THE CHILD-SOLDIER.
BY PHILIP GILBEUT HAMEUTOM.
A little boy stood on the field,
A little English boy;
It was a merry game, thought he,
And he was brisk with joy,
For the battle seemed but spdrt to him.
And every ball a toy.
He was a British Grenadier,
And he was ten years old:
And therefore what had he to fear.
A soldier brisk and bold ?
The little lad was bravely clad
In English red and gold.
Undaunted when the iron balls
Were bowled along the ground,
He marched unhurt where six-foot men
Their graves of glory found;
He marched along with a stalwart throng
To the cannon’s awful sound.
But when the battle had been fought,
And on the field at night
Lay fifteen hundred Englishmen
In miserable plight,
The little lad would take no rest,
Though wearied with the fight.
But, stepping over many a corpse,
His comrades saw him go,
And risk his life by passing close
To many a wounded foe.
“What means the lad? He must be mad
To court destruction so!”
They watched him. He was gathering wood.
It warmed their hearts to see
That fearless lad—of broken stocks
A heavy load had he.
He made a fire upon the field,
And boiled a can of tea.
Cold, cold, and stiff the wounded lay;
Yet still one cheerful spot—
One fire was blazing brightly near—
One kind friend left them not;
And grateful were those pleasant draughts
He brought them—steaming hot.
And so he passed the midnight hours
With hell on every side;
And during that long dreadful night
In suffering hundreds died;
But some were saved by the soldier lad
And the comforts he supplied.
At Balaklava, and the height
Of Inkermau—the grave
Of thousands—this heroic child
Fought bravely with the brave.
Hemmed round by Russian bayonets,
He still survived to .?ave
The lives of others afterwards;
And there are those that say,
That, but for that good-hearted boy,
They must have died that day,
When on the field of Inkermau
The helpless wounded lay.
AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.
Lady Francis Trimson was charm
ing. She was also clever, wonderfully
well preserved, had a natural com
plexion, a moderate jointure, a good
milliner, was a widow, and had only
one child—a son.
She had experienced little care or
sorrow, for her husband was an old
man when she married him, aud he
was gathered to his fathers before he
became very disagreeable. He was
the younger son of a Duke, and moder
ately well off.
Lady Francis’ life, or at least, her
widowed life, had been strewn with
roses; and, although she could have
settled down comfortably again, she
preferred to retain, as she said, her
freedom.
‘‘lt is so nice to marry an old man;
you are a widow quite young, you
know,” she murmured to her dear
friend Clare Melton.
“I suppose it is, dear,” sighed Clare,
whose husband was a young scamp.
Few of us are perfectly content with
our lot, and Lady Francis had a griev
ance that marred sadly her happy
butterfly existence. Do what she
could, her son Jack w’ould not marry.
“Dear Jack is so poor and so ex
travagant. I wonder what will be his
end?” she sighed.
“He will marry a rich girl, of course,”
said Clare.
“It is his duty to do so, aslteilhim;
but he only laughs at me,” sighed
Lady Francis.
“Where is he now?”
“Shooting Indians or buffaloes, or
some other wild animals in America.”
“When do you expect him back?”
“I am sure I don’t know—in a
month or two, perhaps.”
Jack Trimson had been out west,
hunting buffaloes, shooting prairie
chickens, racing Mexican mustangs
and playing “poker” with the miners.
He had a pleasant time of it, for he
liked America and the Americans, and
he was sorry to have to ret urn so soon
to England.
But life in America is expensive, and
Jack, who had extravagant tastes and
and a knack of getting through mon
ey, had spent in two months the sum
he calculated would have lasted four,
and he was in the middle of the Atlan
tic, on board an Inman liner, w r hen his
mother told her friend that he was
shooting Indians and buffaloes. The
passengers on board w’ere chiefly Amer
icans who w r ere going to Europe on a
pleasure trip. There were one or tw’O
pretty girls among them, and Jack,
W’ho w T as a dangerous lady’s man,
commenced a hot flirtation with one
of them before he w’as tw r o days at
sea. '* ••
Katie C. Brown was a nice girl, and
had a pair of soft brown eyes that al
ways did great execution—w’hen they
opened fire—and they did not open
upon Jack. The Brown party con
sisted of three, for besides Katie C.
Brown, th_re w’as Mary L. Brown, a
fine, hones*- American girl, w’ith no
pretense to beauty, but with a look of
strength and character about her
homely face, and Samuel Washington
Brown, who had made money in ’Fris
co in the good old days of gold mining
and wild speculation. He invested in
a part of a silver mine in Nevada,
w’hich turned out a gigantic success,
and Samuel w’as now worth his good
five millions of dollars.
Jack Trimson was pretty deep in
the intricacies of a hard flirtation with
Katie C, Brown before he heard who
Samuel was. It was his friend, Gen.
G. Jones, w’ho enlightened him.
“I guess, stranger, that girl has got
a heap,” he said.
“A heap of what?” asked Jack,
carelessly.
“A heap of dollars. I calculate
Samuel W. Brown is w’orth a million
of your money. I always heard he had
only two children—daughters. ’Spose
that brown-eyed friend of yours will
have her half-million of pounds ? ”
Jack Trimson was astonished.
“By jove! if my mother heard of this
fortune she would go mad,” he ejacu
lated to himself. “Fancy half a
million of money! Ye gods! what fun
I should have spending it.”
The Brown party landed at Queens
tow’n and w r ent on to Kiilarney, while
Jack came over to London. It was
arranged when they parted that the
Brow ns w ould write to tell him of their
arrival in London, and Jack had
promised to show them the sights and
make things generally pleasant,
Ijady Trimson was delighted to have
her dear Jack back again.! He was
looking, too, she thought, so hand
some and so bronzed.
“Any girl w’ould fall in love with
him, my dear,” she said complacently
to her bosom friend, Clare Melton.
“He can be very nice when he likes,”
murmured Clare.
Jack, who wanted money badly, was
very nice just now to his mother. He
described to her his experiences of
American girls,' and Lady Francis
was deeply interested in everything re
lating to her sex.
“They are really pretty, and no* at
all bad style, but their accent is abom
inable,” she sighed.
“You get used to it after a time,”
said Jack. “I know'such a nice Amer
ican girl, who will be in London next
week.”
“What is she like, dear?”
“She is pretty enough—good eyes,
gocd figure, good carriage, good feet;
clever, a dangerous liirt, and she will
have half a million of money.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Lady
Francis, springing to her feet, intense
ly excited. “Half a million of money!
Oh! Jack, wffiat are you thinking
about ?”
“Why, w’hat is the matter, mother?
You are quite excited.”
“Oh, dear, Jack, do be sensible,”
said his mother, caressingly. “You
know you are very poor, and you are
alw 7 ays in difficulties. It cannot go on.
You must feel this yourself. Now' tell
me about the American girl and her
family.”
“There are tw’o sisters—Katie and
Mary; no mother. The father is worth
at least a million, and he is not a bad
sort of fellow.”
“Of course I must call on them.
When do they come over?”
“In a few days, I believe. I said you
w'ould look them up, and I think you
will like Katie; she is great fun.”
“And you, Jack, have you any
chance, do you think —I mean ”
“Chance? I rather think I have,”
said Jack, interrupting. “Chance, in
deed! Why I have to keep the girls
away from me at the point of my
stick.”’
“Now, Jack, dear, do be serious. I
am so interested in all this. Are you
sure about the money?”
“I believe it is all right.”
“And, dear, w'ould you really marry
her?”
“If it is a case of coming ‘a cropper’
or marrying her, I shall select the lat
ter,” said Jack.
Lady Francis w'as in a flutter of ex
citement during the ensuing week.
“Fancy, dear! a nice girl with £50,-
000,” she remarked to Clare Melton.
“American girls are quite the rage
now" the men are wdld after them,”
said Claire.
Lady Francis’ face assumed a seri
ous expression.
“We must take care that dear Jack
has plenty of opportunities. It will
be shocking if all the men run after
her,” she answered gravely.
“The best thing that you can do is
to give out that Jack is engaged,”
“You can do that for me, dear.”
“Of course, but you wdll have to
entertain and make much of them—
Americans are mad after society and
our set.”
It will be very expensive, but I sup
pose there is nothing else to be done,”
sighed Lady Francis.
The Browns arrived in London and
put up at the Langham Hotel. Lady
Francis called on them immediately
after their arrival. She w'as delighted
with Kate, and told her friend Clare
that wdth the exception of the Ameri
can accent, “she was just as good
style as anyone else. They are so
quaint and original, my dear. Fancy,
they call their father ‘Uncle Sam,’ ”
“They will soon settle dowm to our
ways. Look at Lady Wilton—w r ho
would imagine that she w r as an Amer
ican?” said Clare, soothingly.
“That’s true, dear. I assure you,
Katie wdll create quite a sensation.
She is really very pretty and graceful,
and full of vivacity.”
“If she be so nice, Jack will have to
be careful, and you had better not in
troduce her to anyone until it is ar
ranged.”
“So I told him, dear; but he won’t
listen to me. He says we must give a
dinner to them next Thursday, get all
our set to call, and give a ball next
w 7 eek.”
“I don’t think it is wise,” said Clare
Melton, seriously.
“Perhaps not, dear; but w'hat can I
do ? Jack is so obstinate, and I posi
tively believe he is serious at last.”
Lady Francis had half a dozen of
her relatives to meet the Browns. The
dinner was, of course, perfection, and
the guests well chosen—two lords and
a duke, with their respective wives—
and, as there w 7 as no young men, Jack
had Katie all to himself. Samuel W
Brown did not ap£>ear a bit abashes
in the presence of the old nobility. He
was a shrew'd man, who had studied
human nature and had seen many
phases of life, and his anecdotes of
A: .i erica were very interesting. He de
scribed graphically his experience of
California life in the old days of gold
mining and wild speculations, and his
noble listeners, who had never before
met a character like Samuel, were
deeply interested in his narrative.
Next day, wffien Lady Francis was
talking over the dinner with her old
friend, she said:
“Oh, I am so nervous and excited
about it all. Francy! the Duchess
praised her most w r armly!”
“Her position then will be assured,”
added Clare, decisively.
“And Lord Oldin w r ants the elder
sister for his son,” continued Lady
Francis. “It will be such a nice con
nection.”
“But wffien is Jack going to pro
pose?”
“I am sure I don’t know 7 . Perhaps
at the dance. I wish, dear, it was all
arranged, for it will be most expensive
for me if it lasts long, and I really can
not afford it.”
It was most expensive, and Jack got
his mother to pay for everything and
he and Henry Smilly, Lord Oldin’s
second son, had a pleasant time of it,
“running the heiresses,” as Jack ex
pressed it, at her expense.
The ball was a great success, and
Katie C. Brown created quite a sensa
tion. Jack was most attentive to her
and, she actually danced six times with
him. He allowed, however, the op
portunity to pass with out proposing
to her, much to Lady Francis’ indig
nation.
Jack and the Browns once again
relapsed into the same pleasant life.
One day they went to Windsor, the
next to Hampton Court or Sandown
races, and so on. Lady Francis was
nervous and shocked, for Samuel
Washington Brown allowed the girls
to do exactly as they liked, and sel
dom accompanied them.
“I calculate young people prefer
beino; left to themselves. You and I
did long ago, Lady Francis,” he used
to say.
“Yes, but it is not our custom,” she
protested.
“I don’t believe English girls are half
so wicked as you think. Why don’t
you trust them a little more?” he
asked.
She did not exactly know what an
swer to make, so muttered something
incoherent about society.
“All artificial, Lady Francis; all
humbug. It is a great pity it is so.
Society spoils you all. Do you know
that duke of yours would make a good
fellow it he wen? not a duke, and Lord
Oldin has his head as well screwed on
as s,ny man in the states. You, too,
are a clever woman yourself, Lady
Francis,” he continued, “1 like you,
and I like your nobility, too—when
they thaw.”
Lady Francis could not altogether
understand nor appreciate Samuel
W. Brown. Indeed, she was growing
quite concerned about him. He had
a habit of calling on her at all sorts of
strange hours, giving as an excuse that
tne girls were away with the boys, and
he was lonely.
“I really believe,” said Lady Fran
cis, with a shudder, to her friend Clare
man is making love to me.”
“Good gracious, my dear, how terri
ble! It will spoil it all if you have to
refuse him,” exclaimed Clara Melton.
By this time Samuel Washington
Brown and the Miss Browns were ce
lebrities. Every one knew and heard
of the great American heiresses, but
Jack Trimson did not seem a step
nearer to marriage. Lady Francis
was in despair. “They will ruin me
between them,” she moaned. “Why,
I have actually overdrawn my ac
count at the bank.”
“It will be all right, mother, when I
marry Kate. Old Sam will ‘stump up
the dollars,’ as he expresses it,”
lauched Jack.
“I wish you would propose at once.
We really cannot go on living in this
extravagant manner. lam positively
ruined!” moaned Lady Francis.
“Fancy half a million of money,
mother! Why, you can have as much
as you like when it is mine.”
Matters, however, gradually became
desperate. Everyone was talking of
Jack and the heiress, and wondering
why the engagement was kept a secret;
“For surely,” they reasoned, “they
must be engaged, or they would not
be going on in this manner.” And by
degrees they also began to associate
Samuel W. Brown’s name with that of
Lady Francis.
“Fancy the old tabby going in for
that rich savage,” said her dear friend,
Lady Oldin, to her husband.
“He is worth a million of money;”
said his lordship dryly, “and Lady
Francis is not rich.”
At last the crisis came. Lady Fran
cis received an intimation from her
banker that he could not cash any
more of her checks. Nothing could
save her, therefore, but Jack immedi
ately engaging himself to the rich heir
ess.
On arriving home her ladyship
explained the startling news to him.
“I will propose to-morrow,” he re
marked, “but perhaps I had better
■write and get an appointment first
with the old gentleman and sound
him,”
He accordingly dispatched the fol
lowing epistle:
“My Dear Sir: Can you give me an in
terview to-morrow morning at 11 a. m. at
the Langham. I wish to speak to you on a
delicate subject and hopo to see you alone.
Pray remember me ■ ery kindly to your
daughters, and b^ 1 _ve me very truly,
J. Trimson.
“/S'. W. P , wn, Esq."
“The’mother,” he remarked, “the
die is ast. To-morrow will decide my
fate
” .ie next morning while he was seat
ed at breakfast with Lady Francis, a
k -ter was handed to him by the serv
nt. He read it quietly, and then aft
ir a little hesitation, passed it over to
nis mother. It ran as follows;
“My Dear Sib: I shall be most happy to
see you, as suggested at 11 a. m. If, how
ever, the delicate subject you refer to has
reference to the absurd rumors connecting
my name with that of your mother’s, I
hardly think you need trouble to call, as I
am happy to say ray wife is still alive.
Yours is indeed a strange country. Just
because your good mother took a kindly
interest in me, her friends immediately put
it down that she was about to become
Mrs. Brown. I am sure there has never
been anything in her conduct to justify
such an assumption, and I venture to offer
her, through you, my most sincere sym
pathy that her considerate attention to
me should have been so misunderstood.
Believe me, very truly yours,
Samuel W. Brown.
P. S. —I see by your note that you send
kind remembrances to my daughters. They
are at school in Boston. You mean, I
presume, my nieces, Mary and Katie.
Poor girls! They will, I fear, find it diffi
cult to settle down as governesses after all
the gaycty you have kindly shown them.
Mrs. Smith— “ Tell you the truth,
I’m almost tired to death. I’ve heard
so much opera this winter, that I can
hardly bear to hear a bird sing. And
plays! Good gracious! I have been
completely surfeited, and the theater
has become actually hateful to me;
yes, actually hateful to me.” In the
pause which followed these remarks, a
quiet-looking young lady in the corner
was heard to remark: “What an ad
vantage it is to have a husband who
owns a billboard.” — Boston Tran
script,
F/DDI AND GA it DEN.
Bee-hives are better in a shady place
in hot weather.
The humane farmer has a few shade
trees in his pasture.
A green crop plowed under is always
beneficial to the soil.
The wolves and eagles are thinning
the flocks of West Virginia.
A rat in acorn-crib will consume and
waste enough corn to keep a pig.
The Norway spruce, planted two
feet apart will soon form a beautiful
hedge.
There are no “off-years” in quince
culture, and there is always a ready
market for the fruit.
Weeds, briars and bushes may be
cut from the pastures with as much
profit as from the meadow’s.
A central. Illinois correspondent of
the Cultivator says 90 per cent, of the
bees in that section are dead.
It is said that 1,000 new farms will
be opened up in Colorado this season.
They all have to be irrigated.
Beet seed has a faint tinge of pale
green if new, but is a dull brown if old,
and its vitality is very doubtful if old.
The sorghum sugar-works at Cham
paign, 111., have been abandoned.
The venture is a total loss to the
stockholders.
Soot is an excellent “starter” for
corn, as it is rich in nitrogen. It is a
substance that is often wasted, but
which is really valuable.
Soft-W'ooded plants should always
be placed nearest the light, while hard
and smooth-leaved ones will not suffer
in quite shaded situations.
The Western Farmer recommends
the sowing of orchard grass with blue
grass, timothy and clover for pasture.
It starts early and grows late.
A loan agent who has had thirty
five years’ experience in lowa, says he
had never known a mortgage to be
foreclosed on a dairy or stock farm.
An Englishman, who has recently
been investigating the agricultural re
sources of the Soudan, says it is one
cf the finest agricultural regions of the
■world.
A Frenchman claims tohavediscov
ered that butter can be separated from
milk by passing a suitable electric cur
rent through the lacteal fluid. He has
secured a patent.
A W’iuter in the Rural Workman
says a teaspoonfnl of coal oil poured
into the w’ound made by peach-borer i
in the body of limbs of trees is sure
death to the borer.
The roots of clover and some other
grasses often find their way to very
considerable depths, but drains laid
from three to four feet deep are seldom
chokjd by the roots.
Use plenty of lime in the orchard
and around the vines. It prevents the
attacks of insects and serves as plant
food, as well as hastening chemical ac
tion in the soil, thereby rendering the
inert substances available.
Lampblack mixed with strong vin
egar is said to make a paint for mark
ing sheep that will not injure the wool,
and will remain for a year. It is
worth trying. Tar and paint are
both blotching and difficult to scour
from w’ool.
“The meanest man on earth,” says
T. B. Terry, “is the one who hires his
children to do a job and then forgets
to pay them—who gives them a calf
to raise for their own, and sells it
when grown up and coolly pockets all
the money.”
In the draining of sloughs straighten
the line of descent as much as possible
without too much digging. Because
nature forms water courses crooked is
no reason why man should follow the
example blindly,however good nature’s
laws may be generally.
Black pepjjer is the cabbage protec
tor, says the Farming World, and the
way to apply it is to reduce it to a
very fine powder and dust it over the
plants. Go early in the morning,
while the dew is on the plants, and
dust over each a small quantity and
the vermin will leave.
Prof. Maynard says that the
strawberry, in a botanical sense is
analogous to an ear of corn; that as
the cob exists merely as a receptacle
for the kernels’ so the pulp—edible
part —of a strawberry, exists merely
tor the sake of the little seeds which
dot its surface. The Rural New York
er wishes the “cob” of the strawberry
was several times as large.
No green manure should be placed in
contact with the roots of any trees
newly set, but any kind of manure
may be spread on the surface and cul
tivated in. The best way is to pre
pare land by liberal manuring a year
in advance of setting trees. Then they
will find an abundance of plant food in
suitable condition for immediate use.
High grade fertilizers, especially bone
and potash, are always safe to use
broadcast in orchards, for any varie
ties of trees.
A Pomfret, Conn., farmer, whose
cows are accustomed to run beside
barbed wire fences, wishing to open a
part of the mowing to them for fall
feed, drew two lines of old cord and
other pieces of twine across the field,
making them fast here and there to
some bean poles, The whole thing
was the work of only a few minutes,
and not one of the eight cows ever
crossed or molested that fence. They
fed up to it, then turned aside. Such
is the force of habit.
With any amount of hard wor
ahead, which must be done, it is very
necessary that farm horses should
have the best of care. Feed them all
they want, but don’t give too much
corn. Good hay cut up and mixed
with bran and meal, about equal
parts, is a fine ration twice a day. If
you have been far-seeing a few bush
els of oats have been saved up for a
Eart of the noon feed. See that the
arness does not chafe them, and es
pecially watch the collars and don’t
allow them to hurt the shoulders.
It is held that five or six diameters
of the seed, whatever its size, consti
tutes the extent at which seed should
be buried. This may do in clay soil
which is compact, and admits air
tardily, but it is not putting the seed
deep enough in light soil, especially
where the climate is subject to drouth,
in which case an inch and a half is not,
too deep for the grains. For grass
seed something less than half an inch
in clay soil, and a little deeper in light,
porous soil will do. This requires a
carefuly prepared soil, with a view to
uniformity of covering.
Barn owls are inveterate mousers,
and in. summer time feed on night-fly
ing moths and beetles. Owls are val
uable in destroying mature insects,
thus preventing the laying of the eggs.
Hawks eat mice, frogs, grasshopjiers,
snakes, lizards, beetles, small birds
and various vermin, according to
their species. The crow is an omniv
orous feeder, but eats less corn than
any other food. The proportion of
hawks that kill chickens is small.
The National Stockman says: In
culling the flocks include all the under
sized, flat-ribbed and weak-constituted
sheep. No matter how well wooled
they may be they are not perfect
sheep, and should not be perpetuated
in the flock. About as good disposal
as can be made of the culls is to fatt en
them on grass. The sheep can be fat
tened very rapidly as well as cheaply
on good grass, with the aid of some
grain twice a day, and the local butch
ers will as a rule pay a fair price for
such muttons.
A correspondent of the American
Cultivator says that for protection of
wound made after trimming apple
trees, he uses a mixture of resin and
tallow in equal parts, melted and ap
plied hot with a brush or swab, and
finds it superior to any other prep
aration he has ever tried. It should
be applied in from eight to ten days
after the limbs have been cut. It will
then fill the pores of the wood and
prove effectual in keeping out water,
as well as preventing bleeding from
the wound.
The wrinkled varieties of peas are
more sweet and succulent while green
than the smooth sorts, and are less
hardy for ea rly sowing. Having more
water in them they are more difficult
to dry without injury to their germi
nating powers. It is quite probable
that if carefully and quickly dried,
spread in thin layers, the wrinkled
peas would have much greater ger
minating pow'er than most of the seed
bought at stores possesses. If left in
even small heaps before being thor
oughly dry the seed is injured.
Grapevine mildew, says the
Gardener’s Monthly, can be prevent
ed by soaking stakes on which the
vines twine in a solution of blue vitriol.
A recent experiment, where such
stakes were mixed with others not
soaked, throughout the vineyard,
showed that in every case where not
soaked all the leaves were entirely
ruined, while those in the soaked
stakes were healthy. A weaker solu
tion of the vitriol was not so effective.
The effect of the soaking gradually
dies out, but will last from four to six
years.
A correspondent of the Western
Rural tells that journal how he pre
vented rabbits from destroying his
trees: “I took a strip of tar paper
about two feet long, and wide enough
to go around the tree, and a string,
and tie it at the top and bottom, and
I will warrant them not to hurc the
tree any more. In the spring I would
take it off and put it in a box and set
in my barn, and in the fall I would put
it on my trees again. It, costs but a
trifle, and only a few hours’ work
will put it on again. By practicing
this plan, I have a fine orchard, the
best in our country, while my neigh
bors have lost their trees by neglect. ’
She Pulled the Wrong String.
[From the New York Tribune.]
“I’ve been a-laughin’ most fit to kill
myself all the way up,” said the driver
doubling up over the brake handle in
another paroxysm as the reporter
swung on to the platform with the
calm confidence and grace of the pos
sessor of a $5,000 accident insurance
policy. “We picked up an old lady
down here on Grand Street, and after
the conductor helped her on and she
had fixed herself in the seat a young
feller had given her, she pulled out an
old-fashioned purse and counting out
five pennies, says, ‘Conductor, I want
to get out at Great Jones Street.’
“ ‘All right, mum,’ says the conduct
or, and he went back on the rear plat
form and began talking to a friend.
When we got up by Prince Street she
waved her parasol and sang out:
“ ‘Conductor, ain’t this Great Jones
Street?”
“‘No, mum,’ said the conductor,
‘this is Prince.’
“When we passed Bond Street she
jumped clean out of her seat. ‘Con
ductor,’ she shrieked ‘this must be
Great Jones Street.’
“‘Be easy, mum,’ says the con
ductor with a scowl, ‘l’ll look after
ye-’
“Pretty soon we did come to Great
Jones Street, but the conductor was
talkin’ politics and didn’t notice it. I
made up my mind I’d see the fun
through, so I kept the horses movin’
at a right smart pace. Just as we was
a-goin’ by, the old dame saw the name
on the lamp-post. Did she holler?
not much. She just grabbed for the
cord that runs to the clock and com
menced ringin’ up fares at the rate of
500 a minute. The conductor was so
paralyzed he couldn’t move a hand,
while I was laughin’ so I couldn’t have
stopped it if I’d wanted to. Bimeby,
a man in the corner pulled the bell and
the horses stopped. Then the old lady
got out and sailed up the street
leavin’ the conductor starin’ helpless
ly at the clock which registered fifty
fares when we hadn’t had a dozen
passengers on since we left the sta
bles.”
An Augusta lawyer told the other
day of a witticism uttered by Henry
W. Paine. He was prosecuting attor
ney in a criminal case. The evidence
plainly showed that the respondent
was guilty and the defense admitted
it. The respondent’s counsel asked for
a verdict of not guilty on the ground
that the defendant w r as non compos
mentis. Greatly to the surprise of
Paine, and everybody else, for that
matter, the jury came m with a verdict
of not guilty. Paine, on the instant,
turned to the presiding judge and said:
“Your Honor, the prisoner evidently
has been tried by a jury of his peers.”
CUPS AND KISSES.
Deep draught? of wine yield joy divine,
et far, far higher bliss is
riM him who sips from his dear love’s lips
ihe red, red wine of kisses.
The. wine will make him groan and ache
ij pon the grievous morrow
But heavier bane than a drunkard’s pain
is parted lovers’ sorrow.
And yet, methinks, from him that drinks
Ive caught a plan will fit me;
Like him I II take, when my heart raav ache,
A hair of the dog that bit me!
—Temple Bar.
PEE A 8A \ Tlli ES.
One of the latest recipes: If you
step upon a dude’s boot, you are likely
to make a calf’s toot jelly.— San Fran
cisco Post.
Mr. Brown —Miss Gray, allow me to
present my friend, M. L’Oiseau, of the
Canary Islands. Miss Gray—How de
lightful? You sing, of course.
Landlady —The pipes are burst and
the water is all over the house.
Boarder —Yes, I’ve noticed it. “Did
you? Where?” “In the soup?”
A gas well has been discovered
twelve hundred feet below the surface
in Ohio. Can it be possible the Ohio
Legislature has sunk so low ?— Lowell
Citizen.
I see the French have taken um
brage,” said old Gosling, as he read
the paper to his wife. “More fools the
Chinese for not fortifying it better,”
said Mrs. Gosling.
Karl —“Mamma, mayn’t I go out in
to the street a bit? The boys say
there’s a comet to be seen.” Mamma
—“Well, yes; but don’t go too near.”—
Anekdoten Magazyn.
A Marklesburg mother, having oc
casion to reprove her little 7-year-old
daughter for playing with some rude
children, received for a reply: “Well,
ma, some folks don’t like bad com
pany, but I always did.”— Altoona
[Penn.) Tribune.
“And so you have received a divorce
from that vagabond husband of yours,
Mrs. Smith?” “Yes, lam glad to say
that I have.” “Didn’t you feel quite
overpowered when you heard the de
cision of the judge?” “Net exactly.
I felt sort of unmanned, so to speak.”
— Exchange.
Miss Florence Marryat in a recent
lecture advises the girls to “sit down
on the men.” This should certainly
go with the advice of the colored wom
an to her grown-up-son when he came
home with his hat ruined: “Sonny,
wen you goes a-callin’ ebenin’s allers
keep yo hat often yo lap.”
“Is your coat padded?” asked
Angelica, as her head reposed graceful
ly on William’s manly breast. “No.
Why do you ask ? ” he inquired fond
ly. “Because it is so much softer than
Mr. Martin’s coat or Mr. St. John’s
either, for that matter.” The engage
ment is broken. —Detroit Post.
As he was walking along Broadway
a few evenings ago a stranger accosted
him with the question; “What time
is it ?” He raised his eyes slowly and
answered: “Spring time.” The next
morning a man charged with assault
and battery told his story to the judge
and was discharged.
“Hullo! what are yer tryin’ to
do?” remarked the conductor to the
elderly female who had just executed
the time-honored maneuver of step
ping off the horse car face to the rear,
and, of course: with the usual result.
The old lady smiled sweetly as she
gathered herself up and replied: “Only
taking a trip on a horse car.”
A prominent divine who was to offi
ciate at a wedding, finding himself and
congregation in the church consider
ably in advance of the bridal party,
asked that someone should strike up a
hymn to improve the time. A good
brother started off, just as the bridal
party entered, with the hymn begin
ning, “Come on, my partners in dis
tress.”
A tramp applied at a boarding
house for a bite, and was given his
choice between chop and steak. He
preferred chop, and was shown the
wood-pile, where he wrestled so man
fully that the lady afterward gave him
a generous piece of steak. He said it
was mean in her to give him the tough
est part of the job last.—Binghamp
ton Republican.
Not exactly the idea he meant to con
vey; Fond Mamma—What do you
think, Prof. Solfado, is there the least
probability that Eupheraia will ever
make a singer? Prof. Solfado—And
why not, Mrs. Smith ? Your daughter
has every reason in the world to hope
for success. Some of our greatest ar
tists came from the lowest rank in so
ciety.
Miss Proudflesh (of New York) —
“Oh, dear yes. I know all about Can
ada. It’s a lovely country.” Miss
Oldfam—“You have summered there ? ”
“Oh, we never consider one summer
anything. We spent several years
there. It was just after pa retired.”
“Retired.” “Yes. I don’t remember
what bank he was connected with.”—
Philadelphia Call.
Jeweler’s clerk— “ Anything else?’
Customer—“ Nothing that I -* think
of.” “Wouldn’t you like J ok at
some of our new alarm clo< They
are a great improvement o*i the old
kind.” “I now ha/e to get up early
to catch my train, but I don’t need
any alarm clock.” “Never oversleep
yourself?” “Oh, no! My next door
neighbor has anew lawn mower.”—
Philadelphia Call.
Jones is very green. He came to the
city recently, staying over Sunday.
When he returned home he was asked
ij he went to church while he was
away. “No,” said he, “I couldn’t
find the men’s meeting-house. I went in
to about a dozen churches, but as they
all appeared to be women’s meetings,
of course I went out immediately. ~ I
didn’t wish to intrude upon their pri
vancy, you know.”
She had but recently arrived from
the “owld country,” and, being sent
out in front of the house to water a
large bed of crimson petunias, the fol
lowing conversation took place be
tween herself and the younger son and
heir: “I say, Bridget, what’s the
name of those red fiowers?” “Sure,
now, I don’t like to tell ye. ’Tisn’t a
noice name they have at all, dear; for
’twas up at the house I heard your
own mother herself calling them spit
unias. ’’— Harper’s Weekly.