THE RED CLOUD CHIEF.
RED CLOU).
NEimASK
Two Lurcrw Out Tor a Walk.
Together we walked In the evening time,
Abore us tbe k jr spread golden and clear.
And be be:it bis bead and looked In iny eyes.
Ab If be field iixj of all most dear.
O! it was sweet lu tbe evening time!
And our jiatnway went through fields of w heat,
Narrow that path and rough the way.
lint be was near, and the birds gang true,
Andtbebtars came out lu the twilight gray.
U! It was sweet in the evening time!
Softly be spoke of tbedays long past,
Softly of the blessed days to be;
Close to bis arm and closer I prest
The corn-field path was Kdeit to ine.
o: It was bwuet In the evening time!
Grayer the llg'it grew and grayer still.
The rooks 111 tied home through tbo purple shade'
TbenlghtlngalesKaiig where thethornsstood high
As I walked with him through the woodland glade.
OJ it was sweet lu the evening time!
And the latest gleam of daylight died;
Sly band in his enfoided lay;
We swept the dew from the wheat as we paite.l.
For narrower, narrower wound the way.
O! it was sweet in the eveulng time!
lie looked In the depths or my eyes and said,
"Sorrow and gladness will come for us. sweet;
Hut together we'll walk through the fields of life
Close as we walked through the fields or wheat."
I Good Vt'oids.
IJKIUN'I) TIME.
In '32 there wasn't a likelier fellow
on the line than George Kirke. He was
the son of a poor man and his mother
was dead. Ilis father was a confirmed
invalid of the rheumatic order, and
George played the dutiful son to him in
a way that would astonish the young
. men of to-day.
Somehow, nobody knew exactly how,
George had managed to pick up a good
education, and he had polished it off, so
to speak, by a two years' course at a
commercial college.
Kirke began on Sandy Hill railroad
when he was about twenty-one or two
years old. First he was a brakeman.
This railroad business is a regular suc
cession, and, generally speaking, a man
has to work his way up. It ain't often
that he gets right up to the dignity of
a conductor at one step, with a chance
to jvocket stray ten cent script, and the
privilege of helping all the good looking
and well dressed ladies out of the cars,
and letting the homely ones, with babies
and bandboxes in their arms, stumble
out as best they may, while lie is en
gaged in talking to a man.
George did his duty so well that he
was soon promoted to fireman, and after
he had learned the workings of the ma
chine he was made engineer and given
an engine. The engine was one of the
newest and best on the line, ana was
willed the Flyaway, and George was
very proud of it, you may well believe.
I tell you now, sir, your true engine r,
one as is out-and-out for the business,
and feels his responsibility, takes as
much pride in his engine as the jockey
does in his favorite race horse, and
would sit up nights, or neglect his
sweetheart, to keep the brasses and fil
agrees of his machine so's you could see
your face in 'em.
There was another man who wanted
George's chance There's generally more
than one after a paying job. Jack Hal
iday had been waiting some time to be
engineer of the Flyaway, and when he
lost it he was mad enough to pull his
hair. Ho was a brakeman, likevise,and
had been on the ioad full two years
longer than Kirke, and it would seem
that the chance really belonged to him
but he was a quarrelsome, disagreeable
fellow, with independence enough to
have set an emperor up in business, aud
still have some left.
"When Jack realized that George had
got the inside track of him, his anger
was at a white heat. He cursed Kirke
and cursed the company, and old
"Whately, the superintendent, and things
generally, until it seemed to bo a pity
that there was not something else to
curse, he was in such a line cursing
order.
There was more than one thing which
made Jack Haliday down on George
Kirke. George had been his rival in
many respects, and particularly where
the fairer part ef creation was con
cerned. George was a great favorite
with the girls, for he was handsome and
generous, and good natured, and Jack
was sarcastic, and always on the con
trary side, and the girls avoided him as
they always should such a man.
Well, all expected that ill would come
to George from Jack's bad blood against
him mid we warned him more than once,
but he always laughed and reminded
us of the old saying that 'barking dogs
never bite,' which is true in the main.
And, as the time went on, until two,
three, four months had passed since
Kirke's promotion, and nothing had
occurred, we forgot all about our appre
hensions of evil, and if we thought of
the matter at all, we concluded we had
wronged Haliday by our suspicions.
It was a dark night in November,
with considerable fog in the air, and
strong appearance of rain. I was at
Golosha, the northern terminus of our
road, looking after some repairs on a
defective boiler, and I was coming down
to Xew York on the 7:30 train Kirke's
train.
Aoout seven there came a telegram
from old Whately, wnose summer resi
dence was nearly midway between Golo
sha and Kew York, and the old heathen
had not yet forsaken it for the city.
The telegraph operator came into the
engine house where Kirke was at work
and read it to him. Kirke made a note
of it in his pocket book.
Pay train on the line, will meet you
just west of Leeds, at 10:15. Spurt on
the siding at Deering's Cut, and well.
Whately.',
Kirke's watch hung on a nail beside
the clock. It was a fancy of his always
to hang it there when he was off a train
so that he could make no mistake in the
time.
He glanced at the clock and from it
to his watch. Both indicated the same
hour, 7:15.
7;15," said Kirke, meditatively, "and
we leave at 7:0,and the pay train meets
us at Deering's Cut at 10:15. Scant
time to make the run in this thick
weather, but it must be managed.nAnd
he turned away to give some orders to
his fireman.
Jack Haliday was there, he had been
strolling in and out for the last half
hour, smoking a cigar, and swearing at
the bad weather.
The train did not leave until near
mi night, so he had plenty of time to
swear.
We all went to the door and took a
"ook at the weather and unanimously
voted it duced bad, and then we walk
ed up and down the platform, and
smoked our after supper cigars, and by
the time we were through it was time
for the train hands to be getting into
5 their places.
Jioth the clock in the engine room
and Kirke's watch indicated 7:40. Kirke
was putting his watch in his pocket as
he said :
"Garth, are you going with me on the
Flyaway V"
"Xo, thank ye." said I, "I get enough
of that sort of thing in my every day
life; I am to do a little swell business
to-night and take passage in a palace
car. Want to rest my back. Good night
to ye, and hoi her in well round Rocky
Bottom curve. The road is a little
shaky."
"Aye, aye, sir!" responded Kirke, and
he swung himself into position on the
Flyaway.
The bell rang; I scrambled into my
compartment on the Pullman, and felt
horribly out of place among the silks
and broadcloths and smell of musk ;but
1 was in for a first-class ride and made
the best of it so effectually that five
minutes after, Gibson, who now fancies
he owns all creation because he has got
a silver cofiin plate on his breast, with
conductor on it, had shouted "all
aboard!" I was sound asleep.
What occurred in other quarters to
affect the fate of Kirke's train I learn
ed afterward.
Old Whately, the superintendent of
the road, as I guess I have already said,
had a country residence in Leeds on a
mountain spur, which commanded a
view of the surrounding country for
more than a score of miles. The line
of the railway could be distinctly seen
in each direction for fifteen miles, and
Whately was wont to say that his look
out was worth more to the safety of
trains than all the telegraph wires on
the road.
Whately wjis a rich old buffer, kind
enough in his way, but sharp as a fer
ret in looking after the road hands, and
determined that every man should do
his duty.
He had but one child, a daughter ;and
Floss Whately was the belle of the
country. She was brave, beautiful and
spirited, and more than once when her
father had been away, had she assumed
the responsibility of directing the trains
and she had always acquitted herself
with credit.
Old Whately was very proud of her
as he had a right to be, and kept all the
young fellows at a distance, until it
was said that he intended keeping his
daughter single till the Czar of all the
Russians came on to marry her.
This night in Kovemberold Whately
and Floss were out on the piazza of
their country home, peering through
the gloom and fog for the signal lights
of the Golosha tram, which was nearly
due.
"It's devilish strange it doesn't come
in sight!" said Whately, laying down
his night glass in disgust. "It is hard
on U ten now ! They ought to show
their light round Spruce Pond by this
time!"
"Tou telegraphed them, father? You
let them know the pay train was on the
road ?" asked Floss.
"To be sure. And good heavens!
there is the head light on the pay train
now! See! not ten miles away and
running liKo the devil, as it always
does !
He pointed with trembling linger
down the valley forge, where, faraway,
a mere speck in the gloom, could be
seen a bright light, scarcely moving, it
seemed, but those anxious watchers
knew it was approaching at lightning
speed. Father and daughter looked at
each other. The truth was evident.
For some reason the train from
Golosha was ten minutes behind time,
and it would not reach the siding at
Deering's Cut until the pay train had
passed beyond on the signal track. And
then? Why, there would be another
item for the morning papers to read
under the head of 'Appaling Railway
Disaster!' and a few more homes would
be made to mourn. Father and daughter
looked at each other in dismav.
"Selim can do it," said Floss, quickly.
"If I can reach Leeds five minutes
before the train yes, two minutes- all
will be well. Do not stop me, father!"
she said as he laid his hand on her arm.
'But you must not go! It is dark and
dismally lonely ! No, Floss !"
"Shall I go, father? Selim knows
only me, and you could not ride him. I
have ridden darker nights. And he is
the only horse in the stable. Don't you
remember? The others were sent to
town yesterday."
Before old Whately could stop her
she had ordered the hostler to saddle
Selim, and she was already buttoning
on her riding habit with rapid, nervous
fingers.
The horse came pawing to the door,
Floss sprang into the saddle, leaned
down and kissed her father's forehead.
"Pray Heaven to spare me!" she cried
hoarsely, and touching her horse with
htr whip, he bounded swiftly down the
sharp declivity.
It was raining steadily now and the
gloom was intense, but Selim was used
to the road, and the rider was cour
ageous. She urged him on at the top
of his speed, up hill and down through
Pine Valley, over Pulpit Hill, and then
she struck upon the smooth road which
stretched away to the Leeds, some two
miles, and straight as an arrow.
She could see the headlight on the
pay train far down in the valley dis
tinctly now, and to her excited fancy it
seemed but a stone's throw away. She
even thought for a moment that zh
heard the grind of the wheels on the
track, but it was only the sighing of the
wind in the pines.
On and still on she went. Selim
seemed to fly. One might have fancied
that he knew his mistress was on an
errand of life or death. The lights of
the station were in view nay, she
even saw the station master's white
lantern as he rolled up and down the
platform the white lantern which was
to signal the approaching train to tell
them to go on, for all was well ! On to
their doom! She dashed across the
track, flung the line to an amazed by
stander, and striking the white lantern
from the hand of the astonished official,
she seized the ominous red lantern from
its hook, and springing upon the track,
waved it in the very teeth of the com
ing train. Two sharp short whistles
told her that her signal was seen, and a
moment later the train came to a stop,
and officers rushed forward to confer
with the train from Golosha, which had
not yet been telegraphed from the next
station beyond.
The man waited fifteen minutes
before Kirke's train slid on the
siding, and it was then known that but
for the decision of one young girl, the
two trains must have collided four
miles beyond Deering Cut. When told
the whole story Kirke looked at his
watch. The man from the station
looked at his.
Kirke was ten minutes behind time.
You want to know how it happened ?
Certainly you could have guessed Hali
day did it. A man was fouud next day
w-ho confessed to having seen Jack tam
pering with the time piece in the en
gine house that night, but he had not
thought of it, he said. Jack? 0'i, he
left town, and was next heard of in
Australia. His game was not a suc
cess. And Kirke married Miss Floss
Whately, else this story would not have
been told, because what would a story
be worth thatuid not end in a wedding?
The Plant that Eats Flies.
There is found in Florida a wonder
ful plant, with large yellow flowers,
which are very conspicuous on the
damp pine barrens of that State. The
wonderful part of this plant is not its
flowers, but its leaves. These leaves
are from six to twelve inches hi length,
and are hollow, and shaped like a trum
pet. They stand very erect, and the
opening is covered by a rounded arching
hood. The inside of this hood is very
brilliant, with veins of scarlet running
upon a yellowish ground. On the out
side ef the leaf, from the base to the
top, runs a broad wing, bound or edged
by a purplish cord. A lady who wished
to study these curious plants went to
the place wr:re they were growing, and
watched them cheerfully. She saw
ants and other insects crawling up the
cord on the outside of the ieaf, feeding
as they went on some sweet stuff which
had oozed out of it. She saw many
going up, but none coming down, for
when they got to the top they disap
peared inside the opening. She took a
number of leaves home, and setting
them upright in ases of water, sat
down to watch what the flies in the
room would do. They soon gathered
around the leaves, and almost as soon
as they had tasted the secretion they
began to act strangely. They btcame
stupid, and paid no attention to her ef
forts to shake them from the leaf. If
she touched one it would fly a short dis
tance away, but it invariably returned
to the leaf, and w;is very soon buzzing
inside the tube, trying to walk up the
dry, smooth surface, and ever falling
back until it was exhausted and still.
The lady, Mrs. Treat, would take a leaf,
and turning it upside down, knock it
until she had liberated all the flies that
were in it; but before long every fly
found its way back again, and walked
in as if fascinated by some spell. On
opening the leaves, alter they had been
a day or two in the house, fifty or more
flies would be found in a single one,
Wasps, cockroaches and other insects
were attracted in the same way that
the flies were.
This plant is, therefor , you will see
an insect trap; but this is not all. The
most curious part is yet to come. The
plant actually feeds upon the insects
which it catches. The lower part of
the tube is a sort of stomach. Long
hairs, all pointing downwards, are scat
tered thickly over the surface. If a leaf
has caught no prey, the hairs are clear
and very transparent; but very soon
after an insect is caught the hairs begin
to absorb, and granular matter may be
seen extending alone their entire length.
When a small number of insects are
caught they seem to be digested quickly,
and no disagreeable odor is observed ;
but the plant seems to thrive on this
filthy mass of putrid insects; and in
time absorbs all, save the dry remains
of the wings of beetles and other hard
parts of insects. So this plant feeds
upon carrion, and sets a tempting bait
to lure insects into its fatal trap. The
sweet secretion on the outside of the
leaf is an intoxicating beverage, which
those who once taste want to taste
again, each time advancing nearer to
the fatal trap, from which there is no
way of escape. Curious, is it not, that
flies should be so foolish? But not so
curious as that man and woman, wi.h
minds, should act in a precisely similar
manner, and walk so willingly into a
trap set for them, alas! that we should
have to say it, by other men and women
who are willing to make money out of
poisoning their fellow creatures. Ex
The Arithmetic of Life.
Rev. Dr. Henry Smith, in addressing
the senior class of Lane Semmarv on
Commencement Day, gave this graphic
view of the opportunities of life:
"Do you remember the inexorable
logic of that remarkable arithmetical
speech which Thomas De Quincy made
to himself and to some imaginary friend,
when standing precisely where you are
standing to-day, at the beginning of his
work of life : 'My friend, you make very
free with your days; pray, how many
do you expect to have? What is your J
rental as regards the total harvest of
days which this life is likely to yield ?
Let us consider.' Then follows his
arithmetic, which I give without his
language. Seventy years of life yield
2.,.".j0 days. Remember now, that 20
years have goue before beginning
before having attained any skill or.sys
tem, or any dt finite purpose in the dis
tribution of time.
"Deduction Xo. 1, for twenty years
before beginning, 7,300days; remainder,
1SJX10 days. Out of this remainder you
have to deduct one-third, at a blow, for
one item, sleep. Deduct Xo. 2 J,0S0
days, leaving remainder Xo. 212,170
days.
"Once more De Quincy says, on ac
count of illness, of recreation, and the
serious occupations spread over the sur
face of life, it will be little enough to
deduct another third. In the case of
the minister it will be more, rather than
less, for, as I understand him, the time
occupied in-public speaking comes in
here but call it one-thiid. Deduction
Xo. C 4000 days, leaves remainder Xo.
38.110 days.
"Finally, he says, for the item which
the Roman armies grouped under the
phrase 'corptis etirare,' attendance upon
the animal necessities eating, drink
ing, washing, bathing and exercise
deduct the smallest proper amount from
the last remainder of S.110 days, and
you will have less than 4 000 days, in a
long life, left for the direct develop
ment of all that is most august in the
nature of man. After that comes the
night, when no man can work."
Among the Scottish Hills.
In some parts of Scotland there are a
great many high hills or mountains,
crowded together, only divided from
each other by deep valleys. They all
grow out of one root that is, the earth,
the tops of these hills are high up and
lonely, with the stars above them ; and
the wind roaring and raving among
them makes such a noise against the
hard rocks, running into the holes in
them and out again, that their steep
sides are sometimes very awful places,
lint in the sunshine, although they do
look lonely, they areso bright and beau
tiful, that all the boys and girls fancy
the way to heaven lies up those hills.
In the winter, on the other hand, they
are such wild, howling places, with the
hard hailstones beating up n them, and
the soft, smothering snow-flakes heap
ing up dreadful wastes of whiteness
upon the i, that if ever there was a
child out on them ho would die with
fear, if he did not die with cold. But
there are only sheep there, and as soon
as the winter comes over the tops of
the hills the sheep come down their
sides, because it is warmer the lower
down you come; even a foot thick of
wool on their backs and sides could not
keep out the terrible cold up there.
But the sheep are not very knowing
reatures, so they are something better
instead. They are wise that is. thev
are obedient creatures, obedience often
being the very best wisdom. Because
they are not very knowing, they have a
man to take care of them, especially
when a fctorrn comes on. Xot that the
sheep are so very silly as not to know
where to go to get out of the wind, but
they don't and can't think that some
ways of getting out of danger are more
dangerous still. They would lie down
in a quiet place, and stay there till the
snow settled down over them and
smothered them. Or they would tum
ble down steep places and be killed, or
carried away by the stream at the
bottom. So, though they know a little,
they don't know enough, and therefore
need a shepherd to fake care of them.
Xow the shej herd, though he is wise,
is not quite clever enough for all that
is wanted of him up in those strange
terrible hills, and he needs his dog to
help him.
Well, the shepheid tells the dog what
he wauts done, and off the dog runs to
do it; for he can run three times as fast
as the shepherd, and can get up and
down places much better. I am not
sure that lie can see better than the
shepheid. but 1 know he can smell
better. So that he is just four legs and
a long now to the shepherd, besides the
love he gives him, which would com
fort any good man, even if it were
offered hiui by a hedge-hog or a hen.
One evening, in the beginning of
April, the weakly sun of the season had
gone down with a pale face behind the
shoulder of a hill in the background of
my story. And because he was gone
down, the peat-tires upon the hearths ot
the cottages all begau to glow more
brightly, as if they were glad he was
gone at last and had ieft them their
work to do or, rather, as if they wanted
to do all they could to make up for his
absence. And on one hearth in particu
lar the peat-fire glowed very brightly.
There was a" pot hanging over it, with
supper in it; and there was a little girl
sitting by it, with a sweet, thoughtful
face. Her hair was done up in a Bilken
net, for it was the custom with Scotch
girls to have their hair so arranged,
many years before it became a fashion
in other lands. She was busy with a blue
ribbed stocking, which she was knitting
for her father.
He was out on the hills. He had that
morning taken hi3 sheep higher up than
before, and Ellen knew this; but it
could not be long now leforeshe would
hear his footsteps, and measure the long
stride between wh'ch brought him and
happiness home together.
But hadn't she any mother?
Oh ! yes, she had. If you had been in
the cottage That night you would have
heard a cough every now and then, and
would have found that Ellen's mother
was lying in a bed in the room not a
bed with curtains, but a bed with doors
like a press. This does not seem a nice
way of havi g a bed ; but we should all
be glad of the wooden curtains about
us at night, if we hvtd in such a cot
tage, on the slue of a hill along which
the wind swept like a wild nver, only
ten times faster than any river would
run, even down a hill-side. Through
the cottage it would be spouting, and
streaming, and eddying, and fighting all '
night long; and a poor woman with a
cough, or a man who has len out in
the cold all day. is very chid to he in a
sheltered place and Ieivetherest of the
bouse to the wind and the tairier.- Sr
yfrholas for i?e-pttrnber.
Hints on the Care of the Kyes.
There are, perhaps, more individuals
who ascribe their weakness of sight to
a use of their eyes under an insuflieient
artificial illumination than to any
other cause. In a great many instan
ces this may not be strictly true,
but there can be no doubt that faulty
artificial light is one of the most pro
ductive causes of a certain class of in
juries, to which the eye can be exposed.
The two sources of trouble with the
ordinary artificial lights, are first, that
they are not pure white, and secondly,
that they are unsteady. The first de
fect is found in all artificial lights ex
cept the lime, electric and magnesium
lights; the second especially in candles
and gas. The yellowness is, in a meas
ure, counteracted by using, in the case
of lamps and gas, chimneys of a violet
or blue tint, and the flickering of the
gas may be obviated largely by employ
ing an Argand burner. All things con
sidered, a German student-lamp fur
nishes the most satisfactory light. The
next best is gas with an Argand burner.
The chimneys of both may, as above
suggested, be advantageously of a light
blue tint.
The position of the light in relation
to the body is of great importance. If
a shade is used on the lamp or burner
(it should, by preference, be of ground
or "milk" glass, never of CHlorcd glass),
the light may stand directly in front of
the body and the work be allowed to
lie in the light under the shade, which
will protect the eyes from the glare of
the flame. If no shade is used the bark
should be turned to the souice of light,
which ought to fall over the left
shoulder. The same rule applies in the
management of daylight. In this case
the light should come from behind and
slightly above, and fall directly on the
work, whence it is reflected to the ee.
It should never fall directly in the face.
The light in the room during sleep is
also not without its influence. As a
rule, the room during sleeping hours
should be dark, and in particular, care
should be taken to avoid sleeping oppo
site a window where on opening the
eyes in the morning a flood of stiong
light will fall on them. Even the
strongest eyes are, after Ihe repose of
the night, more or less sensitive to the
impression of intense light. Tne eyes
must have time to accustom themselves
to the stimulus.
Attention should be called to the in
jurious effects that sometimes fdlow
reading on railroad cars. On account
of the unsteadiness of the page, read
ing under these circumstances is ex
ceedingly tiying to the eyes, aud should
never be persisted in for any consider
able length of time.
During convalescence from severe
illness the eyes are generally the last to
regain their lost power. Especially is
this the case with women alter child
birth, and too much care cannot be
taken to put as little strain upon the
eyes as possible at this time. Dr. "S. M.
Burnett, in Scribner.
Lip Reading.
A good many years ago, when the ac
complished daughter of a well-known
gentleman of this city was a little girl,
she was taken ill with scarlet fever,
and when she recovered w;is stone deaf.
Fortunately the child, who iwsesaed a
remarkably sweet voice, had learned to
talk before the attack, and the physi
cian who attended her, finding that her
sense of hearing had entirely gone, en
joined upon the mother the necessity of
carefully keeping up the habit of speech
in order that it should not be totally
lost. From that timeout the mother
devoted herself to the preservation of
her daughter's voice, almost to the ex
clusion of erery thing else, and the suc
cessful issue of her undei taking has
proved an ample rewaid for her labors.
The young lady is now not only an ac
complished member of society, but an
excellent artist, well known among the
painters of .New York. Her education
was so carefully attended to by her
mother that she not only talks well, but
understands everything that is said to
her by simply watching the lips of her
interlocutor. On one occasion an emi
nent clergyman of this city called to
see her mother, and was received by the
young lady. After some fifteen min
utes the mother presented herself, and
the young lady retired. Presently the
conversation turned upon the daughter,
and the mother said something about
her "ii.fl-mity." The clergyman, who
had seen nothing to indicate any lack
of perception in the young lady, and
who had not noticed any physical de
feet, was surprised, and asked what
was meant. The mother then explained
that her child was stone-deaf. The
clergyman wa3 loth to believe it, and
almost demanded further proof of the
fact. The young lady was then called.
and it was proven to his entire satis
faction that she could not understand a
single word that was ejkiken nnlessshe
saw the motion of the lips which ut
tered it. Like the deaf girl described
in Wilkie Collins' novel ot "Hide and
Seek," she is singularly susceptible to
any vibration of the timoers of the
room or house in which she may be, and
her mother has established a system of
telegraphy with her by means of the
doora and balusters, by which she can
communicate with her throughout the
whole house. By simply striking the
baluster or door with the open hand
her parents cm apprise her that her
presence is desired in a particular room
or part of the premises, and by modid
cations of the raj s can inform her of
many oi tne minor anairs mat are
taking place. Although her father hs
a hanJsome competence, thu your g
lady earns en jug for her own inn
in the pursuit of her art. JV. T. WorhL
"The sacred neavens around him
shine," wrote the poet. The compu3itor
put it: The sacred hyenas around him
whine."
IKwiestic Overwork.
In most parts of the eosairy. tt is
almost iuitHvuWe to obtain ctvel help.
Gtrls who are fitted for doiatttlic servire
seek situations in city houses rnUi-r
than on forms; for. in many cusec.
farm life is dull, urnl yotnc itvple
avoid it. Therefore, the farmers wife
is taxed beyond her strength; the work
must be done, and there is no one save
herself to do it. And such a variety
of work, tnrth indoors ami out' he is
expected to cook for her husband and
family, attend to the innumerable duties
of a household, perform all the labor
except the washing, and always be
ready to entertain visitors. The children
must be taken care of. and papa, who is
apt to be unreasonable, of course ex
pects them to be clean aud neat, and
can see no reason why even thing can
not be moving along like his work out
of doors. But owing to the many hin
drances to which every mother with
little children is subject, even with the
best help, it is not possible always to
have household work perfectly smooth
Papa does not comprehend this. Per
haps it is too much to expect a strong,
hearty man, working out m the fresh,
invigorating air, with his work all per
formed seasonably to understand how
his wife can be overburdened, sur
rounded with every comfort that is
within his means to give I.er. Yet her
life can be made utterly burdensome
with hard work. 8 ivs a fanner's wife:
"I had been a slave to my family for
years before I bethought myself of
adopting a young orphan girl. Per
haps I was more fortunate than every
one need expect to be, for my adopted
daughter proved a wonderful comfort
and help. When I see young mothers
so oppressed with their many cares, ami
wearied out with unceasing calls of the
little ones, I think of the many orphan
children that are suffering in want, that
could be so helpful, and thankful lor a
home, where they could be eared for us
the rest of the children. Young girls
often have a peculiar talent for enter
taining children, and do it with so
much e.'tse that it is a ple.tsure to see
them together. They amuse each other.
and the tired mother finds opportunity
to attend to her domestic duties with
out interruption.
Let's He Economical
We have.lrom sheer necessity, begun
to be economical. Let in continue ho
Let us build smatler houses; let us fur
nish them more mod.stly; let us live
ess luxuriantly; let us tune all our
IK-rsonal audKocial life to a lower key
We have bravely begun reform in pub
lie and corpora' e affairs. Let us continue
this, and vigilantly see to it that our
trusts are placed in competent and
honest hands. We are committed to a
reform in the civil service a reform,
which will extinguish the trade of pol
itics that has done so much to debauch
and impoverish the country. Let ub
H'-e to it that this reform is thoroughly
effected. Our speculations lie in ruin,
with the li res and fortunes they have
absorbed. Our ii.-titious values have
been extinguished ; let us not try to re
light the glamour that made them.
Above all, let us be content with mod
stgiins.ceau trying to win wealth in
a single day, and get something out of
ife besides everlasting work and worrv.
jully one half of our wants are arlifl
oial, and these terrible struggles for
money are mainiyforthe simple wants
we have created.
How Hank of England Note are .Made.
Hank of England notes are made
from new white linen cuttings, never
from anything that has been worn. So
carefully is the papr prepared that
even the number of dips into the pulp
made bj- each workman is registered on
a dial by machinery, and the sheets are
counted and booked to each person
through whose hand they p;issd. They
are made at Laverstroke, on the river
Whit in Ilampshire.bya family named
Portal, descended from a French Hu
guenot refugee, and have been made by
the same family more than l."0 years
H)ine fifteen years ago a qiantity of
bank note pajer was stolen by the com
plicity of an employe, and this occa
sioned great trouble, as the printing is
a comparatively easy matter the great
diC ulty with forgors being the paj;r.
The ntes are printed within the bank
building, and there is an elaborate, ar
rangement for securing that no note
shall be exactl v like another.
How A Conductor i.ot Hi Fure.
Conductor Jarnes Tinney. on leaving
Jersey City recently found a passenger
on his train, a woman with a baby in her
arms, who refused to pay her fare. Xot
wishi ng to put her off the train between
two stations, being too gallant a man
I )r that, he allowed her to ride to Pater
son. At that point the woman got off,
and, in assisting her to alight. Conduc
tor Tinney got i)0session of the baby.
He tucked the juvenile under Irs arm.
and notified the woman that when she
haI paid her fare she could have the
baby, and not before. The baby began
kickingand squalling as Conductor Tin
ney starttd for the depot. The. woman
pursued hi in, i".cketbook in hand, and
finally paid her fare, receiving in return
the baby. On opening her pketbvok it
wts sen th.it she had plenty of money,
and her cor.duct. therefore, was inexcu
sable. 1 he question naturally arises.
What would Mr. Tinney have done if
Uie mother bed dsclimd to piy, and
walked rT leaving the baby m his rxs
srioii V HiIdUtotrn Pre.
A yacht called Glad Tiding) liaa beon
fitted up by Captain Handy, of Chicago,
with a vie.w to doing missionary work
on the lakes. This evangelical craft
will go from place to place along the
?v're - a lt proprietor. wth a !nd
j or sii'gers wno sail wun mm, win uo
the preaching. prainr. and praising.
The visits of this yacht are loudly call
ed for from various points. 1 bis kind
of evangelical work has somewhat the
flavor of that which was done eight
een centuries ago on the waters of
Galile.
UOJ
" v T
-rtt m
church bv-it Suatlny reutuk! aIWa-.iI
that be preferred the orran S th
preicher. He sukI thrfr 4tu-l ;o b -i
stop to the orjin.
Th Phi! uHpasii HnM :Vi V t-Vr
are called "Indian Supply iVntnwis.
because the supiditM always cuoiract
before they reach the Indian. ,
A down e.tst dekittn.: society tai ben
struggling with the question: "Io Vhvs
or izirls make the most muse?" It was
finally decided that "they do."
"The little darling! he didn't stnk
Mrs. Smith's txibv on purpse. did hov'
It w:is a mere accident, wasn't it dear"
"Yes. mu; and if he don't behave him
self I'll do it again."
"Do vou reside In this city?
auked J
m.tsked man of a masked
1 ulv at Ti
masked party the other evening. y
felt sick when she said to him, tn a Ion
voice. "Don't be a fool. John; 1 know
you by the wart on y-mr thumb." It
wils his wife.
An old bachelor was courting '
widow, and sou lit the art to give their
fading hair a darker sh.-vle. That's gv
ing to be an affectionate couple." said u
wair. "How so?" aske I a friend "Why
don't you see that they are dylnir for
each other already?" was the witty re-
piy- i
"What's the use of all this sacrifice or
life, this bloody butchery of Turks and
Ivti.ssians '" said a Philadelphia u iker
t a Cincinnati hog merchant. "1 don't
know." replied the latter mound till ,
"lork isn't nz any that I can see."
A modest young luisimnil sent, if i
following message over the winvs to his
friends: "See ninth chapter of H iiah.
sixth verse." The old Htblr was t.k.n
down m an inslant.and the aiwve chap
ter ami terse were hunted out. an;J
were found to explain all. The erv
reads: "Lo! unto us a child is lru
unto us a son is given."
The train stops, ami the hrakeman.
a hoarse voice ami in an absolutely uu
mtfUk'ihlf wav. announces the n
of the station. "Speak more diii'.:::tl '"
exclaims a passenger; "I can't hear a
woid of what you say." "What's that
to me." replied the brakeman. "Vou
can't expect to have a tenor for 3oji
month!"
"Did you sav I waa the biggest liar
you ever knew !" fiercely itnked a nitllan
of a counsel, who hail ben skttmiir
him in his address te the jury. "Yes, I
did," replied the counsel, and the crowd
eagerly watched for the expecte I right
"Well, then." said the nitli m. -all Ie
got to say is that you could a never
knowed my brother Jim."
A porter knocked violently at the
door of a certain room at the CatsWUl
Mountain House at half-past four "ffi
the morning. Well, well." screamvd
the man inside, jumping out of bed;
"what is it. lire, murder, or sickness?"
Sunrise, sir." said the porter. "Thank
Heaven," ex daimed the man, "thank
Heaven it is nothing worser And he
got back into bed. i
A tourist in search of natural curliA
ities in Oneida county, coining to ;
small stream, looked over his memorau
dum.aud asked a Dutchman near l-v ir
"this was Alder Creek V Yaw." wan
the reply, "dis vas all der creek v.is
I knows about yust around dwjutof
do country.
...-"-- -----
T Ifj.riijv voiine imiri at a lar ' .M.ss
Jones, have you seen ('raphe's rIa'.n
ToiniLf htdw acornfullv: "I wts
aware that crabs hod tads" I
young man covered with con'
beg pardon, ma'am. I should I
reml Crabbe'sTab? Youu Ion1
scornful "And I was not nwitfy'
red crabs hail t tils, either." Kx.t
man.
The departure yesterday of ',) Amr
can carpenters for KllglandonIy:ld;rv,
plane, to the (implications of the lal
question. Number of brother carj
terssaw them off. New York O
mercial Advertiser. And it augur
for our future when skilled mecha
are compelled u go irom ivineric'
Kurotw to earn a living. Cincin
Knquirer. There's a screw loose tu.
where. Should they feel lonely win
absent, an ale or two will revive the
spirits. A bit of cheese II go we:i wu
it, too. Paragraphlsts, hammer away
t. Louis (I lobe-Democrat. We do
not wish to bore our readers with this
Hubject. but we do hope those carr-i
tern will find our Knglish cmsins re?
to do the square thing by them.- f V'
Auxiliary.
A Word to itoyp.
What do you think, young friend
Uie, i.uimieurt ui wnMr-.vi.- ,v,
t , ---!.. It.fxla.n.la Lir tT
trying to cheat themselYfcaaSil o,tUSi
into the lhef that alcoholic drinks ar
good for thern? Are they not 1j
wtied and blamed? Ik) you wnt U
l' one of thee wretch- J mm'' It fs
are to have drunkards in the tuUir,
ome or lliern are w come uviu me.
Ai conic iiuiu iu?
vritlng; and I aafc
rant n one i i
yon d'm'l' ' ,
boys to whom I am wi
jou again if you wa
them ? No, of course yon
I have a plan for you that is just mi
sure to wive you from such a fdte as
the sun Is to rise to-morrow rnornlna.
It never failed; it never will fall; it
cannot fail; and 1 think it Is wort!
knowing . Never touch liquor in an
'?
form!
I know vou don't drink now, and
-,-.....,. m -? a a if vntt nurr rrt'
Hut your temptation will come, am
protwbly will corne ill thla way - xM
wiil find yourself, fcorne time. w,
number of companions, and ibeyji"
have, a bottle of wine on th 1
Thev will drink and offer it tSr
They will look upon you a a rx-vP
if ou don't Indulge with thcra. Then
what will vou do? Will you ii'IJ8.
none of tht stun wr me: i ' n
tnck worth half a-doz-n of Uu v
vill .nf.V.lh rr!:4 with Uf C,,,n.
common sos; protesting, and Jurcy;
science making the whole dra1-,"
ter, and a feeling that you he dag
aged yourvdf. and then go tfl wii
hot head and a skulking wal that a
ones begjumtkfe apologies for lte
justBLjn ColoneL,
A LtnJSu4ynttltthil3fc '. I
bv.v u ia.e Wth ! n .
Slid a thiritC'. whT fn t
f end rrcKiiW y
A down wn mtm !
1
K
4