QP& WOEDS m SONS.

As Stviy of Their Liyes—Theory of Tkeir Youtb, Middle Age and

« Deoay. -rv-

. Statement of Art Brolatkm and Development Among

the Stan.

Richard ;*#u\ Proctor in Boa* ion Herald: I# we look at some tall tree—tne monarch of the forest— rearing its proud stem toward the heavens, spreading out its mighty aims, strong to resist alike the force of gravity and the fury of the fiercest •torm, it seems impossible to believe, though we - know assuredly, that all that mass of complicated verdure, all

' that wealth of vegetable life, was once a seed that a child might have held in the hollow of his hand. We can con-eieve that if insects, living in that tree and studying their verdant homes, had Mich a thought suggested to them, they would say in their insect language (expressing the thought as deftly with their antenrse as a Talmage would in verbal talk) that the idea was not only appalling, it was impious.

"We know"—an inject Samuel Jones might say—"that a leaf may grow, for we have watched leaves growing; we can even believe that twigs may be products of growth; but to say that the branch and tree have grown—nay, for where will this thing atop ? to tell us that the whole forest, our universe, has grown—that is to set on one side Him who made the tree and the forest in the name of universal growth.'

In a kindred way men believing themselves to be more reverent than tile students of God's works have said to the teachers of the doctrines of evo­lution, now widening to embrace in­finitely alike in space and time: "Your teachings are not only bewildering, they are blasphemous; we know that the plant and the animal grow, for we have watched them growing; we can even believe that varieties among plants and animals may have been evolved (for some such varieties man has himself produced by suitable meth­ods); but to tell us that all forms of life have been evolved, that worlds have been developed; nay, (for where will this thing stopP), that the whole system of our solar systems, tho great galaxy which is our universe, has been evolved, this is to set to one side the Almighty in the name of universal evo-ution."

We know the answer we shoulfl make, which even a Talmage would make, to the imagined insect of our faHe. We should say: "Do you then imagine that the leaves are not God's work because you have been able to watch them as they grew? Or the twigs, because they are small? Yea, but the twig and the leaf, aye, the tiniest spicules on the least of all these leaves are as surely God's work as the

§>odly tree, or as the forest itself. In is sight, to whom 'one day is as a

thousand years and a thousand years as one day,' there is neither small nor great, neither long lasting nor short .astmg. In His eyes, small and great infer not excellence. All are alike before Him.

And the answer of science to the dreamers who would show their rever­ence for the Almighty and the All-wise by minimizing our ideas of God's might and by the doubtful range of His in­finite provision, is akin to that which every thinking man would give those faithless, doubting insects. "Do you imagine," science would say to the doubters, did science design to answer them at all, "that God did not make tree and animal merely - because you ehance to know that trees and animals grow? Truly the tiniest weed or the minutest thing that creep upon the earth, or has its life within the waters, is as certainly God's work as planet or sun —aye, as the great galaxy itself, in which are ten thousand millions of guns, with their attendant worlds, and clouds and streams of minor suns, and ekradlets of star duet, along, perchance, Vith myriads of other forms of stellar glory, such as it may never be given to man even to conceive, far less to con­template." We may well believe that, even as man recognizes in the tree and the forest the products of growth, though the tree be as far beyond what he insect can watch, growing as the

planet is beyond the plant, and the forest as far further beyond the possi­bilities of insect life study as the galaxy of suns is beyond the range of aught man can learn respecting processes of evolution, so to higher intelligence than «urs, with better opportunities for study, the development of suns and planets may be no more impressive, but no less, than we find the growth of trees and plants; while yet higher orders the development of galaxies, nay, or systems of galaxies may be as readily recognized as among our­selves is the development of forests, with all i heir abundance of vegetable

* tile. Satisfied that the thought of evolu­

tion and development may be safely fgilowed on the great scale as well as oh the smaller—nay, even throughout infinities of space and eternities of time—let us extend the analogies sug­gested by our opening thoughts and see to what view of life within the uni­verse they seem to point. Our insect,

' SO soon as the idea of the growth of a tree had been suggested to him, might go forth in the forest to see if tree growth might not be reeognizod there. Perceiving soon that insect

* life was too short to measure or even to recognize the stages of plant life, the inject would look for evidence derived from the actual progress of sach life. He would quickly perceive how unlikely to be right was the idea with which he had started, that all the trees were in the same staee of tree life aa hip; own home. He would learn to dlstisguiaa the seeding and the ••pling from the full-grown tree; nay, lM might even reason out for himself

the problem processes of a tree's de­cay, and to learn to interpret, as rep­resenting stages of tree development, the old and withered tree, the decayed and dead stuinp. It was in a kindred way—though 1 must confess I imag-ned my contemplative insect after, not before, my own views had been formed —that a score of years ago I was led to start the theory, which is now be­coming generally accepted, that in the family of worlds we call the secular system there are representatives of va­rious stages of world life, even as, in the forest, there are examples of va­rious stages of tree life. There is on orb, the sun, in the first, of glowing vaporous stage; there are the giant planets in the young, or fiery stage; our earth and Venus are in the life-bearing stage, representing middle life; Mars and Mercury are in planet­ary old age, and the moon is a dead world

But now I go further, extending the analogy in a legitimate way, and im­mediately finding that, as thus extend­ed, it enables us to understand what before had been unintelligible—the true test of the argument from analogy. Our insect would not only find trees in various stages of tree life, telling him. therefore, of the past and future of lii.s own tree home, he would find trees entirely unlike his own home, and hav­ing an entirely different history. He might, indeed, imagine that trees of all order passed through the seeding and sapling stages of midlife, and thence to decay and eventual death. But who would find all the details in each stage of the life of a poplar or birch unlike the details in the life stages of an oak or an elm. He would find other forms, also, of plant life which, passing though youth, middle age and senility to death, yet were utterly unlike all orders of trees—plants which, even in middle life, were no larger than the seeding oak, and plants which, even in their old age, had not attained the hardness or rugosity of saplings. May we not consider it altogether probable, in like manner—nay, must we not regard it as practically certain—that among the worlds which ptcple space a similar variety exists? All the orbs peopling space—suns of all orders, giant plan­ets, asteroids, sattellite3 and meteoric masses—have, doubtless, their fiery youth, their moderate middle lite, and their arid and bleak old age; yet must all the details of such life be unlike in orbs of different classes? One star dif­fers from another, not only in glory, but in manner of life.

THERE IS NO DEATH.

There Is no death I The stars go down To rise upon some fairer shore,

And bright in heaven's jeweled crown They shine for ever more.

There is no death! The dust we tread Shall change beneath the summer showers

To golden grain or mellow fruit, Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

The granite rocks dfsoreaniie To feed the hungry moss they bear;

The leaves drink daily life From out the viewless air.

There is no death! The leaves may fall, The flowers may fade and pass away;

They only wait through wintry hours The coming of the May.

There is no death! An angel form Walks o'er the earth with silent tread;

He oears our best-loved things away, And then we call them "dead."

He .eaves our hearts all desolate; He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers;

Transported into bliss, they now Adorn immortal bowers.

The bird-like voice, whose joyous notes Make glad these scenes of sin and strife,

Sing now an everlasting song Amid tfie tree of life.

And where he sees a smile too bright, Or heart too pure for taint and vice,

He bears it to that world of light, To dwell in Paradise.

Born unto that dying life, They leave us but to come again;

With joy we welcome them—the same, Except In sin and pain.

And ever near us, though unseen, The dear immortal spirits tread;

For all the boundless universe Is life,—There are no dead.

DARLING.

'It isn't the things you do, darling, But the things you leave undone;

By your gentle and tender wooing My heart has been wholly undone.

Xour eyes bespeak the passion That only the pure may know,

And heaven is here, my darling, Because you have loved m« so.

By your counsel many a burden From my aching shouldeN fell;

And yet, there's a secret sorrow That I sometimes long to ML

But time has taught me silence— I only my joys Impart;

My sorrow, the angels know It— They, and my human heart.

Ah, Life would be naught bat tinsel, Were it not our souls could feel

For the needy, who seek compassion— For the suffering, with hearts to heal.

Could you come to me now, my darling, Could I feel the toush of your hand,

I think you would guess my sorrow, I think—you would understand.

For you know there's a silent language, 'Tis known by the birds and flowers,

And only such hearts may speak it That have learned to love like ours.

Till we meet in this sweet assurance, Let your night ank your day dreams be that which is noblest In nature;

For of such are ms dreams of thee. —J. A. M.. ChiClgp-

Time--3 A. M. Harvard Lampoon: Mrs. Jollybejr—

Where on earth have yon been. Mr. J.—1 cannot tell lies. I've been

at m' offish. Mrs. J.—That's where we differ. I

can tell a lie—when I hear one. (Cruel silence; during which something is heard to drop.

lite Germans in Jerusalem lau a sepearate congregation of their own, and under German auspices some ex­cellent mission work is done. The con­gregation now has 154 members, of Whom, however, twenty are Arabs.

A PESSIMIST.

Ht« tootnueh away from nature's on, Its woods, its streams, its hills and cooling

shades— I would exchange the city's busy streets

For fields and flow'rs and emerald ever­glades.

The woods which spread their mantle over, Spake peace as sweet as primal man has

known; And I would be as free from guile as he

Whom Sod first chose to be His very own*

The streams that glide mid glazing pastures green

Have too, a tongue articulating low, Which voice the soul with pebbled music

sweet, And thrills with life the hopes of long ag«.

The hills of hope high purpose gave to youtb, Are still too high for wayworn feet to tread;

And I would turn again to youth repl'te With hope as pure as though it were not

dead,

The shades of life are manifold and deep, And shroud in gloom the glowing hopes of

youth— And I would turn to those refreshing glades

My bare feet trod when hope was very truth.

The woods of life are circumscribed and bare, That once were vast, mysterious and wild;

And boyheod's dream was turned to fell despair

That man's estate and hope Is but a child

The streams of time were sluggish to the dip Of oars that lashed its surface into foam—

The strength of steam cannot some depths re­veal

That yield to chance fiom naught but sur­face loam.

The fields that yield their golden weighted grain

Are sheaved and housed by idle hands to­day-

No more it grows for him whose labor gains The sweat of brow, too oft his only pay (?).

The rose that blooms so fragrant on the lawn

Is quite beyond these eager hands of mine; It, too, is chance to circumstance the same

That causes much the ownership of time (!).

The air we breathe is but another tool To work for some unto another's woe;

It, too, Is worth so much per cubic foot, And brings Its price with stifling over­

flow (?).

The light which streams up from the glowing dawn,

That glides the day for every mortal part; It, too, la turned, perverted on its course

To warm the soul, by brick and mortar art (?).

The laws of God, so binding on the poor. Are null and void unto the subtle rich;

Whose paper floats exempt from taxes, all Evidence unknown, except to some poor

wretch (!).

The pools that bask so smiling in the sun Too soon will roll In vapors overhead;

The klne will come to slake their thirst In vain,

And wondering gaze upon its empty bed (!)

And so to each and every creature thing Some good there is, but for some others

more: And I would turn to youth and hope again,

And flee the streets to some lone sylvian shore.

-rGeorge P. Mclntyre, F. S. A., Oak Park, HI.

A PLAINT OF LOVE.

Love is a pleasure—yes, love is a palp, 'Tis sweet, true; yes, but then 'tis also hit­

ter; 'Tis madness—yet 'tis also very sane.

It rages, yet it speaks with feeble twitter, it is a sore perplexity to sages;

•Tis weak, 'tis strong—so even wise men say.

Thhe plaint of love, read in a thousand pages Is still as evermore—si tu savais.

I am In love; my heart with love is burning, A wretched state of matters, I confess;

I would I could 1 ve more—yet, e'en love spurning,

I sometimes wish I could love rather less. Does she but love me! This In truth's a puz­

zle; I fear, I hope, a thousand times a day;

I would my foolish heart I could but muzzle; Helgho, my darling one—si tu savais.

I could Indite In rich, rare, golden letters (Were I a poet) e'en an ode to pain;

My heart Is locked, imprisoned, In love's fet­ters,

With you alone my freedom can remain. 'Tis terrible this power of love's enchaining,

'Tis not December, if 'tis not always May, Sometimes 'tie sunshine—'tis not alwaysraln-

ing; Yes, love, I love thee, and—si tu savais.

Is there no cure for lovet Am I to weary Myself to death with this constant cry f

Is life lo be a desert place and dreary? Others have conquered—why, then, should

not I! Perahance one day—if now she throws me

over— I'll find another idol, not of clay;

When she herself In love may be a rover, * She may iep<at it then— si tu cavais.

HE FORSAKEN FARMHOUSE.

Against the wooded hills it stands, Ghost of a dead home, staring through

Its broken lights on wasted lands Where old-time harvests grew. •

Unploughed, unsown, by scythe unshorn, The poor forsaken farm-fields lie,

Once rich and rife with golden c^rn And pale green breadths of rye.

Of healthful herb and flower bereft, The garden plot no housewife keeps;

Through weeds and tangle only lift The snake, Its tenant, creeps. . .

A lilac spray, once blossom clad, Sways bare before the empty lOjMBS;

Beside the roofless porch a sad, Pathetic red rose blossome. " - '

His track, in mould and dust or drouth, On floor and hearth the squirrel leaves,

And in the fireless chimney's mouth His web the spider weaves. -*• s -

The leaning barn about to fall Becounds no more on husking MM;

No cattle low In yard or stall. No thresher beats his sheaves."

So sad, so drear 1 it seems almori -Some haunting Presence makes its sign;

That down yon shadowy lane somn geost Might drive his spectral klne I

—John Grasnleaf Whlttier, in February At

WIT AND HUMOR, The most attractive thing aboat a

toboggan is a pretty girl.—Pittsburg Dispatch.

Even misfortune has its blessings— to the other fellow Who profits by your ill-luck.—Somerville (Mass.) Journal.

"I wouldn't be a fool, if I were you," said Jones to a friend. "If you were me you wouldn't be a fool," was the reply—Judge.

In tho matter of ,|J)^ New England codfish, we do not want to fight; but, by jingo, if we do, We've got the—by the way, what have we got?—St. Louis Republican. . .

There's the land-slide, the snow-slide, and the toboggan-slide; but the slide that has the money in it is the slide of the bad cashier into Canada.— Philadelphia Item.

A German inventor has devised a machine for deadening the sound of the piano. Next to a machine for deaden­ing pianists this is a splendid discovery. San Francisco Exdminer.

A petrified Indian lfas been exhumed in Arizona. The savage is supposed to have been petrified with astonish­ment on discovering an honest Indian agent.—San Francisco News-Letter.

The largest diamond known is that of the Rajah of Mattan, in Borneo. It is not stated whether Mr. Rajah is a summer-resort hotel clerk or an end-man in a minstrel troupe.—Norris-town Herald.

If you have ever noticed the men who occupy the front seats at the thea­ters you must have remarked how much more polite they are than the ladies. They do not even wear any hair.—Bur­lington Free Press.

"Ma," anxiously inquired a small boy, "is a tapestry like a turkey?" "Why, bless you, no! What put that into your head?" "Well, it says some­thing here about a Gobelin tapestry, anyway."—New Haven News.

Gotham matron—"Why, Lydia, didn't you go to the cooking-school, as you intended?" "Yes, ma, but there was no session; the leeturess is sick." "I am very sorry. What is the mat­ter?' ' ' 'Dyspepsia."—Tid-Bits.

"A man can get nothing without labor," said a woman to a tramp who declined to saw some wood in exchange for a dinner. "I know better than that," he replied as he turned away; "he can get hungry."—Boston Courier.

"The lips that taste liquor shall never kiss mine." "Girls are now con­fronted by another society whose mot­to is: "The lips that kiss poodles shall never kiss mine," and they say that poodle dogs are not as popular as they were once.—Danville Breeze,

Reporter—I have just brought a lovely theatrical scandal, full of the most revolting details. Editor—Good! Run it leaded, head it "Too Sickening for Publication," and give instructions to the printers to run off 20,000 extra copies.—London Topical Times.

As an instance of the remarkable cheapness of Chinese labor we note that in Chinese courts of justice wit­nesses can be hired at 10 cents apiece to testify on either side of the question at issue, or on both sides at 15 cents. Burlington Free Press.

"Orlando, I didn't see you with Miss Brown at the concert last night." "No, Percy, I'm not calling on her any more. I can't until the retracts what she said the other weik." "Ah—what

1

did she say 'Well, she said I needn't call any more."—Harper's Bazar.

A Yale College paper says that the secular magazines and papers are re­moved from the Dwight Hall reading-room Saturday. It is supposed the religious weeklies are substituted in order to give the students an oppor­tunity on the Sabbath to read the patent-medicine advertisements and the long list of "valuable premiums" offered to subscribers.—Norristown Herald.

Dr. B. Manley tells of a good sister who expended |800 in educating a young minister, through whose labors in a year or two 300 souls professed conversion, and he is gathering in more almost every day. The dear old sister smiles and cries both as she talks about how glad she is that she put her money into a young preacher, and not into a bank.—Richmond Religious Herald.

Mrs. Bagley (sharply)—"Go away, man! I have nothing for you." The man who pulled the bell—"I must have made a mistake. I was told that a beautiful lady lived here, and I was anxious to see her face before I died. If I have mistaken the house " Mrs. Bagley—"Don't go; step inside, sir. It shall never bo said that I turned away a starving man."!!—Phila­delphia Call.

Little girl (who is spending the afternoon with her aunt)—Auntie, mamma said that I was not to ask you for anything to eat. Aunt—Yes, Flos­sie, your mamma was quite right. It wouldn't be polite, you know. Little Girl (contemplatively)—No, it wouldn't be polite, and perhaps she thought that as I was your guest you would offer me something without asking.— N. Y. Sun.

The ways of the hour at the clubs.— Crashley (entertaining friend at club) —S-s-sh! We can't go into the smoking-room now. Friend—But I want to smoke, my dear fellow. Crashley—Can't do it now, old man. You see, Mr. Titmuss don't like to be disturbed. He's oar old steward. Saved up his fees a$d bought the building, and we bad to admit him or move out.—Tid-Bits.

Presiding Judge—So then, you ac­knowledge having written this libelous letter? In the whole course of my ex­perience I never met with such a con­glomerate of vulgar abuse. What have you to say in extenuation of your con­duct? Prisoner—Well, your Honor, allow me to tell you that it was even­ing, and rather dark at the time, so that I could hardly see what I wrote!— Fliegende Blatter.

One of the moat eloquent preachers of this city tells a'good joke at his own expense as follows: "When I was in Florida last winter I preached to a ne­gro congregation one Sunday, ex­cusing myself from saying much on account of my poor health. The col­ored minister in' li in closing prayer said: 'O, good Lawd, bless our brother L who has preached to us in his pore, weak wag.'- 'V-AnM*JTsnfe Tridunc. •*' " "

A Lawyer's Rase Exposed.

John R. Grimes was in his day one of the most distinguished lawyers in New Orleans. Though not as learned as some oi his associates at the bar, he possessed qualities of mind which ren­dered him formidable antagonist. His personal appearance was much in his favor, and the gravity of his man­ner and his perfect self-possession con­tributed a great deal toward his stand­ing as an advocate. His chief charac­teristic was audacity, which never fail­ed him in any emergency. He was also a lawyer of very fertile resources, and if engaged in arguing a very weak case, he was not above resorting to trick or artifice to accomplish his pur­pose, which the following anecdote will illustrate:

In a case of appeal before the Su­preme court he pretended to quote from time to time from certain author­ities, and was for a while permitted to do so without interruption, the bar be­ing accustomed to such breaches of professional propriety on his part. But on this occasion a recently appointed judge was on the bench, and when Mr. Grimes spoke of a particular law, he asked where it could be found. The old judges present smiled when they heard the question, for they were familiar with the ruses practised by Mr. Grimes, but that gentleman, not at all disconcerted, responded that he thought it was in Story, giving vol­ume, page, etc.

The imperturbable lawyer proceeded with his appeal, and in the interim a copy of Story was procured by the doubting judge, who was soon in earn­est search of the authority in question. Failing, of course, to find it, he took advantage of the first pause in the speech of Mr. Grimes to tell that gen­tleman he had been unable to meet with the law quoted. Whereupon Mr. Grimes exclaimed:

"Is that so, your honor? Have I made so great a mistake?"

"You have indeed," said the judge. "Neither I nor my associates have ever heard of a law like it."

"Well, may it please the Court," re­marked Mr. Grimes, very coolly, "if there is no such law in the books, there ought to be ! for it would be found­ed alike in equity and common-sense, which do not always govern the rul­ings of our courts of justice."

And he concluded his argument as if nothing unusual had occurred. The sarcasm with which he sought to cover up his exposure was not lost on those to whom it was addressed, but the in­cident which elicited it was related to his detriment for many years after­ward.—Editor's Drawer, in Harper's Magazine.

His Generosity.

Sdrae time since the wife of a promi­nent citizen of New York city was try­ing to instill in the mind of her 5-year-old son what it meant to be generous, thus:

"Now, Willie dear, suppose mamma should give you a cake and tell you to give part of it to Harry, and when you divided it one piece was larger than the other; if you gave it to him that would be generous, but if you kept it for yourself that would be selfish. Do you understand?"

The little fellow thought he did. The next afternoon, wishing to test

the eft'eet of her teaching, she gave Willie a large juicy orange, saying:

"Now Willie, take this orange and divide it generously with HarryJ'

When to her surprise the ehila (who was passionately fond of oranges) gave it back to her, saying, with a roguish twinkle in his bonny blue eye:

"Here, mamma! won't you please give it to Harry and tell him to divide it generously with me."—The Judge.

Julia Weigley lives in a small log hut near Pittsburg, Pa., with a lot of chickens, geese, and dogs as compan­ions. She is a great-grand daughter of Lewis Bollman, one of the young men who helped Lafayette escape from his guard at Vienna, Austria, in 1794, and who was subsequently captured and sentenced to death by the Austrian authorities and released on condition that he would at once leave for Ameri­ca, his native land. The Humane so­ciety of Pittsburg has employed an attorney to look after Julia Weigley's property and see how it can be secur­ed for her benefit.

Red mittens, the gift of an aunty, complete Hal's costume, protected in which he goes out on the coldest days with safety, and I think that no one seeing his attire would fancy that its materials were furnished by the old-clothes closet.

Assistants in society.

The matter of assistants at afternoon receptions and teas is a problem, writes a Washington correspondent of the New York Herald. It is an easy compliment for a hostess of position to pay to some friend or acquaintance to ask her to assist her in receiving callers or to pour her tea. Hostesses, how­ever, are not always allowed to invite them to do so, as these assistants more often volunteer, and it seems to be quite the fashion this year for assist­ants to offer their services. One wo­man who was about to give a tea re­cently was surprised at the beginning of the afternoon to have a young girl walk in and say:

"As you are such a stranger here I am sure that I can be of great assist­ance to you, as I know every one. I will pour tea for you," and she poured it and had quite a domesticated air in the house.

One family living here, whose after­noons for receiving callers are always so well attended that the uninitiated wonder, regularly spend the rest of the week drumming up customers for their teapot and punch bowl. They seized upon an amiable foreign minister the other day, saying: "Be sure now and come this time! We are going to have some of that good punch, and that pretty young lady that you ad­mired so much will be there. Oh, do be sure and come!"

John Puryear, a colored man of Clarke County, Georgia, had two daughters about to marry. He Wanted to give each a dower, but he was poor in everything except children, so he gave the young women the use of these, and at the double wedding pre­sented papers showing that four young JPuryears, two to each bride were legally bound to theirsisters until thoy should corns of ̂ ; v

Smokers' Vagaries.

For want of a better plaoe, a re­porter sought a secluded nook in a Bowery cigar store to dash off two or three paragraphs. While he was pre­paring his copy a well-known comed­ian, who is noted almost as much for his smoking propensities as he is for his funny ways on the stage, came in, and, throwing down a silver dollar, asked the dealer why he didn't always give him the same brand.

"I do," replied the man behind the counter, rolling out a handful of seal-brown beauties on the glass case in front of him.

"Take 'em away," said the aetor, pushing the proffered cigars back. "These are not the kind I usually smoke—give me something different." Then, selecting eight stimulating mor­sels from another lot, put seven of them in his case, lighted the eighth one, and, puffing a cloud of smoke upon one of his own lithographs that adorned the window, he departed, say­ing: -'I know a cigar when I see it."

"There goes another," said the deal­er, talking to himself; but the reporter, thinking the remark addressed to him, asked: "Another what?"

"Another man with more imagina­tion than taste. He is gone off satis­fied that he is smoking a new brand of tobacco, while in reality he got the same article he has been using for a year, except it was taken from ̂ a dif­ferently labeled box. Ten to one, the next time he comes in he will ask for the same as he had last time and say.: •They are something like.' "

"Why didn't you tell him " "And lose his custom? O no? I

couldn't retain his good will and ques­tion his judgment on the quality of tobacco. Such cases happen every day. Scaacely one man in a hundred can rely upon his taste for smoking. A weed that tempts to-day will to-morrow be positively distasteful. There cer­tainly is a broad distinction between cheap seed tobacco and that cultivated to a high degree, but beyond that criticism is a hollow mockery. I know you will sneer when I tell you that the mark of distinction between an im­ported cigar and one of domestic make is really the 'snap' smell that fastens to the imported article, but such is the case nevertheless. A first-class Key West can be sold for an imported cigar almost any time.

"How about the Henry ClayP" "Well, the Henry Clay is protected

by its shape, which has never yet been successfully counterfeited. Almost anything else, however, that is consign­ed in ship cargoes can be palmed off as imported stock. A smoker's vagaries are beyond comprehension. A retailer can make a reputation for a cigar and the notion of the smoker will ruin it."

"What do you think is the best cigar?"

"It has yet to be found, the names and shapes vary so much. There was a great run on the Figaro at one time, but it was not due to the superiority of the stock used in them, for it ranged in price from $15 to $75 per thousand. The Figaro represented not a brand but a shape, in which any quality of tobacco might be worked up. The lteina Victorias, Es Panoles, Conchas, Partagas, Regalias, Margarita, and Londrcs are other specimens of the same class."

"The quality of cigars can be told, can it not, by its color?"

"No. It is folly to select a light-colored cigar under the impression that it is a mild one. The darkest-looking cigar is known as the 'Oscuro,' and the lightest is the 'Claro.' The shades be­tween these are the 'Maduua,' 'Colora­do Madura,' 'Colorado,' and 'Colorado Claro.' The fact may be that all, or almost all, of these shades will be found in one lot of tobacco which may bo used wholly as wrappers. In that case the color would signify but little, for the filler might be entirely differ­ent—either lighter or darker. Cigars are all made-up together and assorted afterward, purely as a matter of looks. The difference in . color is accidental. By that I mean that tin! same tobacco leaf varies in shade—that part nearest the ground being always the darkest. The discrepancy in shades means noth­ing, but it is turned to account by dealers in selling the same cigar to men of all tastes, as you saw me do just now."—New York Mail and Ex­press.

A River by Order.

Captain King, author of "The Colo­nel's Daughter," in his brochure en­titled "Campaigning with Crook," tells an amusing and characteristic an­ecdote of Colonel Royall, now com­manding the Fourth Cavalry, but then Lieutenant-Colonel of the Third. He

A story is going the rounds of the camp which does us all good even in this dismal weather. Colonel Royall ordered one of his battalion command­ers to 'put that battalion in camp on the other side of the river, facing east.'

"A prominent and well-known liabM of the subordinate officer was a tend­ency to split hairs, discuss orders, and, in line, to make trouble where there was a ghost of a chance of so doing unpunished.

"Presently the Colonel saw that his instructions were not being carried out, and not being in a mood for indi reet action, he put spurs to his horse, dashed through the stream, and reined up alongside the victim, with, 'Didn't 1 order you, sir, to put your battalion in camp along the river, facing east?'

" 'Yes, sir. But this isn't a river; it's only a creek.'

" 'Creek, sir! Creek, sir! What do you mean, sir? It's a river—a liver from this time forth, by order, sir. Now do as I tell you.'

"There was no further delay."'— Harper's Magazine.

A shrewd Chinaman has hit upon an article of export from Germany which has thus far escaped the attention of the money - getting Teutons. It is neither more nor less than cast-off horseshoes, of which some Berlin firms are about to ship some 8,000 or 4,000 tons. "The "heathen Chinee" has found out that the wrought iron of which horseshc es are made, owing to the constant and even hammering on the pavement, together with the equine animal heat, gradually assumes the hardness of steel, combined with great malleability and elasticity qualities which tit them more especially for the manufacture, of Ju4vt$ and sword blades. ' , —~

Antidote for Cancer.

About thirteen years ago a woman belonging to the middle walks of lifis, , suffering from cancer, was pronounced beyond their skill by the physicians of Shrewsbury Infirmary, England, the tumor being in such close proximity W Lhe jugular vein that, rather than risk . the imperiling of her life, they deemed it best not to undertake such an opera­tion.

Straightway after this announcement • was made she returned to her home, which was three miles from Oswestoy,-the nearest railway station in ths County of Montgomery, North Wales. Here she became, a greater sufl'erer, when one day she bethought herself of a neighbor, whom she soon found, and with all the eloquence of one enthralled by an implacable foe she appealed to her sympathy. "If it were possible," she implored, "do, do something to assuage my pain." With that tendittw- , ness and willingness characteristic of every true and noble woman to allay • her sister's many pains this friend, for she proved a friend in need and dead, forthwith sent her boys (one of whom • is our informant) to gather what in the United States is known as sheep sorrel; by the people of England as "sour leaf or tho cuckoo plant;" in the: Welsh language, to the people of North Wales, as "dail surion y gog." To this timely opportunity, and the efficacy of this herb as an antidote for cancer, this sufferer is in a large measure in-' debted for her health and life to-day, while not the slightest vestige of this hitherto unconquerable disease is to b> -found.

The leaves were wrapped in brown paper so tight as to make the package impervious to air. This package was then placed beneath an open grate and covered with the hot ashes of the same;,: When sufficiently cooked it was re­moved and in as hot a state as possible and not to burn it was now applied, the leaves being in direct contact with the ulcer, which was firmly held to the part affected by a linen handkerchief. Strange to say, at the expiration of one month the tumor came away and has not since appeared. For the first four days the pain was most excruci­ating, but gradually decreased as it be­came loosened. There is much to be said in favor of this method over that of the knife. The nature of its draw­ing power in the form of poultice, though at first very severe, still is gradual and sure, while new blood rushes into the vacuum caused by re­moval, thus serving as a fitting help­meet for aiding and stimulating na­ture's efforts, and in the meantime the arteries which feed this fell destroyer are given a greater impulse to move rapidly, flow healthy, aud strengthen the weaker parts as fast as it egresses. •' In this connection it is to be observed that this method has none of the .ac­companying after-weakening effects as caused by loss of blood so frequently exhibited under the operation of the knife, while the chances of a thorough extirpation are far more sanguine as to a thread remaining than that of a sur­gical operation, which many fear and object to.

For those parts not admitting of poultice we submit, another formula few the same hv.rb, as applied by this same benefactress in somewhat different cases.

A piece of flat>iron or steel is ol> tained with at least one bright abd smooth face. On this the leaves are placed, which in Kirn is placed on top of the stove or within the oven until the leaves are thoroughly cooked, whence they are removed and spread on a piece of linen in the same way as any other home-made plaster. When cold enough, with sufficient heat not to burn, it is then applied, and, our in­formant states was productive of the same beneficent result.—Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.

Tilton's Dreadful Joke. Four or five years ago I met Theo­

dore Tilton, one of Miss Anthony's most intimate friends, at the St. Denis restaurant, in New York, and we par­took at the same little table.

He was a strikingly handsome man, six feet four inches high, with flowing brown hair, blue eyes, and mobile face —a man of fifty and well calculated to attract attention anywhere. Miss An­thony had just come into her property, and she dressed a little better than us­ual, and was intellectual looking, with fine gray hair and considerably above the average stature of her sex.

Tilton came in laughing, and in re­ply to my question said: "I have just had a little joke on Susan An­thony." ,

I showed an interest in detail* and he went on:

"We were waiting down Fifth ave­nue, and as we were both very tall we excited some curiosity. Suddenly she noticed it and said to mo: 'Theodore, what do people keep looking at us so for?'

"'Nonsense!' I said, 'they are not thinking anything about us. It is your fancy.' That quieted her for a few min­utes and we talked and walked on. Shortly she became excited about it again and exclaimed: 'They are staiv ing at us! Is my bonnet right? I oan see them whispering to each other as they pass. Do you suppose they know us, Theodore? What do you suppose they are saying?'

'"Well, I don't know, Susan,' I an­swered, 'very likely they are saying, that's Theodore Tilton—see how kind he is to his old mother.'"

Tilton laughed merrily at the dread-f ql joke, and I have never happened to interview "Susan" about it

Why, anybody ought to know that it's the short haul that costs the moat. You see I am sitting in a railway parlor car down in Maine writing a postal card to a friend in Oregon." Now, if I can get that card to the njail car, only seven car lengths ahead of me, the government will carry it 3,000 miles fir one cent. That is the long haul. But it costs me a quarter to get the porter to carry it to tho postal car. That's the short haul. Then the porter loses it on his way or forgets all about it That's the shrinkage. And them-you have the whole trausportion prob­lem in a nutshell.—Burdette.

A Coast County saloonkeeper mask* down the "face" drinks on a sheet of paper with a derringer cartridge in lieu' of a pencil. He tells the boys that he will use his bookkeeping apparatus ia another if Limy fail U> it|> ©o» easonaily. . ̂