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THERE'S A BOY IN THE HOUSE.
A gun fti tbe parlor, a kite in the hall, Xn the kitchen a booH, and a bat, and a ball, •On tho sideboapd a ship, on tho bookcase a fluto And a Uat £or whoso ownership* none could dis pute, Attdouton the porcli, gallantly prancing no* A spirited hobby fcorso paws at tho air And a well polished pie plate out there on the tbolf. Knar tho tall jell jar which a mischievous elf I Emptied as slyly and as slick as a mouse, \rni.-/»g easy to see tlioro's a boy in the house* A racket, a rattle, a rollicking shont Above and below and around and about A wbiRt-ling, a pounding, a hammering of nails, Tb« buiidiiig of houses, the shaping of snilfi, !fiintre.a,ties for pupvr, for scissors, for string, •JFVar every uuiindable, bothersome thing A baog of the door, and axlash up the stairs, rXn Ivhc interest of burdensomo business affairs And an elephant hunt for a bit of a mouse it easy to hear there's a boy in tho house. Hat oh. if tho toys were not scattered about-, tho houso never echoed to rachet and rout I?forever the rooms were nil tidy and neat, And one need noj: wipe after wee muddy feet £f no one laughed out if the morning was red, And with kisses went tumbling all tired to bed What a wearisome workaday world, don you For ail who love little wild laddioa 'twould be And Tin happy to think, though I shrink like a mouse .. JcVom disorders and din—there a boy in the to use. —Koi-th Adamsvxllc Times. BURIED ALIVE. flwir a Ireni Band of Roving: Romanys ed What They Considered a Deadly Sin. O STRAIGHT as the crow flies a ba'-iaile west fro' Sixty-sev enth street an' Cot tage Grove road, then turn an' go sou' 'bout three-quarters of a mile. Look sharp to the right side an' you'll eee the hat teran. It's a night hstteran. Some o' us goes down to the eity to the thaeyters an' it's dark like when we gets 'ome. That's •why we put it 'longside the way. Jus' foltar it an' you'll see a goodish knoll •with a strip o' trees over it. Under the See o' the knoll an' in the ridge o' the skimpy timber you'll find us. We'll be movin' on shortly. The nights be get tin cool like here." The speaker was tall and stalwart. •Jetty black was his waving hair. Shin ing, blacker still were his steady gaz ing, wide-open eyes. His skin had a tinge of oriental olive, and the summer sail had burned a hue of swarthy red sipon his cheeks. The lower part of his lace was covered by a beard of such silken quality that it needed no second glance to reveal it the growth from a •cuticle that had never been scraped by Che barber's razor. His clothing was of good material, and, while whole and without evidence of mucli wear, yet bore not only the marks of dust but the in tangible ,something that bespoke the cough usage of camp life. His hat, a fine soft felt, had the crown pressed out ward in a cone shape and the broad rim Thus admonished, I rubbed a hand over King Dau's nose and socially pulled his forelock. For both he and Philip Butler, the Romany Rye who •stood before me, were old friends. OLD FRIENDS. I had slept more than one short sum aver night in the tent beside Philip •when a roving strippling. More than one race had I won along some country roftd against all the other boys in the camp when mounted upon trusty King Dau's bare back. But that was six years gone by. I Itad put away boyish things. I looked curiously over man and beast for some signs of increasing age. I could find them in neither. "You are both just the same. You ase unchanged," I said, still fondling the horse and smiling at the man. "Only you has changed. Had you staid by us, as we asked you, I should not see the change in you had it come," .answered the gypsy, reproachfully. "But don't you "fool me now 'bout oomin' nut to the camp, savin' you 'will au' not doin' it," he added, "with* a sus picion which is apart of the eastern na ture, that generations of roaming in the western world has not wholly eradi cated. "I will come," I promised. "We bes all there. Leastways all that's left bes," he added with a sign. "Who's gone?" Why, mother. She went when we •was down sou' las' winter. W« laid leys in Ohio, where our Ian' is, owes us an' we an't no frien's yon knows." Well did I know the bitter feud that bid raged for years between the great gvpsy laniily that calls itself Stanley nnm bCl'S several her fur a spell in Louisannv till we can I "Pretty snddint," answered the lis a steady layin'-down" spot. We I gypsy. I wondered why his mouth don't want to lay down side o' the Stan- seemed to grow stern instead of sorrow- They frien's nohow, hundred souls, tlie great Butler clan of several hundred more, and two or three other branches of the Romany tribe who had adopted distinguished English names genera tions before they left the soil of Groat Britain. I knew they were all banded together by a common feeling of ro sentment against the domineering Stan leys, who laid false claims to supremacy over their race in this country. "Then Richard—his wife she—she was buried early this spring." continued the Eom in the soft half sing-song tones characteristic of his peculiar, clannish people who began their wan derings in India centuries before history existed. "You didn't know he was Married? No, s'pose you didn't. You ain't knowed but precious little 'bout us sence the fall you left us. He married one them Keynoldses girls what was campin' 'lone o' us the summer you camped with ns. You 'member her— Sallie?" Distinctly, indeed, did I remember the gypsy lass, Sallie Reynolds. She still had, when I saw her, more than the average of the marvelous beauty which is the endowment of the young Romany females and which road and camp life so soon destroys. No other gypsy maiden sang like handsome Sal lie, and none played the guitar and tambourine like she. I recollect well how the foolish young men from the near town had swarmed to the camp to get a glimpse of the beauty. And I re membered, too, the face of one at once sillier and bolder than the rest, who one twilight had offered an affront to the girl. I AYENUING AU INSULT. I remembered the flash, the sharp re port. the cry, and how the audacious turned down, indicating that its chief I youth fell upon the grass writhing in jur]ose wa3 protection from sun, or •wind, or rain. He had slipped from the big gray horse he rode without saddle and stood with one hand loosely grasping its mane, while the..halter hung over his •arm. The animal had. turned so that its chin rested upon the man's shoulder and it regarded me with eyes as steady as its master's. "Yes, I keeps King Dan," said the gypsy, noting, a. glance of recognition directed toward his steed. "I never ken sell 'im. Me an' 'im is close fren's ao long as we lives. He knows more'n me. He commenst to shinny your way an' that's what 'tracted my 'tention. He feels sort o' slighted when he an't no ticed proper." pain. His companions rushed to him and bore him away. There was an in stantaneous stampede in the camp. The staples and poles of the tents were hastily removed. The wagons were loaded, the horses haltered, and the membership of the camp broke into a half-dozen fragments, each going swiftly as the horses' fleet feet could carry it in a different direction. We all knew that Sallie Iliad drawn the pistol from the bosom that the law less hand sought to defile and herself shot the intruder down. No arrests were ever made, whether because tiio vigilant officer failed to overtake the gypsy bands or because the victim did not care to expose his folly. But three years later I saw him wheeled iu an invalid-chair down the graveled walk leading from his father's elegant home, a helpless paralytic from Sallie's bullet. Then speedily remembrance brought up before me the gypsy, Richard, brother to Philip, whom this fiery, un tamed young creature had taken as lord and master, for the gypsy is indeed the ruler of'the woman ho chooses as wife. Rom, the name that tells his rarce, mraus simply "the husband and master of one woman," significant that he came t!. is to be distinguished in a time when :iii other peoples about him were po!v ra-.ious. Absolute is his sway over one woman. He may not beat li:-.- nor be permitted an in fidelity toward her. But she must know no will but his. His pleasure must be her good pleasure. Let her betray his confidence and her life can pay the forfeit if lie so decides. If, im pelled by some strange waywardness foreign to tlie woman of her race, she is untrue to him, au awful, Romany fate awaits her at his command from which no orthodox gypsy hand would be raised to save her even in America. This fate is burial alive. I knew that at least in two instances it had been accomplished within the borders of the United States. Gypsy women with awe-struck lips had whis pered the tale in my I hearing. I knew that in the gypsy code no punishment was sufficient for the man who betraved a woman. For of all peoples the Ro many are the most chaste and among their women none live with blemished virtue. I was recalled by the voice of my gypsy friend. "Richard, he have changed wouder derful. Hef takes it hard, losin' Sallie. He never talks o' 'er, but often in the night he juss'^screams out 'er name iu 'is dreams, and calls 'er to come to 'im. He don't read no more." Richard was the only gypsy of many hundreds with whom I have been ac quainted who possessed the accomplish ment of being able to read and write. A curious collection of books was his. Old English editions of Spencer's poems, Butler's works, Shakespeare, rare Ben Jonson, and kindred litera ture, which he read and reread, often repeating long passages to me a» we eat by the fire in the twilight while the women withdrew from the light of the blazing green wood into the dusk with some credulous visitor to "tell a dukkeriu'" by the wavering gleam of a tallow candle. "Poor fellow I" I said, sympatheti cally. ".Did Sallie dip ""ddenly?" ful. "You know how Sallie used to be an awful straight girl—wouldn't 'low no one, Gorgois nitr Rom neither, to fool around her disrespectful?" He paused, looking at me closely. I nodded com prohensively. Well, Dick, he alius waz a talkin' abcut his blamed books, an'he wa'n't no great at the horse-tradin'. He kind o' tired her with his book talk, an' he kind o' tired her not gettin' forehanded faster. But oh, Lordy! he wonld 'a' died fur her. Last summer some o' them Stan leys they wuz earn pin' 'longside o' us out fceyant Englewood a spell. Most o' 'em drinks too much, you knows. Sallie got to runnin' with them altogether too tree s,n' drinkin' a bit. I talked to hev, an' Dick iie begun to fin' liault, too. Wouldn't 'low her to go from camp fur a long spell even to -tell dukkeriu'. There wuz a feller, 'bout a quarter blood gypsy, come 'long, He knowed the Stanleys an' they run on 'im in town an* fetched 'im to the camp. Had a livry-stable out in 'Frisco an' wuz jus' travfeliu', ho was. He had plenty o' money an' you knows 'ow Sallie she wuz good-lookin'—too eood-lookin'—an' her pretty ways o' sin gin' an' playin'. Well, she met 'im over there, coomed 'round our camp, too, till I ordered 'im off. Sallie started out one night an' Dick he spoke up short an' told her to bide by the fire. They went at words an' finally she struck 'im 'ard on the cheek. Ho stood up straight an' white with his anger. 'No Romany wife may answer back her husband, much less strike him,' he said. 'No true Rom sits in the tent an' reads when he should be liakkaworring with horses,' she answered, taunting like. '"The boy, he jus' bent his head an' answered her: 'You are right I have made a mis take.' Then he went one way in the dark among the brush and she another. 'Long late they both coomed back, dif ferent ways. But in the mornin' there wa'n't no trace of Sallie. "Dick, he lost his 'ead. Well, we follered. They didn't leave no hatteran, you can juss know, but we caught up with 'em at Omaha. When the feller saw us he was scared. We met them on the street. She was togged out in clothes he bought 'er. She made a move to her pocket, but I caught !er wri.°t. 'You'll coome back with us, juss as you be, my lass,' I said. Dick he sprang for that cursed white 'alf-au-alf's throat an' shook 'im helpless 'an threw 'im aside limp, when some o' the crowd that gathered caught Dick. SUE STRUCK HIM. 'Gentlemen,' said I as respect ful as I knowed 'ow, 'the man you are lioldin' is my brother. This woman is his wife, an' the scoun'rel what he's knocked out there has taken 'er fro''im. We 'ave juss foun' 'im.' Then they loosened Dick, but they car ried the cadjan out o' 'is reach. Sallie, she fought fierce fur a minute. I held her wrists like iron. I spoke low to 'er so tlie crowd couldn't 'ear. 'You're a gypsy lass an' its gypsies as will deal with you accordiu' to gypsy ways,' I said. "We met the folks way down in In diana, an' we traveled light, on to tlie mountings in Tennessee. "Yes but Dick forgave Sallie?" I asked. "No." "Not before she died?" "No nur after, either. He burned evTy book, though, and took to horse tradin'. He 'lows to start for 'Frisco next week an' hunt up that whelp an' deal with 'im. "Did Sallie stay with you as long as alie lived?" "She didn't get no chance to stay ennywhere else. She were kep' a prisoner," was the grim reply. "No wonder that free-bred young thing pined an' died." I exclaimed, shocked at the cruelty meted out to the wayward young gypsy wife. "Where did she die?" I demanded. The gypsy swung upon King Dan's back before he answered. He scanned the clouds as if for signs of rain and hold up one hand to catch any chance, premonitory drop. "I wanted you to know 'bout Dick 'fore you seed 'im, yon an' 'im was sich good chums," he explained, still gazing upward. "You might hear something in the camp if you marked his changed ways an' asked. Our folks never made secrets from you. An' we don't say nutliin' fur 'im, you see." He gathered up the bridle. "Where did Sallie die?" I persisted, impelled by some nameless force. Slowly 'the gypsy, Philip Butler, brought his eyes to my face. In their depths burned a savage fire. But the accents of his smooth, soft voice were as musical as ever as he replied, quietly: "She were buried down in Tennessee, in the country roundabout the Cumber land Mountings." Then he smiled gently upon me and told me they should eepect me at the camp supper the next day. As he rode away a horror crept upon me and chilled me. I understood why the dishonored young Romany wife Jay iu her un marked crave in the lonely mountain region of Tennessee apart from al! her kin. And this is the reason I woke m\ •, promise and did not go to supper side the camp-fire of my whiiom gypsy friends, who. as is their autumnal cus tom, were tarrying in the vicinity of the city to trade in horse* and tell fortunes before starting for their win ter's sojourn in the warm southern country.—Chicago Times. Applos ns MiMlittinv. Chemically, the apple iu composed of vegetable fiber, albumen, sugar, gum, chlorophyll, malic acid, gallic aid. lime, and much water. Furthermore, the German analysts say that the apple contain* a larger percentage ot phos phorus than any other fruit or vegeta ble. This phosphorus is admirably adapted for renewing the essential nervous mat ter, lethicin, of the brain and spinal chord. It is, perhaps, for the same reason, rudely understood, that old Scandinavian traditions repre sent the appla as the food of the g"ds who, when they felt themselves to be growing feeble and infirm, resorted to this fruit for renewing their powers of mind and body. AIBO, the acids of the apple are of signal use for men of seden tary habits, whose livers are sluggish in action, those acids serving to eliminate jjg from the body noxious matters, which, if retained would make the brain heavy and dull, or bring about jaundice or skin eruptions, and other allied trouble. Some such au experience must have led to our custom of taking apple sauce with roast pork, rich goose, and like dishes. The malic acid of ripe apples, either raw or cooked, will nentalize any excess of chalky matter engendered by eating too much meat. It is also a fact that such fresh fruits as the apple, the pear, and the plumb, when taken ripe and without sugar, diminish acidity in the stomach rather than provoke it Their vegetable sauces and juices are converted into alkaline carbonates, which tend to counteract acidity. A good, ripe, raw apple is ODe of the easiest of vegetable substances for the stomach to deal with, the whole process of its digestion being completed in eighty-five minutes. Gefrard found that the "pulpe of roasted apples mixed in a wine quart of faire water, and la bored together until it comes to be as apples and ale, which we call lambes wool, never faileth in certain diseases of the raines, which myself hath often proved, and gained thereby both orownes and credit. The paring of an apple, cut somewhat thick, and the inside whereof is laid to hot, burning, or run ning eyes at night, when the party goes to bed, and is tied or bound to the same, doth help the trouble very speedily and contrary to expectation, an excellent se cret. "—LomionflospiaZ^^ Tho lioy Itugler. Lord Nelson is reported to have said that he was born insensible to fear. The remark might seem as the foolish exaggeration of a brave man, did not several incidents associated with boys' behavior on the battlefield appear to justify it. During our Civil War not a few lads, notably "the drummer-boy of Chatta nooga," showed a coolness and a cour age under fire which would have done honor to the veteran of a score of battles. But "there were great men before Agamemnon," and brave boys before that young hero beat tho advance amid shot and shells. At the battle of New Orleans an English boy, of fourteen or fifteen years, won the admiration of the Americans hy his cool indifference to danger. He was the bugler of the British column tvhich advanced along the river road and captured the American re doubt. When the column came within two hundred yards of the American lines, the boy climbed a tree and blew the "charge" with all the strength of his lungs. Cannon balls and bullets plowed the ground around him :scores of men were killed befcrre his eyes, and the branches were torn from the tree on which he sat. But obove the thunder of cannon and the rattle of rifles could be heard the shrill notes of that bugle calling upon the British to "charge." The British retreated from the field, but the boy sat on the limb and blew the bugle until an American captured him. When brought into camp, he was astonished to fiud himself treated as a h»-.ro. The enthusiastic Creoles em braced him, and officers vied with each other in showing attention to the gal lant little soldier. Why Are tlie Two Mutton*? The are many details in our scheme of attire, th»j reason whereof is not gen erally known, says Clothier and Furnisher. In many instances they have filled some essential place iu the construction of the prototype of the existing garment and area survival or some bygone regime. There is one phase of thf? modern apparel that not one man in ti thousand knows the mean ing of, and yet custom has made it an unquestioned feature of every modern masculine skirt coat. Why are the two buttons placed at the waist line at the back of the garment? For effect? Not so originally. Those two buttons were, at t/ieir inception, not primarily for decoration, but for service. It was during the period when the big square art-embroi&ered and gorgeousiy-lined coats werh worn, two centuries ago, that the gallants of the time were wont to go foivh on dress parade, ready to resent any deviation from the rigid formalities of the court etiquette with a recourse to the sword. In order that the sidearm might be readily reached, the skirts of tlie coat were turned back in a revere-shaped manner and but toned or looped upon the buttons at the back, at the same time exploiting a seg meut of the rich inside of the garment in an unintentionally effective way. The Biggest Te.vax Wheat Field. A company of capitalists has pur chased 10,000 acres of land on the rail road at Vista, and will convert the en tire body into one immense wheat-field. Much of the land can be broken this winter. Twelve gang-plows have been ordered, and the breaking of the land will commence as soon as these arrive. A wheat-field ten thousand acre3 in ox tent is so far uuknown iu Texas.— Stm An tr. uia Express. CLOSE THE UPPER BERTHS, A Koform Wlitcli All Travelers on Sleep ing Cars Will Emlorso. Other States will soon be urged to follow tho example of Minnesota in compelling the sleeping car companies to close the upper berths of their cars when they are not occupied. This is a matter which has long been a peculiar aggravation to travelers. On the aver age the upper berths in sleeping cars aro not occupied half the time, but it has been the invariable rule, until the Minnesota Supreme Court recently made the State au exception, for the car porter to fasten down the cover of the box which holds the lower berth passenger, unles.i he is willing to pay double price for his accommodations. The fortunate traveler in a car which iu the course of the niglit enters the State of Minnesota now enjoys grudgingly given ventilation nnd comfort as soon as the line is crossed. The reform in Miuncsot-a was accom plished by an order of the State Board plisnea uy nu «r«er ui „ue o,™. of Railroad Commissioner*. The ra cannot, "will rai. uKin5 road or sleeping car companies rebelled 'h but the Supivnic Court sustained the. "iuena 1 such subjects to the chickens. Board, and the new rule is strictly en- foiced. ihoieis, „c who could 110 more opinion about the matter on the part of the traveling public, while the position of the railroad companies is but weakly defended. The sleeping car companies say, in general terms, that a man has no" right to more than he has paid for. They admit that the real reason for shutting in the lower berth passenger is to induce such as are able to do so to pay double rates in order to secure the comfort which more air and room will yield. If everybody got the priv ilege free, subject only to the possible crowding of the car by upper berth pas-' sengers, the sale of entire sections to single passengers would practically cease and an appreciable source of in come would be cut off. There is small profit, almost none at all, the sleeping car owners say, in running cars with only the lower berths occupied and paid for. They are compelled, however, to run sleeping cars on many lines where upper berths are never occupied. To compel a company to give a section to every purchaser of a lower berth on such a line would result in a dead loss in operation. The sleeping car people admit, however, that a very small pro portion of travelers buy a whole section in order to secure more room and air. The traveler who is shut into a box 6x2x4 when he may just as well enjoy the comfort of free circulation of air above him, by no meaus sees the matter in the same light as do the railroad com panies. He is needlessly deprived of physical comfort for a purpose that is neither more nor less than a polite blackmail. It does not cost the railroad company a cent to give him the fresh air which be craves. To say that he shall not have it is precisely the same as it would be for the railroad company to decree that he shall not occupv a full double seat in a day coach when no one calls for tho seoond half of it. It would be more defensible for a railroad com pany to require the payment of two fares for the use of a double seat in the day time, when a car is not full, than it is to deprive a passenger of air and space which are not iu use on a sleep ing car. In the former case, the pas senger gets just as much air and almost as much ease in occupying a single seat 11s he does in filling a double one. But in the sleeping car he is deprived need lessly of a distinct element of comfort and safety as well. If the Commercial Travelers' Associa tion and other organizations of traveling men should agitate the matter thor oughly and petition State Boards of Railroad Commissioners, Legislatures, if necessary, the reform adopted hy Minnesota might soon be extended over the railroad systems of tho whole countrv,—New 1'ork Sun. Soda Water Has CUaugeri. "It is a great mistake, my dear nephew, this thinking it necessary for a young fellow to take intoxicants to be merry," said a fond uncle to a young fellow as they were walking up Park Row. The old man had come in from his farm to see the city. "Well, let's take a soda water, and I'll swear off," replied the youug man as they turned intoa drug store. Tho nephew gave the order. "Here's to the drink of the moral, the sober, and the industrious it imparts coolness to the blood, sensibility to the palate, and calmness to the mind it in vigorates without depressing, and sus tains without exhausting," exclaimed the elder man, waxing eloquent. "It's ago drink hearty, unk," said the young man, as he winked at the clerk, and they emptied tlieir glasses. Ten minutes later "unk" was seen try ing with difficulty to scull himself around a lamp-post with an umbrella. "Unk" thinks city soda water has gained a wonderful potency since he was young. —New York Tribune. l'olyaamy Is Not Dead. Despite the proclamation of President Woodruff, of the Mormon Church, po lygamy is still practiced in Utah. Peo ple returning from ranches in the south western part of Utah have entered more thau one Mormon household containing two wives and sixteen children. In that section of country, dotted thickly res are Mormon elders who one week since never heard of President Woodruff's manifesto against polygamy. A gentle man engaged in" mining, while on a ss-syrwj ass? month, stated that not only was polvg amy practiced in that region, but thai several plural marriages were consum ated there within tho last two months. But one need not travel that far iu search of proof. Bees In a Church. T«veral years ago a swarm of bee« entered a church spire in a Western there ana appear to be doing well. church stands where it is "exposed ic severe storms from all directions. The spire is covered with inch lumber, which is most oovered -with tin. The cavity occupied equals ten ordinary hives. The large cavity does not preveni sivarming, as quite a number of swarms have beea secured by persona livino near. N1CHT WORKS. Great I»Isalvant»jjes of Being an E Bird. The fact that a chicken goes to bod at sundown, says tho Kansas City Bnt anj and of up„ Star wonld be proof positive that it "has n'tJ sense at all," if there were any reason iu the world why a chicken should stay up. On the othor hand, owls slay up at night, and if the chicken has the ml I rantasre of the owl in the way of health recreation or longevity the fact has es' caped the scientists. However, to re turn to human beings, it is not dis puted that there area great many peo. pie in tlii.-i world who are much better off in bed at 9 o'clock than out of it I Their retirement to the sheers is tinetly to the advantage of society Among such people may be classed ali invalids and small children, men who yawn, and women who object to tobacco Kinoke, the ill-conditioned Cassius who "loves no piny-." and "lieass no music" and the peevish Jacques, who "sucks melancholy out of a song as a weasnl and who wiu s] fil.9t_born of E miss the fascitia than Toby Belch' could resist the blandishments of Mrs. Maria's punch or forswear a cup of canary. They grant you, if you will that they are shortening their lives a couple of years more or less, but the price is cheap, and they never miss it. They know that the charming hours of all the twenty-four have come when the lights are dim and half the world is snoring, when the city has settled down like a graveyard, aud when a pipe takes on that rich, rank flavor which would not be toleratod in the polite cir clea of the business day. The very stillness of the night seems to lend ac tivity to the brain. It is at midnight or thereabout that the best stories aro told, the wittiest epigrams are thrown off, and the brightest thoughts are flashed into expression. It is at mid night that the two old cronies find their happiest time for conversation, just as two young girls will chatter over the pleasures of the ball room after re tiring. And it is at night, and late at night, that the student loves his book and the good fellow his cigar, or what ever else may be tolerated by sumptuary legislation. This is not the rule of lite found in medical works, but it is as sumed for the moment that men are net chickens. Leigh Hunt wrote page after page enthusiastic admiration of bed, but it transpired that the admiration was particularly deepseated after 7 o'clock in the morning. Picture the rare spirit* of Miltre Tun going off to bed at 8 o'clock in the eveniug, think of tho 01- good fellows who went around to cheer up Goldsmith, preaching the hygienic example of poultry. Let those who will dwell on the health and wealth which follow the example of the birds and the beasts, but do not deny to tho enthusiasts! who have tested the pleas ures of the night hours their tribute to the delights of "sitting up." Ilow a 1'ig Suddenly liccamo Pork. In a book published by Mr. Phi1 Robinson he gives the following graphic description of how a pig suddenly be came pork at a pig-killing establishment in Chicago: A lively piebald porker was one of the number grunting and quarreling in a pen, and 1 was asked to keep my eye on him. What happened to that porker was this: He was suddenly seized by a hind leg and jerked up to a small crane. This swung him safely to the fatal door through which no pi« ever returns. On the other side stood a man. That two-handed engine at the door stands ready to smite once, and smite no more, aud the dead pig shot through a trough and through another doorway, and then there was a splash. He had falleu head first into a vat boiling water. Some unseen machinery passed him along swiftly to the other end of the terrific bath, and there a waterwheel picked him up and flung him onto a sloping counter. Here another machine seized him and villi one revolution scraped him as bald as|i nut. And down the counter he went, losing his head as he slid past a mas with a hatchet, and then, presto! he was up again by the heels. In one dread ful handful a man emptied him, and, while another squirted him with fresh water, the pig registered himself as lie passed the teller's box, shot down tlie steel bar from which he hung aud whisked round the corner into the ice house. One cut with the knife two "sides of pork" out of the piebald pig. Two hacks of a hatchet brougtii away his backbone. Aud there, in thirty-five second from his last grunt dirty, hot-headed, noisy—the pig hanging up in two pieces, clean, traf 'quil, iced! The very rapidity of the whole process robbed it of its" horror& Here one moment was au opinionativi piebald pig, making a prodigious f«si about having his hind leg taken hold of, and lo! before he had made up hi." info to squeal, he was hanging up in an icf house split in two. He had resented tin first trifling liberty that was taken wit' him, and in thirty-five seconds he ready for the cook. Inllueuce of Example, one of them. The proprietor of a la1'? mercantile establishment in this strides lcftilv across its floors looking after things. His strong and impressive, and it is a curl ous fact that, in the course of this stride has come to be unconscious'! copied by all the employes of the tublisement. The heads of the deps" ineuts imitate his example by stridi^ rapidly across the floor so do the elf on every story BO do the boys in tr ing for clerkships. Some of IO,r cl"K8?1|P?: "I,,# way or iu other dubious ways but. ter a while, all of them stride proprietor's style.' Even a coupl® feminine typewriters in the ment show by their they have est felt ah1, movements the inflaenoe of his ent example.—New York Sun. "I'VE struck a tender chord at 1 suid the tramp, as he began oQ oott'onwood timber. 3 P1'