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Personal Paragraphs. Vennor has a southern rival in Pro fessor G. R. Gather, of Alabama, who says that the winter will be vary coll and early, and "phenomenal tor its paroxysmal spells ol he-it, succeeded by intense cold over the country." Mrs. Agnes Booth ia to play the lead ing parts this winter at the Park Theatre in New York. She will also conduct the business from her late has fomd's estate from which sue will receive about $100,000. Savs John L. SoUivau of his saloon: "It cost me $2i,0()0 to lit it up. I put ii. a stock amounting to $5000. I opened i» on August 7, ami up to last Monday I had taken in $25,000. That ia enough *o pay for it. The .opening night. I took in $2900 and the firat Saturday $2400. Richard Francis, who hag been ap pointed cai'terer to the Senate, ia not the only colored carterer who is wo-th a large amount of money. The head wait er at the West, End Hotel, Long Branch, has a bank account of over $10D,0iH). Tho champion drunkard of the world is a woman named Jane Johnson, of England, now eightv-four years of age. She hus been convicted of drunkeness in Leeds and other towns of Yorkshire over two hundred times. Twelve months ago she joined the ranks of tho Salva don Army, and cmwii no small stir by the thrilling stories she told other re markable career. A pretty orphan girl with over $2,000 000 has been advertising in the German papers for a husband. She describes her self as 21 years old. orphan, Catholic, with a fortune of 12,00 ,0ui) francs. She wantaio marry a man with a very hon orable name. She may be addressed us N. 0. G. N., at the Post 0 fice, Brussels. No agents need apply. Mr. John B. French, formerly ser geant-at-arms of the United States sen ate, in his cture, "Ten Years Among the Senators," ranks William Pitt Fess enden as the greater member of that body he ever knew, but says that he went in and out of the senate chamber with less pretension than the man who opened and shut the doors. General Putman (of wolf-killing fame) is buried in the pretty village cemetery half a mile southwest ofPomfret, Conn., an inclosure of several acres, with quiet air, green turf, sombre firs and dry san dy soil. In a secluded corner of the yard, among many broken, mossy tomb stones, a heavy table of marble lies OH a wall of brick that lifts it but five or six inches from the ground. The stone is about six feet long by two and one-hal wide, and marks the grave of Putman. Fully a third of it has been chipped off by relic-hunters. Mr. Shirk of Peru, Indiana, owns sev enty-three farms in In liana that are all in a huh state of cultivation. He also owns thousinds of acres in Texas, Arkansas, Michigan ai-itl Iowa, ni residences, business blocks without-number, some of them be ng situated iu Chicago and Indianapo lis' three bauks, several stores, and as many mills, which he conducts.himself. The remamd -r of the earth is gradually falling into Mr. Shirk's bands, but he is a good man, and will allow the rest of us to rent, from him. "I suppose the time will come," said General Sherman in Cincinnati the oth er day, "when we decrepit old men will be huuled uround in carriages and shown as relics. It's the way of the •world.'' Alter his retirement in Novem ber be will live near St. Louis, in a house that he suyp haa been very handsomely fixed up by Mrs. Sherman. He looks for ward to the time with pleasure. On board the Pacific Mail steamer Australia is a rather venerable Cuina man called John Tuck who is nearly blind, and does only light work. Many years ago one of the company's ships was taking a cargo ot gold from Calllor oia to Hong Ko-ug. A fire broke out, the Chinese sailors were demoralized, and this man controlled them. It was owing to him that the crew did not seize everything for a piratical expedition. The company would not part with John Tuc/K. after that. Wli en Mr. Carnegie, late of Pittsburg, visited the great Baird iron works at Gartsherrie on the Clyde, his comment was: "A nice little foundry." In in dignation it was asked nim where he could find a bigger. "Why," said Mr. Carnegie, with imperturable serenity, "I own a bigger one myself." A bet wan made a Gartsherrio representative went hack with Carnegie to Pittsburg, and the outcome of the inspection there was that the American had won the bet. House kefpirs^' Difficulties. New York Letter to 8t. Albaas, (Vi) Mes senger. Until recently v/e have been particu larly fortunate in servants, having had two tiiris lor the past seven years. Bu the cook was getting a htt too inde pendent and unw lling to be instruced eo we concluded to make a change. But I fear we have "jumped our, of the fry ing-pari into the fire." We went to a bureau for Swedish servants, and se cured two who wore well recommended. The waitress and chambermaid is all that could be desired—a pleasant, hap py face., sweet temper able and willing. Bui the cookl Well, she is a good cook, and washer and ironer. But wh'ta fright! She would make an excellent scare-crow. Put her in a corn field and not a crow would be seen with in a half mile! But her good work makes up for her ill looks, and we are all satisfied. She has been with U3 onlj ten dave and to-morrow she leaves! Mj daughter said to her: "I think yoi make a great mistake we have but four in family, and your labor is very light. Are you net satisfied with your situation? Have you not been treated well?" '"Yes,' t?he snickered "but I am going to be married next week, I have not seen the man but my sister has, I was engaged once before, but somehow it was broken up." Hero we loso a good servant be cause »he expects to bo married witfhin a week to a man she has never seenl A Puugent Prayer. The following spirited prayer was of fered by Elder Littlejohn in 1S50. Oh, Lord, there is great wickedness and much drunkenness in oar young and ris ing towns. Therefore, O Lord, we crave thy blessing. Now, Milwaukee, just sprung up, is bad Chicago, another mushroom is worse. Yet do thou.Lord, bless and improve them. Then thero is Michigan City, a place of sand and whis ky, and Laporte, ot mud and wicked wees and, indeed, they need thy bless ing. And there is South Bend, and also ^iles, which think themselves righteous Vut are full of rumholes and rottenness. Lord, they need thy blessing. And here is Misnawaka, which boasts itself sotne thing,bHt has nothing but teif-righteous nees. Good Lord, open its eyes, that it may receive thy blessing. Then we have Eikhart and Bristol and Mottviile —little things, bur. wicked. Do, Lord, bless them. [Then, pausing foiv breath said raising his voice to its*highest pitch:] And lastlv, then. dear, good Lord, ^even bless Constantino, where Gov. Barry sells whisky at three cents a g-.ass!. Amen. GIVING AND RECEIVING. The fiery crimson of tun stormy No vember sunset was staining aii the hills with its lurid glare: the wind, murmur ing restlessly among the dead leaves that lay heaped over the wood paths, seeming to moan with almost human voice. But the autumnal melancholy without only served to brighten the eheer'ulnes* of the roaring wood fire, whose ruddy glow danced and quivered over the rough rafters of Wood bridge's spacious old kitchen sparkling on the polished service of platter, ana glimmer ing and shedding a long stream of radi ance through the uncurtained windows, out upon the darkened road. "Yes, as I said afore," observed the old farmer, rubbing his toil-hardened hands together, and gazing thoughtlnlly into the fire, "it's been a capital harvest this year. I would ask for no better. So wife, you just pick out some of them yaller pippin apples, and put'em into Jessie's basket when she calls arter it." "Won't, the little red un's do as well? I calculate to keep them pippins for market. Squire Benson says they are worth"— "I don't keer what they're worth," interrupted die farmer, as his helpmate, a spire, angular woman, with a face ploughed With innumerable lirus of care fingered the vedow-eheeked apole* du oiotisiy. "1 tell you what it is, Ketgrah, folks never lost anything bv doing a kind tliu.g. I never could make v.tu be lieve that, unless pay name right in hard cash. Now here's Jessie" Morton, as likeiy a young gal as ever breathed, teaching school day iR and out and her marm tsewin' to hum, earnin' a livin' bv the hardest work, born ladies both of'em. Don't you s'pose these apples It be worth more to them if you'd give 'em with a kind word, than thev would be to that peskv tight-fisted agent up to Hard wiclie Hill, if he gave a dollar a bushel?" "Chantv begins to hum," said Ketu rah, jerking out her supper-table, with an odd twi.-t ot the face. "Not but what Jessie's well enough— but you'd a plaguy sn»ht be ter be scratchin' your pennies together to pay up that mortgage, if y.ou don't want the Hardwiche nient forclosing on you And them pippins is just as good as so much money. There may be, anyhow, in the basket—one of your investments. I guess." "One of my investments, then, if you like to catl it so, Keturah," said the farmer with a good-humored laugh, ban ishing the annoying expression which had overspread his face when she al luded to the mortgage. "Come 'long in Jessie, my ual," headed cheerfully, as a ligiit touch sounded on the door-latch. "Here's the basket all right, and some of them golden pippins tucked in to it. May be they'll tempt your mother's ap petite." Jessie Morton was a slender graceful girl, of about seventeen, *ith satin smooth bands ol chest-nut hair, parted above a low, sunny forehead, large liquid eyes, and cheeks which farmer Woodbridge always declared, "set him to thinking of the -velvet Jarsey peaches that grew on the tree down on the south medder." SI took up the basket with a graceful smile that went to the flinty heart of Mrs. Iveturah. "O, Mr. Woodbridge, how kind you alwavs are to us! If I were only rich—it I could only make some return"— '"Don't you say a word about that at e," said' the farmer rubbing his nose very hard. "Just you run home iast as you ever can tor it is getting mst dark and -the November wind ain't no ways healthy, as I ever heard on. and I say, Jessie if it rains to-morrow so you can't get to school handy, just you stop here, and I'll give you a life in my wa.'gin." "Dear old Mr. Woodbridge," solilo quized Jessie Morton to herself, as her light steps pattered along oa tiie fallen leaves, "how many, many times I have hid cause to thank his generous heart. And to think that he should be dis tressed about the mortgage by the agent at Hardwiche Hall. She paused a moment to look up to where the hall rose darkly outlined against the crimson Eky. On a co,m m.mding height, and nearly hidden in trees, many ot which stili retained tlmir brilliant autumn foliage.it seemed al most like an old baron in! castle. "There it stands," she mused, "shut up and silent, year after year, its mag nificent rooms untenanted, the flowers blossoming uugathered in its conserva tories. Since Mrs. Hard wich died—twen ty years since, mamma says—the family have been away, and now the other sur viving heir is traveling, no one knows where. I wonder if he knows how grasping and cruel his agent is? Oil, dear," she added sottly, "money does not ilways come where it is most needed. If I were the mistress of Hardwiche Hall!" She started with a light scream the next instant, as a tall figure rose up from a mossy border by the roadside, directly in front of her. "Pardon me," said a voice, that in stantly re-aseured her, for it was to gen tle to come from any but a gentleman, "but I am not certain but I have lost my way. Is this the Eden roa i? I was wa ting for some one to direct me?" "This is the Eden road," said Jessie, all unconscious that the last gleams of the fading sung: were lightening up her face with almost angelic beauty, as she stood there among the fallen leaves. "And can you tell me the shortest foot-path to Hardwiche hall? I have not been in this neighborhood since I was a child, and I aai completely at fault." Jessie hesitated a moment. "I could show you better than tell vou, for it is rather a complicated road," she said, "and if you will accept my serv ce as guide it "will not be much out of my way." "1 shall feel very much honored,"said the stranger, "Meanwhile let me car ry your basket." It was a wild and lovely walk, wind ing among moss garlanded trees and hol lows, sweet with aromatic incense ol dying leaves.t Jessie cruld not help ad miring the chivalrio manners and cinv alritt courtesy of her companion, and he was pleased with the blooming loveliness and girlish dignity of the young guide, A few adroit questions respecting Har wiche hall and its neighborhood suf ficed to draw forth a spirited abstract the Hardwiche agent, and the impos: tion he was wont to practice upon t'1 tenants and neighbors, as well as arch description of most of the "chai i ters" thereabouts. Then he continutu to learn all about Jessie's little school, and her ailing motherland tie smiled to himself in the twilight to observe the pride of her mien, when sh® alluded to the high position from which unforseen reverses had compelled her mother to .descend. "There," she said, suddenly pausing with a* feeling as if she had been almost too communicative, "if we could only cross yonder lawn, the gates are close by, bui we-shall have to go a mile around." "Why?" asked the stranger. "Mr. Talcott will not allow travelers to cross here—he says it ia private prop erty." I fancy I shall dare Mr. Talcott'* wrath," said the gentleman iausrhing, as he pushed open the wiie gate that de fended the forbidden saace. "It is per fectly absurd to make people go a quar ter of a mile out of their way lor a mere whim." They bad scarcely entered tho en closure when they met an utiiooked for obstacle—Talcott himself—who was prowling over the grounds on the qui vive for trespassers. "Hello, there!" growled he "just turn back if you please. This isn't the pub lic thoroughfare." The stranger held Jessie's arm under his own a little tighter as if to repress her evident inclination to "beat a re treat." He was disposed to maintain his position. "i don't see any reasonable cause why we should not go ahead," he said perti naciously. "There was a path here, and I supposed it was made to walk on." -ot for you," said the agent con temptuously, "so go back with you as fast as you can!" "Is it possible that people are made to travel a circuitous and unpleasant route, for no other reason than your ca price, sir?" asked the gentleman, look ing down upon the little man, fram the attitude of his six feet, with a kind ol laughing scorn. "Did it ever occur tc you, mv friend, that others have rights and conveniences as well as yourself?" "Can't help their rights—nothing to me," snarled the agent, planting him self obstiuately in the path. "I forbid all passing here!" "But I suppose Edward Hardwiche may have the privilege of crossing his own land." persisted the stranger, still preserving the half contemptuous smile that had 'rom the beginning made the agent so uncomfortable. Talcott grew no* exactly pale, but yel low with consternation. "Mr. Hardwiche, sir I did not—we did not expect" "No, 1 know you didn't my good man. Bo so kind as to .step aside a- allow me to pass with the young lady. Miss Jessie, don:t fortret that I need your ser vices a lew moment? yet. Nay. do not snrink away from me—are we not to be very good friends?" "The prettiest girl I ever saw in my life,'' was his internal comment, as he at length parted iroin her at the little gate where burning ashes and dark green ivy were trained together with ail a woman's taste. W ii.1 -3:- .£. The Christmas snow lay' white and deep on the farm-house eaves—the Christmas logs cracked on the hearth where Mr Woodbridge still gazed dreamily into the glowing cinders and Mis. Keturah's knitting needles clicked with electric speed. "That mortgage bothers me—it both ers me," he murmured, almost plain tively. "Well, I suppose it ain't no use frettin' but I thought to live and die in the old place mv father did before me. The Lord's will be dons though. Some how things ain't prospering with me—I don't seem to get along." "You ha' got along well enough. 1 guess," responded Kerturah, who be longed to that class of people known aa Job's comforter's, "if you only looked after your p's and q's as I told you. Yon always was too free handed, and now you see what it's bro't you too." "Well, well, Keturah, we never did think alike on some things," returned the old man. "Let's talk about a pleas anter subject. What do you think about our schooi-marm's marrying you.ig Mr Hardwiche to- n».orrow? Didn't I always tell you that Jessie Morton was born to be a lady? I may be unlucky myself, but how, I'm glad to hear of little Jessie's luck/' "i'ou'd a deal better keep your sym pathy for yourself," trowled Keturah. "'What's other folks luck to you, I'd like to know? There's some one knocking at the door see who tis!" It was a little note, brought by one of the school boys under Jessie's care. "Where's my glasses! I can't see as I could once. Shove the candle this way, will you, Keturah?" And fitting his brass bowed spectacles upon bi-s nose, the old man unfolded the note and read, in Jessie's delicate chirography: "Do not let, that mortgage disturb your Christ ma? Day to-morrow dear Father Woodbridge. It will never haunt vour hearthstone again. J\|r. Hardw'iche will tend you the papeiS soon to destrov I have not forgotten those 'golden pip ms,' nor all the other kindnesses." "Aha, wife!" said the old man smiling and trying to brush away unseen the big tears that would coaie, "what do you think of my investments now?" Keturah's replv was neither elegant, nor. strictly grammatical, but it was significant. She said sunply: "Well, I never."—Home Circle. iShe Knew Him Best. John William Blank belonged to the Ancient and Modern and Highly Honor able Sons of Guns of Detroit. If it wasn't, that it w$s some other fraternal order which meets every Monday night and pays so much to the heirs of every member who happens to die. John William happened to die the other month, and a committee was ap pointed to da'rft resolutions and present them to his wife in person. The first part of their duties was J'uilfilled to the entire satisfaction of the lodge, but the committee had some little trouble in finding Mrs. Blank. They traced her from one neighbor to another, and fin ally found her at her sister's hat and shawl on and ready to go out. "Resolutions ot sympathy, eh? Well, read em." The chairman of the committee pro ceeded to read that John William was a good bus -and and a kind rather and a citizen of unapproachable integrity, when the Widow interrupted: Too much taffy! We used to have a fight every week, and as for his bein a kind father we never had any children. As lor his integrity he stole all the wood we burned last winter." The chairman gulped down something and con inued to read that John VVilliam was an upright brother, a man with a heart full of sympathy for the misfortunes of others, and that charity and forgiveness were the beacon fires which guided his footsteps. "Fudge!" sneered the widow. "I washed for the money to pay dues to ie lodge, and all the sympathy any one got out of him wouldn't buy a cent's worth of court plaster! Forgiveness! Weil, some of you ougtit to have sat down on his hat some time! He'd have revenge if it cost, him a year""in State prison. Beacon fires is pretty good con siderin' that we never had a decent fire in the house!" "Madaru, your husband baa been called hence. "Exactly, was at the funeral and ought to know." "He was cut down like a flower "Well, flowers ought to let whiskey and saloons and plug-tobacco and old siedge alone." "And we trust that our loss is his gain." "Well, if he's any better off I'm glad on't, but. I guess the gain is on vour fide. Now that's all 1 want to hear. I tan pick up a thouaand better men than him with my eyes shut. I'm in a hurry to go down and see a wo't'an who oflers a fur-lined circular for $15, and if you have any more highfalutin Shakespear to g.it off my sister will take it in and save it till I come bank!" Last yeai's crop of oranges in Florida was reckoned at 50,000 million oranges. This j'ear it is put at 102,0J0, and at $3 per bos is worth ?1,8U0,0(X). A DESERT isp. It was 10 o'clock of a July morning, and th*» largest fraction of humanity had been some hours earningitsdaily bread The idlers had just risen from the break fast table. To this latter class belonged thG young man who leaned lazily over the piazza railing, and looked absently out on Lake Winnipaka. Beside him in a huge chair, sat a little wofaian, rocking to and fro, with an untiring movement, and with deft fingers plying in and out among bright silk and crewels. She waE idle, too, in her woman's laborious way but there was a lack of repose in her in dolence that made it restful to turn again to her brother, who stood in statuesque inaction, looking into the still water be low. "What are you going to do to-day?" the little woman asked. "Nothing." "There's a great deal going on, and very nice sort of people, too. Do you see that pretty glri down there at the landing?" "The one with red?" "Yes don't you think she's pretty?" "I hadn't thought of it "Wed, she is—rem rkably. Wouldn't you like to meet her? I coulu easily manage it." "I'm not particular. Is she worth while?" "Ben, you exasperate me. Do you take an interest in anything?" "I don't do anything else in Wall street. I'm oft' duty now. I believe in resting iu a philosophical sort of a wa3r.'' "Well, I suppose you are tired, poor fellow! I know how yon feel. I am tired myself most of the time." "Tired! I look like it," laughed the young man. "IM tell you how it is I simply want my liberty. It doesn't pay —this dancing attention on half a dozen girls whom yo «i never see again." "Oh, well, don't then Ben Adams at 21 had performed his social duties with great zest. Four years later he was still heart whole, and beginning to take a purely fraternal in terest in blushing debetantes. He danced less and went (o the opera alone or with his friend Rutland a con firmed bachelor of 28. Withentire res ignation young Adams acted as usher at many fashionable beddings, and with out a sigh saw Catherine, Kate pnd Kit ty.led down t^e aisle by other men. And so he approached his thirties and within a year of them leaned idiv over the piazza railing at Lake Winnipaka, and declared to his sister that "Robin son Crusoe" was the lu -kiest fellow of his acquaintance. Give me desert isle lor a summer sojourn. What would re fresh a man like goin^ back to savagery! "I don't think it would ne enough of a change to benefit some 1 know," laughed her sister. "Well, Ben, all I can say is, you are very different from what you used to be." In the meanwhile the boat below, pushed off and Adams followed it with his eyes, chiefly because it would have been more trouble to look another way. The young lady in the stern was Miss Josephine Vail, avid the boy at the oars was her 12-years-ol 1 brother. Josephine was a young lady ol views, supported by more or lebs logic and by what some thought an extremely pretty face. Her enemies—but shy had none—would have said that while she despised conven tionalities no one was more annoyed when obliged to disregard them and while she resented the protecting limi tations of her sex, she was quite willing to accept the attentions based on the theory of their ex stence. Her father said one day: "Nothing would take the kinks out of our Jos ephine like settling down with a good husband." The young lady took it in high dudgeon, and went away meekly to wonder if it were true. On this particular July morning Jose phine accepted her brother Tom's service as oarsmau, not because she -vas not per fectly well able to row herself, but be cause it would keep Tom out of mischief. "Don rock the bo it. Tom. ft doesn't frighten me, but I can't read." There was a pause. "Row near the bank, in the shade, Tom." Another long pause. "Say. sis," said Tom at length,"now we're off, I'll tell you where we're go ing." 'Where you're going? Why, you re going to take me out for a row." "Not much. I'm going two miles about to see some fellows who are camp ing out." "And going to take me? I think you are mistaken, sir. Give me these oars." "No you don't. Leave 'em alone, and Bit Still." "Tom turn this boat instantly, or I'll "What'll you do? Come, now you sit still, or I'll ». "Tom, there's the Desert Isle just ahead. Don't run into it. Be careful you're going stra.ght forward to it." "We might land there," he said, blandly, "To be sure we might," said his sister, glad of anything to divert him from the first scheme. "All right, just as you say." Tom turned his boat toward the grea* rock which li ted its broad back out of the water. It was fitly called the Desert Isle, for its few square feet of surface supported not so much, as a blade of grass or a bit of moss. "Hop out," said Tom "I've got ta see to the boat. I guess you can climb up to the top easy enough." "Of course I can,"said Josephine "as if I needed your help, you lrtle mon key." In a moment she stood at the top ol the rock and in another moment a de risive laugh came from below. "Good-by, Jo I hope vou'll enjoy yourself. I'll see you later." Plato says: "A boy is the most vic ious of wild beasts" Plato and Miss Vail were of one opinion on that point. She looked about her and took in the situation. She was monarch of about twenty-five leet of rough grey roc*s, the sides of which descended abruptly to the water. Perched high on this pedestal, her figure stood out against the sky in bold relief. A book and par asol were her only accessories, for by some happy inspiration she had clung to these. The sun was high in the heav ens, but its hot rays were mercifully tempered by a soft breeze on the lake. Josephine seated herself, raised her parasol and opened her book. She faced the probability that at least two hcurs of noonday solitude Ttre before her. The philosophical course of action was to make the best of it. But what a situation to be discovered! She remem iered with satisfaction that a large party had gone on a picnic to-day, and the dowagers le't behind were not given to boating at high noon! She tried to think how she should laugh it off if any body should see her, but under the most cheerful as pect she seemed to herself a little ridic ulous spectacle. To be ridiculous in a good cause had in it an element of he roism. but the present situation was one of unmitigated absurdity, and Josephine VniI always felt heroic rather than the comic to be her forte. On :e tears of real vexation started as her head began to throb in sympathy with the hot pulsa tion of the air about her. An hour had dragged its length when Josephine suddenly lifted her head md listened painiully. A man's yoiee sing- ina and the splash of oars, and, yes. in an instant, a boat swung slowly around tne band. One man sat in it, lazily sing ing. "It's that blase creatrue who watched us off this morning," thought Josephine. "It's a type I detest. And to think he should see me here! Ir's really more than I can endure." The girl looked with envy on the tortoise which slipped easily from the base of the rock into the water as he heard the disturbing sound of oars. "I hope he'll have the good taste to suppose I came here of my own free will. He wouldn't think of "interfering with me, I hope. What! I believe he's coming straight toward me." Josephine turned the leaves of her book with an interest that grew every moment more intense. But at length decency required some recognition of the nearing boat. The young man was rowing now as if he hid renewed inter est in life. He was soon at the base of the rock. U1 beg your pardon," he said, as he raised his hat: "can I be ot any servicc to you?" You are very kind, sir. You find me in a very absurd condition." "You have evidently been ship wrecked. Are you the sole survi /or?" "No, not shipwrecked, but put ashore and aband ^ned by a cruel tyrant of a brother. To tell you the ti uth, sir, lam the victim o- a practical joke. My little brother has left me here while he goes farther up the lake to visit some Iriends who are camping there." "I beg you will make use of my boat, then, to return I will come up to you in one moment." Leaping out of his boat before Miss Vail could say a word, he drew it up on a low shelf of the rock and quietly reached her side. "Let me help you," the young man ?aid, with such a firm assurance of good breeding, th:.t she made no resistance or attempt at independence, bat accept ed the proffered aid in a quiet, matter of-course-way. "Your boat! your boat, sir," elie sud denly cried, It was too late. The rt.- sng breeze dr-'Ve the water with sucl. force agam-it the rocU as to dislodge the boat, ahd before Adams could grasp it, it was tilting about, a hall a dozen yard* away. The two looked at each a moment and then laughed, though both were con scious of its eing questionabi" taste. Adams sobered and said: "Can you ever forgive me, Miss—" "Miss Vail. I am Miss Vail." "And I am Mr. Adams. Can you be magnanimous enouuh to forgive me?" "That is the question I should ask you." "Ah, you evade mine. At any rate I shall never forgive myself. A w« rst bit of bungling I never saw. The truth is, Miss Vail, I have had very little experi ence in rescuing fair ladies. You are the first whose life I have tried to save. I am no hero, as vou see." The genuine annoyance of her com panion rouseu the compassion of Jose phine, and she began to talk to bin with a desperate cheerfulness and ac ceptance of the situation. "What a cold-blooded little villain that brother of yours must be, Miss Vale, to desert you in this fashion. I suppose wre must tbrow ourselves on his mercy when he comes back. How are you going to account 'or me? Consider me your man Friday." Beneath their light t-.dk ran an under current of more or less bitter medita tion on tbe part of each. MissV.de shuddered to think what a good story this aaventure Wv _uld make to circulate among her friends, while Adams foresaw how it would add to the conviviality o! his club. He began wtu the feryent wish that he was out of this cou ounded scrape. He ended, I am obliged to confess, by ceasing to envy Robinson Crusoe, his desert isle, and considering his own far preferable. There was a breeziness about this girl that made him forget the mounting thermometer, she had a wav of going to the point, and. moreover, she had a point, two things which Ben Adams told his sbter he ap preciated in a woman. In short, by dint of making the bast of it, Mi^s Vail and Adams were both able to ex pi ess honest surprise when a boat appeared in the distance and in taking out his watch Adams found it to be 3 o'clock. "Now!" wa3 all Josephine said, bu. there were conflicting emotions in thy monosyllable. "Hul!o-o!"shoutedashrill voice across the water. "Hullo-o!" called Adams back. Blank astonishment wiped all expres sion out of Tom's face at first, but a broad grin finally made its appear ance. "You're a great one, Jo," he muttered "I'd like to know where you wouldn't find a beau. Did he drop down out of the clouds?" "Hush, sir you have been a very naughty bovP' As they rowed home, Adams devoted himself to cultivating the acquaintance of the young scapegrace. The latter proved reirv approachable and Adams found no difficulty in pursnadin? him to go fishing the next day. When they were home at last Josep hine took her brother into her ruom and turned the key. "Tom, you've treated me verv badly to-day. What would you give if I would hot te 1 father? You wouldn't like to be sent back to the military school, you know." "Say, sis, I'll tell you what," and the little "wretch gave a wink of immense satisfaction "if you won't tell on me, I won't tell on you. Honor bright." "Mrs. Adam's," said Mr. Ben Adams to his wife at their wedding reception a year after, "don't vou think we rniirht afford to tell people how we met? I never knew a secret kept. I nearly ruined myself buying un that precious brother-in-law of mine. You see, I thought on your account I wouldn't let bim tell. I didn't care I liked it. I had no business to, vou say? But I liked it nevertheless. Here "are Rutland and his Mar)r. Let's tell them the story. They know we're going to Lake Win nipaka for our honeymoon." IN A GYPSY UAMP, AGraphic Description of a Itoinany From the Londoo Telegraph. Of the younger fry there were as many as half a dozen, four of them girls, whose ages may have ranged from eiev en to fourteen, and they were worse clad even than the two women, nor, were the growing boys better covered. As for tho little children, whose skins, poor little wretches, for lack of washing, were of the color of light mahogany, several of them were naked as they were born, and there in the midst of an atmosphere pungent with the odor of onions and misty with the steam of the stew, they were all huddiedy piggledly on the ground some reclining at lull length, others squatted "nose and knees" together, discussing their supper with an appetite only to be obtained by a day's toil in a hop garden. Tlie tent contained no single article of furniture in the ordinary sense ot the term. An empty barrel, that apparent ly had once contained flour, stood in the center with aboard across the top of it, and on this stood a shallow browa pan, which contained what had been cooked in the large kettle, and beside it were several loaves of bread. Two of the women presided. The three men squatted cross legged, with a large zinc washing-bowl filled with a savory me sou the ground in their midst, and a lour pound loaf, from which, with their clasp-knives, thev hacked a "chunk" as they required it. Plates ami spoons there were none. They thrust their wedges of bread into the -bowl, and so extracted the br- th, and they_ helped themselves to meat with their dirty fin gers, tearing it assunder with their teeth when the piece was too large to put at once in the month. In a gallon stone bottle they had beer, which for conven ience of drinking was tilted into a yellow pint basin. Even less ceremony was observed by the children in eating. The female in charge of the bread cut a substantial "round" from a loaf and tossed it to the elder ones as they reclined on the ground, and then the custodian of the stew fished out a piece of meat and thrust it, all hot and reeking at the end of a fork, toward the eager hand held out for it. and the meat was clapped atop the -iread, and so, without the aid of a knife, the ration was devoured. The smaller children were served in the same way, but less liberally. When the men had had their bowl replenished and the women had enough the pan, with ihe remains of the broth and some bread broken up in it, was placed on the ground, and, squealing and greedily hustling each other like so many other little pigs, the gypsy infants made short work of it. An AutUcnce With Pope .Leo. Canon Bdiry of Cashel in Ruman news paper. Leo XIII is now 74 years of age. He is tall, thin and bony. His face is of an. ivory tint, and his oyeaand lipaari very expres-ive and smiling. He looks very fir n. Simeoni ys ho resembles Vol taire, but Leo XUI'a smile is totally dif ferent from Vo.taire's smile, The Pope wears his age well and walks remarka bly straight. He has snow white hiiir, and very finely marked eyebrows. His eyes are wonder ully intelligent-locking and his voice is extremely harmonious. He speaks several languages as well as any professor of languages, He never says a foolish thing iior does a foolish thing, like pojr Pius IX, whose policy" was fatal to the Pope's temp pjw-ii*. He ribes very early, and spends the htst hours of the day in pr tyer and general ly i.i his bedroom. At 6 o'clock he Siyg mass. At 8o'clock he breaks his fast with a cup of chocolate, reading his corres pondence all the time. At 9 o'clock he recieves Jacohim and those chiefs of re ligions societies who may demand au ilieiice. At noon he receives those li man patriarchs who have remained true lo bins ari'l the ambassalors. At one o'clock he dines, his dinner rare cost ing more than two fran s, or half a liollar. Once upon a time Popes were irreat eaters uml drinkers, and were iriven to every kind of extravagance but Leo Xril is nothing of aii t.-ds. Alter d'nner he takes a litde walk in the Vatican grounds, or lie visits the museum, galleiries, etc. Sometimes ho is carried in a cirnir quilted in white r-atin. He is very fond of the garden mid likes to play the gardener at tun -s. He frequently receives visitors in the •.arden and talks of flowers to them to avoid other subjec s. The first and sec ond time I saw him was in the garden. When I r/ont with the pilgrims he was preceded by three noble guards, and at. his side was Mtrr. Macchi, his t-ecrec. chamberlain, lie wore a wide brimmed hat and a large rt-d cloak. We wee presented to him one by one. He looked at us and scrutinized ns we!!. 1 saw he recognized me, but he treated me tike the others—as if he saw me a!«o for the first time. "Are vou all Irieb?"' be stud. "I am happy to receive the the faithful o' that nation!" He looked ig iin a.t us, as if he would have read into our souls. "Your bishop," he con 'inu--d brought me offerings from a people pressed with poverty,'' Then seeing me still on my knees, he otlcred m.- his hind to raise me. "I had thought," he continued, "tint the offerii'ms would have decreased hut it was not so. We live on c!iarity"(and here he smiled s«d ), "for iI we had has been taken from us, Oh! those persecutions!" tie cried with a loud voice. "They purify us even when the leaven »s pure and immacu late." I neern to see him now. His head looked like a relief on the blue ekv. The -ion was setting, and he looked up"to tiie sky. as if seeking an inspiration there. "I have heard," he then said, "that notwithstanding the general -tate of anguish in Irelaud,"the churches ire full of people. M-iy the L«rd be praised and blessed, and may niy pray ers bring peace on the people! Lord near our prayer and judge us!'' He then blessed us. and the audiencefwts finished I have never seen so much power unded to so much simplicity. At 4 o'clock th. pope resiiLues his official audience in thj va'.icau. At To'clock ordy he takes a little rest, but at 8 o'clock lie returns to work in his private rooms wheve he remains until 10 o'clock, when he re lies for the night. not always to sleep, though, for it is during the night that, h.u reads and writes for his own pleasure, bis favorite subject being the "Science of *it. Thomas," and essays on the work ol that saint, which he receives from every part of the world. The Greatest Iron Works ia the World. From the Londen News. Herr Paul Dehn has written a short account of the immense ironworks of Krupp in K-isen. Krupp's works were founded in 1810. In 18)5 the number of his workmen rose to 693 and soon after ward he felt obliged to buikl dwellings for them. The umber of his workmen in lS8i? was 10,5WS, and the number of houses o,2 18, in which lived ]6,2i)Os,u!s. The houses contain from two to five rooms, the rent running from about to $hr a year. One successiul exper iment was a boarding-house for 20) single men, and later for odd men, pro viding dinner, with meat four times a week supper, coffee and butter the bread they must provide themselves. A large co-opeiative store, started by F. Krupp, has developed enormously, and monopolized the re'ivi! trade of the dis trict. The sick club has existed since 185G, and in 18S2 had 11,oil members an 1 a fund of &'i3,500. Sick eluus among the workmen's families also exist. There is a sanitary committee in the works. The works have had a fever hospital since 1871, an infirmary since 1872. The former was transferred to the town of Essen in 1882 for small-pox cases. A disinfection house and apparatus have aiso been instituted on Dutmar's plan. Baths were put up near the entrance of the works in 1874. In 187G a life insur ance fu nil was started, and has risen to 1,525 members. A high school, with venty class-rooms, and a private school, •with sixteen rooms, are among Herr Krupp's foundations, and since 18t?6 rive technical schools have been in exist ence, in which clashes for women in household work, &c., are also heiH, which are now better attended than at first. Secondary schools, both in Essen and Altendorf, near by, ara supported by the firm. Work for- disabled men and invalids has been instituted since ]87Cf such as broom making for the co opeiative stares, basket making, fcc., in which widows and children are aiso ^m plovod. In one week in September, 188i, the number of people—men wom en and children—connected with and dependent on Krupp's wor&swM 65,381. PRESIDENT JACKSOX. OldL Hickory and. His Crusade Against the National Ba.uk. Ben Perley Poore's fiscoiiecdous. Fifty years since the country was con vulsed by the conflict between President Jackson and the United States bank. The bank was a corporation with a capi tal of «3G,iK)0,000f and it had branches in ma»y of the states. It was the sole fis cal agent of the United States govern ment, and the public funds were de posited in the vaults of the ba-nk and of its branches. Five of the directors were appointed by the United States government, and the others were lead ing Philadelphians. The president was Nicholas Biddle, a gentleman of rare ac complishments and high character, and he had fortified himself by making loans te leading editors in different parts of the country, and to distinguished im pecunious politicians. The hank was very prosperous and its stock '.vas in de mand at a high premium, when l^aac Hill, of New Hampshire, then un audi tor in the treasury department a Wash ington, became offended with Mr. Ma son, president of the branch bank at »rtfiinouth, N. H., and demanded his removal. This was refused, and Mr. IIHi Io?t no time in enlisting the prc-ud -nt hi a cru sa le against the bank. O if ckory" had just squelched nnUiOcution iu .uuth Carolina, and he turned eagerly to square off against a :eu foe. Guui ess disregarding the president passed a bill reciiartering the bank afrer t. :e expira tion of its charter in lS:)u .Lick-inn not only voted tie- bid, but ho had the pub lic fund swithdraw?! from the tj ited states hank and its brandies, and trans ferred to vario :s Slate banks. This? iofetid Mr. Riddle to eoiUriu-t the out ness of the United Staieshank to the ex tent of the average amount of public money held by it on dep..sit. Agitation and alarm prey,-iiei throughout thecountry: paralvsisseized on every branch of trade tlie notes of State banks depreciated sioeks fell from if) to 40 par cent real es tie de clined manufactures- were su^-ended, and large numbers of laborers rw dis charged without any means of sun port. "Oid Hickory" see ued revei in the din of the contest, and to en the fierce .invectives heaped upon him" in all quarters, asserting that ad tois distress was the work of "Sick B-dd and tiie bann." He. and his friends declared it had dabbleu in corn ana s-to ks, that it had made donations to roads nd canals, that it had built houses to r«c,t and sell, thai it had suborned the public press and stooped to corruption, and that it should be closed at once. The friendsof the bank, equa ly vio lent, accused the president of open and dating usurpation. After havimr, in de fiance of the constitution a ..d Livrs, as sumed the control of the exei utive and judical branches of tlie government, of the army and o: tlie navv, he now nought to seize the public purse, as Johns Cie sar had seized the public treasury at Rome. The merchants in diiierem cities finding themselveson th« vrze of bank ruptcy sent deputations to Washington to remonstrate with the president.. One of tbe^e delegations, from the c'y of New York, bearing a petition signed by 6,000 merchants, went io Wash ington, headed by Mr, James G. King. Vbiting tiie whitu house, thev were ad mitted into the president's priva.e office whore they found him seated at a table writing, with along ciay pipe in Ins mouth, which he was industriouslv smoking. After courteously greeting them, Mr. King began in a dignified man I ner, to state the object of the visit. He had said but a few words when General Jackson interrupted bun b}r saving: "Mr. Kinn, 1 believe you area sou of Rufns Kin^?" "I am, rfir," was the ans wer, Weil, sir," exclaimed the presi dent in an angry voice, gesth uiating widely: "Rufui King was always a Fe eralist, and I suppose you take a ter him. You talk abouo ins."!venc-.*? Wna do you come to me for? Go to Xicholas Biddle. He has all the money. He has millions of species in his vaults at this moment ly in idle, and yet you come to me to save the merchants of your city from breaking. I lell you, gentlemen, it's all polric-j, and I do not intend to change mv position/' The delegation retired, feeling glad, as one of them afterwards observed, thai he had not kicked them down suirs. All through the summer of 18:.!:* the tWht went on, to be continued for v erai years. Mr. Biddle, seeking to save himself by cotton speculations, the entire capital of the hank, pi niging thousands into bankruptcy. He retired to ins riKal home, oa the banks of the Delaware, unable to witnshmd 'he sfovtn of obloquy that assailed him in Philadel phia. His bearing was calm digni fied us in his proudest days, v- lorn bts was the financial autocrat of ths We-it em Hemisphere, and no.v ''none &<» poor to do him reverence." Jackson was revenged by the failure of tne state banks, which plunged tho COUMTV into financial ruin, but he remained th-* idd of {lie people. He had killed the "monster,' and he retained the grati tude of the people even thro igu the in flation ol !S)(j, the bankrupted of lK:j7, and Hie boneless business Uepres^ioa of the five following yea IT,. ri mi The Population of ParLs. From th? Italian Ti/u^s. An analysis of the po^ulatioa of Pai-is just published give^ very singu lar statistics as to the in Habitant* of the gayest city in .Eur :pe. Lt seems, also for its size, to be the most industri ous. The proportion in which tiie work ing c.a-iScS exceed tho-o live on their own incomes is the more rem a c abie as Paris is the recognize eer-tev of expenditure and escravai nice for ail France, Tnere are no cities that !d to the capital the same relative position that Liverpool,Manchester,and l'irridng ham occupy relatively to London More than ha.!fa miilion ot Parisians are cm ployed in commerce, trade and banking operations, while of the artisan class there are considerably more than a mil lion and A quarter. I'he iibeval pro fess'ons seem to occupv but a sm.l! pro portion of the population, All *om bined do not amount to 2u0,0f0, and in the subdivisions the prominence is quite different to what it would be wit/i_ us. The great majority are in the public service, which employs more tmin medicine, law, and divinity all combined. JB(it, after the public s-jrvic:-', it is art that gives employment and live lihood to the greatest number of Paris ians. I'orty-twe thousand uet their in come from this branch of industry. The doctors come after. Medicine, in its branches, ot course, inciu ling chemists and compounders and venders of medi cine. Then comes the law, with its 15. 000, votaries Irorn judge to ba iiif. Lit erature figures very low on tiie list, for, grouped with science anil iournaiism, ii gives employment to only H,0 oeople, whiie aii the clergy of all the persua sions amount to about half tha. number. On the whole, Paris would seem to be more industrious, more artistic, lesi lit erary, and less rehg.ous tuan the ordin ary visitor would supuose. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps was bora in Boston and christened May Gray for an intimate friem of her other'?, but fat the 4e*th of her mother, when io was eicbt yeaw old, Elizabeth Stuart, her mothers name, was given her.