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THE SENTINEL. J. W. BCCHASAX, Munnyer an d Proprietor. GRENADA, - MISSISSIPPI TEE FIRE-CRACKER FIEND. Go tie your crackers on your whin, Put crackers in you* mouth, Crack dreary jokes wuh tongue and lip, And peanuts from the South. But, never, 'till the crack of doom Time's casket has oareened, Join in the horrid fuss und fume, Of tho tiro-cracker fiend. My boys, they're dangerous and low; All clash and bang und clatter. You walk the streets and off they go, Ting spingle bangle-spatter. Is this the way to celebrate Your country's natal day? Here, let me take these foolish things and throw them all away! And think you, could the heroes watch Your paper-mimic go lining— There comes a dog? Who's got a match? Whish-bang! O, sec him running? Think you, if they could hear the noise Their heuds would rest tho prouder?— If you'll put'om under a kettle, boys, 'Twill make 'em sound tho louderl What! I.auyhirtfr? Why. I quite forgot and joined your foolish racket! Here, take this money—tell It not!— And buy another packet. ■fr. W. b'iiih, in N. Y. Independent. THE SERJEANT'S WILL. A Story of Hare Court. I. "Mr. Warrington, I believe ?" Simple words aud true as far as that I am Mr. Warrington, but this I can assort, that never had words so taken me by surprise, nor has my name ever been put to me under more singular circumstances. That this may be clear, I must explain. As shortly as I can I will do so, for I dislike explanation, and would have my judge, when I am moving the court, know beforehand, if possible, what my point is. I am a barrister, as you guess, and my chambers are in Hare Court; it is the most ancient, quiet and retired place in the Temple, just on your right if you come in by the archway at the bottom of Chancery Lane. My number is of no importance; in fact, abundant rea sons will appear why I should be reti cent as to it. One reason, which will not appear, but a very cogent one, nevertheless, being that solicitors are not fond of counsel who rush into print, unless their lucubrations are bound in calf. 1 have one room in which I sit myself, and the undivided half of a clerk's room and a passage ; the rest of the set are occupied. (lam talking of a time six months' back) by Serjeant Greathead, Q. C., of the Western Cir cuit, whose large room in the rear is the only comfortable and well-furnished one, my rooms being as dingy and cheerless as most ground-floor apart ments in the Temple. A couple of doors shut us in, but the oak is only sported when the clerks leave at seven. Then our chambers, not very lively during the day time, are abandoned to darkness, silence and the mice. In a word they are merely offices. Well, about the time I have men tioned, I was obliged, no matter why— perhaps because over my dinner at the Suffolk Street Club I discovered a fal lacy in the opinion to bo sent out the next morning—I found myself obliged, for the first time for certainly a year, to go to my chambers after dinner. The clock at St. Clement Danes was striking the half hour after nine as I turned into the lonesome aud echoing Temple. I opened my outer door with my key, after ascertaining that 1 had .some matches in my pocket, and did the same to the inner door, drawing the oak to behind me, and shutting it; then I stood still. It was very odd !—all should have been in darkness, but from the key-hole of the Serjeant's room a bright ray of light shone steadily, and from within came the familiar sound of the rustling of papers. It was very odd. 1 had known tho Serjeant say he never worked at night, and certainly I had never heard of him coming to his cham bers in the evening. Very singular that wo should both be there on this particular night! At any rate, I would sen if it was all right. I opened his door and walked in quietly an apology on my lips. The room, as I have said, a spacious one, was brilliantly lighted, the table was covered with papers and books, but no Serjeant Greathead was there ! Some one was, though, with a vengeance. "Air. Warrington, I believe." With one hand resting upon tho table and pressing some among the many which littered it, stood the papors speaker, a lady! Apparently about five and-thirty, she was tall and of a good figure, her dress handsome though sim ple. A veil obscured much of her face, which was toward me as I entered. Either her complexion was naturally colorless, or agitation had driven the blood from her cheeks; the latter, I conjectured, since her left hand was pressed to her side. I stood dumb founded, and at least twice this unex pected apparition repeated the words I have set down. Who was she, and what on earth was she doing alone and at this time of the night in our cham bers? As far as I remember I said at last in a bewildered tone, still holding the door-handle: "Yes, certainly, I am Mr. Warring ton." "You must be surprised to find me Serjeant Greathead's here, niece." "O, yes!" I answered, with a bmv and a vain attempt to indicate by my tone that I thought this a perfectly satisfactory explanation of her presence at 9:80 in iiis chambers; "O, yes." "He is rather unwell this evening, and thought lie would like to have some papers to read, in ease ho should not sleep. I have volunteered to fetch them —was it not bold of me?—and my cab is waiting in Fleet Street." "The Serjeant not well! l am very sorry. Can I give you any assistance! From the appearance of the table she must have undone most of the bundles in search of the right papers, such was She really was a I am the litter upon it. very good-looking woman. "You can undo the harm you have innocently caused, Mr. Warrington, by getting me a glass of water, if you will be so kind. You startled me not a lit tie. I was prepared to lind darkness , and.'loneliness, but not to meet any | """if I have frightened you I do wish I had stayed away—which is unselfish," I added gallantly; "but it is curious that fate should have led me hero to night for the first time this year.' "Yes; not only curious, Mr. Warring ton; provoking also," 1 laughed and hastened to my room, lit a candle and drew some water from the filter. There was a flavor of ro mance about this, and yet, handsome as she was, and singular as were the circumstances, something repelled me. I had not got over the start she caused me perhaps. "Are you sure that you have got what you want?" She had replaced the papers and cleared the table with won derful deftness while I was away. She was standing now by the fireplace, evi dently ready to go. "I have, thank you," she answered, rather thoughtfully; "perhaps you would bo good enough to escort me to my cab, my nerves have hardly erod yet," She smiled bewitehingly as she spoke what I took for badinage, but the next instant I saw that it was true enough. We were moving toward the door, and I had just said, "With pleasure," when a heavy footstep, coming along the passage outside, made itself clearly heard even through the closed doors. It halted a couple of seconds as if going no further, then it proceeded on and up stairs. Well, just during the second or two that it halted at the d'oor, I saw my companion's face—it had turned white again and had the same nervous ex pectant expression I had first observed. Her nerves had not recovered the sur prise (if my sudden entrance. "It would hardly do for any one to find me here," she said, with a forced laugh, finding my eyes fixed upon her face. of to ed of a a recov O, in it in to of in "No? but thatwasso like your uncle's footstep that it did not alarm me." She did not smile as I expected. On the contrary, she helped to unfasten the outer door with almost petulant eager ness. Once in the open air she breathed more freely, but she hardly spoke again except to thank me when I put her into the cab. "I hope the Serjeant will sleep to night and not need his papers," were my last words, which she only acknowl edged by a bow, as she threw herself back. But I had cause, as vvill be seen, to remember them. I did not get much work done that night, quiet as it was; my visitor had unsettled me, I suppose. Twice I thought I heard some one in the Ser jeant/s room, and was foolish enough to take a light and go and see. Of course there was no one there; so after a short time I gave it up and went home to bed. The next day, bo it observed, was Sunday. I pass on as briefly as I can; at breakfast on that Monday I received a serious shock. Among the items of in telligence in the Morning Post appeared this paragraph (it will save me much explanation): "We regret to have to announce the sudden death, at his resi dence, Gloucester Road, of Mr. Serjeant Greathead, Q. C., of the Western Cir cuit, Recorder of Diddleham. His de cease, which took place very suddenly on Saturday evening, was caused by a heart complaint from which the learned gentleman had for sometime suffered." "Umph," said I to myself, and, being a lawyer, began to think and to put two and two together, not without now and again a little eerie feeling down the small of my back. Mr. Serjeant Great head died on Saturday evening. On Saturday evening, before or after the event it is not proved, a lady is occu pied all alone among Mr. Serjeant Greathead's papers in his chambers, and, though this I was not quite sure about, among the drawers of his private writing table, "Umph!" well, I was never on very intimate terms with the old gentleman, who was thirty years my senior, and it is no particular busi ness of mine. It's all right, or will come so in the end, doubtless. And I put on my boots and coat and went down to the chambers and discussed the old gentleman's death, with the due amount of sympathy, with his clerk, and forwarded a letter of condolence to the family, of whom I knew nothing, applied to the treasurer of the Inner Temple to take on the Serjeant's cham bers, and did my usual work and lived my usual life for four days. Then something happened. Thomas, my bov, showed in to me "our Mr. Ford, of Ford, Ford & Bittle, of Staple's Inn, whom I knew to be the late Serjeant's solicitors. myself, with much excitement, a judicious mixture of courtesy and dig nity I waved him to a seat, which was all thrown away. "Now, perhaps you can help me, Mr. Warrington," he said, after a few pre liminary observations which sufficiently enlightened me. "Have you liny idea where our poor friend is likely to have put his will?" "Not the slightest. Wo were not on very intimate terms, though tho best of friends. Have you searched his cup board and book?" "Carefully. Yet I feel sure that it is here. The day he signed it he said to me: 'Here you'll linil it when it's want ed, Ford,' and ho tapped the table, so that I took it for granted lie meant to lock it up there." "What family has lie left, Mr. Ford?" "He was never married. His niece, a remarkably nice girl, has lived with him for a year. Except a distant cousin, who acted as a kind of housekeeper, she was his only connection." "Was bis niece a great favorite of <■ j I in in "A new client." said I to With his?" " Yes, of late, very much so. Her mother and the Serjeant did not get on; the mother died and Mr. a year ago Greathead, who was a good man at bot tom, took the girl homo. I don't mind telling you that the missing will leaves her nearly everything." "What!" I cried, in huge astonish ment, "loaves her nearly everything?" "Yes; aud very natural, too. Wi not?" Up to this moment I had had, since tho lawyer opened his business to me, but one ideh, which was, that on the night on which the old man died, his niece, this "very nice girl," had come to his chambers, searched for tho will, and, for her own advantage, abstracted and destroyed it. Had done that, and had, into the bargain, startled mo first afterward. But how hy , and fooled me | ahouUhis nursing mv chin. to "Nor can I!" cried the other briskly. "Is the niece, Miss—Miss Great head, of a very Quixotic spirit? at all likely to burn the will to benefit some one else?" to of us. to "She's not so mad as to throw away seventy thousand pounds, if you mean that. Good heavens, sir, what suggest ed such a thing to you ?' ' I told him all that had occurred the Saturday night, just as I have rela ted it above. If my readers feel a tithe of the wonder he expressed. I am sat isfied with my powers of description. "If you had not told me face to face, sir, I would not have believed a sylla ble of it!" ho said, emphatically, "not a syllable!" "Could you"—after I had thought a minute or two—"could you procure me a glimpse of Miss Greathead, or of her photograph?" Our Mr. Ford actually blushed. "Well, I could. Perhaps it would be more satisfactory if you saw herself." "Not at all." What in the worl on made the man fidget so? "Then I think—I have—somewhere, I've not left it, the very thing you want. O, yes, here it is." And after fumbling in all his other pockets, from his breast pocket Mr. Ford, a little red in the face, produced a neat little Russia leather case. He opened this and held the portrait within for my inspection. "Well?" he uttered impatiently,while with a critical eye I was examining a very pretty, very youthful, wholly good face. "Nose a little, just a little, too re trousse I murmured. "Eh?" shutting it up with an angry snap. "But, however, that is not the lady who was occupied here on Saturday night. That is one point clear, Mr. Ford. Now, who would profit by the destruction of this will? Is any earlier one in existence?" "Yes. There is a former will discov ered in the Serjeant's desk at home. It was made before Clive—1 mean Miss Greathead—came to live with him." "Its date?" "January, 1879." "Well?" "It leaves two-thirds of the estate to the cousin who then kept house for him." "A tall, pale, dark-eyed woman, de cidedly good-looking?" "Yes. By Jove, I see! She was your visitor, and with instinctive caution gave Clive's name, or rather description," he cried. "And has destroyed the last will?" "Idon't know so much about that," he answered, slowly wiping his fore head. "She did not burn it here, as you say the fire was out. She might keep it to see how tilings would turn out. It gives her £5,000 too." "Ah, (loes it? Wait a moment. Does it really? Well, then, we can get it back by a .bold stroke. I'm with you in this, Mr. Ford. It gets interesting. The first will, which must be proved if the last ho not found, gives the house keeping cousin two-thirds, about £50, 000, say; the later and missing will gives her £5,000. But suppose one were—only suppose—one were to turn up between the two and give her noth ing, eh?" "No obanoe!" said the lawyer; "I don't think I quite follow you." "I can explain in two words. You see-" But as the two words lengthened themselves to two hundred, as two words always do, I need not go through any more of our conversation. Its drift will be guessed by thesagacious reader. At parting, "It's rather a serious thing, you know," said the lawyer, rue fully. "Yes," I answered, mischievously; "its five years!" We were assembled in the dead man's dying room in Gloucester Road to hear the will read. It may seem odd that 1 should have been present at this merely family matter, but the fact is that I, John Warrington, of the Inner Temple, barrister-at-law, was not. A silent and humble gentleman, with a beard anil glasses, with also a seedy coat and boots to match, aud a habit of taking snuff surreptitiously yet with acertain amount of ostentation, was present. But he was merely Mr. Ford'3 clerk, and if his figure and face were not familiar sights in the offices of Messrs. Ford, Ford & Bittle, why Mr. Ford had a right to en gage a special clerk for business of so confidential a nature as this. There The tall, I a a I of is to to of a [ I <■ were not many present, gracious, almost queenly woman sitting near the fire with her back to the light and a large black fan in her hand is Miss Chilling, "third cousin to tho de ceased," as the newspapers would say. The fair nervous girl by the table is Miss Clive Greathead; observe that her j Kile face flushes a little as she shakes hands with "our Mr. Ford." In the background are old Humphrey's, the clerk, and several servants. "I have two wills here which I think I ought to read," says the lawyer, softly, taking seat at the end of the ta ble. ' "The first is dated 1879, the sec ond about a year back. A third will was made within tho last six months, hut I regret to say that our poor friend must have destroyed it, intending, of this I have no doubt, to make another in its place. In the midst of life, we arc —yes, indeed!" Having uttered this in low but clear tones, he takes from me—I mean from the clerk, who produces thorn from his black bag—some papers, and proceeds in more business-like tones, to read the "last will and testament of Jonathan Greathead, of Gloucester Road, in the County of Middlesex, and of Hare Court, the Temple, in the City of London, barrister-at-law." "The purport is this," said he, after the usual flood of verbiage bad passed for the most part harmlessly over our heads, "that the bulk of the testator's estate would go to bis cousin, Miss Chilling, and a share, very much small er, but still considerable, to Miss Great head. In one respect I. very much re gret that my task does not end with this will." Then we all listen to another last will and testament, and a fresh current of conveyancer's English, much shorter than the last, however, is let loose upon One person in the room, I can safely assert, feels on tho rack, and Miss Chilling's fan never stays but flut ters, now slowly, now with a sudden impetus- And no wonder; her fortune of $45,000 is swept away as by a stroke of the con. auu r, miserable £500 all us. that is given her instead. Of the resi due. after payment of certain legacies to the servants, clerks and others, the whole is given to Miss Greathead. When he ceased, the woman by the fire rose grandly to her full height. "This is not the final arrangement our friond intended to make; so much I know; it is a sad lesson of the danger of procrastination even in the wisest of us. ' Thus Mr. Ford, in a. low, apolo getic tone, busy with the paper. "0, Edith, I am very sorry!" Miss Greathead had risen, too, and put her hand upon the older woman's shoulder. The servants were filing out. Miss Chilling pushed the other aside, not cruelly, but as if she were in the way. "The will! show me the will, she said, in hoarse, low tones, holding out one white hand imperatively. Mr. Ford handed it to her without a word. She took it to the window and examined it carefully. Wonderful as under the cir cumstances was her self-command, one could hear the paper rustle in her shak ing hands. In a moment she faced us. "You did not draw this will?" ' "No," Mr. Ford answered, nervously, "he took, I suppose, other advice. The attesting witnesses are Mr. Warrington, who, you may be aware, has chambers —had, I should say—with the Serjeaut, and the laundress, who died some months ago. So it is evident that it was made at chambers." There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Miss Chilling crossed the room and rang the bell "Is Mr. Humphreys still here ?" she said to the servant. "Yes, Miss." "Ask him to come to me, if you please." "My clerk shall fetch'him," cried Mr. Ford, hastily, with a glance first at servant, anil then at his unprepossess ing follower. "No," said Miss Chilling,- impera tively. We all stood still and listened to the clock ticking solemnly, till the old clerk appeared. "Humphreys," she said, with a strange yearning in her tone, a sudden softening, as it were," please to exam ine this signature, and tell me if it is your late master's." He was her last hope. The old man slowly took out and put on his glasses. Miss Greathead, ner vous and frightened, cowered in the window seat. Mr. Ford looked steadily into the fire. I fancy ho saw there a short law report, headed: "In the matter of Charles Henry Ford, gen tleman, one, etc.," or it might be more shortly, "In the matter of a solicitor." As for his clerk, I can answer for it, that no heart in the room was going pit-a-pat like his. How long Humphreys was poring over it! At last he spoke, and then with torturing slowness. "Ah, that's his writing sure enough. God bless him," Then two of us drew such a sigh of relief, as well. I am at a loss for a suf ficiently strong metaphor, but at any rate it was a very d( Mr. Ford murmur her I a of I of on as I the low words of condolence to the one lady, and of con gratulation to*the other, and he and his clerk got themselves out of the room as well as they could. Tho last seen of Miss Chilling she was brooding over the fire, with a face ever so much older, as it seemed to us, than that which had shone in tho dusk behind her fluttering fan. "Upon my honor," Ford whispered to his confidential clerk, as the door ploscd behind them, "I am almost afraid to leave them together." " I'ooli, your young woman hasn't made a will." "Why? what! yon don't think she -?" He stood still. "The Serjeant? No, I don't. I've seen his doctor. She was first on the scene that's all; p couple of hours be fore any one else, I expect." "What if our plan doesn't answer? IIow long are we to keep it up?" "A week won't do us harm; then if nothing turn up we must find out some Ihing wrong with our precious docu ment. But I don't think she is inclined to fight." And the confidential clerk of Ford, Ford & Bittle, linked his arm with that of "our Mr. Ford" with as tonishing freedom, and an utter forget fulness of his seedy hat and boots. John Warrington, barrister-at-law, was sitting alone in my room next day, when Thomas came in. "A lady to see you, sir." I was not greatly surprised. "Show her in. Good gracious! How do you do ? Please to fake a seat, Miss —all, yes. Miss Greathead, Very sad things have happened since I saw you last. It was my former visitor, the Serjeant's niece. "Yes, indeed; .they are too fresh to be spoken of. I have called to ask you a question, Mr. Warrington, and I am sure I may trust to your discretion." "Absolutely," I assented, warmly. "Please do not think it an odd one. [ have a reason. Do you remember witnessing my uncle's signature about a year ago ?" "Well, I remember this much, that I did so, but I don't think 1 can tell yon much about it; as far as I can recall the matter, Mrs. Coil was there. No one else, I think. If I can help you any further, I will think it out." "Thank you," sho said, with a half audible sigh, drumming softly on my fable with her gloved fingers. "That is all, I think, that I wanted to ask. Now I am here, I should like to see my un cle's room for—for the last time, Mr. Warrington, if you please." "Most certainly. Nothing has been disturbed since you were here." lied the way into the room; sho stood in tho middle, and looked round with a steady scrutinizing gaze. "I will leave you for a moment," said T, considerately, and half-closing the door, stepped into my own room, and sat down -to finish the Statement of Claim in Davey vs. Davey P—nothing of the kind, but executed upon my hearth rug a silent dance of triumph that would have gained for me a lucrative engagement at the Aquarium. After live minutes of this, I composed my face, aud went back to the old gcntlo man's room, stumbling careless!; the mat as I did so. She was still ap parently standing exactly where 1 had left her. It cost me ail my self-eom niandto avoid glancing round the room. "Thank you," she said, sweetly, am so muon obliged to you. I am very glad I came. Y6u will not mention my visit P" y over "1 "rou may depend upon my reti cence," I said, with a bow, in which I flatter myself that a sincere personal devotion and an overflowing apprecia tion for her uncle appeared to mingle. The moment, however, that I had got her out of the chambers, and the door closed behind her, I sent Thomas off with a note, and darted back into the Serjeant's room. There I stood in the middle, where my visitor had stood, and looked around me. There was a mel ancholy tidiness everywhere. Quickly I opened the drawers, cast my eye over them, felt behind them; as I expected, nothing. Then I proourejj a chair and a candle, and with a minuteness that would have done credit to a Fouche, I looked along the top of row after row of tho calf-bound books, that on three sides concealed the walls from floor to coiling. Two sides had been examined before I found what I had expected. Low down between the fireplace and one of the windows it was, almost within reach of the writing-table. Then I sat down on the floor, put the candle beside me, and took out my watch. Seven minutes passed before Thomas returned, and some one with him. I did not move, but sung out: "Ford! here I am; come in; and shut the door." "There has been a lady here, your boy tells me!" "Yes, the lady. She wished to see her uncle's room once more. Sweetly appropriate, wasn't it ?" "Yes, yes!" "Well, out of consideration for hot feelings-" "Bother her feelings ! "I left her alone—and look here." He was on his knees in the twinkling of an eye, and had both his eyes glued on the top of the eleventh and twelfth volumes of Bevan's Reports of the Court of Chancery. The layer of dust, which elsewhere lay in uniform smooth ness, was here disturbed. "The will is in Chancery, you may depend upon it," I said, airily. At a sign from me Ford gingerly removed the books, and opened first one, and shook it—nothing I won't swear that our faces did not flush, as he opened the other and shook it—nothing! Then he got up and used a naughty word. I ex amined the volume closely, with the same result. Wo looked at one an other. "Nothing wrong with our calcula tions, is there ?" "No; under the missing will she gets £5,000. That will disappears, that she may get two-thirds of the whole estate under the first; when, lo, up starts an intermediate will—a devilish odd will leaving her only £500, and good, as far as she knows, until the missing one turns up. She's no fool; therefore it will turn up." "If she has not destroyed it!" "Exactly. How much time did you give her?" "Five minutes at least, and some one has been at these books. Wait a min ute, what fools we have been!" two volumes of Bevan's Reports still lay ui'on the floor side by side. I plunged niy*hand into the orifice caused by their absence from the shelf. I groped. Ford's eyes grew perceptibly bigger. "What's this?" I cried, and brought out a paper. "Right!" he shouted, as he hastily glanced at it outside. "The lost will! We've won." "No chance of 'five years with-,' eh, now, Ford?" "No, but upon my honor, at one timo things looked awkward." The five thousand pounds were promptly paid to Miss Chilling, and she lias passed from our sight with that modest independence. She was a very clever woman, and most certainly wiil get on in the world. I am glad sho never learned how she was checkmated. Clive Greathead is now the wife of "our Mr, Ford," a cosy, pleasant resort is their house in Grenville-place. So much of tho business of Ford, Ford & Bittle comes to my chambers in Hare Court, that I also am thinking of setting up a little double establishment at tho West End. Ford and I sometimes chat over the Serjeant's three wills, and the last time I dined with him I heard him say, with singular emphasis, to his guest on the right: "You never forged a will, now, I sup pose, Sir John?" "I, sir!" cried the Alderman, with portentous dignity. "O, no, of course not; but, do you know, I daresay you've dined at the same table with people who-have." The worthy merchant swelled and swelled with indignation until I quite feared for him. And yet, do you know, I think Ford was right.— Time. A Ycry Bashful Husband. The following incident in the earl; married life of a lawyer of a village in New York State, who is as well known for excessive bashfulness as he is for eccentricity and good nature, is told in the Boston Herald: So bashful was he that, after bringing his ladylike and ac complished bride from the northern part of the country, instead of intro ducing her to his acquaintances, after the manner of proud young husband: of the ordinary stamp, he actually almost hid himself and her from his most intimate friends. To get him to go to church even was a task that his wife, mother and sisters found so extremely difficult that they oould only succeed by declaring that he ashamed of his bride. On one occasion a lecture was to b( given which his wife particular ly desired to attend. Our friend in response to her request for escort, told huswife that he knew she wouldn't of a it The wa lfce the lecture, and for his part he should enjoy staying at home with her much belter. She persisted and he ax hausted every argument to prove tha! she would not find the lecture enjoyable At last the true reason of her husband'* disinclination to go out flashed over the wife's mind, and she said: "Well, my dear, you can never convince me that I don't know but we had bettor stay it home; if you should be seen out with me too much at night it might create a scandal." They went to the lectuirj. —Of forty-four daily newspaper* which published an account of Vie Brooklyn bridge disaster, twenty-five used the headline "Baptized in Blood." ten "A Baptism of Blood," and nine "Baptism of Blood." It was a very co-simrular incidence — Boston PosL SCHOOL AND CHURCH. — 1 The Baptists are about to Invest from $75,000 to $100,000 in the erection of a denominational college in North Dakota.— Chicago Tribune. —William L. Scott has presented the Catholics of Erie a chime of bells cost ing $6,000 for their new cathedral.— Philadelphia Press. —"Pass, of course I'll pass," one little girl to another, "isn't my brother keeping company with th* schoolma'amP"— N. Y. Times. —Montana will not only build about a dozen new school-houses this sum mer, but has also fallen in with the Teachers' Institute idea. —Twelve years ago Germany had only 1,870 theological students. Now it numbers 3,707 Protestants and 760 Catholios preparing for the ministry. —Mrs. J. II. Willard, who, with he* late husband, succeeded Mrs. Emma Willard in the direction of the Troy Female Seminary, and for thirty years presided over the institution, died a few days since. —The Missouri State Teacher's Asso ciation struck a blow tor reform the other day when they adopted a resolu tion providing that no member in the association should receive the title ot Professor.— St. Louis Post. —The Methodists have purchased at Chin King, in West China, a piece at land on which to erect a mission chapel and school for boys. The title deed is stamped with the Mandarin's great seal. —When you go to Paris don't forget the American chapel, No. 21 Rue de Berri, Champs Elysees. It is open every Sunday. A great many church goers from this country forget this, and wander round to see the military shows and other attractive sights. N. Y. Times. —Mr. Samuel Morley, M. P., in lay ing the foundation-stone recently of a new Congregational church at West gate-on-Sea, said the English had not to go to India for heathenism; it ex isted at their own doors, nearly one half of the people neglecting public worship. —Under the head "A Sign of the Times," an English journal says that in a place of worship in London the! following notice was given: "Thei members of the cricket club connected with this congregation will meet for the transaction of business to-morrow evening at seven o'clock. The usual prayer meeting on Friday at half-past seven o'clock." —The old bell of Trinity College, Hartford, Conn., has at last found a resting plane over the dormitory of the Episcopal Academy, in Cheshire. Some years ago the students in the college turned the bell upside down one night and filled it with a mixture of wet plaster of Paris and nails. The mass solidified, and, as the professors decided not to have the bell cleaned out, the students were obliged to attend chapel and recitations without the warning notes of the bell. This was a hardship the students had not thought of, and many of them received so many marks for absence that they would gladly have paid to have the bell restored. The faculty held out, and the old bell was never more heard on Trinity grounds_ New Haven Register. PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS. —A girl has been arrested while dis guised as an old woman. The old woman disguised as a girl is still at large.— Chicago Tribune. —"He shot himself in the woods," la an Indiana paper's accountof a suicide. The bullet, of course, must have taken effect in tho lumber region.— N. Y. Graphic. —Clara (looking at the bonnets* etc.): "Don't you think they are very handsome?" Amy (whose thoughts are on the other side of the street): "Very, 'specially the one with the black mustache."— Detroit Free Press. —Several ladies lost their house plants by freezing last winter. There is no excuse for such negligence. Three tons of coal at eight dollars per ton will carry a dollar's worth of house plants through the winter safclv.— N. Y. News. —"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Tid nioe, "I never saw a girl like our Sary Jane. I worked almost two hull days on her now bathin' dress, and don't you think, she got it wringin' wet the fust time she put it on!"— Chicago Herald. —"I have often noticed that gallant young men walking with their sweet hearts offer the left arm, while devoted married men with their wives offer tha right arm. Why is this?" Edith: "The left arm is nearest the heart; tha right arm is nearest the pocket-book." —Boston Post. —Host (really in agony about hi* polished inlaid floor)— : "Hadn't you better come on the carpet, old follow? I'm so afraid you might slip, you know." Guest (with a wooden leg)—"O," it's all right old fellow—thanks! There's a nail in the end you know."— N. Y. Journal. —The editor of a village newspaper near the city wrote of a young gentle man who sung in the choir, that he was among the best of their amateur singers, and he was horrified to see it appear in his paper, "one of the best of our amateur sluggers." He baa gone fishing until it blows over.— N. Y. Times. —A genuine dude has struck Lara mie. He has a homeopathic head and allopathic feet. His pants are so tight that he never takes them off, and ho has a plate glass window in one eye. The other is closed for repairs. He got on the wildest kind of a debauch last night with half an ounce of popper sauce and a br.nch of cigarettes. He hails from New York.— Laramie Boom erang. —The Arkansaw man lias many ways of getting his name into print, and when all other means fail the mad-dojf resort is taken up. The gentleman who wants his name to appear in the local paper calls on the, editor and says: "Killed the biggest mad dog this morn ing you ever saw. Better make a local to that effect as it might serve as a warning to the peoplo of the neighbor hood. You needn't say that I killed him. Just say that a very large mad dog was killed the other day by—well, you can put my name in. 1 don't care.** —Arhmsaw Traveller.