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•3 -St, HUE EEfBOOF, Underneath a shady tree' Slain1c.ed a y°uth a. maid to see, OU t.huLc0°1, sequestered a ook *a"d,ered wlth a book out the heat her senses dulled, InsefitB* drone to slumber lulled. And the author was so deep She had fallen fast asleep. Spying her thus slumbering there, "«i® lr*e\ innocent and fair, "f «e stole softly up behind, Y'nt'y the Birlinclinod, -tl and, half fearing breath to take Pfrchance, she might awake As the bee street ho'ney sips, Boldly kined her pouting lips. V4 Wakened thus, in shy surprise, •. niaid cast down her lovely eyes* And the youth began to try His rash act to justify, "I know," said he that I did wrong, Bnt my temptation was to Btrong, Such a melting mouth as this Surely was but made to kiss." per still the maiden blushed, sier yet her sweet face flushed, i*ower down she drooped her hear t»? m°dest & air she said: "It was wrong, most certainly, Thus to 8teal a kiss from me, I was sound asleep, and you— Might just as well have taken two!" —From the Somerville Journal. TOO MUCH MONEY. BY EMMA A. OPPEE. The long dining room of a pleasant New York hotel was fast filling, at 7 p. m. of a cool autumn day and the bright gaslight, the soft warmth, the flying waiters, the subdued clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversa tion combined to make it as cheerful a room as possible. A party of three sat at a table near its center—a portly gentleman and two young ladies. If the latter were targets for the wandering glances of the male occu pants of the surrounding tables, cer tainly it was not surprising, since both were, in widely different styles, strikingly pretty. Moreover, they were calmly oblivious of the admira tion they excited. They ate their soup with a business-like concentration which bespoke healthy appetites, and a profound indifference to the approv al of strange gentlemen. .It was not .until the waiter was gracefully removing the Boup plates that the silence was broken. Then, Alice Gardner, glancing at her father "to make sure that he had fallen into Tiis usual table reverie, turned her blue eyeij upon the dark haired,rather pensive faced girl, at her side—her cousin and her father's ward. "Supposing he comes right on after us, Nettie? Supposing he left the is land on the next boat?" she said, half mischievously, "What shall you do?' Nettie Avery's soft, somewhat ro mantic eyes gathered afro wn hei grasp upon the lemon she was squeezing on her oysters grew rather fierce. "Refuse him again, if necessary," she said, firmly. "It's no laughing matter,'' she added, severely, seeing her cousin on the verge of a smile. "Not for poor Harry, certainly," re sponded Alice, with a touch of indig nation. Nettie laid down her fork and gazed reproachfully into the other's fair face. "Shall I never be understood? Shall 'I never find a sympathiser?" she mur mured. "Not in me," said Alice, with candid -promptness. "I don't understand why you have refused as rich, and well behaved, and nice looking, and good •tempered, and altogether sweet a fel low as^Harry Miller, and all your high .'flown reasons don't make it a bit ^clearer. She looked defiantly at her cousin, who continued to empty her half shells with the air of a martyr. "I never could have treated Dwight so," Alice went on, with a fond glance at the diamond sparkling on her left hand "andldon'tsee—good gracious, Nettie, there he is!" Nettie turned with a start. A jolly looking young man was in the act of sitting down at a distant table. His roving eyes fell upon the two young ladies as he unfolded Ilia napkin, and he smiled and bowed eagerly. "I told you!" said Alice, triumph antly. "I knew it. He followed you on the next boat." "I am not surprised," said Nettie, in an injured tone. "He has taken away my appetite," she added, plaint ively. "I don't care for dessert I'm going upstairs." She brushed a stray crumb from her brown satin lap, and left the table while Alice unsympathetically or dered steak and mushrooms from the Waiter. But shfc' was only half way up the stairs when the bell boy rush ing after her, thrust a card into her hand. "The gentleman wants to see you in theparlor,"he informed her. Nettie hesitated. Then she turned and walked with dignity down the stairs and into thereception room. Harry Miller was waiting near the door. "I was anxious to seeyou," he said, as he grasped her hand warmly, "and I didn't lose any time." Incited, he held his napkin still clutched in one hand. Nettie smiled slightly. Then she checked the smile and replaced it with a frown. "There is nothing to be gained by seeing me, Mr. Miller," she said coldly, moving away from him. "Don't say so!" said the young man, following her hastily. "I've been thinking it over, Miss Avery, what you said to me at the island— and I can't think you mean it. Be cause, hard as I've tried, I can't un derstand it any better than I did then!" "I can go over it again, I suppose," said Nettie, wearily, discreetly inter posing a chair betweeen herself and ner lover, "you are well off, Mr. Miller. I won't say rich its a vulgar .word, and I hate it. You are well off, and so am I. Now, for two rich—well off—people to marry, and selfishly settle down to enjoying their disgust ing money, and never think of the of the poor, and never visit hospitals and prisons, nor subscribe to chari ties, and grow more and more solf satisfied and narrow-minded and hardrhearted—" Nettie paused for breath, with her dark eyas glowing. "But we wouldn't need to do all A that," said Harry, with something of a gasp. "But we would!" said Nettie, de cidedly. "They all do." "I'll celebrate our wedding day by subscribing five thousand to a hospi tal and founding a public library," the young man declared. But Nettie only frowned. "I'm to. conclude, then," Harry went on, musingly, "tha't'lt's because I've too much money. Supposing I make it all over to you. Then I'll be a pauper and it will be a charity in you to marry me." Nattiff regarded him sharply. She was not quite sure as to,, whether or not he were making light 'Of the -sub ject. "Yours is a view of the subject which I had never considered," Harry continued, with much gravity. "It would be wrong, then, for a mill ionaire—with a fortune equal to twice yours and mine together—to marry at all?" Nettie turned to the door. She was no longer in doubt as to whether he were making fun of her and she stepped past him frigidly. "Don't gol" said the young man, with repentant fervor. "I shall not remain here," said Net tie, severely, "to listen to jokes upon a serious subject—a subject,moreover, upon which my mind is fully made up!" She swept through the door and up the stairs. The young man stood for a moment staring after heriielplessly but ended by going back to his din ner. "I've seen him in the parlor," Nettie announced, when her cousin joined her in their room a little later, "and I don't think he'll trouble me again." Alice took the dish of "frozen pud ding" from the waiter who had follow ed her, and passed it in resigned si lencer "I've, brought you some cream," 3he said, "but you don't deserve it. Such a dear fellow!—almost as nice as Dwight. I can't understand it with all your ridiculous explanations. Money! Why, I'm sure I never should have refused Dwight on account of his money I think it an additional advantage. Of courseyou won't con fess it but you've got your queer no tions out of some absurd novel or other, Nettie Avery! I haven't the slightest patience with you!" "You don't understand," said Net tie, regarding her cousin with an ex pression such as John Rogers might have worn at the stake. "Indeed I do not?" said Alice, em phatically. Nettie's prophesy proved true. Mr. Miller did not trouble her again. He bowed to her with great politeness three times a day across a dozen in tervening tables, but he did not again send up his card, nor in any way at tempt another interview. "Do reconsider it Nettie," Alice im plored, when this had gone on forfour days. "Papa is talking of taking us or%to Boston for a month or so. This is your last chance." "Chance!" echoed Nettie, indignant ly—"chance! Chance to lose all my principles, all my independence to sink into a cold-hearted monster, a selfish, purse-proud creature, a mere lay figure ior line clothes?" "That would be dreadful!" Alice re sponded, with a wicked glance at Net tie's charming toilet—"shocking!" "You will never understand," said Nettie, with forbearing meekness. "Poor HarryT' said Alice, compas sionately. "I'd marry him myself if Dwight weren't on the point of drag ging me down to the dreadful level you mention. Only it isn't me he cares for." The next day was Wednesday, and Alice, returning from a solitary walk, flourished two matinee tickets in her cousin's face. "We've only time to lunch and get ready," she said. They had hardly time for that, for when they took their seats at the the ater, the first act was well under way. It was a light comedy—a combina tion of catching songs and mild humor. Nettie was not deeply attentive. She folded her play bill into compli cated shapes, and regarded the acro batic hero absent-mindedly. Perhaps it was this distraction that caused her, during the intermis sion, while Alice was industriously studying the synopsis of the second act, to listen more intentlyj to the conversation of two gentlemen di rectly behind her, or perhaps it was the word "Miller" which she caught. "Young Miller, you know—in the iron business," the speaker contin ued. "He's lost every cent he had no small amount, either. Bad job." Nettie felt her heart thumping. "Young Miller, and in the iron busi ness!" Harry was in the iron busi ness—it was Harry they were talking about. pity he determined in difference "with which she had hither to regarded the young man. A sudden rush of pity and commis took the place of tne determined Hi was in trouble. She felt a strong impulse to: go tbliim, and sympathize, condole—she hardly knew what. But she obeyed the impulse, as she was wont to do. She tossed her opera glass into its red plush bag. "I'm going," she said to her cousin. "No, no, you needn't come I'm per fectly well." And she whisked up the aisle before Alice could remonstrate. At the entrance of the hotel she was seized withanervous indecision. What should she do? Should she send ab9y to' summon him? or write him a note? or— That point was settled by the ap pearance of Mr. Miller himself, button ing his' pale-hued fall overcoat as he stepped briskly into the street. He bowed pleasantly, and looked considerably astonished as Nettie placed an impetuous hand on his arm and turned him back. "I am so sorry for you, Mr. Miller," she began, gently, as he closed the par lor door behind them.- "I have heard about it, and I came right off that minute to assure you of my sympathy. Of course, I don't consider that it's anything to regret—losing your money —but I know it must be inconvenient, not having any, and I want to tell you how sorry I am." Harry's good humored face had grown serious—even solemn. He put his hat brim to his lips and coughed. "Where did you hear it?" he said, somewhat faintly. "At the matinee," Nettie responded. "Two gentlemen were talking behind me. I could hardly wait to see you. I-" Harry took a step forward, and stood looking down eagerly into her pretty, flushed face. "Now, that the cause of your objec tion is removed," he murmured, "you'll have me, won't you? Promise me! There is nothing to fear no\^. We shall not become cold, and selfii" narrow minded, and— What rest Promise me-- and was the quick!" Hotv, in the face of such logic, could she resist? At any rate, when Alice returned from the matinee, her cousin met her with the announcement of her engage ment, and the news of Harry's altered fortunes. "Lost his money!" Alice repeated, incredulously, and subjected the other to a close examination, as to the the manner of her hearing the news and Harry's treatment of the subject at the end of which process she mere ly laughed, with strange inappiopri ateness. "He's going to take me for a drive to-morrow"," said Nettie, passing over this mysterious mirth with gentle dig nity. "I told him that it was an ex travagance for a person in his posi tion, but he was so anxious to cele brate our engagement. He promised not to repeat it." She was much annoyed by the ap pearance, next morning, of a huge of red rose-buds, with her lover's card attached. He really has no idea of economy!" she said, with a frown. But she fastened half the bunch at her breast, when she dressed for her drive, and looked herself not unlike a rosebud. It was a charming little conveyance which bore them up the avenue, and Nettie felt all the exhilaration which a pretty girl, faultlessly dressed, driving in an irreproachable equipage, with a good looking young gentleman hold ing the reins, must necessarily feel. But she forced a look of severity in to her soft eyes. "This is extravagant, Harry," she said—"recklessly extravagant. I shan't go again." Harry laughed. Then lie grew serious and seemed to be pulling himself together for an effort of some sort. "Its my own trap, Nettie," he said, "and I intend you shall go oiten. I've imposed on you shamefully. I haven't lost my money,and shan't in a hurry, I reckon. But that doesn't alter our engagement, mind you. You must st,ick to your bargain, little girl, he concluded, in tender triumph. Nettie pulled a bud from the bunch and picked it to pieces slowly. "Whom were they talking about?" she asked, lifting a bewildered face, "How should I know?" said her lov er, laughing. "There are probably hundreds of Millers in the iron busi ness I don't keep track of them. But you're irrevocably bound to me, my dear," ho went on, gently. "You wouldn't break a solemn promise, would you? You wouldn't make me the most miserable being on earth, simply because I've had the misfor tune not to lose my money? Bosides, you'er just a little fond of me, aren't you?" Nettie looked up at the overhanging trees, as they entered the park. Her response was not heroic, but it filled her lover's soul with peace. "How Alice will laugh," she said softly. Chit-Chnt of New York. Among the "Social Chit-Chat" in the New York Mail and Express we find the following: And now the fashionable divorce seeking woman at Newport settles down to make the winter months glide by as quickly as possible. Newspaper reporters are apparent ly the only ones who take any interest in the affairs of something that is called the "fashion of the dudes." ".Squandered and mismanaged es tate," is the excuse some shrewd soci ety women now give for not giving elaborate entertainments this season. In a majority of cases the scandals in which young men about town are so frequently implicated are directly attributable to brandy and soda. It is said to be sarcasm to send to people in Canada invitations to peo ple in New York, which, if accepted, would lead to their arrest. At very few wedding receptions now adays is their any exhibition of the wedding presents. Whether the presents are two free, or whether the custom has been abandoned as os tentations, society doesn't say. One of the newest of society's cus toms is to withhold all annoueement of the matrimonial engagement until a day or two before the wedding. Never before have the feuds, jeal ousies, spites and prejudices been so marked in fashionable society as at present. The "mission comes none too soon. There are people malicious enough to say that a trip to Europe in winter means in fashionable society eithrr trouble, scandal or a necessity for economy. Too much portable bric-a-brac in houses where they give afternoon re ceptions is said to be a temptation some highly fashionable women have been quite unable to resist. It is a true story that $5,000 was the sum paid an actress of small re pute last month to release a silly Ar thur Pendennis from a promise he made to marry her and go to Europe. Pompey and the 'Possum. Washington letter to The Philadelphia Rec ord. Of course, you have heard the olas sic 'possum story which is always told when 'possum is mentioned? No? Well, an old darkey once caught a 'possum one cold Thanksgiving Day, and taking it home to his cabin, built up the fire and put it in the pot. Then he lay down, tired out, with his feet to the fire, darkey fashion, and went to sleep. As he lay there snoring while the 'pos sum simmered in the pot his son, a limber, bright-eyed youth, glided into the cabin. He took in the situation in a moment. The 'possum was ready to be eaten and its strong aroma filled the room. Stepping softly to the fire the graceless youth took the 'possum out of the pot and rapidly devoured its gamey flesh, chuckling softly to himself as he did so. When he had eaten all there was to eat he gathered the bones in a little pile beside the fire place, and then smeaiing a little of the 'possum grease on the mouth and no.so of the sleeping man he stole softly out. By and by old Pompey awoke. The air was redolent of boiled 'possum— the old man's mouth watered. Rising slowly to his feet he took of the lid of the pot and- looked in. "Jerusha mighty!" he exclaimed, "it's done gone." Then glancing down at the fireplace, he saw the whitened bones, and passing his hand over his mouth he felt aud smelled the'possum greaje. A broad smile spread over his puzzled face: "Good Lawd!" he cxclaimcd, "I done forgot 1 ate himl" KISSES ABE HENTmJl* Scenes at the Steamboat Fieri—Emotional Greetings and Partings. New York Tribune.—There is no de nying that people are fond of watching other people kiss. Young and old,male and female, alike take an interest in it. In the young men it perhaps stirs exuberant anticipations of what he hopes is in store for him some day in the old man it perchance awakens deliciously sad memories of days that are fled forever. But, so far as anal ysis can determine, it appears that most men are fond of looking on while osculatory salutions are being dis pensed, out of "purecusseaness. The young women may peep at the kissing behind a fan and giggle affectedly, and the old woman may protest that Bhe is much shocked, but somehow they all seem to enjoy being on hand when kissing i3 going on. Observe with what breathless em&tion the theatrical audience, composed of all manner of people, watches the receipt and deliv ery of stage kisses. The best place to see kissing is on a pier when some big ocean steamer ar rives or departs. A big Cunarder is being slowly warped into her dock. The pier is black wit people who have come to meet their friends. There are husbands on the lockout for wives, wives expecting their husbands, par ents seeking their children and lovers prepared to greet their sweethearts. The big ship on the side nearest the pier is also crowded with human freight. Tokens of recognition have been exchanged. The lips of several young men and women tremble and pucker. The excitement and breezy air lend a fine glow to the cheeks of many of the girls, and their eyes flash and dance like sunbeams. A man can hardly help wishing that he was broth er or cousin or sweetheart or some thing to half a dozen of them. At length the ship is alongside, and the gang-plank is stretched. Previous ly there has been a short but sharp struggle to get the vantage ground at either end, which will secure the first exchange of kisses. On the steamer, a buxom matron, fair and forty, has crowded her way to the front, pushing aside some half dozen younger women. She rushes down the plank as though she had received a sudden impetus from the hind leg of a mule. But affection is a great incent ive to ability. She is met at the end of the plank by her faithful spouse. Jeewliack! whatahug. "Smack-smack pop-pop" again and again. She sails into half a dozen small fry, boys and girls, gives each a hug and a kiss and then begins over again. All this is wholesome and sweet, but. it is not what the admirer of the art of kissing comes out to see. There is nothing in it "to tickle his fancy. But close on the heels of the buxom woman follows a stalwart, bronze-cheeked young fel low who has rather rudely pushed ahead of a bunch of girls. He dives into the crowd until he reaches a pret ty girl who is accompanied by an el deily woman, perhaps a maiden aunt. He takes her in his arms—not the aunt, but tho pretty girl—and gets in half a dozen before she can gasp, "Oh! George.'' Then she recovers and .gives him three or four. He gets rid of some little more exuberant af fection bestowing three or four kisses on the maidon aunt. Observers, how ever, take no interest in the latter part, of the performance. There are things more interestinggoing on kisses are now flying around thicker than flies around a sugar-bowl in summer time. "Pop-pop, smack-smack, tish pish." Every sort of osculatory sound is heard in blended confusion. The bewildered spectator doesn't know which way to turn to catch what is best worth seeing, and is ex asperated by the thought that he can not take it all in. Now a pretty girl, with golden hair streaming in the wind flies, rather than runs, down thegaug plank—a vision of exquisite beauty. A dozen pair of eyes are focused on her. She gives her "ma" and "pa" six or seven kisses each, and some burly brothers three or four apiece. Then a young man who had been hanging in the background comes for ward and gets only two inaudible kisses of the "touch-and-go" sort ac companied by blushes, but there is a good deal of condensed senti ment in them. The observers with singular unanimity concludes that he is the girl's sweethaart, and cast envious glances at him and wonder if he appreciates his good luck. Their feeling were not much disturbed by the kisses the brothers got. They had all "been there"—more or less— but of the other sort their collective experience aggregated a much smaller amount. There is some perfunctory kissing, but not much. A sea voyage seems to inspire people otherwise only ordina rily demonstrative to go in for oscula tory collisions with agreat deal of genu ine energy, when the port of destina tion is reached and old friends are greeted. Here a superbly dressed young lady walks leisurely down the gang-plank who furnishes an exception to this rule. She won't display any haste. That would be bad form. She is a proud, languid, emotionless sort of a beauty. She merely presents her cheek to a handsomeyoung fellow who rushes forward to meet her. He looks decidedly disconcerted, as though he would have preferred a saluation of the sort which other girls are so plentifully bestowing. His rue ful look doesn't escape notice, and in stantly speculation is set at work to account for him. The general suppo sition is that he is engaged to the girl, that she doesn't care much for him, but has resolvedto try matrimony as offering a possible escape from ennui. He doesn't get much sympathy. When the woods are full of genuine warm-hearted girls, he ought to have made a wiser choice, One notices that a great deal of kiss ing and embracing Detween women goes on and it is done with a degree of warmth and vigor which allows no show for the cynics suggestion that they do it melrey because it is custom ary, though on other occasions it does often look that way. A go or deal of hugging and kissing is indulged in by men. But these men are all foreigners or of foreign extrac tion, although some of them are in other respects so thoroughly American ized that it takes a sharp glance to de termine their extraction. The phleg matic Anglo-Saxon looks at these per formances with an air of contemptuous indiference. Nothingcanconvincebim that there isn't always a great deal more genuine feeling shown by a hearty handshake and a careless "How are you old boy?" than can be put into any exchange of hugs and kisses be tween men. When a steamer is about to sail Lere 4 ia a great deal of kissing indulged in also, but there generally goes with it a lachrymose accompaniment, often quite copious, that must prevent any man, unless ho have a heart of ada mant, taking unalloyed delight in it. In fact, it is often.o harrowing specta cle and had better be avoided altogeth-' er by people of sensitive feelings. But to witness entire abandon to the two extremes of joy and sorrow one must witness the meetings aad farewells of the poor emi grants. They put no mask on their feelings. Both men and women at parting will often indulge in a genuine "boo-hoo," and floods of tears which would be comically suggestive of one's nursery escapades if one didn't feel too sorry for the poor, simple-minded foils to make the comparison until some time afterward when thinking it over. Tears of joy, too, are not infrequent ly seen among these poor people. When, for instance, some poor Ger man, who has been out here for three or four years, trying to scrape togeth er money enough to pay for nis wife's passage and make a little home for her, at last gets her in his arms at Castle Garden, there is likely to be a summer-shower of tears on both] sides. Such a scene is worth seeing and thinking about, but it can't be! written about jocosely. How They Trap Bears in Maine. Mr. Knapp, Veteran Hunter, in Lewiston Journal. I usually build a cubby-house in the woods out of old stumps aud decayed branches. I sorter pile 'em around, you know, and leave a- little opening for the bear to go in, after he sees tho consarn and his curiosity is excited. I catch some suckers or other kind of fish in the river and hang 'em up in, this cubby. Then I try to fix the trap' so that the bear will have to step on the trencher if he gets the fish. A bear never steps on a log in his path, but always steps over it. I usually fix the trap on tother side of a log or branch so that he will be pretty sure to step over the log and into the trap. A knowing old bear won't go into one of these cubbies. Sometimes after trying to catch an old sheep thief in this way and not getting him, I have caught the old fellow by hanging a string of fish in a careless way on somo tre«, as if left there accidentally by some sportsman, and putting a strap underneath. Sometimes I find a track where a bear had a habit of fording a brook. I take away the stone in the brook which the bear steps on when he crosses, and put the trap in its place.! When the bear feels after the old and' familiar stone, hia fore-paw is caught in the trap. Some bears have learned to smell a trap, so we havo to kill the smell. We do that by daubing it over with( lard and beeswax. I have twelve traps and visit 'em twice a week. The bear is usually caught by the fore-paw. He does n't live more than twenty four hours after the jaw closes on him, as a general thing. In warm weather the pelt would soon spoil if I did not get it pretty quick after the critter, died. The fur is in the best condition when the bears are housing, lateintha fall. Then it is as nice as a Merino sheep's wool. I get §8 to $15 a piece for my pelts. The bears spend winter in the lodges about here an under the stumps. Since we had tha hurricane that blew down so many] trees, there have been a lot of cosy places for bears around here. A Woman and a Telegram. The other day, says the Cincinnati Sun, a young housewife left her home in this city to spend a few days with several lady friends in Hamilton. Be fore going she provided a good supply of cold edibles for her husband, and told him that he could help himsell whenever he was hungry. He took lunch down-town and went home in tho evening for dinner. As he tells the story he found cold chicken, cold butter, cold pie, cold milk, cold salt, cold mustard, and sev eral other cold dishes, but with all that he was not entirely satisfied, and hunted high and low for something else. At first he did not know what it was, but finally concluded that ho wanted bread. He knew there was some in the house, but he could not find it. Finally he conclud ed to telegraph his wife, for he could not live without bread. Accordingly a telegram asking "Where is the bread? was dispatched. The wife received it in the midst of of a number of ladies, and it frighten ed her nearly to death. With the cry, "I know it is bad news I know Mr. -is killed!" she fell in a faint. The ladies present cried from sym pathy, and a most lugubrious scene presented itself when the man of the house happened in. "What's the mat ter here?" he asked. "Mrs. B.'s hus band has been killed and she has faint ed," was the reply. "How do you know?" he asked. "Oh, she got a telegram." "Where is it?" "We havn't- opened it yet." "Imagine the scene when the sym- fiathetic creatures read the message, about an hour the reply was sent back to him: "You mean thing. It's in the bread-box, under the piano, where I hid it from the cook. Entertainments for the Century. Every school district should have a literary society for the long evening. It is a never-falling source of enjoy ment, and good is sure to come from it. Almost every neighborhood has readers and thinkers who can discuss clearly and intelligently all topics of general interest. Every neighdorhood has an organ and singers, and if the music is not very good and the singing not good at all, a desire may at least be awakened for something better. A taste for good reading, good music, good stories, good singing and lor good in all things has been created 'in country lyceums. Ridiculous things may be said and done, but a very wise man once,wrote' "He who hath not a dram of folly in his mixture, hath pounds of much worse matter in his composition. The amusing things of life play a most important part in bringing about general happiness and general good. Every man and every woman is better for a hearty laugh once in a while. A literay society for youne people, and particularly young people living in quiet rural districts, should always have an element of iun in it and hap pily this element is seldom missing in such societies. Woman's Wonderful Isfti&rce. "Woman wields a powerful influence over man's destinies," said Woodtick William, the other day, as he breathed gently on a chunk of blossom rock and then wiped it carefully with fce tail of his coat. "Woman in most cases is gentle and long suffering, but if you observe her dose for several consecutive weeks you will notice that she generally sets there with both feet. "I've been quite a student of the fe male mind myself. I have, therofore, liad a good deal of opportunity to com pare the everedge man with the everedo-e woman as regards ketchin' on in our general farewell journey to the tomb. "Woman has liggered a good deal in my own destinies. My first wife was a large, powerful woman, who married me before I hardly knew it. She mar ried me down noar Provost, in an early day. Her name was Lorena. The name didn't seem to suit her complex ion and phizzeek as a general thing. It was like calling the fat woman in the museum Lily. "Lorena was a woman of great strength of purpose. She was also strong in the wrists. Lorena was of foreign extraction, with far away eyes and large, earnest red hands. You ought to have saw her preserve order during the hour for morning prayers. haa a hired man there in Utah, in them days, who was inclined to be a scoffer at our plain homemade style of religion. So I told Lorena that I was. a little afraid that Orlando Whoopenkaugh would rise up suddenly while I was at prayer and spatter my thinker all over the cook stove, or create some other ruc tion that would cast a gloom over our devotions. "Lorena said: 'Never mind, William. You are more successful in prayer, while I am more successful in disturbances. You go on with your petition and I will preserve order.' "She did so. I had hardly got a quar ter through the morning prayer ore Mi-. Whoopenkaugh, the rank infiddle from o'er the deep, rolling sea, began to murmur, 'Give it to us easy.' and to ask me in a sarcastic voice if I was sure that I'd got the central office all right. Just then I heard Lorena rifsc, and soou after that I heard Orlando Whoop enkaugh fall. I drew my prayer to a close and looked on, a pleased and some what interested beholder. At first Or lando looked kind of ashamed to be fighting with a woman, but pretty soon he found that he had no time to be ashamed. You ought to seen that low, scoffing cuss shed his yellow hair at Lorena request. "Why, Lorena jest simply wore him out, and he went away from Provost a changed man. I heard afterward that he was soured against women. Last we heard from him he was up around Salt Lake wandering aimlessly about Zion and asking tho police if they know of a good nunnery that was designed special ly for gentlemen. "Lorena saved my life after that in a singular manner. Being a large, power ful woman, of course she no doubt pre served me from harm a great many limes but on this occasion it was a clear case. "I was then sinking on the Coopon claim and had got the prospect shaft down a couple of hundred feet and was drifting for the side wall with indefinite success. We was working a day shift of six men, blasting, hysting and a little timbering. I was in charge of the crew, and eastern capital was furnishing tho ready John Davis, if you will allow me that low term. "Lorena and me had been a little edge ways for several days owing to a little sassy remark made by her and a retort on my part in which I thoughtlessly alluded to her brother who was at that Lime serving out a little term for life down at Canon City, and who, if his life is still spared, is at it yet. "If I wanted to make Lorena jump nine feet high and hollow, all I hail to da was jest to allude in a jeering way to her family record. So she got mad der and madder till at last it ripened into open hostility,and about noon on the 13th day of September Lorena attacked arge adic me into the adjoining county. She told mo also that if I ever returned to Pro vost she would out me in two right be tween the pancreas and the watch pock ct and fcea me to tho hens. "I thought that if she felt that way about it I would not return. I felt so hurt and so grieved about it that I never stopped till I got to Omaha. Then I heard how Lorena, as a means in the hands of Providence, had saved my unprofitable life. "When she got back to the house and had put away her butcher knife, a man came rushing in to t?ll her that the boys had struck a bij pay streak of water, and that the whole crew in the Coopon was drowned, her husband among the rest. "Then it dawned upon Loreno how she had saved me, and for the lirst time in her life she burst into tears. People who saw her said that her grief was ter rible. Tears are sad enough when shed by a man, but when we see a strong woman bowed in grief, we shudder. "I waited six weeks for Lorena to apologize and beg me to return. If she did so, the letter did not reach me. Then I married again. Woman has al ways wielded a great influence over me. Especially those women who have mar ried me. I do not call to mind at this time any of my wives who did not wield a powerful influence over me. Somo times it would cause one eye to swell up and sometimes it would be the other. Very few of my companions have died. Most of them chased me into the foot hills with some deadly weapon, and then asked for a divorce on the grounds of desertion. "No one who has never deserted his wife at her urgent request can fully real ize the pain and anguish it costs. The sensation is just the same to-day as it was the lirst time I ever deserted my wife. "As I said, though a woman has a wonderful influence over a man's whole life. If I had a chance to change tho great social fabric any, though, I should ask woman to be more thoughtful of her husband, and if possible less severe. I would say to woman: 'Be a man. Rise above these petty little tyrannical ways. Instead of asking your husband what he does with every cent yon give him, learn to trust him. Teach him that you have confidence in him. Make him think you have, anyway, whether you have or not. Do not seek to get a whiff of his breath every ten minutes to see whether he has been drinking or not. If you keep doing that you will sock him into a drunkard's grave, sure pop. He will at first lie about it. then he will use disinfectants for the breath, iy over it.' The timid 'Pass the cloves, please. and then he will stay away till he gets young^i man v*ryita$AUi£ ft# one man judges all the wives in Chyte» tenilom by his'n. Another does dittos and go it goes. Bnt I have made ma' ri- moiy a stndy. It has been a life work fof mo. Others havo simply, dabbletf? into it. I have studied all its phases and I am an expert. So I say to yon that woman in one way or another, either by" strategy and winnin' "ways or by maitt strength and awkwardness, is absolutely sure to wield an all-fired influence over poor, wfeak men, and while grass grows and water runs, pardner, you will al ways find her presiding over man'* destinies and his ducats.'^—J New York Mercury. Its births, says I've got to 1 get ready to go home pretty soonJ The man whose wife really lias fun with bim says, 'Well, boys, good night, I'm sorry for you.' Then he goes home. "Vory few men have- had the oppor tunities forobscrvation in a matrimonial have, William. -BUI Kyt, in Philosophers. ,y_j Two negroes met each other after I? few days separation. "Wall, wiiut yer know?" "Nothin' in purticular. Oh, yas, Van dcrbill is dead. "Who's he?" "Oh, he's de man whut's got nearly all do money in de country." "Yer doan tell me. Wiiut hurt him?" "Ho neber foun' out. He jes' drap ped ober." "Jes' like or po' man, I reckon?" "Jes' erbout. Does yer know whut's cr fact? I'd ruther begwino 'long heah wider saw un'er my arm an' wid er good appetite den tcr bo buried in cr gol' coihn wid er diamon' set in it ez big ez er bulleye watch." •'Yer's right, podner. Arter all, de Lawd is de only pusson—ef I ken speak o' hi in ez sich—dat doan honey roun' de rich. He says 'Mr. Kich Man, come heah ter me,' an' he come, lemmc tell yer." "Dogged ef he doan, ebery time." "Yer's tjdkin'. Er rieh man when be doan feel hko puttin' his han' down inter his pocket an' grabbin' up his monoy, ken stan' off er po' man, but ho kain'stall'off de Lawd. DeLawdnebor sen's er bill c'leckter roun' but lenime tell yer." "Dat ho doan an' it doan meek no difiunce whuder de man is ready ur not, do debt haster be paid. It stan's us might'ly in ban' ter be ready fur dat c'leckter. We mils' be hone's and pra'r ful." "Dat we mus'. By de way,, yer doesn's git work ernuff ter keep yer up, does yer?" "No, not ha'f ernufT." "How does yer manage den, dese hard times?" "Oh, fust rate. My wife cooks fur er gennerman whut runs cr bank. I tell yer whut, dar ain' nothin' like er good wife date can tote or heavy load.'*—« Arkansaw Trawler. onct, Eighty-Five—Eighty-Six. O shall wc grieve with the sad Old Year,— 0 shall wc mourn for the year that Is dyinirt 0 shall we bring to the new ITOWDCII King, Our paeans, dead grandeur, defying) Here's a song tor the New and a tear for the Old: O fileiidB we may not thus sever The yeare in their flight, be they happy or sad They're companions Fate linked lorever. The New may not lose all the Joys of the Old, And the Old may not east all its burdens On the light-bearing wings of the new-comlns heir Each has Its own sorrows and guerdons. The griefs of the past and the joys of the past, In our memories still may yet linger, But cach year has Its deaths and each year hat Marked out by Eternity's linger. Afar In the New, in the days to be born, Where Deotlny's veil is uplifted, There hover new hopes, new Borrows and Joys Which Time for our trying has sifted. Boletus weep low for the year that is gone, And let us Bing low for tho year that Is nrurlnir In the merciful hands of the ancient of days Leave all our new hoping and fearing I —Minnie C. Ballard, in at. Louis Magazlnt. From a Legal Standpoint. "But I toll you they can't put you in jail. They just can't, and that's the long and short of it," said a lawyer to a client in prison. "Well, ding it all, I'm hero, ain't IP" "Not according to law, you ain't." "But I am according to the cold factc in the ease, and I want to get out." "Well, yes it might seem to anybody not familiar with, the statute that you were incarcerated, but "Seem, thunder! I'm locked up, and you know it." "Not legally, my dear sir not"4egally. In law you're as free as a thundorgust." "I don't care where I'm in law. I know where I am myself, and I want to get out." "According to the statute, you're out on the street at this minute. "But according to common sense, I ain't anything of the kind. I'm in a box as tight as though I was nailed up in one, and I want to get out." "In law you are out. "In reality I'm in." "You can't find a single scrap of law that allows 'em to lock you up." "Heavens and earth, man! I don't want to. I want to find law enough to get me out." "That'll be a hard thing to do, mr friend." "Hard thing to do! And yet yon tell •ine there's no law for putting me in." "So there isn't but you've got in somehow, in defiance of all legal pre cedent, and that's where the Dlunder was. You've waived your legal rights by admitting that you are in jail, and, it's going to take oceans of law and some little money to get you out, as sure a3 you live. You should have come to me before you got in. Keep ing you out then, when you had the law, was quite a different matter from getting you out now, when the law haa a She Fumigated. A woman went down in the Grand Trunk depot the other day to see about some freight expected from Canada, and" after looking over his files the agent in formed her that the goods had arrived in Windsor but were being fumigated. "What business have they to open my boxes over there!" loudly demanded the woman. "Oh, thev won't open the boxes at all. They will simply fumigate them." "Well, I won't pay for nothing of the sort, and I want you to understand it now!" "There will be no charge, madam nos charge." "And if they go and'mark my bureau and bedsteads with paint or chalk I'll have damages!" she said, as she pulled on her mittens. "They won't do it, ma'am, The law requires fumigation. It is simply fumi gation." A She went out shaking her head, and S' on the next block stopped the driver oI: an express wagon ana asked: "Do you know what they fumigate goods for in Windsor?" "Well, ma'am, I can't say for certain but it has something to do with small pox," "Yip!" she screamed, as she jumped a foot high. "They are going to fumi gate the small-pox all through 'em to revenge on mo for moving out of the country! Show me to the nearest police station!'' —Detroitj,Fret Press. -J