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THE BABY OVER THE WAY.
Across In my neighbor's window. With its drapings of eatiu and lace, I see, 'neath a crown of ringlets, A baby's innocent face. His feet in their wee, red slippers, Are tapping the polished glass, And the crowd in the street look upward, And nod, and smile, as they pass. Just here, in my cottage window, Catching flies in the sun, With a patch on his faded apron, Stands my own little one. pia face is as pure and handsome As the baby's over the way. And he keeps my heart from breaking, At my toiling, every day. Sometimes, when the day is ended, And I Bit in the dusk to rest. With the face of my sleeping darling llugged close to my lonely breast, I pray that my neighbor's baby -May not catch Heaven's roses, all ; But that some may crown the forehead! Of my loved one, as they fall. And when I draw the stocking From his tired little feet, And kiss the rosy dimples it his limbs so round and sweet I think of the dainty garments Some little children wear, And irown that my God withholds them, From mine, so pure and fair. May God forgive my envy !J 1 knew not what I said ; My heart is crushed and humbled, My neighbor's boy is dead ! ' I saw the little coffin, As they carried it out to-day ; A mother's heart is breaking In the mansion over the way. The light is fair In my window, The flowers bloom at my door ; My boy is chasing the sunbeams That dance on the cottage floor. The roses oi health are blushing On my darling's cheek to-day ; But baby is gone from the window Of the sad noase over the way ! Unknown. A TItEASUKE IN HANNAH. It was here In Indianner, That I sparked aud married Hanner, Which is probably the reason I've a story to relate. Well, the world was all agin me, And there weren't no good luck In me, And my toes grew sore a-kickin' 'Gin the horny shins of fate. On the farm somehow or other, Storms kept c hasin' one a-nuther. Till they trampled down my harvest, And they mildewed out my hay, SUll, I'd time enough to gather All my crops in puriy weather, If I hadn't run lor office, Which (the office; ran away. But my Hanner, in a manner, Held aloft the family banner, For she kept the pot a-bilin', Day and night she'd spin and weave, While 1 kept a lectioneerin', Till the neighbors got to sneerln' Jefet because she made the livin' And 1 thought we'd better leave. Well, we kind o took to roaming, Till we lauded in Wyoming, It's the most confounded kentry That a lloosier ever struck 1 Injln fighters, women's righters, Long-nosed 1 ankees, prome inditers I'm all business, but what's business, Where no one but fools have luck? Fust I merchandized and busted, For a plus oi black terbacker, Let alone a bag of flour, But my Hanner went to cookin', And lust thing 1 knowed, sh3 took In Twenty boarders, and the money Goodness sakes, she made a power ! Well, my life was growin' sunny, With the shine of Manner's mouey. But the woman righters ran her For a Justice of the Feace. . And you bet it riz my dander For to 6ee her turnin' gander, Kupercedin' uv her husband, Leavin' him among the geese. But the long nosed pome Inditers, Injin lighters, women's righters 'Lected her, but you can bet yer Boots 1 didn't lectioneer, Ard told her, that's what I did, That I'd finally decided That the kentry wasn't healthy, And we'd better come back here. So we come back to Indianner, And I must coniess that Hanner Has 'lectioneered so honest. That she hasn't spent a dollar, And my life is once more sunny, Hanner" s keeriul of my money, And she's now a modest female, Not ashamed her spouse to foller. NAMESAKES. "Close the shutters, Kitty. "What a wild night it is, to be sure!" "The rain is coming down in floods," said a young girl, peering out into the pitchy darkness. A barrack ground, stiff and ugly under the most favorable circumstances, look ing like some desert waste in the howl ing wind and driving rain, was just vis ible. "Why, Aunt Bell,,' she continued, pausing with one hand on the shutter, "here is a name scratched on this pane of gass. I never noticed it till this minute. "What is the name?" asked the eld lady, indifferently, half asleep in her cosy arm-chair by the fireside. "K i n 1 o c h, Kinloch, Scots Greys, 1816," read the girl; "and then 'Kitty' written very badly just below." "Kinloch! Kitty!" said Aunt Bell, starting up with sudden interest. ""Why, that must be the same man!" Tken she sank back again murmuring: "Ah, Kit ty. There was love in those days and ro mance, too!" "Is there no love now?" said her niece, coming to her aunt's side and kneeling down on the hearth rug. The ruddy flames and glow from the fiie lit up the girl's chestnut hair, fair complexion, and bright hazel eyes. Aunt Bell looked lovingly down at the piquant little face held up to her, and said: "Now and again we meet some of the right kind; but would you like to hear the story of that namesake of yours, Kitty?" " V ery much." "Well, fifty years ago, as you can eas ily reckon, I was a girl of 19, and was invited to spend the Summer months with my aunt, who had one of the finest houses in this county of Kildare. "Several regiments were stationed at the camp and at a neighboring village, so you may imagine the girls of the party and I looked forward to having a gay time. Oh! those few short Summer months, Kitty! I grow young again when I think of them! The rides across the Curragh in the fresh morning air, when in parties of ten or twelve, we would gallop for miles on those breezy stretches of emerald turf; the handsome officers who enjoyed having hide and seek in the dusky evening hours all over the old-fashioned house, starting out of the corners and from behind the doors and chasing us breathless down the slippery oaken corridors. Then, tired out, we would stroll into the garden, and under the trees there would be songs, flirtations, and whispered confidences and promises made by the score and never fulfilled. "What a mad, merry time it was! And the maddest, the merriest, the hand somest of all was a young Scotch lieuten ant, Kinloch Kinloch. His mother was Irish, and had bequeathed her good looks and. propensity for joking. And now for Kitty, the heroine. She wa3 the daughter of an old gardener wno lived about a mile away from my aunt's house, and of all the distractingly pretty women that have made men do foolish things, I am sure Kitty was one of the prettiest." "What was sne liter" "No description could come up to the original ; but I can tell you that she has the Irish blue eye; a complexion like milk ; hair of the bngntest and silkiest chestnut, curling in little rings all over her brow and neck, and a slender, up right figure, the envy of half our girls. One day, as a large party of us were standing chattering under the trees. Kitty passed us with a basket of fruit, "Kinloch for the first time noticed the girl, and seemed struck dumb with amazement. "He stood at a little distance and kept his eyes fixed on her. "It was love from that very moment, and every one noticed it. "All the other young fellows, of course, immediately s.warmed round the girl's basket, and fiegan helping themselves with not so much as "By your leave." Kitty began expostulating, but they put her off. " 'Sure Kitty,' said one, 'and you would like us to have the best, I'll be bound.' "And another, ' Mahone, one kiss from that cheek with the bloom of the peach upon it will save you from these rascally thieves, lor I will fight them all for such a favor!' " But Kitty was not to be bribed, and seemed about to resign nerseu to tne loss of her fruit, when Kinloch shoul dered his way into the group, and giving the last speaker a friendly push, cried, Leave the girl alone, Grant !' and then, turning to Kitty, took the basket out of her hands, saving. ' It is too heavy for your little arms, and there will come no one stealing your fruit now, I'm think ing!' "'I thank you,' said Kitty, gratefully, and walked along by his side. " 'That is the first time 1 have seen ' my lady' allow any one to fetch or carry for her,' said my brother. "There is no gainsaying Kinloch, then, as I can tell vou. Harry ' I cried : 'for he alwavs cets his own way in what he want?.' " 'EsDeciallv when it has to do with pretty girls !' sneered Grant. " 'Treason!' we all shouted in a breath, ' Kinloch is the same to us all, to every body.' " 'Of course said Grant, recovering his temper; ' but are you not all pretty girls?' "We laughed, and did not deny the soft impeachmant; so the momentary breach was healed. "That was the last time we noticed Kitty coming up to our house with her fruit. "We knew nothing we could have said or done would have prevented her, but we were not quite so sure about Km loch, who, ever since that little episode, had wandered about like a distressed lover. "One day we met Kitty in on of the lanes and said to her, 'How is it you nev er come our way now?' "The girl blushed. "Father prefers to take up the things himself," she murmured: for which painfully apparent fib we instantly for gave her. "The days passed on, and Kinloch who had formerly been the .whole life of our expeditions, was now generally absent. "Where he had been was evident, for we often caught a glimpse of chestnut hair shining through the trees, or the old picturesque shawl draped over Kitty's head and shoulders, with her round, dimpled arms appearing just below. "Kinloch's regiment had been ordered away to another part of Ireland; and one morning a few days before he was to go we begged for his company to a picnic we nad arranged to nave witn one or two other families. "Thanks, very much," he said, "but I am afraid I shall be too busy." "Oh! but you must come," we all cried. 'We counted upon you." "But I ! have so many things to do to-day." "Here he stopped and blushed. m "We girls were looking very inquis itive, and some of the men had a per ceptible sneer on their faces. "He has got his lady-love to bid goodbye to I daresay." suggested Philip Grant. "Kinloch turned on him with blazing eyes. We all kept back. They were like globes of fire. " 'Confound it, sir!' he cried," and sup pose I have! what is that to you?' "We all looked at Philip, he was very white, but he shrugged his shoulders in differently and wisely forebore to an swer. "Kinloch's temper cooled down as rap idly as it had arisen. " 'I am sorry to disappoint you, girls,' he said, gently, 'but you'll have to excuse me.' And, bowing he walked off. "We watched his upright, manly fig ure striding along till he disappeared and then we all looked at each other and sighed. " 'A clear case,' said one girl. " 'Head over heels.' " 'What will he do?' " 'How can he marry her?' " 'Kitty can look after herself.' "'But I'm sure she is in love; she never has been before.' " 'He will go away and forget her He gave the bridle rein a shake, Said, 'Adieu! for evermore, My love! And adieu for evermore.' " 'Never!' said I; 'nothing of the kind will happen. I am sure he will marry her.' "That evening Kinloch made his way to the old gardener's cottage. His face was pale, but he had a determined look in the corners of his mouth, and he car ried his head well thrown back and stepped lightly along. "The girl had just set her father's sup per before him, and had gone out to rest in the garden and watch the still beauties of the night. The air was fresh and in the heavens the full moon was hurrying through her star-spangled course. The reeds in a neighboring stream rustled and shivered in the breeze, and a large night moth or two came sailing up and bumped against Kitty's white kerchief, on their way to the fatal candle that was shining in the window. The girl looked up to the sky and tears filled her eyes. Was it the brightness of the moon? "Why do you weep, Kitty?" said a voice at her side. No need to turn to look for the speak er! The girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed afresh. "You are going away?" she said. "Yes, I am going away," said Kinloch; "but you will come with me, Kitty, for you love me." "1 love you, but i snail not accompany "liut you must, x nave spo&en to the old priest, and he is ready to marry us." Kinloch," she said, looking up into her lover's face with a sweet, serious smile, "you have made me love you, for I could not help it; but you cannot make me marry vou." "Oh, but you will, darling; won't you, Kitty?" he went on eagerly. "You know I can marry now, because I came of age the other day, and I have much more than my pay now. Is that what you are thinking of?" "How could I think about. that? Why will you not understand, Kinloch? Your proud old father 'and your silver-haired, stately mother; how could they bear for one of their sons to marry an Irish peas ant girl?" " 'You have nothing to learn from the highest lady in the land, my darling,' he said, fondly; 'and younger sons are not "But she shook her head resolutely. "'And this is how you lightly fling away a man s happiness for lifer " 'A few days pain now to save you years of regret in the future.' "The young man looked at the girl perplexed. Where could she have learned such sentiments? Where had she gained the strength to express them so freely r "He then said, slowly and solemnly, as if taking an oath: '.Look yonder, Kitty! That is the evening star. So surely as it will shine in the heavens five, ten or twenty years, as surely will my love re main uncnanged ior you. sua me come back when you will, Kitty, and if I have breath in my body and strength to do it, I will come.' " 'Come back in ten years, Kinloch. I will be true to vou and wait till then. I will try and improve myself make my self more worthy of your love.' " 'Keep as you are, Kitty remain un changed, said the young man, jealously, 'lest when I come again I shall not see in you the last look 1 took awav witn me, my life, my love!' he murmured passion ately; and kissing her sweet brow and mouth, folding her in one last embrace, he sighed and left her. "She turned to go into the cottage. A large downy moth which had been bumping against the little window sailed in before her, circled thrice round the candle, and flew into its alluring bright ness. The candle flickered and went out; the moth dropped down with a thud upon the table, dead. "Kitty, with eyes blinded by tears and with shaking hands, relit, though some what tardily, the light. " ' Kitty ? my girl,' said the old man pointing significantly to the singed in sect, ' don't be as foolish as that silly thing. Its eyes were dazzled, and it had no strength to resist the fatal fascination.' " ' Father,' said the girl, stooping down and kissing his gray locks, ' you may trust me. " Here Aunt Bell stopped. "Is it interesting? Shall I go on?" "Oh, do! Did he come back ?" said her niece. "Well, the years passed on, and the girl was ioked and teased, and had many offers of marriage: but she was firm and would listen to none. "At last the voung fellows grew weary of their fruitless attempts at love-making and the greater part leit her alone. "A few, more unkind, would ask when she expected her young gentleman Home and taunted her in cutting speeches and insinuations. " Nine years went by, and then there came the battle of Waterloo, when olh cers and men went down in hundreds to gether. " Still no word from Kinloch, and Kit ty's heart, which had never failed in its lightness, nor her step in its speed, now sank and faltered for the hrst time. " Early in the next year in fact on New Years night the omcers gave a ball, and every girl and young man for miles around was invited. "Girls were in great demand, and went down to my aunt's house especially for that night. 'I was anxious to see Kitty myself, and to find out how the years had passed over her head. "You think, perhaps, 26 was rather old to be called a girl do you, Kitty? "Well, I felt almost the same as I did when I was 16, and quite as ready to en joy a dance or flirtation, I can assure you. "Kate Danly that was her name went to help the ladies unshawl them selves, and to be ready with needle and thread when an unhappy damsel with torn skirt or flounce should require her assistance. "She was then 28, and the young girl ish beauty had developed into the most lovely of women. Only when her face was at rest, and you caught the suspicion of an anxious heart upon it would you have guessed her age. "She wore a pale tea-rose-tinted gown, with ruffles of lace of her own making at the neck and sleeves. "It was a wild and stormy night with out, just such a one as this, but it only served to enhance the brightness and animation of the scene within. "The dancing of the high-heeled shoes and the silvery laughter rose higher than the wail of the wind, and the tink ling wine-cups drowned all sound of rain. "Suddenly there was a lull; we stopped in our dances ; a chill blast seemed to have. entered the room; we turned and saw a silent, dark figure standing in the doorway. -r- "He was tall and handsome, but his large black cloak, carefully slung over his shoulder, was dripping with the rain and making large pools on the floor. His legs, booted and spurred, were mud up to the hips. Just at that moment the clock struck twelve, and the year 1816 was broken. Some of the "more excitable girls screamed and then ran behind their partners. Was it apparition! for the coming year? Was it an iil omen "I seem to frighten you, good people. Does nobody know me?" Kitty at that moment was bringing! She heard the voice and turned round, trembling, with a wild cry. "Kinloch, Kinloch, I knew you would come back!" And amid a crash of breaking glas3 for she let the vessel slip from her hands she bounded to bis side and then disappeared in the folds of his great "How splendid, Aunt Bell!" said her niece, drawing a deep breath; "but if she married him then I do not see why she should not have done so be fore." "Ah, but she was a wise girl, little one; she knew it would test his constancy and prove if he really loved her. A young man's love at twenty-one, as she Knew very wen, would not be his choice at thirty-one." "What became of them, aunt." "Oh, th ey married and traveled about a good deal, and finally both died out in India within a few months of each other. There was one son, and I believe he is in the army also. Come, Katie, I shall go to bed and not wait up any longer for your father." lhere is a new lieutenant comms in Mr. Perry's place," said -her niece as she bade her good night. "The young men are not what thev used to be," sighed the old lady. "Some little whipper-snapper, I'll be bound, with feet that would go in your slippers. vjooo. nignt, cnudiei ' Kitty went slowly down stairs and non- uereu over m ner mina tne story oi tne beautiful Kate Daly and the faithful Kin J 1 . 1 " t At 1 - 1 loch. She went to the window and undid the shutter. She pictured to herself the young man coming to the window and scratching his name on the glass, and then taking the girl's hand in his own, slowly guiding it just below. bhe leant in the deep shadow of the window seat and strove to realize each scene in the little drama. There, under that very door, stood the black robed figure they had all shrunk away from in the midst of their mirth. What? Was she dreaming? What stood there at that very moment? A figure darker than the gloom of the room. The rain poured in floods outside, and the wind whistled and moaned round the corners of the house. The figure came a little further into the room. She saw, by the misty light, he was a tall man with a dark cloak over his shoulders, booted and spurred, with mud up to his hips. She felt as if the whole scene was to be played again before her very eyes; but she looked in vain for the pretty girls and ladies in their puffed sleeves and short waists, their flowing curls and high-heeled shoes. Kitty where was she? And here she blushed to herself in the darkness. There was a Kittv: but not the one. The man came up to the window, evi dently thinking no one in the room. The girl shrank back as the wet cloak brushed against her cheek. "Kinloch!" she said, half doubting whether the figure would answer, for she could hardly tell yet if she was dreaming or no. "Who spoke my name?" he called out, startled and looking round. l did," said Kitty, leeling very abashed, almost at his elbow. He glanced down, drawing away his cloak. "I am sure I beg your pardon. thought the room was empty. I must have come into the wrong quarters ; ar riving so late I must have mistaken the block. I hope you will forgive such an intrusion?" Kitty's grand castles in the air all fell to the ground with a crash. How com mon-place ! He was only the new Lieu tenant, after all; but he did not look the whipper-snapper her aunt had prophe sied. "Then you are not Kinloch?" she said in a disappointed tone. "My name is Kinloch," he answered, wita a pleasant smile. "My aunt was telling me about this Kinloch." And Kitty tapped the frame with her finger. "I will tell you the sto ry some day, u you like : but you came into the room just as she said your name sake did, dressed in the same way and everything. But, there ! I suppose you are not even a relation." "He was my father," said the young man. quietly. "So no wonder we are something alike." It was now his turn to say in a disap pointed tone. "But your name is not Kitty, I am sure." "Yes, it is," said Kitty, eagerly. Then she stopped ; a sudden rosy flush rushed over her face. "At least, no it is" But she could not deny it, for it was Kitty. "These are our namesakes ; shall we write our names below them, Kitty?" "Some day, perhaps." A Memorable Scene. From Ben Perley Poo re's Letter. The electoral votes for President and Vice-President were counted in the hall of the House, on Wednesday, the 13th of 1861. The Senators went there in proces sion, headed by the Vice-President, ad vanced up the middle aisle and took seats in the area in front of the Speaker's desk. Vice-President Breckenridge took the chair of the Speaker, while the latter sat at his right hand. The tellers took position at the clerk's desk. Senator Trumbull, of Illinois, Representative Pnelps, of Missouri, and Washburne, of Illinois, were the tellers; on their right was the clerk of the Senate, Mr.. Dick ens, and on on the left Mr. Forney, of. the House. The Vice-President said that according to the Constitution, both Houses of Congress had assembled in order that the votes might be counted and declared for President and Vice President of the United States, who were to take their seats on the termination of the present term, the fourth of March, 1861. It was his duty to open the electoral votes, and he proceeded to perform that duty. The votes were accordingly open ed by States, and the separate vote of each State announced by the tellers. When the name of South Carolina was called, a suppressed laugh was heard from all parts of the House. Vice Presi dent Breckenridge then announced the whole vote to be: For Lincoln and Hamlin, 180 votes; for Breckenridge and Lane, 72 votes; for Bell and Everett, 39 votes; for Douglas and Johnson, 12 votes. He therefore declared Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois, and Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, to be duly elected President and Vice President of the United States. There was no demonstration of any kind on the floor of the House, or in the gal leries. The Senate then retired and the House adjourned. A Wily Toastmaster. Philadelphia Press. Not long since Mr. J. Russell Lowell was present at a London dinner, at which he did not expect to speak, and hence was not prepared. Toward the end of the feast, however, the obsequious toast master approached him, and put into his hand the usual, slip of paper, which, in nine cases out of ten, provokes immedi ate indisposition. In real or feigned horror, the American Minister exclaimed: "What! Am I to speak? Why on earth didn't you give me notice?" "Bless you," replied the toastmaster, "we never do; if we was to, we should have a gent talking all night." Spraying Orchards. , ! Country Gentleman. H. bhepley. of Nevada. Mo., reported to the Missouri State Horticultural Socie ty an account of his experiments in spraying orchards with London purple, to destroy the canker worm, and he stated the expense of the operation. The mode oi spraying for the coddling worm is quite similar, although performed us ually at a ainerent time in tne season. Mr. bhepley did his work on a large scale. at an expense of only three cents a tree, in the following manner: He placed three empty coal oil barrels in a wagon and niiea mem wun water; ne tnen tooK a pound of London purple for each barrel, nrst mixing it wen in a pau of water, and pouring it into the barrel. The wag on was driven along the windward side of the row of trees if there was much wmu, ana wun a iountain pumn witn a fine rose, the liquid was thrown over the trees, lhe water m the barrels must be constantly stirred during the operation, to prevent tne poison from settling, Great care should be taken not breathe any of it, nor to allow the wind to carry the liquid toward men or horses. With two teams and four men three or four hundred trees could by sprayed in a day. The entire cost, including pumps, bar rels, poison and labor, was about three cents a tree for twice spraying. We have never known an instance. out of many trials, where this treatment was not entirely successful with the canker worm, or where it did not de stroy most of the coddling worms' and give much fair fruit which before was nearly ruined with this insect. In rainy weatner it snouid be repeated two or three times, the first applications being wasned on. we nave preferred green to London purple, as being uniform in its degree of strength not adulterated. Paris more when For the canker worm the work should be done early in the Spring ; for the cod- aiing worm wnen tne apples are hall an inch m diameter, and repeated a few days afterwards. After spraying, sheep or other animals should not be turned into the orchard to eat the scatered herbage, till a heavy rain has washed off tne poison. It mav be interesting to remark that the young coddling insect, when hatched from the egg laid in the blossom end of the fruit, weighs less than a two hun dred thousandth part of a man, and it is therefore killed by a quantity so small as to have no effect whatever on human beings. Even this minute portion all washed off by rains before the fruit is grown. Best Way to Apply Poultry Manure. Prairie Farmer. If every farmer, and every keeper of fowls, even on a city lot, only knew how valuable poultry droppings really are not a handful of them would ever be allowed to go to waste. A single table spoonful where needed will make thrifty hill of corn, where, without it there would be only a sickly growth of puny stalks. Prof. Voelcker, of the Royal Agricultural Society of England, advises as the least expensive and best way of using poultry manure to mix it with dry earth, ashes, and the like, into a com post. Mixed with about twice tha quan tity of dry, earthy matters of this kind it will soon be reduced into a fairly dry and powdery state, in which it mav be readily sown broadcast or with the drill, and found useful in growing any kind of garden vegetables. or root crops, such as turnips, carrots and mangels, it is ad vised that poultry manure be mixed, after reducing to a powdery state, with an equal weight of superphosphate, and the mixture drilled inlat the rate of 500 pounds to the acre. In making poultry manure into compost with earth, Prof. Voelcker warns against mixing quick lime with it, as the effect would be to liberate the ammonia, the most of which would escape and be lost. On the other hand, he recommends as a positive advantage mixing soot with this com post. In the absence of soot, the next best thing, in his opinion, is to mix burnt plaster, to which a small quantity of superphosphate is added, the free acid of which will effectually prevent the escape of the ammonia. A mixture of two parts burnt plaster and one part su perphosphate may be kept in readiness to mix with the fresh chicked droppings for the purpose of absorbing the excess of moisture, and thus facilitate its being reduced to a dry and friable nature. Three parts of fresh chicken manure and one part of the preceding mixture of burnt plaster and superphosphate if kept under cover for a few days and turned once or twice during the time, and then passed through a screen or sieve, will be found to be most efficacious when ap plied at the rate of from 600 to 800 pounds to the acre. A Bleb Little Girl. Washington Republican. The richest little girl in the world is the seven-year-old daughter of Captain George H. Perkins, of the navy, wno is well known in this city. She is worth $7,000,000 in her own name, the amount having been left her recently by her grandfather, William F. Weld, of Boston. Mr. Weld was the father of the little girl's mother, and when he died four heirs, including the child, came into pos session of the bulk of the fortune, $28, 000,000, which was divided into four portions. The sum of $20,000 and a val uable residence in Boston were be queathed to Mrs. Perkins, wife of the Captain, and $20,000 annually to be used in cariDg for the little millionaire heiress until she reaches the legal age and claims her millions. This makes Capt. Perkins' income in actual cash $40,000, without including his Government sal ary or the rental from his magnificent residence in Boston. Secretary Chandler yesterday characterized the story that Capt. Perkins had resigned from the navy to look after his estate as untrue, and said that he had been ordered on board the steamer Hartford. The Cap tain had applied for one year's leave, with a view of resigning at the end of the year. The Department, however, declined to grant the request, as he had been away from duty for two years. The Secretary said the Captain was one of the best officers in the service, and that he would not resign because he loves sea life too well. The Secretary to the Queen, ' The Times announces "the resignation of Mr. Lohlein, who for many years has acted as a Secretary to the Queen at Windsor." Underneath is another para graph, in which it is said Lohlein offers a reward of 50 for information which will lead to the discovery of the person who broke into his room in Windsor Cas tle about two months ago and abstracted a quantity of valuable jewelry. There has been a great deal of gossip about the business, and the "resigna- tion" La3 caused almost as much excita ment in the royal household as did ths death of John .Brown. Lohlem came Coburg with Prince Albert in 1840, and he was in his service as principal valet till the Prinee's death, after which ha was transferred to the Queen's establish ment. Lohlem was not a "Secretary " but was "personal servant" to the Queen. He was the only person about the Court with whom John Urown never attempt ed in any way to interfere, but "the TTicrhlanrlpr" xsrtxt Knrmnspfl tn rvA wnr jeafous of Lohleins influence. His sud den disappearance irom the scene is, therefore, considered to be decidedly re markable, and altogether it is a very curious affair. Lohlein has lived en tirely at Windsor for a long time past, and has occupied a house within the Castle precincts. He retires on a good pension. Disagreed About Cooking'. Boston Herald. A young married couple, Charles and Nellie Jourdan, were before Justice Smith at Essex Market yesterday, saya the New York World, the former to. an swer for threatening to abandon his wife. "Young man," said the magistrate sternly, "why do you wish to abandon your wife ?" Because of her cooking," he answered. "Her tea, coffee and soup taste like dish water, and the meat and vegetables are only half done. J udge, what would you do if you had a wife who couldn't cook ?" "Judge," said the wife, her eyes flash ing indignantly, "I'd like to see a women of my age beat me cooking a beefsteak. The trouble with my husband is that he is not used to my cooking. His mother is one of these old-fashioned cooks." "That's just it," ejaculated the husband, "and that's the reason I wanted you to tak cooking lessons from her." "What do you take me for, anyway ?" said the angry wife. "I think that my mother is as smart as yours, and I learned from her." "She taught you to make tea and cof fee very nicely, " sneered the husband. "She did, and if you come to my house, Judge, I'll give you the nicest cup of cof fee you ever tasted in your life. Oh, you won't come. Then let me fetch you a cup to-morrow." "I never drink coffee," said the justice. "Then let me tell you why the coffee is so weak. He has a schedule of how much and what I should buy during the week. I'm allowed half a pound of cof fee a week. Think of it, Judge. Half a pound and two cups each a day. Do you wonder now why it's weak?" The magistrate smiled and severely lectured the husband, after which the couple left the court room. - A Wealthy Tramp. Atlanta Constitution. Rufe Lickskillet is one of Atlanta's most worthless vagrants He goes about whining and begging for a dime, when, if work is offered him, he is too busy to attend to it. A few days ago he approached Mr. Whangup and asked for the small sum of five cents. "Oh, by the way, Rufe," said Whang up, "I've got some work for you to do a fence to repair; what'll you take the job for? About two days' work." "Ten dollars," promptly answered Rufe. "Ten dollars!" gasped Whangup. "The idea; why, there's no material for you to furnish." "I know that," smiled Rufe, "but you must remember the time I'll put on it. My time is money to me." "Then you should quit begging." "Why," asked Rufe. "Because, if time is money to you you ought to be pretty flush, as you've got so much of it to spend in bar rooms." Decorated Dinner Plates. Troy Times. The wife of Senator Benjamin H. Har rison, of Indiana, has decorated eighteen dinner plates in a novel manner, which was wholly her own idea. On each she has painted a bird of a different species, and on the border of the plate a verse in old English text of poetry written by one of the best authors about that par ticular kind of bird. This not only has the merit of originality, and so excites the interest and admiration of those who see the plates, but has the further ad vantage, as every verse is one which has been little quoted, of suggesting topics of conversation at a dinner party when the plates are used, which is always an ines timable boon on such occasions. Mrs. Harrison said she was surprised to find how much good poetry had been written about birds which alluded to or de scribed so many different species. She says she found verses enough to serve for another dozen plates entirely differ ent from those she has finished. Asparagus. J. B. Moore, of Massachusetts, says asparagus is a leading market crop at Concord, where half the amount in the State is grown. He first plows very deep, or twelve or eighhteen inches, manures very heavily, and plants in furrows eight inches deep, gradually filling up as the plants grow. The rows are four feet apart, the plants twenty inches in the rows. Twice this distance in the rows, with enough manure, would ultimately give finer asparagus and more of it. He justly remarks, however, that the thick er planting brings a full crop sooner. A bed is in perfection from eight to twelve years. Salt, Mr. Moore says, is of no use whatever the practice has only been handed down from one - to another for more than a hundred vears. Puck's Editors. H. C. Bunner, the editor of Puck, is a clerical-looking young man under 30 years of age. He wears side whiskers and double glasses. He contributed to the Century and was once a reporter on a New York daily. B. B. Valentine is the associated editor. He is an Englishman and about 40 years of age. The "Fitz noodle" papers'are his work, and one ' of his joyful duties is to read through the poetical effusions sent to the office. The third man is R. K. Munkittrick, profess ional poet, who is perhaps the best known man on the Puck staff. He and Bunner turn out an enormous amount of verse between them; Valentine never wrote a line of poetry in his life. Mun kittrick is only half through his second score of years, and recently married a lady with a handsome fortune. It is reported that twenty people have been poisoned in Ciudad, Victoria, isiexico, D3 eaung lood prepared in a copper kettle. The salary of the mayor of New York is $10,000. It was formerly $12,000, but was reduced by legislative enactment. V: 1 . i i