OLDEN FESTIVITIES.
WILD REVELS CELEBRATED THE
CHRISTMAS OF LONG AGO.
Survival* of the Bomun Saturnalia and the
Feast* of Janu*—XCpUode of the Four
teenth Century In Pari*. When Four
Nobles Perlfdied at Court.
In spite of clerical protests, in spite of
anathemas, in spite of the condemnation
of the more thoughtful andthemorevir
tuous, Christinas in the earlier days fre
quently reproduced all the worst orgies,
the debauchery and indecency of the
bacchanalia and the saturnalia. Even
the clergy were whirled iuto the vortex.
A special celebration caliud the feast of
fools had been instituted in their behalf,
with a view, said the doctors of the
church, “that the folly which is natural
to and born with us might exhale at least
once a year.”
If even among the clergy heathen tra
ditions survived so strenuously, what
wonder that they survived among the
laity? The wild revels indeed of the
Christmas period in olden times almost
stagger belief. License was carried to
the fullest extent of licentiousness. Even
in the seventeenth century, when ne
festivities had been slightly toned down,
Master William Prynne discovered in
them the vestiges of paganism which are
apparent enough to the historians of to
day.
“If we compare,” he says in his
“Histrio-Mastix,” "our bacchanalian
Christinas and New Year’s tides with
these saturnalia and feasts of Janus, we
shall find such near aflinitye between
them both in regard of time—they being
both in the end of December and on the
1st of January—and in their manner
solemnizing—both being spent in revel
ling, epicurism, wantonnesse, idleness©,
dancing, drinking, stage plaies, masques
ami caraail pomp and jollity—that we
must needs conclude the one to be but
the ape. or issue, of the other.”
Yet the practices which Stubbes and
Prynne condemned were mild and tame
compared with the excesses jiracticed at
the French court for centuries. Inebrie
ty ran rampant. No wonder that in the
period of torches and wooden palaces ac
cidents frequently occurred which more
than once involved provinces in mourn
ing.
Memorable above all other episodes of
this sort was tne catastrophe which oc
curred at Paris iu 1393. The Christmas
festivities had been partaken of in the
wildest spirit of not and disorder. But
the court was not yet satisfied. Then
Sir Hugonin de Uuisay, the most reck
less among all the reckless spirits of the
period, suggested that as an excuse for
prolonging the merriment a marriage
should be arranged between two of the
court attendants. This was eagerly
agreed upon.
The management was intrusted to Sir
Hugonin himself. He was well fitted
for anything wild and unusual. He
was loved and admired by the disorderly
as ardently as he was hated and feared
by the orderly, for it was his pleasant
habit to exercise his wit upon trades
men and mechanics, whom he would
accost iu the street, prick with his spurs
aud compel to creep on all fours and
bark like dogs before be released them.
Such were the trails which endeared him
to the courtiers of his most gracious
majesty and Christian king of France.
The marriage passed off iu a blaze of
glory with an accompaniment of at
tendant Gargantuan pleasantry. At the
height of the ceremonies Sir Hugonin
quietly withdrew with the king and four
other wild ones—scions of the noblest
houses in France. With a pot of tar and
a quantity of tow the six conspirators
were speedily changed into very fair
imitations of the dancing bears then
very common in mountebanks’ booths.
A mask completed the transformation.
Five were then bound together by means
of a silken rope cut from the tapestry.
The sixth, the king himself, led them
into the hail. Their appearance created
a general sensation. “Who are they?”
was the cry. No one could answer.
At this moment entered the wildest of
all the wild dukes of Orleans. “Who
are they?” he echoed between hiccoughs.
“Well, we'U soon find out.” Seizing a
brand from one of the torebbearers
ranged along the wall, he staggered for
ward. Sdme gentlemen attempted to
stay him. But he was obstinate and
quarrelsome. Main force could not be
thought of against a prince of the
blood. He was given his way. He thrust
his torch under the chin of the nearest
of the maskers. The tow caught fire, in
a moment the whole group was envel
oped in flames. Presence of mind or
common sobriety might have saved
them. But there was none of the latter
there and but two instances of the for
mer.
The young Duchess of Derry seized
the king anu enveloped him in her am
ple robe. Thus he was saved. Another
masker, the lord of Nantouillet—noted
for strength and agility, rent the silken
rope with a wrench of his strong teeth,
pitched himself like a flaming comet
through the first window aud dived into
a cistern in the court, whence he emeigtd
black and smoking, but almost unhurt.
As for the olner four, they whirled
hither and thither through the horrified
mob, struggling with each other, fight
ing with the flames, cursing, siirieaiug
with pain. Women fainted by scores.
Men who had never faltered in a hun
dred fights sickened at the hideous spec
tacle. All Paris was roused by the up
roar and gathered, an excited mob, about
the palace. All sorts of reports were
current, that the princes were engaged
in deadly strife being the one most cred
ited. At last the flames burned out.
The four maskers lay a black and writh
ing heap on the floor. One was a mere
cinder. A second survived till day
break. A third died at noon the next
day. The fourth—no other than Sir
Hugonin himself—survived for three
days, while all Paris rejoiced over his
agonies. “Bark, dog, bark!” was the cry
with which the citizens saluted ids
charred and mangled corpse when it was
at last borne to the grave.—1 w York
Herald.
THE LONDON CABBY.
Dramatic Little IncidentsConneoted With
the Reception uf 11 it* Exact Fare.
Everybody who has lived in London
has witnessed the dramatic little inci
dents connected with cabby’s reception
of his exact fare. His hirer, having
alighted, stands on the pavement and
feels for his purse. Cabby meanwhile
leans over the railingof his seat with a
benignant and ingratiating smile. That
smile, it may be stated at onoe, is a
fraud. It is not a genuine beam of good
nature, but is one of cabby’s business
‘‘props.’’ It is a smile of much mean
ing, and cabby throws his whole soul
into it. It is trusting a&>l confident. It
insinuates that cabby feels that he has
met in yon a man in whom he recog
nizes a peculiarly generous nature. It
means that cabby has no anxiety. He
knows that you are going to give him
something for himself.
But as a matter of fact, if you watch
cabby closely, you will see the hollow
ness of it3 professions. Cabby’s eyes arc
very wide open, and he is scanning a
great deal more carefully than his fare
the little pile of silver that gentleman is
turning over in his hand. Then he
stretches down his hand, broad and fat.
but trustingly, assured that he is about
to be treated as a man should be. The
fat palm ascends again, but as his fare
turns to depart, the smile dies away.
For a moment, as if dazed, he gazes
blankly into his hand; then a look of
mingled contempt and indignation passes
over his expressive face. He turns fierce
ly on his prey.
“’Ere, wot’s this?”
“Yuur fare,” floats back to him.
“My fare!" in a tone of scathing scorn
—“my fare!”
Then rapidly and with a businesslike
manner, as if the time for emotion were
passed now;
“’Ere, ’old ’aril; I wants smother tan
ner.”
By this time liis fare, if he knows any
thing at all about cabmen, i3 well under
way. Cabby, standing up, dashes the
offending shilling on the ground with a
gesture of ineffable loathing, as at some
unclean thing. No good. His fare is
disappearing, unconcerned, and cabby,
convinced that the game is np, but loath
to relinquish his indignation, slowly un
swathes himself from the folds of his
voluminous blanket, descends as slowly,
picks up the innocent shilling still more
slowly, mounts again, gathers up his
reins with one final blighting look be
hind him and drives away, his face that
of a man who never till that moment
had sounded llie hideous depths of sor
did human nature.—London Sketch.
Mesalliance.
Mesalliance is always interesting—
when it occurs outside of our own im
mediate circle of relatives and friends.
A man or woman sacrifices social in
stincts, bids defiance'to conventions and
follows the simple promptings of the
heart—and the results? Disagreeable to
those most nearly concerned, but fasci
nating to the outside world. There is
no sv. ject so fruitful for the novelist.
A well known novel, now widely read,
was saved by this. I will not name it,
for 1 cannot break literary confidences.
The writer, a favorite living novelist,
had reached a point in his story when ev
erything, characters and events, seemed
to settle down to a deadly low level of
dull commonplace. He was in despair.
A friend, an experienced man of the
world, gave him a word of advice: “In
troduce a mesalliance. That never fails
to enliven things.” The novelist did so,
and his book is selling briskly today.—
Vogue.
A Little Tin Mouse.
A Manayunk man who has a pet cat
bought one of those new fangled mouse
toys from a vender on Market street on
Saturday afternoon. When he arrived
at his house in the evening, he brought
out the mouse and began to run it up
and down the dining room floor. Tabby,
who was lying on a rug, suddenly gave
a jump for the supposed rodent. This
scared the head of the house so much
that he jumped back and in doing so up
set the supper table, breaking nearly all
the dishes and mixing up the evening
meal into a boarding house hash. The
family dog secured the choicest beef
steak, and the cat began to lap up the
spilled cream. Mr. Housekeeper had a
big sized row with his wife and ended
up the scene by getting gloriously drunk.
The tin mouse, the cause of all the es
trangement, was crushed in the melee.—
Philadelphia Record.
Contagion.
Some of the diseases which flesh is heir
to are contagions in every sense of the
word. A contact so slight that it does
not reach even skin contact, but merely
contact with the air which smallpox
patients breathe, is sufficient to cause
smallpox in man. So, too, mediate con
tact—that is to say, the handling by the
well of material touched by the sick—
has been proved to be the cause of many
diseases, of which erysipelas and scarlet
fever may be cited as examples. The
products of certain other diseases —
typhoid fever, for example—require to
be taken into the economy to become
maleficent. Still others, such as glanders,
must be introduced into the blood cur
rent itself before they are dangerous.
These facto have been proved by long
observation and are not to be disputed.
—Baltimore Sun.
Ideas In Had Dreams.
People have been known to eat indi
gestible suppers in order to produce
dreadful dreams. For instance, a
painter of the last century was noted
for the horrible nature of his pictures.
Report says of him that he used to eat
raw beef and underdone pork chops for
supper and so bring on nightmares,
which gave him fresh ideas.—Exchange.
Chrysanthemum Crape.
A new fabric is chrysanthemum crape,
in which narrow riblike cords wave
crosswise of half-inch grooves made by
an almost imperceptible crimping. Like
the waved chiffon the coloring is per
fect, all the varied chrysanthemum
shades and many more being shown.
QUEER AND GIFTED.
AN ARTIST WHO PAINTS MONEY LIKE
THE REAL THING.
A Soldier, Socialist, Artist aud Jetunmllht,
and lie Ha* a H«l>by—Ills Great Regard
For RabeloJ*—Some of Ills Renuirkable
PaiatlngH Described.
Poor Victor Dnbreuil, who lives in
Forty-fourth street, prints United States
currency so that it iooks real, and yet he
rarely has in his pocket two coin* to
jingle together.
Over the bar of a Seventh avenne sa
loon hang several of his pictures. One is
called "Barrels o’ Money.” The barrels,
or kegs, are of good, stout oak, set in a
row three deep, and from their yawning
mouths $1, $5. $10. $20. $25 and $50 and
$100, $20® and $500 bank notes, apparent
ly fresh from the United States treasury,
are escaping by hundreds. The bills in
some of the barrels are weighted down
wit., heaping shovelfuls of gold coin of
the larger denominations. These seem
to glitter in the light, and so do the dia
monds and turquoises which have fallen
from the kegs and lie sparkling beside
them on the floor. With them are large
bank note sandwiches done up in paper
wrappers, over the edges of which crisp
new edges of the bills curl temptingly.
To the left of this painting hangs an
other of about the same size, which, as
it not only tells a story of its own, but is
the key to the life, struggles and aims of
the man who produced it, is the most im
portant and interesting in the place. The
spectator appears to bo standing inside
the railing of a bank or large mercantile
counting house. Before him is the tell
er’s or bookkeeper’s desk, upon which,
cleverly foreshortened and painted, lies a
ledger, the ruling ami writing on the
pages of which are well simulated. To
the left of the book is a bottle of ink,
from which a pen protrudes. Under the
desk lies an overturned stool. The cash
drawer, with its brazen handles, is open,
and a desperate looking man, with un
kempt, tawny brown hair and long
beard, squints along the glistening barrel
of a loaded seven shooter on the other
side of the grating around the desk,
while an aged crone in a red cloak stands
beside him, and with her skinny arm
thrust through the open window in the
grating transfers, with a greedy and tri
umphant leer, bulky packages of realis
tic bank notes from the drawer to a fold
of her skirt.
Stand in what part or the room you
will, you are compelled to gaze down
the barrel of the revolver, which covers
the spectator at ail points, and to shud
der at tno hungry leer of the woman,
which, strange to say, is unmistakably
seen to linger upon her careworn face,
although her eyes, those windows of the
soul, are hidden by her blood red cloak.
The woman is the artist’s ex-washer
woman, now gathered to her fathers.
Fpt desperate looking accomplice with
the pistol is the artist himself, and the
entire picture is the key to the aspira
tions, disappointments, joys and sorrows
of Victor Dubreuil, ex-financier, soldier,
journalist, organizer, porter and stable
man, and at present artist, author and
socialist agitator.
This will be better understood when it
is explained that the title of the picture
is “A Prediction For 1C00; or. a Warning
to Capitalists.”
“I am vat you peeps call vairsateel,”
said the artist. “I paint ze steel life, ze
genre, ze landscape, ze portrait—any
zing vatevare. I gome to Amerique. I
have no monnaie. I go to Theophile
Keeck, ze bankaire on Clinton place.
I work zere as stapleboy dwendy-two
hours a day for four mons. I get dwelf
dollaire a mons. By my economie I safe
forty-five dollaire. Zen I say: ‘Dubreuil,
you owe monnaie. Yon must pay heem.
You cannot get reech as a stapleboy.
Vat, zen, will you do?’ 1 sait, ‘I vill pe
coom one arteest.’ So I do so.”
Besides being an artist, II. Dubreuil
has been a soldier, serving with the
French army in Mexico. Ho was clerk
in a banking house and then went into
the business on his own account. He
became interested in the formation of a
company which should do for France
and Africa what the East India company
did for England and India, with the dif
ference that through Dubrenil’s company
the workingman, not the capitalist, was
to reap the reward. To further this
scheme, he became a newspaper man,
and for six months published La Polit
ique d’Action. Judging by his own state
ments, this journal was so searchingly
and caustically truthful as to arouse
first the ire and then the fear of capital
ists. who, according to his story, mined
him.
During hia good fortune and his bad
there has been one occupation that has
always engrossed this soldier-banker
socialist-artist. It has been the study of
Rabelais, with the intention of explain
ing him to his fellow countrymen and
the world.
In the quiet retirement of his studio,
on West Forty-fourth street, the self
taught artist toils day and night to fin
ish the annotations on Rabelais’ works,
which are nearly done, and at which he
has been laboring for 18 long years.
These, he declares, will open wide the
eyes of the entire world, and with in
ventions at which he has been toiling
will bring him in by next year sufficient
means to return to France, liquidate his
indebtedness centime for centime, crush
his enemies and reorganize his African
Development company. Dubreuil be
lieves that Rabelais has foretold for all
time the outcome of the capital and la
bor situation, and that it is only neces
sary to make the laboring classes read
the great satirist through his spectacles
in order to start them on the right track
toward working out their temporal sal
vation.
Besides the Rabelais commentary and
the inventions, which include a new mo
tor for vessels, suggested by the recoil of
cannon, and a patent suspender, which
he is arranging to sell to the American
government, the artist is painting an al
legorical conceit which he calls the
“Apotheosis of Liberty.”—New York
Cor. St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
OLD CHRISTMAS SONGS.
Familiar bat Reverent Treatment of h«
Sacred—Words of a Simple Folk.
For the most, part the cld songs s. 211k
with the voice of poverty appealing to
wealth, and so it is not strange tliat
Christ's humble birth should be dwelt
upon. On that ground at least the sup
plicants seem to feel their nearness to
the Man of Sorrows who had nowhere
to lay his head. The ever recurring plea
to the rich to give alms of their goods—
“gifts of. the day’s gladness”—is a re
minder of the one who “came not to be
ministered unto, but to minister.” The
familiarity with which sacred things are
touched is not irreverence, but rather
the innocent freedom of the child to
whom God seems a kind father and Jesu -
a gentle elder brother.
The holy names are almost always
coupled with 6ome adjective expressive
of affection—“sweet Jesus.” “Mary
mild”—and the pretty Cornish caroi tells
| how the Virgin was called Modryb
Marva, "our dear Aunt Mary," by the |
people on the Tamar side. The hom .-t j
Christian must often feel inclined to j
avert his face from the asperities, con- ,
troversies and persecutions of warring |
creeds, hut in these strains that survive ,
from an ago that is past we find only the i
loving and tender side of religion—the
words of a simple folk who were not -
afraid to creep close to the Father's knee j
and lay hold upon his robe.
In many of these old songs the good |
cheer peculiar to the day is dwelt upon. !
with a frank delight which reminds one ;
of the child's "innocent joy of anything ,
sweet in the mouth.” Thus runs one ,
exultant strain:
O you merry, merry souls,
Christmas is a-coming.
We shall have flowing bowls.
Dancing, piping, mumming.
The materialistic bard waxed enthtwi- 1
astic over
The larders full of heel’ and pork.
The garners filled with corn,
and each stanza of one of the carols >
winds up with the appetizing burden,
“Plum pudding, goose, capon, mince pie
and roast beef.” Father Christmas was
esteemed as "entering like a man,” 1
when “armed with spit and dripping- |
pan.” After a year of hard work and '
hard living the poor folk looked forward 1
to a lavish feast, and it is small wonder I
that their minds dwelt chiefly upon such
dainties as
Delicate minced pies
To feast every virgin;
Capon and goose, likewise
Brawn and a dish of sturgeon.
From Seddmg’s “Ancient Christmas
Carols” is taken “Masters, In This Hall”—
one of the quaintest and most pleasing of
the lays that were sung by the Yuletide
minstrels in the days of old:
To Bethlehem did they go, the shepherds three.
To Bethlehem did thqy go, to see whe'r it were
so or no.
Whether Christ was born or no.
To set men free.
Masters, in this hall,
Her* ye news today
Brought over sea,
And ever I you pray,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell!
Sing we clear;
Holpen are all folk on earth
By God’s Son so dear.
—New Orleans Times-Democrat.
When Christ Was Born.
Now, it happened when the Saviour
was born that certain wise men in the
I far east had seen a star.
They knew the meaning of the light,
i and they repaired on camels across the
desert to the city of Jerusalem.
I Arriving at the court of Herod they
I inquired, saying: “Where is he that is
born king of the Jews, for we have seen
his star in the east and have come to
worship him?”
Herod was sorely troubled by this
question, and he asked of the wise men
i where this ruler was born.
“And they said unto him, in Bethle
hem of Judcea; for thus it is written by
j the prophet.
| “And thou, Bethlehem, in the land of
1 Judah are not the least among the
i princes of Judah, for out of thee shall
I come a governor that shall rule my
people Israel.”
; Herod was wroth and jealous of this
new monarch, who seemed to be des
1 tined to overthrow him.
j He told the wise men to go on to Beth
| lehem, and after they had found the Sa
viour to return to him with the news of
1 his whereabouts.
1 Guided by the star, which had gone be
I fore them for many weeks, they arrived
j at the little home where the Saviour was
dwelling.
They fell upon their knees and wor
shiped him, and when they had opened
their treasures they presented him with
gold and frankincense and myrrh.
• Hence it is that every yearin the beau
, tiful Ckristmastide the parents give
p esents to their children in celebration
! of the Saviour’s birth.
i -----
Christmas Pleasantries.
Lord Henry Bentinck, though he was
shortsighted and had to wear glasses.
. was an admirable rider and a most pop
ular master of hounds. It was he who
inquired from a rash cavalier who was
i overriding his hounds, “May I ask, sir.
do yon smell the fox?” and who said to a
large landed proprietor suspected of vul
pecidal acts, on his remarking that he
regarded a particular wood as quite a
seminary for foxes, “I think, general,
you mean cemetery.”
Spending Christmas with a friend.
Lord Henry was asked at luncheon ‘by
the rector after service in a church
which had been profusely adorned with
evergreens, but in which the congrega
tion had been small, what he thought of
the decorations. “I thought,” he re
plied, “that there was plenty of cover,
but very little game.”—San Francisco
^ Argonaut.
I An English Christmastide Custom.
In Staffordshire, England, the children
when hanging up their stockings on
Christmas eve repeat the following
rhyme addressed to the good fairy of
Christmas, believing that it will infalli
bly insure the bringing of whatever gift
they most desire:
Christmas fay of Christmas day.
Let me wish what wish I may.
If I think, with love, of you
You will make my wish come true.
UNCLE SAM, FLORIST.
A GLIMPSE OF THE BOTANICAL GAR
DEN IN WASHINGTON.
Flnent Collection of Ika)mn In tlie World.
Tlie Victoria Reg la. a Lily Which Will
Hold UpaChild—Plants Included Among
Congressional Perquisites.
Uncle Sam’s botanical garden in Wash
ington occupies a tract of between eight
and nine acres of land almost in the
shadow of the capitoL
If yon are a newly elected member of
congress and have not been initiated
into the full scope of your perquisites,
you will probably receive within a short
j time after your arrival a letter from
some person you never knew and never
heard of, asking you for an order on the
superintendent for some choice ferns,
palms or hanging baskets to bo filled at
their own suggestion. Pe rhaps the let
ter comes from some resident of Wash
ington, for there are many hero who are
on the outlook for new members of con
gress, especially those who do not bring
their families with them, or it may conic
from one of your own constituents, who
is well versed in all the congressional
perquisites. So it will not be long be
fore you learn that there is a vast vari
ety of things beside seeds and congres
sional reports, which only await your
order inforiniug the custodians where
the articles may be sent.
Each member of congress is entitled to
a certain amount from the botanical gar
den each year, the kind and the amount
being of course subject to the rules of
tho superintendent. If a senator should
send for one of the rare specimens of
palms or cactuses, it is very doubtful
about tlio request being honored. The
last specimen of a rare plant would not
be given up under ar.y circumstances.
Tho most of tlie orders sent in are for
roses, geraniums and blooming plants,
of which there is a great supply. If the
representative or senator prefers to have
his quota of plants sent to his green
house in his native town or city, he is
furnished by the clerk of the house of
representatives with a wooden shipping
box, in which the plants are securely
packed and shipped by express to their
proper destination.
Upon entering the botanical garden
by the west gate you will notice on each
side of the broad walk an endless va
riety of cactuses, in all of the varied con
diuonsof growth and scratchiness. Some
seem to grow after ideas peculiarly their
own, as if their chief charm lay in their
scrawny ugliness. Others are very pret
ty and would help wonderfully to adorn
any conservatory or bay window. This
avenue extends for about 230 feet, when
the decorations of the avenue change,
and yon find yourself amid an avenue of
palms.
You may ho ve hurried by the great va
riety of cactuses, but you will certainly
loiter along among the choice collection
of palms gathered from every quarter of
the globe where palms grow.
The largest of all the conservatories is
the palmhouse, with its immense dome
shaped roof. The building has to be a
large one to accommodate some of the
immense palms which it contains, many
of which are 40 feet high. Here you will
find palms from Mexico, Brazil, Central
America, South America New Caledonia,
Australia and the South Sea islands;
palms with long trunks, palms with thin
leaves, with broad leaves, with long
names and with short names, that you
read and forget with an ease that is won
derful, so that the most you carry away
with you is a memory that you have seen
the largest variety of palms in the world.
In the large basin, 90 feet in diameter,
is the Bartholdi fountain, which was
purchased at the Centennial exposition
of 1876 by the library committee for the
Botanical garden. The fountain is of
cast iron and cost $6,000. In the basin
1 of the fountain grows the Victoria Regia,
the largest species of water lily in the
world. The lily is an annual, and as the
season in W ashington is too brief for the
lily to reach its maturity, the seed has to
be imported each year. The plant is a
native of Brazil, and the seeds are im
ported in water, for if they were kept
dry during the length of time which
would be required for transportation
the seeds would be worthless. In Au
gust the Victoria Regia is in its full
glory, and it is during this month that
the amateur photographer delights him
self by posing a small child upon one
of the immense leaves. By this novel
experiment we are better able to judge
of the size of this giantess of the lily
family.
Among the other wonders of the bo
tanical garden is a large bed of elephant
grass, which grows to the height of 38
or 20 feet. As a rapid growing plant
this grass seems to be the first in its
class, but during the winter season it
dies down to the roots. When in blos
: som, the bed looks like a small section
I of the jungle transplanted to American
! soil.
The trees in the botanical garden have
I been selected more with a view to their ,
' adaptability to the soil and climate and
! to their worth as shade trees rather
1 than to illustrate peculiar kinds or varie
j ties of trees, and altogether the general
effect of the tree planting has been very
1 successful, in that the requisite amount
1 of shade has been secured as well as a
harmonious touch of general embelish
ment of the garden.—Boston Herald,
i -
National Flowers.
i The flower badges of nations are as
i follows: Athens, violet; Canada, sugar
maple; Egypt, lotus: England, rose:
I France, flower-de-luce (lily); Florence,
i giglio (lily); German}-, cornflower; Ire
land, shamrock leaf; Italy, lily; Prussia,
t linden; Saxony, mignonette: Scotland,
thistle; Spain, pomegranate; Wales, leek
leaf.
—
Mixed Metaphor.
“Brethren,” said an earnest exhorter
to a body of religious workers, “breth
ren, remember that there is nothing
which will kindle the fires of religion in
the human heart like water from the
fountains o? life.”—Springfield Repub
lican.
i
A SENSE OF PROPORTION.
The Pofrnt Factor It Way Ilccoine In the
Problem of Ufe.
“I unt trying to cultivate a souse of
humor ami a sense of proportion,’ I
heard a clever woman say the other day,
“and you have no idea wluit a wonder
ful help they aro to me.” I have sinro
had a practical illustration of the potent
factor that the latter sense may 1 < mie
in the problem of life, and now l fairly
appreciate iier statement of t he pawt r of
proportion.
Having lingered very lateovera . .arc
than usually fascinating game < f chess
the night before, I was beguiled into an
extra nap in the morning, making mo
late for the early train which 1 wished
to catch in order to keep an important
appointment in town.
As the sky was lowering, indicating
rain, I pulled out a pair of old shoes and
did not discover until I was attlio break
fast table that a little nail in one of them
had come through the inner side and
was piercing my heel.
It was too late to change tl;_
the pricking mado me cross. 1 am quit*
sure that I snarled at the dear littli
woman who had increased my joy.; ami.
lessened my sorrows these several years
past, and that I scared my young folks
into unwonted silence.
I actually hobbled on my way to tin
station, the little nail stung so v< non;
ously, and before I arrived then; I fan
cied that my slioe must be half tilled
with blood from its laceration .
1 hardly returned Papa Clipston’r
courteous greeting, and let somebody
else help old lady "Sturgis on tho train,
which neglect would have cut uiy
cruelly and ought to bring me to shame.
The office boy slunk into the rnmob
corner as I slammed into the room, and
the man from Chicago will no doubt, re
tain to the day of las death a supreme
conviction of the disagreeablc’ioss of
Bostonians as per example exhibited t
him on that occasion.
When at last there came n lull in tb
rush of the day, I removed tho : hoc and
sent it out for repairs. In 10 mi. tes i-.
came back, the offender removed, and
peace was restored.
It was then that bright woman’s; re
mark came 1 C: tome, and 1 felt its
truth. That little piece of iron, p me
touting the of my foot, H put
awry my whole body, brain, nerves and
temper.
What a gigantic disproportion be
tween cause and effect! And besides
the consequences to myself, there was
the reaction upon my wife, malting her
unhappy all day long—for, strange as it
may seem, the dear soul loves m ■ —and
the awful example of irascibility t at 1
set to the office boy, and nobody knows
how much dislike and distrust of Bos
tonians was planted in that hospitable
Chicago breast, which will perm •ate
through generations yet unborn.
And all for a tiny shoe tack!
Don't you see now how wise itvould
be to cultivate a sense of proportion?
As for a sense of humor. I h... . _,
for I can smile even over a coal bill.—
Boston Herald
A Clcrli’s Stupidity.
A clerk in a dry goods store told us r.
humorous incident which had for its her
oine a well known society girl. The
young man has in charge a department
where paper patterns are sold, and the
other day in walked the aforesaid young
woman anxious to buy the pattern of a
wrap for her aunt. “What size?” que
ried the clerk. “Oh, I do not know,”
answered the girl. “Cannot you give
me some idea?” went on the youth, anx
ious if possible to make a sale. “She is
rather large and above the average
height,” laughed the fair maid, but this
answer was not one bit helpful, so she
was obliged to go away without the de
sired pattern, but as she was leaving the
store a bright thought struck her, and
she returned to the counter, and with
evident triumph in her face and manner
announced, "I can get it now; she’s 45
years old,” and she couldnotunderstand
wliy this vivid description did not enabl ■
the stupid person behind the counter to
give her the exact size that she required.
—Philadelphia Times.
McMahon and Grevy.
In Paris, in the revolution of 1830, a
law student was soundly kicked by one
of the king's officers for tearing down a
copy of the ordinances placarded on the
wall. The officer was armed, the student
was not; so the latter ran away. Nearly
a half century later—in 1879—the officer
called upon the student to bid him good
by, having just resigned the presidency
of the French republic on account of a
radical difference with the majority of
the national assembly on questions of
state policy. He combined with his
adieux, also, a graceful word of con
gratulations on the student’s election to
succeed him in the presidential chair.
The student was Jules Grevy; the officer
was Patrice de MacMahon, who died
ripe in years and honors.—Kate Field
Washington.
Ancient Child liurial.
There was an order in the Church cf
England up to the year 1552, that 1? a
child died within a month of baptism he
should be buried in his chrisom in lien
of a shroud. The chrisom was a white
baptismal robe with which in mediaeval
times a child when christened was en
veloped. A sixteenth centnrv brass in
Chesham Bois church in Buckingham
shire represents Benedict Lee, chrisom
child, in his chrisom cloth. The inscrip
tion underneath the figure stands thus;
Of Rogr. Lee, gentilma, here lyetli the son.
Benedict Lee, crysom whos soulo ihn pdo.
—Westminster Gazette.
It Doe? Almost Seem So.
“I like the Staybolts’ way of forbid
ding their children to talk slang, or to
call each other by nicknames, and all
that,” said Mrs. Hilltops i her husband,
“but I think they are almost too precis*'
about it. This afternoon I heard little
Mabel Staybolt asking onr Clara if she
heard the Katherinedids sing last night.
Now I think that is carrying it to es
tremes, dear. Don’t yon?”—New Vork
Sun.
