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Jht 'Bwokhann gtafrr, ®h* £,*<«. BV B. T. HOBBS. standing adykrtiseshoits. (PACB. ll ■O. IIMlIM il TRAB. Term*. AdVMMMI One Inch.rr* .Ti,l. M | UM n„, rr«i- .•* 00 Twoinchee. * M II Mj 17 Ml M g 8?«~.-.• «• JKftSJr:::::::: ,i S ii 2 5 3 58 advertisements. —— - . .- Hi?- .aaa.a_.» BV B- T- H0BRS- A Government in the Intereet of the People. *2.00 PER APl l VOLUME T. BROOKHAVEN, MISSISSIPPI, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1883. NUMBER 37. ■ajattWeSaramP1*—* THE TRUSTED CASHIER. lie «tcps from the school to a desk In the hank. W hlle hl« heart swells with pride and with pleasure; He pledffc* h m«elfto be first In the rank To preserve and to augment Its treasure. Hr is prompt at his desk, he Is pleasant and kind, And he ripidly meets with promotion; The position of “( a taler" float v In his mind. And he works with redoubled devotion. At lenirth he secures that irro.it oltlee of trust. And he justly exult* ill his alory; Airirn lie resolves to tie faithful and Just— To h - true—to the end of the story. The tempter appears; there's a fortune In stocks. From the vaults of the hank he can “bor row;" There s no one but him hag the keys to the locks. And the cash rail be put hark to morrow. Ills conscience rebels, and |>olnls out the eost. Hut the vision of riches returns; The first step is taken, the money is lost. And avaiii his poor e.insolence he spurns. Detectives are *<>on on his luckless track. In some distant loa n there's a capture; The "Trusted Cashier’’ in shame's taken back. And In convict's costume ends the chapter. —N. V. .Star. A HOY'S WATERMELON APOLOGY. “Talking about apologies,” said Will Van Leaf, “did I ever tell you about my watermelon apology?” “You never told me,” replied Ned Morningstar. “You may have told some of the other fellows.” " You never told me,” chorused the “other fellows.” “Come to think, I might have known I hadn't,” said Will, “cause I’ve only been back to school three days, and in those three days you fellows have scarcely given me a chance to get a • word in edgeways,’ as my grand mother says; you've had so much tosay yourselves.” Il was a line day in October. School was just out and the boys were linger ing on the school-house steps. They had been listening attentively with the exception of Will Van Leaf, who list ened impatiently—to something Frank Smith was telling them, when at last Will found an opportunity of intro ducing his story of tiie season. He had not returned to school until a month after the fall term began, and since his return, though he had Iteen fairly in undated with accounts of summer-vaca tion adventures and fun, lie himself, to ijiiote his own ({notation, had scarcely •• found a chance to get in a word edge ways.” But now his chance came in in*.'' « rt > . i i.inrv * ill.ill, ur.M'iiuni'' wonderful stjiiirrel hi* hail seen in the woo Is one uay, declared its tail was four f *et long. “ 1 refuse to believe it,” said Neil Moruingstar. *• I never saw nor invented a squirrel with a tail longer than three feet and a half, and 1 11 het I've seen and invented more mjii rrels than ever you have.” ••Alt, ha! so you accuse mo of false hood,” said Frank Smith, placing his hat on tlie extn me hack of his nead and throwing himself into a lighting attitude, “and that is something my proud spirit can not and will n t stand. So come on, or make an apology.” Then it was that Will Van Leaf said: “Talking about apologies, did I ever t*Tl vou about my watei melon apology?” Ami receiving a unanimous negative, followed by a unanimous request to “go in,” he went on: “Well, you know, our folks spent most of last summer at Uncle John's: he owns a big farm on Staten Island, and there was a lot of boys boarding up on the hill at Widow l’ratt’s, and of < nurse I soon got ac quainted with ’em. And didn't we have jolly times, boating and swimming, and playing ball, and acting theatricals, all made up by yourselves; you bet! “Well, just half-way between Uncle John’s and the boanlmg-house was old Bartholomew’s place. *Old Bear’ most everybody called him behind his back, 'cause lie had such shaggy ha'r and eye brows, and growled instead of speak ing, and was so awfully ugly in every way. And lie had the biggest water melon patch for miles around. And on ■ day three or four of the hill chaps and me——” “And 1,” corrected Ned Rowe, called by his comrades “Grammar Ned.” “Oh. bother!" said Will; “let me go on with my story in my own way. Grammar Jfed: you can save up the mistakes and give 'em to me when I’m through:” but he accepted the correc tion all the same. t .It' II *1_ _ t _ r .1 l it* * »* vil| 1111 V/l 1<>U1 UI (liu 11111 t ll«l|’V pud I were standing one morning peep ing through a crack in the fence at (ml Fear's watermelons, and oh! we did feel such a longing for ’em, they were so jolly ripe and fat, when along came ‘Serious Dick ’ ” “Who was ‘Serious Dick?’” asked Frank Smith. “A fellow 'bout sixteen years old, who worked for Uncle John, and always looked and talked as though ho was preaching,” explained Will. “Well, he came along and he stopped and peeped through the crack in the fence, too. and then lie says very solemn: ‘Ain't them beauties!’ Don't you cor rect again, ‘Grammar Ned;’ l)Iek said ‘them,' / didn’t. ‘Ain’t them beauties,’ says he, ‘and there’s a dozen of ’em so ripe they’re ready to burst and ought to be picked this minute. They won't be no good in a day or two. And won’t it be a sin and a shame to see ’em a rotting, for Old Hear don’t go to market till «lay after to-morrow, and he wouldn't give one away, no, nor sell oue to anybody ’round here, no matter what happened. I say, boys,’ says he, ‘I wouldn't blame you a bit if you bor rowed a few of them melons to-night. If you do, save me one, and I’ll do as much for you sometime or other,’ and then lie winked and walked off.lookingas serious as ever. Well, that set the ball a-rolling, and we boys talked It over and agreed that it would be a shame to let those melons rot on the vines, aud so that night wc pried a board off the fence and crawled in and borrowed a dozen of ’em. Eleven of ’em we ate on the spot, and the twelfth we saved for Serious Dick. I carried it home—pretty heavy it was, too—and stowed it away in the corner of the barn under the hay. And the next afternoon—I didn't see him before ’cause he’d gone to New York with a load of cabbages—I saw Serious Dick going into the barn and I ran out and whispered to him: ‘Your melon's In there in one corner under the hay.’ But Dick started back and rolled up his eyes, and acted as though he was half scared to death. ‘And,’ says he, ‘let it stay there. 1 wouldn't touch it for nothing.’ ‘Why, what’s the mat ter?’ says I. ‘There’s a dreadful row ’bout them melons,' says Dick, speak Ing very slow and deep, ‘a dreadful row. Old Boar’s missed 'em, and he swears they was the choicest of the lot, and he marked 'em himself, 'cause they was to be sold this worry day for a dol lar apiece. And he says, in langwidge it would make vour blood run cold to hear, that he'll tind and punish the thieves if it costs him t-w-e-n-t-y dol lars.’ “ ‘flood gracious!’ says I, feeling my self turn white; ‘how do you know?’ “ 'Met the constable a-looking for | ’em as I come along the road from j York,’ said Diek. ‘Oh! dear, what ! shall we do?’ says I. ‘I haven’t got a j cent, and I don't believe the other fcl ! lows have either. If we had we might pay him for 'em; but we spent all our money last Saturday', ’cause we ex pected to go back to school so soon.’ “ ‘(tuess you won’t go back to school for a week or two,’ says Diek, getting solemner and solentner every minute; * fraid you’ll spend that much time in the lock-up.’ ‘“Is there no way of getting out of the I scrape without telling my mot her about I iti*’ says I. ‘1 don't want to tell her. j She'll feel so awful bad though she'd ! get me out of it somehow,I know. Boys' mothers always do. You ought to help j iis,’ says I, ‘’cause you were the first I one to speak about taking the melons.’ “ ‘Speakingand taking’s two different ] things,’ says lie. ‘But if you want my advice, I m willing to give it to you. ! P’rhaps the old man isn t such a bear as he looks. Most folks ain't "zactly what they looks, and if I was you boys I’d go to him and make a handsome apology, and I shouldn't wonder if lie | let you off.’' | “Well, I didn't stop for any more ad j vice, but hurried as fast as 1 could to the house on the hill, where I knew the ; other fellows were at dinner, and 1 gave i one signal shout and pretty soon they j came out with their mouths full. Hobe Berry, he had his pie in his hand, and he offered me a bite, but I didn’t feel like pie just then—neither did he, nor any of the rest of 'em when 1 told about the constable and the lock-up. They all looked as serious as Serious Diek \ then, and some of 'em were for saying right up and down that we hadn't been [ near the watermelon patch tor weeks. “ ‘But,’ says I, ‘I for one ain't going to tell any lies about it. We stole the watermelons, and that’s bad enough without lying about it, and I propose tlint we own up and make an apology to old—I mean to Mr. Bartholomew.’ ! “‘I second the motion,’ Ted Higgins i chips in. ‘But who's going to do the talking? We can’t speak all together like the chaps in the primary.’ “ ‘I’ll do it.’ says I, ‘for knowing Uncle John so long perhaps he’ll take it bett 'r from me. And it better be done at once. I saw the old man in the patch as I came along. So, fall in —right about face—march!’ •‘And off we marched brave enough until we came in sight of Old Bear and his men loading a big truck with melons for market. Then our knees began to wobble, and Hobe Berrv he whispered: •Let’s cut and run.’ but I kept right on and the red followed until we stood in front of the old man, and 1 began: “ ‘Mr. Bartholomew.’ “ ‘Hey!’ he shouted so loud and ! fierce that I fell back on Ted Higg ns' ! sore foot and be yelled tit to be heard a ! mile, and I felt sorry I hadn't cut and run when Hobe Berry wanted me to, but it was too late then, and so I went on: ‘We boys are very sorry we took those watermelons last night, and we’ve come to ask you to forgive us, and to let us pay for ’em as soon as we can.’ “‘Stole some of mv watermelons, did you?’ says he, when I was through. ‘ That’s the first 1 knowed about it. But you've come just in time with your ’pology. Off with your jackets and help load up. That’s the kind of pay I’ll take.’ “And we did help load up until our arms and backs ached oh! how they did ache—and I don’t believe there was a tireder lot of fellows anywhere when Old Bear let us put our jackets on again. And after we’d got ’em on and was wiping the perspiration from our heated brows—that’s like they say in printed stories—’long comes Serious Dick. “ ‘ I thought it would be all right,’ says he, • and so I ate the watermelon you kindly left for me, and I found it werry cooi and refreshing.’ ”—Margaret Ey tinge, in Detroit Free Dress. Waters on Which the Wind Makes Waves. *• So much lias been said of late re garding the use of oil by vessclmen dur ing heavy storms,” said Lieutenant I Stamm, of the revenue cutter Andy Johnson, “ that many people arc led to believe it reduces a curling, smashing I sea to a liquid mound. It does not ex | actly flatten things about just in that way, but its use causes good results, I there is no doubt of that. And speak ing of oil in water reminds me of the wonderful ‘oil spot,’ a freak of nature that I believe was never fully described. “The ‘oil spot' is situated about ten miles soulh of Sabine Pass into which (lows the Sabine River to the Gulf of Mexico. The river forms the boundary between the States of Louisiana and ! Texas. The ‘oil spot’ extends two miles along shore and seaward about three quarters of a mile. A storm from the northeast, by way of east to southeast has a rake of from three to seven hun dred miles across the Gulf of Mexico into this mystic haven. During a gale this spot is'wonderfully defined. Look ing seaward the scene is grand. An acre of towering foam marks the ab rupt dissolution of the lashing seas as they thunder towards the shore. This occurs in about three fathoms or eighteen feet of w ater, from which the storm-driven crafts, creaking and strain ing in every timber, emerges and sud denly finds'herself reposing like a child rocked in its mother's arms, hemmed in by a wall of wrath where the weary mariner can be lulled to rest ny the roar of the winds. The place is termed the •oil spot,’ not from any known analysis of its nature, but simply from its condi tion; it has no troubled water. It is to be hoped that some scientist will un fold its wonders.”—Miltcaukce Wiscon sin. —Christine Nilsson says that she is delighted to get back to “dear Amer ica. She is to make it her future home,—N. Y. Qrmohi* What Paralysis K So common has become the ocrur renec of paralysis in recent years that many use the word for a slang exprcs- 1 s;on: but for all that, it is probable that a vast majority of the people who think at all of paralysis reckon that it is a dis ease of itself. That some medical men so regard this condition is plain from the fact that deaths are frequently certi- I tied to have lieen caused by it. The in correctness of this notion will, however, be plain when tho conditions which give rise to paralysis are clearly set forth, and this we now propose. A carpenter, black-mith, or some me chanic whose business requires him to wield a hammer, finds some morning that he is unable to raise his hainmer arm: or perhaps while at work the man suddenly feels his arm become numb anti weak, it falls to his side, and he is no longer able to work. The doctor to whom the man applies says: “A brachial monoplegia from niuscie tire,” which means simply that the man has overwrought his hammer-arm, and it needs rest. To these cases the very ap propriate name of “art'sans’ palsy” is given. Again, a poor-blooded, nervous ly-constructed person, most likely a woman, meets with a great shock, or has to endure an unusual and pro longed mental or physical effort. Soon, and perhaps without warning, the indi vidual loses the use of some part of the body, often of the vocal apparatus, ami the patient is unable to speak above a whisper. The doctor says “hysterical paralysis,” or “hysterical aphonia,” loss of voice. Now just how this conies about we fancy it would puzzle the most learned doctor to say. Concern ing this condition, however, as well as the one before mentioned, this much is known, viz.: that by appropriate treat ment t hey recover perfectly and promptly, very good evidence that no [•art of the nervous apparatus is broken. The faith cures reported from time to time are probably cases of the kind ]a*t mentioned. It sometimes happens that an intoxi cated person will fall asleep with the head resting upon an arm or with the arm hanging over a chair back. When the peison wakens the arm is numb; it tingles, and is paralyzed—another “brachial monoplegia,” but really pres __ .. it. . a_i. . . e <1... _— which supply the disabled member has affected those nerves so that they arc unable to perform their usual duty. The nerves which go out from the brain and spinal cord to the extremi ties arc (piite comparable to the wires which arc stretched from place to place for electric communication, and pres sure upon one section of those nerves produces results very like those which follow an interference with the wire. The ease just given illustrates 'cry well a large number of cases of palsy from pressure, for pressure upon the brain or spinal cord or the nerves which have their exit there from will produce a palsy whose ex tent will depend upon the extent of the pressure, and whose durability will de pend upon the chances for removing the pressure. Pressure upon the nerves which supply one side of the face pro- j duces a very characteristic paralysis, i and one that causes many laughable j mistakes on the part of the tyros and ; non-professional people by their at- i tempt to detect the affected side. Pressure upon the brain or spinal cord is mostly due to the presence of tu mors, to fractures of the skull or hones of which the backbone is formed, and to blood clots within the skull or spinal canal. Patients who recover from diphtheria, scarlet fever and some oth er acute sicknesses are frequently paralyzed in some part. These cases generally recover by appropriate treat ment, and it is quite probable that many eases would recover spontane ously. The remarks before made con cerning certain cases which recov er will apply equally to the cases just named. reopie wno wont in lean are uaoio 10 a peculiar form of paralysis, which is first seen, as a rule, in the muscles of the forearm, on account of which the patient is unable to extend the hand upon the arm. At times the whole muscular system is involved. Change of occupation and the use of remedies which will assist the elimination of the mineral from the system is the proper course for such patients. Analagous forms of paralysis are caused by arsenic and mercury, probably by their action upon the nerve structure of the spinal cord. Woorara, the Indian arrow poison, will also produce paralysis if introduced into the system in su'flieient quantities. The paralyzing effect of large doses of alcohol is well known. , Certain conditions of the circulatory ap- I paratus predispose to extensive and often incurable paralysis. The arteries ; are elastic tubes. By age, hard work, i care and the prolonged use of alcoholic j drinks these tubes lose their elasticity j and become brittle. By some event which determines an unusual quantity , of blood in the brain one of these now | elastic tubes is broken, the poured-out blood clots, as before mentioned, and a | paralysis immediately follows. Owing to certain systemic conditions fibrin, a substance normally suspended in the blood, lodges upon the flood- j gates—valves -of the heart. Presently a part of this matter [is dislodged aud washed away into the blood; perchance it reaches an artery in the brain which will not permit it to pass. This at once cuts off the blood supply from a part of the brain, one of the immediate symptoms of which is palsy of the part of the body which receives its nervous supply from that portion of the braiu. These paralyses are usually extensive and are not readily distinguishable from those just mentioned. The-presence of worms in the bowels of children is belived to cause paralysis In some cases. Such cases being due to a known removable cause are de scribed as reflex paralyses. These are not seen alone in children, but in adults as well. Finally, change in the struct ure of the brain or spinal cord produce paralysis, varying in extent with the extent of nerve structure involved. Such paralyses are especially obstinate in those of advanced years. Change of structure in the spinal cord usually produces disability of the legs. Now, these are the most common cftvme? of paralysl«, and, from what has been said, it will bo observed that paralysis is nit a disease of itself. Neither is it always incurable.—N. Y. Mc'liral Jour nal. -• *• ( omhlnation Coupon Tickets, “Gimme a ticket to Kansas City,” said a big-hatted individual in a Broad way railroad ticket office the other day. A n*|>ortor who was standing near says the ticket-seller turned to a huge frame or cabinet that stood against the wall, and seized what appeared to be a card 1 tearing the legend "Kansas City.” The card, however, proved to be a strip of paper a half-yard in length, upon which were printed several cards. Between these the paper was perforated so that each card could be readily detached from the others. These cards were coupon tickets over the several rail roads which are comprised in a route by rail between New York and Kansas City. The first read “New York to Buffalo,” the next "Buffalo to Detroit,” the third “Detroit to Chicago,” the fourth “Chicago to St. Louis,’ and the fifth “St. Louis to Kansas City.” Each coupon was over a different railroad, and the price paid in the Broadway of fice of the railroad running out of Now York was for all of them clear through to the terminus of the journey. If the purchaser had obtained his tickets separately that is, bought them of each road as he passed over it the cost would have been nearly double what it was when bought here, con veniently, over all the roads at one t ime. “Canyou sell a person a ticket over any other route to Kansas City?” asked a reporter of the ticket agent. “Certainly. After sending you to Buffalo over our road I can give you your choice of about thirty different routes, the price of the ticket being the same over all of them ” “But how in the world do you keep track of all these coupons, and give each road its share of the price of a ticket?” “You had better inquire at the Gen eral Passenger Agent’s office for that kind of information.” Later the reporter put the question to Mr. Henry Monnett, General Passenger Agent of the New York, West Shore & Buffalo Railroad. • •_ I! . If ...1.___ _ 11 17 7 1 I I ■ | ' I I l nr u»7» II ” IH.II I VU VIH V understand it,” replied Mr. Mon nett. “As an illustration: Suppose you should want to go to some po;nt on a railroad with which we connect, say to Stam ford. We send you to Kingston over our road, and then on to Stamford over the Union & Delaware Railroad. The ticket from Kingstou to Stamford reads issued by our road on account of the Union & Delaware. That ti ket is numbered and classified, say ‘No. 5fi, form 112.’ Our ticket agent keeps a stub of the ticket bearing the same number. The conductor who takes up the ticket sends it hack to our auditor, and the latter secs its number and form. In order to ascertain just what the ticket called for, the amount of money it brought, and the roads it was over, we refer to what we call a ‘form' or ‘route’ book. Each form represents a route. For instance, ‘form 112’ we will say is New York to Stamford via the Union & Delaware. The auditor discovers the form and the rates. “By mutual agreement when tickets were sold over two or more roads, at whatever rate, the roads all share the rate pro rata per mile. Our auditor then takes ticket No. 56, form 112, and credits the Union & Delaware with its pro rata of the through fare from New York to Stamford. The auditor of the Union & Delaware takes its coupon, and by reference to its form book traces the ticket to its original source and charges our road accordingly. At the end of each month settlements between the roads are made, and the difference in favor of the one or the other is made good in money. All ticket agents are required to send in an account oi every ticket that has been in their possession during the month previous, and by a glance at our books we know the exact location of every ticket that has been issued. You may have noticed in ticket-frames in the agents’ offices coupon tickets that have been hanging there for so long that they have become dusty and faded. Yet those tickets are never more than a month old, and al though they might hang in that frame one hundred years they would never be lost sight of. * The system, as explained in the illustration, is the same no mat ter how many roads the ticket may call for passage over. Each road's auditor, when it receives its coupon from its conductor, or other ticket collector, sees upon the face of the ticket by which road it was issued, refers to the route, determines its pro rata, and charges the road by which it was originally issued for its share. The stub the station agent keeps is his record of sale, by which he can check off charges made against him by the auditors.” “Then you have tickets printed for every town in the country, do you?” asked the reporter. “ Well, we have scarcely been organ ized long enough for that, but will have them very shortly. An old-established railroad like the Pennsylvania has had printed many thousands of forms of tickets, perhaps tive, or six, or seven thousand different forms, or even more. Railroads that may form only a part of the most circuitous route from point to point in the country make a fuss if they are not included in some of the forms, and so tickets have to be printed for them. There have been very many im provements in the construction of rail road tickets in late years. Before they were made there had to be five forms of tickets to each point, at least to each of the principal points, tirst, second and third class, limited ard unlimited tick ets. For instance: A connecting road might have taken stations. It might require coupons over those other roads to reach that road and then coupons for each station along it. That would re quire sixty forms of tickets for that one road by each route to it. Now the tick ets are printed with spaces to be punched out designating class and whether lim ited or unlimited. All the stations on the road are printed on the one coupon and the name of the station intended to be reached is also punched out.’’— N. Y. Momma Journal, PERSONAL AND LITERARY. —President Arthur pays taxes in New York on $286,000 worth of property.— N. Y. Times. —It is said that Henry Ward Beecher netted $13,000 by his recent lecturing tour.—Brooklyn Eagle. —M. Worth, the Parisian fashion king, is tiftv-five years old, fat. pleasant looking and very bald-headed. - Miss Chamberlain, the famous beauty who has been the social sensa tion in England for a couple of years, has returned to her Cleveland home.— Cleveland Lender. —John L. Stoddard, the lecturer upon European travel, who began his course in the Brooklyn Academy the j other night, receives $22,000 a year sal ary anil all his expenses from his mana gers.—,V. Y. Bun. —Mrs. Reynolds, daughter of El mira's millionaire, l)r. Eldridge, has created a sensation there by sending i her husband adrilt because he was spending the $2,000,000she had inherit ed, foolishly.—Buffalo (N. Y.) Express. —Rev, 11. Root, a bank President at Valley City, Dakota, sued the Times of that place for $17,000 damages for charging him with perjury, embezzle ment and stealing Sunday-school cop pers. The jury awarded him six cents. —D< ! roil Post. —Bill Nvc, the Western humorist, has resigned tlie postmastership he held in Laramie City, as well as his connection with the Boomerang. He has concluded to publish a book to be called “Baled Hay.” He thinks the title an improve ment upon Walt Whitman’s “Leavesof Grass.”—Chicago Journal. — Rosa Bonheur is sixty-one years | old, but is said to be full of energy and ( in excellent health. In conversation with a young artist not long ago she said: “My dear, you can't afford to ig nore the opinion of the world, even in small things. If you do, you are sure to suffer. It doesn't pay to be eccen tric, even if your eccentricity helps you along in your studies. Yoit must re member that all studies are a means to | an end.and you are to sacrifice nothing, ] nothing whatever, that can defeat or hinder that end.—-V. Y. Graphic. —The editor of the Christian Com monwealth, being asked if it is right for Christians to read novels, answers as follows: “We do not see any more wrong in reading a novel than in read ! ing anything else, provided that novel | is worth reading at all. Truth may be ! set forth in fiction in a very forcible j wav. Tjio parables of the New Testa i ment are for the most part doubtless | constructed with imaginary characters, i but they are for the purpose of teaching some important truth. When a novel does the same thing it may be read with I profit. Still, we do not recommend the I reading of novels where the tendency is to destroy the taste for more substan tial reading.” HUMOROUS. —One thousand dollars in gold weighs four pounds. That is why so many newspaper men are round-shouldered.— 1 Chicago Telegram. —Darwin says th* t the monkey' can ! blush. He certainly ought to when he sees the way his descendants are cut ting up.—Burlington Free Press. —A case is on record where a barber and his victim were both happy. The former talked on without interruption, and t he latter was deaf.—N. T. Mail. —Offended: “I did not think my cousin would have taken oflense ” said Mrs. Ramsbotham, “but to my'surprise he retired in high gudgeon.”—London Punch. —“Yes,’’ said Tawmus, “Mr. Byrnes monkey is a most extraordinary fellow; lie’ll do any thing for a new sensation. Why, the other day he tried speaking the truth. ”—Boston Post. —“Oh,” blushingly said the young lady who had been offered congratula tions by a friend, “ I’m not engaged yet—but”—and she blushed more deeply—“ I expect to be by next week.” The congratulations held over.—Lowell Citizen. -A UUlUltU n ivi m «ivi uiv day to remark confidentially to a friend: “Yes’m, I done write to my gcmman frien’ dat de next time I set de day fur de ceremony it'll have to come otf; an' he knows Ps in earnest, for 1 put it in parenthesis.”—Chicago Trib une. —Of the rich newspaper men, James Gordon Bennett tuns two yachts and four-in-hands; Robert Bonner is the owner of one hundred and seventy horses; Charles A. Dana keeps a Pull man parlor car, while we are putting in a foundation for a barn.—Marlboro 'limes. —“Begorra!” said an inebriated Hi bernian, the other day, as he saw a Chinaman’s head sticking out of a coal hole in the pavement, “phat do thim haythin divils care for a trade, at all, at all, whin they’ve dug a tunnel elane through, so they have?”—San Fran cisco tost. —John Gyumbcr, the famous Hun garian sleeper, was married a few days ago. From which it may be inferred that John has not yet got bis eyes open; but married life will open them for him, and keep him awake, if auythiug will. As the poet would say: “Not another long slumber fo" John Gj umber.”— Norristown Herald. —“Papa, can t I go to the store and get me a new dress?” “Why, child, you have got plenty of good dresses.” “Yes. papa, but they are out of style.” “Nonsense, girl! the trees always come out in the same style every spring.don t they?” “Yes, papa, and they always look green, too.” “All right, go to the store and get a dress.”—Boston Post. —“You certainly play very well,” said the music-teacher, encouragingly, “but you have not had good Instruc tion. If you will promise to practice four hours daily I will make an artist of you in two years, and ouly charge you my regular rates. By the way, where do you live?” “Next door; just got lodgings there.” “Oh! ah! yes—I for got to say that your fingering is bad. and it is now too late to correct it. Take my advice and give up music al together. "—Chioago Tim«f I '—b Temperance. _ THE TEHI'EHAXE QUESTION IN THE Pl'BLIC MCHOOLH. [An AdftfPM by II. .1. Tice, Principal of a Pub lie School at Mariner s Ha bor, N. V.) We are all warring, each in his own way, aga nst a common foe: but the do ma ns of King Alcohol are of vast ex tent. The slaves that compose his army are inflamed with avarice and ap petite. There can be no hope tiien of overthrowing him by a dashing charge or driving him forth by some brilliant stroke of policy. The war against in temperance has lieen and will continue to be a long anil weary one. So the sooner we make up our minds and con vince the people that the Temperance reformers have “come to stay,” the bet ter it will be for us and for them. Years of experience in the work have shown that when once the drunkard is enchained by his appetite for drink the bonds that bind him are so strong that nothing but the special grace of God can save him. To prevent is easier and better than to reform. And while no effort should be spared to reclaim the fallen and remove temptation from the path of all, I hold there is another and by far more hopeful and productive work. I mean that of systematically in structing the young in the first princi ples of Temperance. That grand old Greek, Socrates, was not so far out of the way when he do- ■ eiared that he who fully knows what is right will do what is right. In spite of the doctrine of total depravity I can not but believe that there is something splendid in human nature, especially child nature, which will instinctively shun evil when once the folly and sin are. shown it, and love and cherish truth and right, if truth and right are clearly taught it. The people perish for the lack oj knowleilge; and when they know more they will do better. Our laws are our sentiments cry-tal ized; and laws ahead of public opinibn ! can not be enforced. Hence, it is all important that public opinion be edu cated in the direction of right. \Ve can not save the seventy thousand human beings who yearly stagger into drunk ard's graves. Hut we can train their children so that they will shun and de spise intoxicating drinks, and work for the total suppression of the trallie in iiiem. we rignuy emicaie me young they will soon create a public opinion strong enough to make Prohibition pos sible. Bi tter than this, they will exert ! a moral force irresistible and more ef fective in itself than all ttic Prohibitory ! laws ever enacted. The work already done by Temper ance schools. Bands of Hope and other organisations has been both great and encouraging: the influence of such so cieties, however, is of necessity limited, and complete results can never be brought about till a thorough and scien tific Temperance education is given each of the ten million pupils who at tend our public schools. This can be done by enacting laws making the teachings of Temperance principles compulsory. Popular opin ion should be intelligent enough to de mand prompt action toward such legis lation. It isn't so. It will be so. And it ought to begin to be so now. Our public schools were instituted to train up, not mere scholars, but good citizens, pure women and true men. Our Pilgrim Fathers, building, not in the gray twilight of dawning experi- j euce, but with the beams of all the j centuries pouring upon them, laid deep i in religion and morality the founds- j tions of the American school system. ( In one of the old Massachusetts laws, and it has the ring of sound educational doctrine, they declared: ‘‘It shall be j the duty of all public instructors of ; youth to impress on the minds of pupils ! committed to their care the principles of piety and justice and a sacred regard for truth, love of their country, hu manity and universal benevolence, so briety, industry and frugality, chastity, moderation and Temperance, and those other virtues which are the ornament ui societyv auu me u»>is upua which a republ cau government is founded.” To give a healthy development to i mind and body, a right purpose in life and sound morality, these are the ob jects of our common schools. If we train the intellect only, chemistry and penmanship will be as 1 kely to become the tools of the forger and the dyna- ! mite plotter as to become the support of law-abiding citizens. When our institutions of learning are confined to imparting certain branches of knowledge the State will cease at once to have the right of levying pro rata taxes for their support. Since these things are so, it follows, logically, that it is our right, it is our duty, to teach the bene fits of Temperance and the evils and sin of intemperance. This may be done di rectly by recitations from special text books, charts, black-board exercises and object lessons; or incidentally by means of papers, simple experiments and familiar talks. All that is necessary is that the work L-e thorough and the facts firmly impressed on the minds of the pupils. In regard to text-books, shak ing from my own experience, I would recommend Colman’s “Catechism on Alcohol” for primary classes, “Alcohol and Hygiene" for higher grades, and l)r. Richardson's “Temperance Lesson Book” for those still farther advanced. We should impress the facts that alco hol is a poison, and enfeebles, disar ranges and destroys every bodily func tion, and docs the partaker no good in return; that every dollar spent tor it is wasted; that it is the oh’.ef cause of poverty and crime; that it robs men of energy, ambition, honor—every thing dear and valuable, and prevents them from rising in the world to places of wealth, trust and distinction. All know the lasting effects of early impressions and how eager children are to be taught any subject which is new and attractive, and no teacher with tact can fail to make the study of Temper ance interesting. It need not interfere with other work, and the teacher should not rely entirely upon a repetition of the horrors of intemperanoe. nor pour ing unlimited invectives upon liquor dealers. If judgment is used there will be little or no opposition. No one can cry out: “You're after money,” or, “You’re after votes.” If they say some Temper ance people are fanatical, it will only be the test of reasons why they should f not object to the teaching of sober com 1 won sense anil the facts of science. The | idea of one's own child becoming a sot j is so revolting that every parent will ! shrink front considering the hare possi bility of it. Already laws have been passed in Minnesota, Vermont and Michigan placing among the required studies in all schools supported by public money or under State control. “ physiology and hygiene, which shall give special prominence to the effects of alcoholic drinks upon the human system.” and all teachers must he examined in this as in other necessary studies. By cir culating petitions and by other means, compulsory Temperance education can lie secured in every State. For men will vote for the education of their children sooner than for Prohibi tion. It should be understood, however, that teachers have al ready a perfect legal right to give such instruction. They should begin now. It is our duty to work for com pulsory legislation, not wait for it. Scientific teaching for theyoung is at once a means and an end of Temperance reform, but I do not argue that it is the only means, nor the only end. The whole work should be pushed on and enthusiasm aroused from pulpit, press and platform; and with our churches, our schools, our noble women, and the eternal right on our side, what can we not accomplish? With slender means against odds overwhelming, the Woman's Christian Temp-ranee Lnion. ‘ for God, and home and native land,” has gained victories inestimable; they have achieved results which shall reach forward through time into eternity; they have done a work which is beyond all praise. And in view of this what can we not expect from our grand army of two hundred and seventy thousand teachers who have so much greater fa cilities, and who can reach, as no other can, the homes of lifty millions of people. All that remains is for the teaeher to be faithful to her trust. Of the fruits of our labor we may never partake. We can carefully sow the seen; and for the harvest trust in Him "who doeth all things well.” Drunkenness and Crime. ■ ■■ ^ Judging from verdicts of the juries, the decisions of courts and the testi mony of “society,” one would infer that a man who puts an enemy into his mouth which steals away his brains and then commits a crime is more ex cusable than he who, in the sudden im pulse of passion, lifts his hand and deals injuries to the man who has in sulted him. The latter has been mas tered by his surprise, and his repent ance is as sudden as his crime. The former has been coolly going onward, perhaps for years, repeating daily the siu of which he has ceased to repent, and putting himself in such a condi tion of IhkFv and mind as to be ready on the slightest provocation to break the laws of the land and injure his fel lows. The common law of England, which has become the law of this coun try, has always held that drunkenness is' an artificial, voluntarily contracted madness which, depriving men of their reason, puts them in a temporary frenzy and is an aggravation of the of fense' rather than an excuse for anv criminal misbehavior. “A drunkard, says Sir Edward Coke, “ who is mlun tarius daemon hath no privilege there by. but what hurt or ill soever he doth his drunkenness doth aggravate it.” A law of Pittacus in Greece enacted that he who committed a crime when drunk should receive a double punish ment, one for the crime itself and the other for the inebriety which prompted him to commit it. 'Fhe earlier statutes of Massachusetts regarded the first ex cess of an inebriate as criminal and punished it as a crime, but our present laws only allow a tine for the first of fense and a tine or imprisonment for the second. Our Judges, taking their tone from this moderation, are very apt to “let off” persons who have com mitted another offense against the law wirn a nmu pumsnmeni, wneu me ex cuse of intoxication is offered. A case in point occurred in Pittsfield recently, where Justice Gamwell let a young man off with a fine and costs who had “taken enough liquor to make him mean ami ugly,” and in that condition kicked a pail of berries out of an old man's hand and put his finger out of joint, on the young ruffian’s pleading that he would not nave done it had ho not been drinking! Under the common laiv and the statutes of this and other States this violent depriving a man of the use of one of his lingers is a crime called mayhem, and punishable by im prisonment or by a fine and imprison ment; and a Judge who listens to such an excuse as intoxication for so grave an offence degrades the majesty of the law and brings his own office and him self into disrespect. Nearly every day we read of, if we do not witness, some brute who, for the sake of a base per sonal gratification, gets himself into such a condition — becomes the “ voluntary demon” of Lord Coke —that he has to vent his passions on all about him, beats his wife and children almost, if not quite, to death, and if they are only maimed he is “let off” with a tine, or if they are killed, the chances are about equal that a maudlin jury will either ac quit him or find him guilty with a rec ommendation to mercy! Beyond all controversy, drunkenness is only re garded aright when it is considered and treated as a crime. “As a vicious and inexcusable selfishness, hateful to man. abhorred of God, destructive of virtue and ruinous to happiness, it has within itself all the sin and misery and infamy of a crime,” and should be so treated by Judges, juries and the community; and not until then will it cease to be so common, and its baneful influence so extensive. It is wonderful that whole communities are stirred to their founda tions, and wholesale laws enacted against the manufacture and sale of in toxicating liquors when even in such a State as Massachusetts religion, philan thropy and all the best interests are set at defiance by the passions of those who drink, and the interest of those who supply, and the cowardice or incom petent-}’ of those who execute the law? —Springfield (Muss.) Republican. —By popular vote, eighteen counties in Georgia have abolished fences,