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f f I1 THIS WIFE.
BY JOHN O. W H1TT1KR. " From school, and ball, and route she came, The city's fair, pale daughter. To drink the wine of mountain fair, Beside the Bearcamp Water. Her Btep grew firmer on the hills That watch our homesteads over. Xn cheek and lip, from summer fields, She caught the bloom of clover. . JF at health comes sparkling in the streams 1 From cool flhaoorna stealing, 'here's, iron in our Northern winds : Oar pines are trees of healing. ' ( She sat beneath the broad-armed elms That skirt the mowing meadow, And watched the gentle west wind weave The grass with shine and shadow. Beside her, from the summer heat, To share her grateful screening, With forehead bared, the farmer stood, Upon his pitchfork leaning. Framed in its damp, dark locks, his face Had nothing mean or common, Strong, maniy, true, the tenderness And pride beloved of women. She looked np, glowing with tle health -The country air had bronght her, An :i, laughing, said : " You lack a wife, Your mother lacks a daughter. To mend your frock and bake your bread You do not need a lady ; Be Bure, among these brown old homes Is some one waiting ready " Some fair, sweet girl, with skillful hand And cheerful heart for treasure. Who never played with ivory keys. Or danced the polka'sjaneasure. He bent his black brows to a frown, He set his white teeth tightly ; " Tis well," he said, "for one like you To choose for me so lightly ; Yon think, because my life is rude, I take note of sweetness ; . I tell you love has naught to do With meetness or unmeetnesa. Itself it's best excuse, it asks Ko leave of pride or fashion, Whon silken zone or homespun frock 1 i stirs with throbs of passion. "You think me deaf and blind ; you bring Your winning graces hither As free as if from cradle time We two had played together. " You tempt me with your laughing eyee , Your cheek of sundown's blushes ; A motion as of waving grain, A music as of thrushes. "The plaything of your summer sport, The spells you weave around me You cannot of your will undo, Nor leave me as you found me. You go as lightly rs you came. Your life is well without me ; What mre you that these hills will close Like prison walls about me T " Mo mood is mine to seek a wife, ... Or daughter for my mother ; Who loves you loses in that love All power to love another ! " I dare your pity or your scorn With pride your own exceeding ; I fling my heart into your lap Without a word of pleading." She looked nrc n the waving grass So archly, yet so tender, And I give you mine," she said, " Will you forgive the lender ?" " Nor frock nor tan can hide the man ; And Bee you not, my farmer, How weak and fond a woman waits Behind this silken armor T" I love yon ; o-i that love alone, And not mj worth, presuming. Will you not niBt for summer fruit The tree ta Kay-day blooming ?" Alone the ha igbird overhead, Ilia hair-si 'ung cradle straining, ljooked dow; i to see love's miracle The givinv that is gaining. And so the farmer found a wife. His mother found a daughter ; There looks no happier home than hers On pleasant Bearcamp Water. Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty ; Our hard, stiff lines of life, with her, Are flowing curves of beauty. Onr homes are cheerier for her sake, Onr door-yards brighter blooming. And nil about the social air sweeter for her coming. A BICE FOB LIFE. On the 2d day of December, 1865, a little more than a year after the found ing, by Gov. Goodwin, of the town of Prescott, and the locating of the capital of Arizon thereat, and while the Indians were still harassing and murdering the settlers and miners throughout the leiith and breadth of the Territory, William Brady and the writer started from Prescott City across the country east to Santa Fe, New Mexico, a dis tance of five hundred miles, where we expected to take the stage for the East. We were equipped with plenty of arms, ammunition, two go d horses, a pack mule, plenty of blankets, and provisions for fifteen days, by which time at most we expected to reach the settlements on the Bio Grande. The weather was delightful such weather as is only seen upon the pla teaus bordering on the Great Cordil . leras. We expected no know for at least one month, and it was with few regrets, and consequently light hearts, that we rode along that morning,' leaving per haps forever the country where, for more than two years, we had struggled in our efforts to develop the rich resources of the region, and, with the four or five hundred co-laborers, suffered untold pri vations at times almost dying of hun ger and thirst, constantly harassed by hostile Indians, with ; little prospect of succor from the Government. Although our journey lay through a country in fested by hostile tribes for over two hundred miles, we had become so used to the dangers of savage warfare that the fact scarcely gave us an uneasy thought. We looked beyond the dan ger, beyond the great plains, into pleas ant homes, from which we had been ab sent for years; uid visions of happy greetings which we expected to receive within the month took the place, for the time, of all other thoughts. Nothing of special interest occurred until the second day out, when we met a small party of soldiers, who, with the United States express, had the day be fore been attacked, the expressman killed, and two others of the party wounded. Discouraging as this intelli gence would seem te be, we determined to press forward as rapidly as possible, so as to reach by a little after nightfall the dividing line between the Apaches and Hualipis, the latter of whom prefer red to be friendly to the whites. We were yet a distance of twenty miles to the above-named point, and il was then lp.ro. Several times during the after noon our attention was attracted to white Kaes of smoke rising at different points in answer to each other, the language of which we understood to portend evil "to us perhaps the most horrible of deaths. : I V :, At 4 p. m. we reached the place where the attack, had the day before been 7inade. ! A few broken arrows and a por d tion of the charred remains of the unfor tunate xpressman were the remaining evidences of the bloody deed. We did not tarry long here, for the reader will readily understand that the J sight of these evidences of the brutality of those who were then dogging our footsteps were sufficient to very materially in crease our desire to reach a place of safety as speedily as possible. Just as the sun sank beneath the western horizon we passed into the Hnalipi country, and again breathed freely. i f ( ' ; u Beaching a suitable place, we camped for the night. The next morning the wind was blowing a gale, which con tinued all . day, interef ering with our progress so much that it was night when we reached Antelope Springs, at the foot of the San Francisco Mountains, eighty-four miles from the city of Pres cott. During the day lowering clouds had stretched from horizon to horizon, and there was every evidence of an ap proaching storm, a circumstance which appals the bravest heart. A storm in the mountains, without protection, is something the horrors of which cannot be fully described. And this was a new danger, something we had not expected, something for which we were not pre- area. wnen morning came, tne snow, ad alreadv began to fall, and our better judgment prompted us to return to Pres cott. But there is a feeling of pride in the breast of every pioneer, which for bids him giving over an enterprise when once undertaken forbids a retreat, what dangers soever may interfere with his advance. So we again mounted our horses and continued our journey. At night we reached Cosnina Caves; a distance of sixteen miles, after traveling hard all day. The snow had already fallen to a depth of ten inches, and was still falling. Here we turned our horses loose, that they might find something upon which to subsist, and, scraping away the snow, we kindled a fire, cooked our supper, and spreading our blankets upon the snow, crawled between them, and were soon lost to the gloomy pros pects which surrounded us. Upon awaking the following morning, we were wet with perspiration and weighed down with eight inches of snow which had fallen during the night upon our blankets, the snow still falling rapidly. Those who have never had such expe- -rience may try to imagine our feelings as we contemplated the situation the snow almost two feet deep, and still fall ing, no feed for our animals, less than two weeks' provisions for ourselves, with every hope of retreat now cut off by the accumulation of snow in the mountains, our advance nearly barred by the same cause, and the trail nearly obliterated. To remain was certain death, and the only possibility of escape was to find some place that would serve as a shelter until the storm had passed away. The Little Colorado river we knew to be about twenty miles distant at the nearest point where we could reach it, and we were not long in satis fying ourselves that our only hope lay in reaching the river, and subsisting upon the flesh of the animals until the snow cleared away in the spring, when we could reach "the settlements. We knew, too, that upon the river we were liable to fall into the hands of hostile Indians. But there was hope, and after getting some coffee, we set out for our haven without any reference to trail, simply taking a course and following it as near as we could. The snow was be ginning to drift, and the wind whistled through the stunted pines and cedars with a low, melancholy sound as we struggled on, sometimes tumbling into a gully filled and hidden by the drifting snow, again coming out where it was only a few inches deep, only to plunge into another drift. It was impossible to ride, on account of the plunging of the horses ; besides it was now becoming intensely cold, and it was necessary to walk in order to keep ourselves from freezing. After travel ing in this manner for about three miles, we came out of the timber into an open, undulating country, where, though the drifts were worse, we were better en abled to avoid them, and made more rapid progress than while in the tim ber. By noon the snow had ceased to fall, and when night came we were within five or six miles of the river, and could plainly see the line of timber marking its course. Tired and hungry as we were, we had no alternative but to push forward ; we had nothing out of which to build a fire, and to stop short of the timber was cer tain to be followed by freezing and per haps death. It was now almost impos sible to urge our horses forward, and, after going a short distance, our pack animal stopped and could be driven no further, and we were compelled to leave him standing upon the bleak prairie, where he was, undoubtedly, in a few minutes destroyed by wolves, for they had been annoying us with their dismal howlings since sunset, sometimes ap proaching to within a dozen yards of ns. It must have been near midnight when we reached the timber, and the inclina tion to lie down and sleep toward the last was so great that it was with the ut most difficulty we could keep on our feet. Several times Brady called out, " It is no use. I am so tired I can go no farther, and I am dying for sleep." But I knew only too well what the re sult would be, and urged him on. At last we reached the timber, and he sank down at once, unable to do more. The next thing was to kindle a fire. The snow was at least fifteen inches deep, and from under that snow I had to hunt my wood. After considerable ef fort, I procured a few Cottonwood limbs, and, taking my sheath-knife, attempted to make some shavings. My hands were so cold that I could scarcely tell whether I had my knife in my hand or not. At length I struck a match, and attempted to light my whittlings. The match flick ered and went out. I tried a second and a third with the same result. As I watched the last of the three go out, I was sitting in the snow, and I felt as if I did not care whether I had a fire or not. A Btrange, though not unpleasant, feel ing was coming over me. I had not the power to arouse myself ; was free from Eain, and felt perfectly contented, even appy not very different from what one feels when being placed under the influ ence of chloroform. I could not realixe the horrors of my situation. Something seemed to shut out what little light there was, but I could still Lear sounds as of music in the distance, becoming fainter and fainter until I knew no more. When I awoke I was surrounded by a score of Indian warriors Navajoes a fire was burning near me, and the sun was shining brightly. I was lying upon a blanket, and, upon attempting to move, discovered that my limbs were stiff and sore. I was bewildered, but in a few min utes the events of the previous night came to my mind, and my first thoughts were of my comrade. With an effort I raised my head and glanced around, when, to my great relief, I saw Brady sitting near me. His first expression was: "By the holy Saint Patrick, the red skins have got us this time." "It would, have been far better for us," I replied, "if we had been com pletely frozen before they discovered us." "Away with such stuff," he cried. " That is not the kind of talk for one who has been so long accustomed to the life of a frontiersman. 1 While the lamp holds out to burn, The vileft sinner may return,' says your sacred poet, and we will escape those dogs yet." " Do be cautions. There may be some of them who understand enough of our language to know of what we are talk ing," I replieiL " Not a bit of it," he responded; "but they mean mischief, and we must be on the alert." The chief of the band then indicated to us that our conversation must stop, and at the same time one of the warriors came and bound Brady's hands. I sup pose they considered me too powerless to escape, so they left me unbound. How it was that I had not escaped as well as my comrade, and how we had been discovered by the Indians, was more than we could tell and more than we were ever able to find out. Brady's first knowledge was of being dragged along in the snow, before daylight, and placed before the fire. He was not froz en except his feet and hands, slightly; while my lower limbs to my knees, and my hands, arms, nose and ears were se verely frostbitten. But my limbs had been placed in snow, and I was recover ing very well, though exceedingly sore and in much pain. Brady had considerable knowledge of the Navajo language, and J felt satisfied he had learned something regarding their intentions toward us, so I made several efforts during the day to get something from him, but he would not answer a question. They gave us roast meat, and although they were very cruel, their treatment was much better than I expected. When night came, Brady was tied hand and foot, and my arms and legs were tied, but I was not confined any further, so I rested pretty well during the night. In this way they kept us for one week, making ns do menial service during the day and binding us during the night, and all this time I could get nothing from my comrade. He would not talk to me at all. I knew he had a reason for it, and felt contented, so far as he was con cerned, but I could not keep from chaf ing under my savage yoke. On the evening of the eighth day, Brady, by the use of the deaf and dumb alphabet, communicated to me the fol lowing: " We must make our escape to nights Don't skep! Moquis!" The Moqui villages lay about forty-five miles north of where we $hen were, and the inhabitants have always been friendly to the whites. Night came on, and the horses, twenty four in number, were brought up and tied near the camp. We were bound as usual, but there were no more commu nications between Brady and myself. My anxiety was such as I never felt before. It seemed to me the Indians would never retire, and when they did lay down they were a long time getting quiet. But as soon as I was sure they were all asleep I began working to free myself. My hands were tied behind my back, and my feet bound close together. My wrists and arms were yet much swollen from the effects of the frost, and by exerting every effort, and suffering intensely, I succeeded in drawing my right hand through the thong, lacerat ing my hand and tearing away portions of the flesh as I did so. Having loosed my hands, it was but a small matter to untie my feet As soon as that was done, I raised myself to reconnoiter. One of the Indians moved uneasily. I sank down and placed my feet and hands in the proper position almost instantly. The Indian got up, stirred the fire, and again laid down. Great drops f sweat stood upon my forehead, but I lay as still as death. After half an hour I again made the attempt. Brady lay perfectly quiet. My situation was such that it became necessary for me to step over one of the warriors to get to him, and as I cautiously did so I saw the handle of his knife projecting from the scabbard. I reached down and drew it forth without disturbing him. In a moment I was at my friend's side, andhad cut the cords which bound him. He arose and we approached the horses as quietly as possible. Selecting what we thought to be 'the two swiftest, we arranged the lariats about their heads so as to guide them, and I mounted mine as he stood. Brady, before mounting, motioned for my knife, which I threw in the snow at his feet. He then commenced cutting the remainder of the horses loose. He had succeeded in loosing about two thirds of them, when one of the Indians, aroused by the unsual commotion among the horses, sprang np. Brady was upon the back of his horse instantly, and yelling like a savage, and using the knife as a spur, he hashed away, myself and most of the herd following at a break neck speed. The Indians fired after us, but we lay flat down upon our horses, and the bul lets whistled harmlessly by. Of course we knew pursuit would be instituted at once, but, thanks to the forethought of my friend, the most of the horses had been stampeded, and it would be some time before they could get regularly started, by which time we would gain quite an advantage. Our all depended upon onr reaching the Moqui villages, for we were without arms, blankets, provisions or matches. We urged our horses as much as we could, and got along finely until near daylight, whenwe came to a deep gully which we could not cross. This unfor tunate occurrence threw us off our course several degrees, end we had to travel three or four niile up the gully before we could cross. , i About 3 a. m. we came in sight of the smoke of the villages, which we judged to be distant about fifteen miles. About 10 o'clock a. m. we discovered a small party of our enemies not more than one and a half miles to our left, using every effort to cut us off. They had divined our intention, and, knowing the country well, avoided the trouble which we had encountered at the gully, and were now as near the villages as we were. Four miles more and we would be safe within the principal village, which could now be plainly seen, situated as it is upon a high piece of ground. It was indeed a race for life. Our horses were in a lather of sweat, and al ready beginning to fag. Should one of them stumble and fall, its rider would be at the mercy of the savages. On, on we sped. We were now within two miles, aye, less than that, of the village, and the Indians not more than half a mile from us. H we only had arms .'but we had none. The horses seemed to understand something of what was going on, and bent every energy to their work. Each of us now began to swing an arm to attract the attention of the villagers. When within half a mile of safety our enemies were almost within shooting distance of us. We began to shout, still making our pantomimic gestures. In a few moments the housetops were covered with people, and when we were within a hundred yards of the nearest house a number of braves rushed out, armed, to our assistance. Our pursuers were not a hundred yards from us, but when they saw the Moquis coming to our assistance, they stopped and fired at us, but without effect. They then turned and rode off in an easterly direction. The Moquis took us in, and used us j like brothers, furnishing us whatever I we needed. We remained with them until spring, when we made our way to Fort Wingate, New Mexico. Brady ascertained that one of the Navajoes understood some English, which was the reason he refused to talk, and he also learned from their conversa tion that they intended starting for their own villages the morning after the night on which we made our escape, where they intended to take us, for what pur pose we could not tell, but we supposed for torture. One of the horses on which we made the race for life died from OTer-heat, and the other one was worthless after wards as long as we remained with the Moquis. All About Printing. There is a prevailing ignor ince re garding the art of printing. Ve know all about it, being in the business. Go liath is believed to have been the first printer. He did it with his feet, leav ing his prints wherever he went. Printers have been on the tramp ever since. The first movable type was in the fif teenth century. It was never fully de termined who moved it. Guttenburg is suspected, as he was guttin' nearly every thing in those days. An edition of Donatus was the first book printed from movable type. Dona tus was a cannibal. He would have don' ate us if we had been around about that time. The first letters were characters imi tating handwriting. We would like to catch anybody imitating our handwrit ing, lettered or unlettered. Roman type was made in 1465. We didn't make any until the year follow ing and we haven't made a great deal since. But the " Grecian type" is our choice made of Athens business, you know. Printing was introduced into Paris in 1470. Being in France, the introduction was very formal. The largest size of type used for books is Great Primer. We never got any thing but little primers in our youthful days. The smaller sizes of types are English, Pica, Small Pica, Long Primer (mixed half and half with Great Primer it makes Great Long Primer), Bour geois, Brevier, Minion (avaunt !) Non pareil, Agate (now editing the New York Tribune), Pearl (a wholesale street in Cincinnati), Diamond and Brilliant, evi dently very similar. Pearl is the smallest type found in an ordinary printing office. Cora Pearl is about the loudest type found any where. The type most in use for advertise ments is nonpareil. Where there is non-pay there is very little reil, nowa days. In America, printers are paid by the 1,000 ems (M). We once had a girl named Emily a sweet creature and a thousand Ems we have since seen couldn't hold a candle to her. Our foreman, the " Doctor," informs us that a good compositor will set, cor rect and distribute about 6,009 ems in a day of ten hours. The shocking crea ture ! If he could set, etc., 6,000 ems in a day of ten hours, how many Julias and Polly Anns could he serve in the same manner ? (Answer in our next.) Numerous papers nowadays are print ed off from stereotype plates. These plates are not good to eat off of, and they differ from fashion plates in that they are useful. The hand-press is said to have been invented in 1450, but bless you, hand pressing must have reached way back of that time. The hand press has been in operation ever since young folks of opposite genders were on earth, you bet! Ink rollers are made from a mixture of molasses and glue. It frequently be comes necessary to watch the roller boys to prevent their licking off the lasses. The Hoe press was patented in July, 1847. You ought to see Hoe. handle one of his presses. Before the Hoe was in vented, newspapers were printed on a shovel. Fat Contributor. A Darkey's Logic. In Mr. John Heath's family were the old slaves, Cuff and Cato, and one Primus, of whom various anecdotes are related. Mr. Heath, who was fond of quizzing Primus, i asked him one day which, was the heav iest, a pound of lead or a pound of feathers. "A pound of lead," said Primus, promptly, "course a pound of lead is de heaviest." A laugh ensued at Primus' expense. "Don't you b'leave it, massa ? You go stick your head in the fire-place, an' let Primus go a top de house and drop a pound ob f edders and a pound ob lead down de chimne' on your head ; den see which is the heab- The Racing Season of 18 73 There have been great gaps made in the ranks of horses since last falL The mighty Longfellow will never again be saddled on a race track, nor will his old opponent, Kingfisher. Lyttleton and Glenelg, too, are incapacitated for fur ther training. But the majority of those who have done great things are well and flourishing. Joe Daniels, Monarchist, Harry Bassett, Alarm, Helnibold, Saucebox, London, Abd-el-Koree, Alroy, Aureola, Ortalan, Tub man, Hubbard, Woodbin?, and other' pubic favorites are all on the war path, and some rattling and exciting struggles are sure to be witnessed when they meet. A change in the weights has been made by the Saratoga and Mon mouth Park Associations, the six-year-old weight, which used to be 118 pounds, being reduced to 114 pounds, which is now the maximum weight. There is no doubt that the change will be beneficial in one respect, as the old horses formerly had a great disadvan tage. But it would have been a wise step for the associations to raise the scale of weights all through, so as to obviate the difficulty which exists of procuring good riders. The weight for three-year-olds in the purse races is only ninety pounds, far too small, and it is of course next to impossible to get a good rider at this weight. The mania for fast time is one reason for the low scale, and there can be no objection to having it raised. A three-year-old that cannot carry 100 pounds two miles is not worth the expense of training. Not taking into account the four days' racing at Baltimere, as that city is rath er beyond the limits of the metropoli tan circuit, we find that between the 7th of June and the 15th of August there will be twenty-six days' racing, during which about ninety races will be con tested. Last year 348 race-horses ran at the great meetings, two-thirds of them in New York State, and it is cer tain there will be even more this year. With more horses in training than ever before known, with more money given to be run for, and with the increasing taste for this kind of sport among the people, are we wrong in predicting that the coming season will be far more bril liant xhan any previous one? Those who have studied the subject will, we think, agree with this opinion. New York Sun. Aged Youth. This certainly, cannot be called a very arduous life ; and the resnlt of it is, that most of our citizens look fresh and are vigorous after they are far ad vanced. An exemplification is seen in Cor nelius Yanderbilt, who, in his 77th year, is perfectly hale and hearty ; walks as erect, and is lithe and supple, as if he were still 40. Alexander T. Stewart, over 65, has not the slightest ailment ; is entirely healthy in mind and body ; and is capa ble of managing his immense business in all its details with the greatest ease. William B. Astor, 76, shows no symp toms of decay; takes long walks ; has an excellent appetite and digestion ; and looks forward, I presume, to 15 or 20 years more of adherence to the planet William Cullen Bryant, now 75, pre serves the physical characteristics of yovth. He often walks 5 or 6 miles be fore breakfast ; prides himself upon his ability to leap fences ; and laughs at the idea of being considered an old man. Daniel Drew, at 70, is as active and wiry as he was 30 years ago, and more than a match for the youngest and shrewdest operators of Wall street. George Law, about the same age, at tends to his vast business precisely as he did a quarter of a century since, and very seldom requires the services of a physician. I might mention any number of New Yorkers, ranging from 60 to 70 years old, who are as full of vitality and en ergy as men of half thei age. I used to think that to be 60 wyis to be old ; but here I have learned j'by actual ob servation that to be 70 isy to be almost in the prime of life. A ew York Letter. Thingi a Married Woman Cannot Help Thinking. That she was very pretty at sixteen. That she had, or would have had, a great many good offers. That all her lady friends are five years older than they say they are. That she has a very fine mind. That if her husband had acted on her I advice, he would be a rich man to-day. That people think too much of the look of that Miss , who would not be called handsome if she did not make herself up. That her mother-in-law is a very try ing woman. That her sister-in-law takes airs, and ought to be put down. That her girls are prettier than Mrs. A. 'a girls. That she would like to know where her husband spends his evenings when he stays out. That her eldest son takes after him. That he is going to throw himself away on Miss ScraggSi ' That Miss Scraggs set her cap for him, and did all the courting. j That her servant girls are the worst ever known. That she has taste in dress. That she has a good temper. That she pities old maids. Things a Married Man Cannot Help Thinking. That all the girls used to be in love with him. That all the widows are now. That if he were a widower he could marry again whenever he chose. That all the other fellows are fools. That he wouldn't introduce any fellow he knows to his sister or his daughter. That his wife is a little jealous. That she used to be a pretty girL That his mother could make good bread ; that his wife cannot. That he wouldn't trust most women. That if he should ever speculate he would make his fortune. That he would enjoy a country life. That his girls will never be so silly a to marry. That his mother-in-law may be a fine old, but That smoking never hurt a man yet. That with a little management the ser vants would always do well, and never give warning. I That his shirt buttons are grossly neg lected. I That he despises old bachelors. ' EGO AND ECHO.; I asked of Echo, t'other day, -Whose words are few and often fnnnv, What to a question she should say Of courtship, love, and matrimony. Quoth Echo, plainly, " Matter qf nwwy." Whom should I marry t Should it be A dashing damsel, gay and pert, A pattern of consistency. Or elfish, mercenary flirt T Quoth Echo, sharply, " A'ary flirt." What if, a-weary of the strife That long has lured the gay deceiver, She promised to amend her life And sin no more can I believe her ? Quoth Echo, with decision, " Leave tier." But if some maiden with a heart, i On nie should venture to bestow it, Pray, should I act the wiser part To take the treasure or forego it ? Quoth Echo, very promptly, " Go it." Bnt what, if seeming afraid To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter, She vows she means to die a maid, In answer to my loving letter ? Quoth Echo, very coolly, " Let her." What if, in spite of her disdain, I find my heart entwined about With Cupid's dear, delicious chain, So closely that I cant get out 7 Quoth Echo, laughingly, " Get out." But if some maid with beauty blest, As pure and fair as Heaven can make her, Will share my labor and my rest Till envious death shall overtake her? Quoth Echo (ttotto voce), " Take Iter." Pith and Point. Paper for roughs Sandpaper. Drawing paper Dentist's bill. A taking paper Sheriffs warrant. Auctioneers are said to be ruor-bid men. Congress beats all competitors in growing "salary." With woman suffrage maiden speeches will be in order. A chimney-sweep likes his trade be cause it soots him. Papeb containing many fine points- -The paper of needles. Why is a young girl like a music book ? Because she is full of airs. Voting yourself a larger salary is a measly performance, it is so taking. Here is Miss Anthony and others of her ilk skiltering about the country, and eggs are forty cents a dozen. Danbury News. Mks. Partington, reading of the strike of the wire-drawers, remarked : " Ah me ! what new-fangled things won't they wear next ? Some drunken paragraphist declares that every well regulated household in Trenton owns a picture of Crossington Washing the Delaware. Upon being asked her father's profes sion, a Cincinnati belle said he " embalm ed pork," she believed. The neighbors call him an old hog packer. Chicago Post. " Thls company shall never get an other cent of my money," said an angry lady on' a railway train. "How, then, will you travel?" asked the conductor. " I'll pay my fare to you." A country curate complained to old Dr. South that he had received only five pounds for preaching a certain sermon at Oxford. " Five pounds !" said the Doctor; " why, I wouldn't have preached that sermon for fifty." "I declare, Mr. B., it seems you have read everything." "Why, ma'am, after working thirty years as a trunk maker, it would be something to my shame if I did not know something of the history of my country." A countryman stopped at a telegraph window where a young lady was receiv ing dispatches, and after looking a mo ment, called to his companion, " Say, Bill, just come and see 'em making paper collars I Don't she know her biz, eh, Bill ?" A Western reporter died of brain fever the other day ; he tried to take notes of a discourse Jhat his mother-in-law was making for the benefit of the family, and the swiftness with which he was obliged to work overstrained his mental organization. A Connecticut boy, just learning to read, asked his father what Crelit Mo bilier was. " It's our national game, my boy," replied the father, who, with the shrewedess of a native of the " Land of Steady Habits," was looking ahead. " You'll be able to play it when you get big and go to Congress." " I am a self-made man," said a native of Stonington, Conn., the other day to a New Yorker, with whom he had been driving a sharp bargain. " Glad to hear you say so," responded the New Yorker, who had been worsted in the bargain, " for it relieves the Lord of a great re sponsibility." A country merchant having procured a new clerk, waked him up the morning after he was hired, at a most unreason ably early hour, by calling out that the family were sitting down at the table. " Thank you," said the boy, as he turned over for another nap, " thank you, but I never allow myself to eat anything during the night." Railroads Among the Turks; Turkey is turning her attention to rail way enterprises, and though some of her complete lines and comptemplated pro jects might seem small to American rail way kings, they indicate progression and a promise of better things. The Levant Herald says that M. Cottard, Director of Enterprise Generale for rail way construction, has been inspecting a branch line from Adrianople to Dede Agatch and the various sections of the great main line from Stamboul to Adrian ople. The latter is fast approaching completion, and will be finished during April as far as the river Maritza. An iron bridge is being built there con necting with other lines, which will effect an important and convenient railroad network. Surveys for a railroad from Shumla to Adrianople have been com plted, and though the new line will be shorter than that proposed by the Bou manian Bailway Company, which was rejected on strategic grounds, it will ne cessitate a tunnel through the Balkan Mountains of some 4,000 yards in length. General Mehemet Pasha, Chief of the Staff of the Secoud Turkish Army Corps, has brought to Constantinople the trac ings of the new line, which is regarded as advantageous in the military point ot view, and not liable to hostile attacks from an enemy's forces moving inland from the shores of the Black Sea.