusion. “Here arc some sketches taken while I was studying abroad," said Harold. “Will you amuse yourself by looking at them?” “I will return in a few moments,” in terrupted Mrs. Somers. “Wait for me, my dear.” A word oi expostulation rose to Mar garet’s lips, but too late. The door had closed behind the speaker. Silence fell between the two thus left behind, when a loud cry arrested Har old’s attention. He sprang to Miss Ray burn’s side. Her eyes were fixed upon a little sketch sat a mail, haggard, desperate, despair ing, and by him a child, Holding out to him a single gold-piece, with a smile in her eyes, und seemingly a prayer on liei lips “ You would know the history of that picture,” he said. “Let me tell you: Years ago I was in Hamburg. The gain ing tables attracted me. and every night found uie beside them, losing or win ning, according to the fortune of the hour. One evening the demon Ill-luck pursued me. 1 lost and lost until I found I was beggared. Maddened, des perute, I resolved to pu' an end to my miserable lile, when some one touched my shoulder; a child-angel stood before me and slipped into inv hand a piece of gold. ‘For my sake!’’ she whispered. The croupier’s hoarse call warned me no time was to be lost. I staked the gold and won, but turning to give her back her own she hud fled. When 1 rose from the table I had recovered all and more, but I vowed a vow to my unknown deliverer that I would never again haz ard a dollar of the fortune I considered hers. 1 have never found her, Marga ret. The child will never know her work, but I am not afraid to meet her, for I have kept my pledge.” “Harold!” it was almost a whisper, but something in the tone made his heart give a wild, joyous leap—“have I known you all this time, and have you just found me out? It was this, Harold, which separated us. I dared not give my life to a mail whom I had first known as a gambler. I sup}>osed von still played, and 1 thought that to see again the expression on your fuse I had seen that night would kill me- Tell me, is it true? Have yon never touched a card since?” “Never!” ho answered, solemnly. And i it is to you I owe it—it and life. Pearl —little Pearl,can you not trust the uiau who has been so long faithful to the child to be still fuithlul to the woman? i My own, you wiir not doom the life you have saved." Hut at this juneturo Mrs. Homers, ' opening the door, beat a precipitate re t treat to re-enter at a more opportune i time. The explanation was complete, - the rest need not be told. Two hearts ; now beat as one. JESSE JAMES’ JOKE. “duite Three More Supper* to the Gov ernment.*’ Globe-Democrat. The Pullman sleeping-car passengers who arrived in this city yesterday morn ing by the Kansas City passenger train over the Chicago and Alton road had an interesting experience, and one that created no little alarm in their midst, a few miles this side of Kansas City, as they were en route here Wed nesday niglit. It was learned by a Globe Democrat reporter, from one of the train men, that the notorious Jesse James and two of his (rang hail been part of the human freight for a short distance, and had impressed their fellow-passengers with their bravado and importance in a manner that would not readily be for gotten, at least by the timid and peace loving ones in the number. The rail way officials knew nothing of the ailiiir whatever, and from the passengers the particulars of the sensation were gleaned. The first one found was Mr. J. D. Wood worth, a well-to-do lumtier and hard ware dealer, of Garnett, Kansas, who was registered at the Planters’ House. He had just come in from Kansas City, and corroborated the statement made by the train hand as to the presence of the James gang on the train. Mr. Woodworth said: “We left the Kansas CityUuion Depot last night shortly after dusk, with a pret ty ftill train. I had a birth in the rear sleeper, and passed through the cars back to that birth, and did not go for ward upain after we left the Grand A v enue depot. As the train was pulling out from that depot three men entered the sleeoer, and stood just within the door for several minutes. They did not seem at home, but, on the contrary, ill ut ease, and appeared to be on the alert lor some important development. They were all decently dressed, and one, who appeared to be the leader, held a r« - volver by his side, partially concealed by the folds of his overcoat. I thought they might be officers of the law await ing the coming through of some crim inal, and not wishing to offend, turned my gaze in another direction. About ten minutes elapsed ere they left their position by the door, and the leuder re marking something about supper, the trio passed on through the sleeper and into the dining-room ear, the last car of the train. Supper was shortly announced and several of the sleeping-car passen gers and myself went back to partake of the meal. Tne waiters were flying around as if their lives depended on their alertness and strict attention to duty, and then down ut the rear I saw the three men who had acted so strangely in the sleep er. They were seated at a table, eating and on the table rested three murderous looking large revolvers at full cock. The man in charge came up to me, und said, in a low voice, not to express any sur prise at what I saw, as the strangers were the notorious Jesse James and two of his men. If let alone they would harm no one, but if an attempt at their capture was made some one would assuredly get hurt. This injunction was cautiously repeat ed to the other half dozen persons aboard, and we all tell to eating in silence, and casting occasional glances at our celebrated companions. The leader who tallied exactly with the description given of Jesse James, exhibited the ut most sang froid. He laughed and chat ted in a rather boisterous manner with his companions, but apparently closely observing everything and every one iii the car at the same time. The subject of their conversation was lost to me, but it seemed to amuse them hugely. At the completion of the meal, the leader cooly picked his teeth, and as the engine whistled for Odessa they all three arose, picked up their revolvers and walked out on the rear platform. Nothing was said as to payment for the suppers by the employes, but as James (if the leader was he) closed the door, defied his hat by way of a partial salute, rnd cried out in a clear, ringing voice, “Charge three more suppers to the Government!” A Mr. Wild, from Springfield, Mo., an other one of the passengers, bore out the statement made by Mr Woodworth, and stated that the two men accompanying the leader were unknown to him, but the leader was none other than the noto nous guerrilla and train-robber, Jesse James. lie had encountered him on numerous occasions, and could not be mistaken ns to his identity. The probabilities are that Jesse James' and his companions are either planning some bold raid, and revealed themselves on Wednesday night in the above iuan uer so thut, when the job is completed, at a point removed to Kansas City, sus picion will be allayed as to their com plicity, or, through a sheer spiiit of braggadocio, wishing to run down a lew miles over the line, adopted that method of introducing themselves to their fel low- passengers. Kxtravaguuco. New York Times. The luxury of the present day as far exceeds the luxury of lStiti us the arts which minister to the senses have gone far beyond the invention mid ingenuity of that time. Never in the history of this republic has wealth been able to procure such an infinite variety of mat ter to please the eye, adorn the person, and tickle the palate as now. The newly-ricli man, who could have spread his table in lStiti as a rich man can spread his in 1880, would have so far out shone all his comrades that they would have been ready to die with envy. The devices now employed for the display of wealth were utterly unknown ten years ago. “The newest thing” in what we may call social art sets the town rgog onlv for a day. To-morrow brings a fresher and niore costly invention to spur the jaded fancy. The trades that live on the extravagant whims and the vanity ot men and women thrive apace. Professional caterers say that there never has been a season in New York in which so many costly dinners and simi lar entertainments have taken place as that which has just now passed. The customary old-fashiontd 'dinner-party has given place to what is called a fete, flic guests sit down to a table which is an elaborate work of art. The decora tions and service are brought together from the four quarters of the globe, and, above all, they must be diflerent from any tiling over seen or heard oi before, There is u limit to euting and drinking, as well as to the variety of the provision, i K.ery social “rounder’ knows the ever ! lasting and invariable recurrence oi j oysters, soup, fisli. roast, entrees, sorliet j and game. The changes are rung on | these courses with needless multiplica tion uml “damngble iteration," from December to Easter, with scarcely a pause for the pretended fasts of Lent. But lack of novelty in the menn is made up by the prodigality and gorgeousness of table adornments. The bill of fare is painted on satin, and each guest is pro vided with a souvenir of the festivity which takes the shape of a work of deco rative art. In some instances, as if in despair of being able otherwise to outdo the latest extravagance, the guest is pre sented with gay knickknacks, artistic trifles, and even articles of jewelry. “Favors for the german’’ are made to puzzle the good sense of their recipients with bits of costly bijouterie, the accep tance of which will make high-spirited people blush with mortification. Or at some festivity the host, amid other ex cellent fooling, inverts his company with crowns, robes, stars and garters, making a little carnival of what might have been a pleasant social reunion. Ladies’ lunch parties, or dejeuners as they are deli cately called, are made to outvio the heavier feats of mere men, lor the love liest of God’s creation refuses to be dis tanced in any possible extravagance. Children’s parties are quite as sumptu ous us those of the grown people. Though these may be held in the day lime, they must be under an artificial light; and the tender darlings, who should be nourished on simple food, and dressed in comfortable attire, are decked in silks and laces, be wiggled and becurl ed, diamoned, gloved and laced “within an inch of their lives.’’ To these poor little butterflies will be fed the same sort of indigestible stuff which their elders regale themselves witliaL When these wretched children are grown up, if they survive this cruelty, me will have been exhausted for them. They wijl squeeze the orange dry before they are out of leading strings. Extravagance is always vulgarizing. The tendency of the time in which sen suous pleasures dominate is inevitably downward in respect to manners, morals and real refinement. The painted, gild ed, art-decorated and notoriety-seeking social extravagance of the present time has nothing to commend it but the plea that “it makes business for somebody, and keeps money in circulation.” But the evil influence of such an unnatural condition of things far outweighs this doubtful good. Example leads to uni versal imitation. The millionaire who ostentatiously orders priceless Johannis berger at his club will be faithfully, though remotely, imitated by somebody who is very far from being a millionaire. He was a well-intentioned Croesus, who, hearing one of the jeuneue dorree Dropose a great piece of exravagance, promptly said: “I can not afford to join in it.” But aside from the malign influence of example, the vulgar prodigality of the time is destroying all the finer graces of life. Ostentation and display are fatal to the social virtues. There can be no sweet home life, no sacred domesticity, no rational comfort, in ' " ' has once been invaded shine, and outshine, in society. When the demon ot social discontent comes in at the door of a brown-stone front, all the better angels of our nature fly out of the attic windows. Tpe grace and beauty of life are gone forever. Her Arm* Around Him. The news ol Mrs. Christiaocy’s state ment about her husband has evidently traveled very rapidly to Peru, as the minister is already beginning to inun date departments with statements con cerning his wife, and how she came to leave Peru without aid from him. He says that when his wife came on to him in Peru she was under the protection of a Mr. George Haight, an American resi dent in Peru. Haight is a man of fami ly. He took a fancy to Mrs. Cliristian cv and paid tier a great deal of atten tion. The minister avers that Haight came too often to the legation, and that he was altogether too devoted to his wife. He acknowledges that he did have a scene with his wife, but it was occa sioned by his coming into hissaloon one afternoon suddenly and finding his wife> in Haight’s arms. Another scene that he hud with his wife was upon the dis covery of a letter written to her by Hr. Victor Christiancv, now in Leaven worth, Kan., in which the doctor ex pressed himself more ardently than a stepson should. Mrs. Ghrisliancy, in re ply to tins, says :t is true J»ir. unrisiian ey charged her with being in Haight’s arms, but that it only arose from his ex treme jealousy. Haight was sitting talk ing with her in the legation parlor. They were at a round table. Mrs. Christiancy reached across his arm for a book, excusing herself as she did so. At this juncture the minister came in, and, as she says, the memorable knock-down scene took place. The Dr. Victor letter she admits; but as it also contains a ref erence to the Chandler bargain and the money paid to ChriBticncy, she does not think'that letter will be brought for ward verv prominently in the case. Thai Dr. Victor professed a great ad miration for her is true, but that site has ever encouraged liiui is denied. She says that her relations with Mr. Haight will hear the closest scrutiny.’ .She com plains that Minister Christiancy, when he sent for her to come to Peru, did not iurnish iter any traveling companion, not even a maid. A Spaniard on bourd the steamer unnoyed her veiy much by his insolent attention, and Mr. Haight, a gentleman vouched for by the cap tain, was the means of protecting her from llic troublesome Spaniard. Minis ter Christiancy, at the end of the voy age, thanked Mr. llaight for wliat he had done, and cordially invited him to the legation. A Virtue of the Flea. Chicago Tribune. Sooner or later every creuture finds an advocate. Now appears from Armenia a much-traveled Briton, by the name of Captain Creugh. and loudly sings the soothing, so[>orilie virtue of the wicked flea. This astounding wanderer assures us, ns of his personal experience, that in Armenia at least “the crawling of insects from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet, is so lethargic, and, like the action of shampooing, so soothing to the limbs of the weary traveler, that the in stant the fleas have covered his body in as great a multitude as the ants on an ant-heap, he, with a smile of satisfaction on his face, drops gently into profound and refreshing slumbers. An English Consul, after a Jong residence in Arme nia, having retired to his native country on a pension, had become so accustomed to the fleas that he was unable to sleep without them, and his house-maid al ways curried a snull-box lull up-stairs and put them into his bed with the warming-pan.’’ It does little good lor Congressman to call another a liar. That's tgo common . and too cheap to give otfcnsg, for the Ladies. A new fabric for street costumes is shown in damask beige. Turbans are very much the fashion, both in bonnets and hat Threads of green, yellow, blue, black and white make up the color called ser pent. Nearly all the Tuscan braid shown by the milliners is old, for very little was imported this year. Even the window shades are now em broidered, sometimes with flower de signs and sometimes in simple cross stitch. Fawn Gold, Gold Fawn, Tea-rose or Ecru—any shade under the sun—in the choicest of all spool silks, the “Unequaled Corticelli.” Linen collars and cuffs are being set aside for neck and wrist trimmings in laces and soft goods of various kinds, black net among others. An effort is being made to revive the bands of black velvet which were once worn around the necK, but they are not likely to prove very popular. One of the most admired fabrics of lingerie used is the figure tnull, which shows a pearl or yellow while ground, with small bouquets in several colors. The tendency is to return to the princess style of dress; this is seen in street suits. The costume is in one piece, and the drapery and platings are set on. The new printed satin foulards, so much used lor trimmings and for suits, m combination with plain satins and silks, have the same effect as hand painting. Tub prettiest button ot the season is of carved peurl coated with silver by some new process, and the play of color through the film of metal is exceeding ly handsome. Food fur Animals. Philadelphia Times. Visitors to the Zoological Garden have noticed down in the lower end of the grounds, a little to the right of the place where the polar bears are kept, a line of low, rambling buildings,built against the fence which separates the grounds, from a long strip of land lying between the gardens and the New York branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad. The last ot these buildings is a good deal better than the rest, being a tall, close, frame shanty of pine boards and having a door in it. The others, smaller, more uneven and without any doors, are nothing more than mere sheds or stalls. Always in front of them will be seen a pile of clover hay, with half a dozen, more or less, sorry-looking horses, the sole occupants of the sheds, feeding thereon. An inspection ot these ani mels will usually show a plethora of de fects in the way of damaged eyes or spavined joints or broken wind-gall, in the majority of instances being the reg ular accompaniments of old age, and being but another way of describing a horse broken down by weight of years and past his stage of usefulness. Occa sionally younger animals may be seen in the stalls, but these ure also suffering from some affliction of body or limb, and stand on the same footing as the rest. These horses, once they get under the above-described sheds, have all one common destiny—they are to be killed and dressed as food for the animals of the zoological garden. The amount of food consumed daily by the animals, large and small, is no little. The chief meat-eating animals are the lions, tigers, leopards, pumas and hyenas. Altogether they consume about 175 pounds of horse meat a day. Four horses a week is the usual average in keeping up the supply of these animals alone. Next in point of heavy feeding come the elephants. Their chief food is hay, if which it takes about four times us much to keep an elephant as it does to keep a horse, the elephant eating 100 pounds of liny vswtij' mvuiuuiiiix. /xim 111 wiui t to keep up his appitite the hay must be the best going, being invariably tbnothy of the best grades. Other animals that eat hay are the giraffes, the camels, the deer, zebra and different animats of the cattle species. Most all these are fed on what is known as mixed hay, timo thy and clover, which is about 20 per cent, chcaiier than the timothy alone. Two wagon louds a week is about the amount used. Rich wagon load is sup posed to contain 3,000 weight, or a ton and a half. The price for timothy is ubout $20 per ton, which makes the three tons per week equuljto $00. The mixed hay rods in the neighborhood of $18 a ton,"thus making the weekly cost of that necessary supply $54, which added to $00, gives the weekly cost of huv alone in the sum of $114. As to the cost ol horse meat for the other animals, this is not as much us might be imagined. The horses are usually purchased at the horse market by one of the employes at the gar dens. who has all sm n wo k in charge. The horses, as above stated, are usually animuls which have been superannuated and useless. The average price paid per head is about $5. As four horses l>er week suffice the cost for horse meat foots up about $20 a week. The lions, tigers, leopards and pumas arc not the only animals that are fed on horse meat. The wolves and foxes and prairie dogs and monkeys and black bears also come in for their share of the supplies, being led almost altogether on this kind ol meat. It is regarded as singular that these animals—lions, tigers and leopards —Mhould make no distinction between horse meet and beef, albeit it is a point in favor of the pocketbooks ol the cor porators of the gardens. For lour years preceeding their discovery that the ani mals would eat horse meat as well as beef they kept feeding them on the lat ter. Two years ago it was found that they would eat horse meat as well as that of beef, and provisions was made accordingly. .Since then the society has been practicing judicious economy by feeding the animals on horse meat alto gether and they save about 60 per cent. The cost of feeding the lions, tigers, leopards and pumas as stated is about $20 a week. Add this to $144, cost of larger animals, elephants giraffes and Others, and the cost Is $104. This does not nearly represent all tho animals fed in the garden, nor does it come near be ing the chief item of cost. There area hundred and one other creatures re uuiriug, in niuny cases, much more delicate and costly food. The sea-lions have to be fed on tlsh usually fresh and salt inackrel, each animal taking twelve or fifteen to each mpul twice a day, and consuming altogether $00 pounds of fish daily- Next in point of delicate livers i gome the I’olar bears, Whose regular diet is bread soaked in milk, with fish now and then for a c hange. The black bears are also given bread. 100 pound being used daily. Vei’itubles of uliuost every sort are fed liberally to ttie difl'er ent animals—cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onions and turnips.1 The elephants ate great cabbage eaters, in addition to their standard diet, bay. The giraffes, sin gularly enough, are great onion eaters, while the deer and goats anil atiimals of the cow species eat carrots and turnips and potatoes. Bran and oats and corn are ulso liberally distributed—mostly once or twice a week—among the hay eating animals. The most delicate and expensive feeder in the place perhaps is the ou rang-out ang, which gets beef, po tatoes, bread and honey. As there is only one iu the collection at present, the cost of keeping this grinning satire in the human species is not multiplied. Another delicacy which must not be admitted in the diet of the Polar bear is fish oil, of which they get several sup plies a week A fter the hay the oats is perhaps the next chief source of ex pense in the way of animal food. As lor the fowls, the larger ones are fed on corn, and the small ones arc fed on canary seed, and all of them now and then get a small portion of meat. The cost of feeding the animals alone foots up about $100 a day. All the horses that go to supply the meat-eating ani mals are killed on the ground, in the slaughter house that stands at the lower end of the row of sheds in the lower part of the garden. Fottr Hugs to the Square. milUiM VUIUUIUVIVM. The man who walks at night Rees funny things. On "Wednesday night, between 10 and 11 o’clock, while n fact stater was cleaving the dimness of Wal ton street, his attention was attracted by a youthful couple who were walking at the frightful speed of fifteen minutes to the half square. While he was thinking how long they could keep up this pace without stopping, they stopped within the friendly shadow ot a huge bill board, and the young man clasped the young lady to his heaving bosom and kissed her. Then be looked up and down the street, as though expecting some one whom he sincerely iioped would not come, and then suddenly re membering that he had a previous en gagement, he turned and embraced his companion in a long, living and busi ness-like manner, and then he kissed her. Somehow lie seemed to feel that he had not made a complete success, and he kissed her again. Then, as it dis pleased with iiis style of work, he re peated it in a sort of Emma Abbott way. This struck him as being quite the thing, and he practiced it several times. After a while he stopped kissing the young lady and hugged her. And just here he displayed real genius. He was a master ot the art. He showetl a per fect familiarity with every possible style. He clasped ber gently, then he squeezed her rapturously, then he grabbed her violently—tlien he embraced her slowly and impressively—ttien he bugged her as if lie bad firmly resolved never to go into any other business as long as he lived, and then he thought he heard somebody coming, and they walked off as if nothing in the world had happened. They turned into Broad street, and hav ing joined their friends, the shadows, near Wilson’s coal yard, they repeated the Walton street performance without any material change ot programme. And then they strolled Icisurly iuto Luckey street, between Forsyth and Broad, and in answer to an encore gave another performance of the same des cription. After this they passed iuto Forsyth street, and when tfiey neared the brat Baptist Church the idea oc curred fo the young man thut he would give n farewell performance. They did i, ...i l., _i the un ecn audience was almost moved to tears at the extremely touching sight. And then those happy nocturnal closer to my bosom comes moved silently down Walton street, and the unseen audience of one slowly dispersed. The Ex-Khedive’s Trouble*. New York World. The ex-Khedive of Egypt, who with his harem is reciiUnsr at Resina, would do well to provide himself with an extra supply of patent locks, bull-dogs, broken botilos, eat leasers, and Ethopiuus with rolling eye-balls and curving scimetars. Not long ago one of the beauties of his harem elofted with a young Italian urtist, and now a fair Circassian, Miss N'asik Missak, who is rising sixteen, has flown to a mansion opposite where lives a young gentleman “who,” says the re port, “had fallen in love with her from seeing her at the window and with whom site had managed to carry on a panto mimic wooing. It seems that the young man’s affection is sinwerc, for he has now applied to the municipal authorities of Resina to publish the police of his in tended marriage with the interesting young fugitive. Rut the authorities are i much embarrassed by this request, for the Italian law demands that all stratig j ers wishing to marrv must produce a certificate from the authorities of their native country that there exists no im pediment, and as this young girl, now only sixteen years of age, was sold in Cairo when a mere baby, no one knows to whom to apply.” Who can lie sure that the wily ex-Khedive, it not openly offering a chromo for each elopement or stimulating the export trade of wives and bayaderes by a liberal system of bounties, is ut least tipping the wink to the ferocious eunuchs whom lit* puts on guard and leaving the lront door care fully unbolted at night. The charinx-of unlimited female society might com mend themselves to a despotic ruler in Egypt, where the inmates of the harem could be kept secluded and beyond the influence of Frankish fashion-plates, and where, if the worst came to the worst, he could remove to another of his pala ces or try the water-cure upon the ob noxious females in connection with a suck. Rut in Italy, with a fixed income, a comparatively narrow house and no possibility of extinguishing summarily the lights of his harem when they begin to flare up, it is so clearly to the ex-Khe dive's interest to make reductions in the stock of spouses he f» carrying that we shall not Iks surprised to learn by and by that, with true Oriental cunning, he has been conniving at the elopements he pretends to condemn. --. A young New Yorker was introduced to a Rostou girl, and before they were acquinted thirty minutes, she got so spooney that she called him an aster ulapis, a Silurian placoid, and u cartila ginous vertebrate. He returned to New York by the midnight train. CREAM OK THE MAILS. Nugget* of Wit and Wisdom from Out Kxclnsngea. A BARK ON THE SEA. —His bark Is on the sea, And from pain he’ll toon he free, Not much longer shall he chant his every-day whine, nis body's getting frail, And thereon hangs a tail, For he’s hound for the happy land ot canine. —Hackensack Republican. ODE TO A FISH WORM. Unlucky creature! When the cruel hook Impales thee, ere I plunge thee In the brook. Thou canst not, by an agonizing yell, The fearful tor.uies thou endureai tell. Thou canst not, by thy countenance, express Thy awful suffering and dire distress ’Ti«only in Ihy power to twht and squirm, Hut I cun tell what that d .si mean, o, worm! Aud shall all this pain inflict on thee? No; I’ll s ow merer— al Whai do l see III yonder pool »o deep? It Is a iroull A big three-pounder! 1 must have him oull For what are you to such a prize, O worm? Thy hour has cornel (Jet on that ho. kt Don’t squirm! Ha! You resist me! "Twill avail tha naught That trout still waltz far thee. It mutt be caught— Oh, drat! I’ve dropped the worm, and too, by snuni. That cussed hook I’ve baited with my tliumbl Couloui d the thing! I’ve lost that worm, and more. The trout made off the minute that I swore, -N. Y. WorlA EVENLY DIVIDED. Six medical experts examined a man as to his sanity and were evenly divided. After they had wrangled about it for a week it was discovered that they bad examined the wrong person alto- j'i gether.—Detroit Free fret*. BARNUM SHOULD HAVE THEM. It is now said that Cove. D. Bennet, lately acquitted in Jersey City of the murder of uoliceman Smith will hetnn. Mr. Barnum will miss the greatest op portunity of his life it he does not get Bennet, Hayden, Jessie Raymond, Chas tine Cox, and the Widow Oliver and at tach them to his managerie as a “bappv family.” “There’s”—several hundred dollars in it.—Unknown. HOW TO ceox A HUSBAND. A short ai tide going the rounds of the press is e ititled “How to Cook a Husband.” If he had a voice in tho matter he would prefer to be ‘toasted"— at the club; but when he gees home and kicks up a family broil be ought to be "basted.” A "chafed” husband is not desirable. Perhaps, after all.it would be best to pa'-boil him, for often pa boils with rage when he is obliged to meander up and down the chamber at midnight with a squalling infant in his arms— we’ve been told.— Horrittoum Herald. WIIAT THE PEOPLE DO. A few take Ihefr religion home from church with them, but most people leave it wrapped, like the chairs and pictures in brown holland to be kept clean for their return at the end of the season. This is good for the religion, and is often as delicate as the feather in a lady’s hat, and sea air takes the cur! out of one, and hops, germans and board walks make tho other very limp; so the wise woman leaveth her old clothes and re ligion in the fastness of her dwelling place, and going forth to the sea-shoru she singeth andduciceth in the cool wa ter and winketh at her spouse, or, if she be a maiden, she blinketh at the spouse of some one else, or smiletn on the un wise young man who skippeth also among the jelly-fish of the ocean.— liotlon Transcript. - A ST. LOUIS QUABTET. The magificent quartet—Crawford, Baker, Buskett and Field—who aston ished the audience at Pope's the other night, were so proud of their success that they took a stand on the top step of the Post Office and began tne rehearsal of a new piece. “Come where my love lies snoozing,” sung the tenor, ejecting a quid of to bacco from his lelt cheek. the appy ’ours u whey,” chimed in the basso, placing a cigarette between his teeth. “Go ’way from dar!” shouted Beverly Jackson, the colored janitor, from the inside. “No use hollerin'; do office won’t open lor half an hour.” The quartet expect to go on a starring tour next summer, and will visit Lead ville and tue Gunnison Country by per mission of the Vigilance Committee.— Globe- Democrat. SOME SUGGESTIONS TO MINISTERS. A circus never runs too long for spec tators, but let a sermon run over forty minutes and a congregation can’t sit still. —Detroit t'rtr Prett. Now we see no possib.e lUBiiticulion for a comparison here. Just gtve the pious party a chance, if you please, and then fasten your critical tentacles on the congrega tion, you sacrilegious old literary octo pus. For instance: Baring the prefa tory 'emarks of the minister, let him sit down on the unobstructed platfotm with his feet dangling over the edge, which he is to grasp with his hands, and then draw a leg over eacn shoulder, and we have liiin in a position kuowu as the froe atti.ude. This will secure attention tor live minuteB, and as the discourse ad vances. he may unwind himself and btaud erect, holding the left logout hoti* zontully and ciasping the left mot in the hand. No minister, however, bhould at tempt this leal unless he lias every con fidence in his pants. When he has re mained in this position two minutes and a half, he might go through a like manoeuvre with the right leg for the same period, and thus ten minutes are consumed, in which he has secured the wrapt attention of the cougragation, and is prepared to get down to business. At this point he will resume his proper position, and whenever a passage is to he emphasized he will turn a backward summersault, alighting on bis feet, head or any other (tart of the anatomy his proficiency will allow; and while awaiting the impressive silence after his }ieroration to strike in, be may make a tour of the platform with backward hand-springs. These performances are merely suggested, of course, their adop tion being advised only in the contin gency that the minister is forced into competition with the circus, us our im pious contemporary, we think gratuit ously fore shadows.—Motion Transcript. A i.adv with a fatal squint came once to a fashionable artist lor her portrait. He looked at her, and she looked at him and both were embarrassed. He spoke first: “Would your ladyshinpermit me," lie said, “to take the portrait in profile? There is a certain shyness about one of your ladyship’s eyes which is as difficult In art as it is fascinating in nature." Prince Bismarck has been conquered at last, his old associates, beer and to | hacco, having turned out enemies, He I baa given up both.