Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, December 29, 1872, Page 5

THE CHICAGO DATLY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1872. 5 BOSTON, A Lively Timo with the Lions-Staxley, George YacDonald, Froude, aad Tradail. Mr. Froude’s Opinion of Wen- dell Phillips. A Famous Boston Parlor- Fire and Co-operation. “ Osgood’s.” From Our Own Cerreapondent. Bostox, Dec. 34, 1872, In epite of the fire, Boston is having & pretty lively winter of itin social life, what with its upusual number of lions, both foreign and domestic, its clubs, and its fairs, and its music. Stanley, whom wo might call Livingstone's explorer, is the central lion just at this writing, and he seems to bo & vory amiable and eatisfactory lion, both on 2nd off the plat- form, and, of course, the recipient of the nsual number of dinners and evening parties, tea- fights and other junlketings, to all of which he tekes very easily and kindly. ACACDONALD, FEOUDE, AND TYNDALL wont throngh the same gay round of {estivitics on their arrival, the same hand-ghakings, and enthusiastic feminino free praise, and the ¢ onnter-current, freo criticism. George Mac- Donaldis the prime favorite in feminine so- clety, as mightbe expected from his literary repatation, his good looks, and his winning msuners. Someof these feminiae admirers seem tobedoing & rather extraordinary thing just now in the subecription wkich they have started “to raise o saitable sum of money to be offered to kim beform he leavesour shores, 83 & return simply due to him for that with which he hos g0 truly enriched us.” This is the formuls of the card which is before tho public. How Mr. MacDonald will receive this cheritable edmiration remains to be scen. I should think that he wonld bo likely to putit down to the semo American ignoranco that ho supposed required to be introduced to Hood and his puns! If Mr. MacDonald had suffered from the literary piracy which some Englishmen bave, it might scem & laudable endeavor to “give tho King his own agein;” but Messrs. Scribner & Co. are by no means of the piraticel order, bat, instead, very liberal in their arrangements for advance-sheets. Then, when wo tako into con- eideration the lecture-harvest which the gen- tleman is gathoring in, the suitability of this 1+8um of money" becomes an open quéstion of e. Jr. Froude is more spoken of amongst men then women, being, I should think, essontially ‘what is called A MAN'S MAN. Though his imagination is of the highest or- der, according to that clever suthority, Justin Mcbarthy, and according, too, to the testimony of his own brilliant and romantic histories, yob o is Dot of a sympsthetic, imaginativo tempera- ment like Mr, MacDonald ; is not of that order of man, 'in sny 'way, who _would bo specally sttractive to general so- ciets.” Yet, notwithstanding, r. Froude is the great fignre before socicty in America just now, one of the finest things yet to bo told about hira, and which also pays one of tho fincst compliments to our own grost men, i the man- ner and spirit of his acceptance of WENDELL PHILLIPS’ protest against his_judgments of Irclsnd. Ho confesses himself, if not indifferont to, entirely unaffected by, Father Burke's protesis, and, in- deed, all other antagonists; but declares that, when a man like Mr. Phillips enters the lists against him, it quite = _differont matter; that Mr. Philli opinions must command his greatest respect. In view of this, be proposes to answer Mr. Phillips by published letter ; but Lie will wait until his roturn to Eng- land, that he may procuse the documentary evi- dence which he considers necessary to meet 8o skilled an entegonist. In all of this there is nothing that shows the amportauce which he I!)TM:C;I on Mr. Phillips' opinion more complotely than tho last-men- tioned fact. 3R, TYNDALL, who has had his ehare of the lion-loving atten- tions—and are we not moet of us lion-lovers ?— has not mede quite tho social sensation—been quitc somuch_run after—ss the great story- teller and tho history-maker. And the reason i obvious. To the general society mind,—that is to eay, to tho goneral fominine mind, for isn't society proper mostly in the hands of tho feminine; for what aro the merely mesculing _ dinners but the ralics of bachelor barbarianiem which is quite outside of society proper? Well, to this propor mind the importanco and qualit of tho geaius of Xr. Mac- Donald and Mr. Froude are much moro easily underetood than that of the man of ecienco. To bo sure, that little book, “ Forms of Water,” mado tho difcalty less it acieacey fa whal- ever direction, belonga o the few and not to tho many; and, when tho Kings of Fiction and His- tory—thoso boundless fields of glory, which evéry reador may enter without first fording any ewelling floods of inquiry and recearch,—when Hhicse Eings com out of their castles, their fol- lowing is very easily understood. And, speaking of ZOSTO 80CTAL LIFE, I must present an insido view of one of the Centres of that life, in ono of the already famous Clostnut-strect parlors where the Radical Club meet. On Saturday evenings, Mre. Sargent, the feminine presiding gonius of the Radical Clnb, holds weekly receptions. These parlors ate the Jargest parlces in Boston of the old-fashioned order. Going in at nny timo from 7 o'clock un- 1110 on those Saturday evenings, wo sball be sure to find a consideranle company, almost al- @ays sprinkled with a lion or o lioness or two. Derbaps Mr. Wondcll Phillipps, who is an old frieud of the family, will be acen chat- ting in acorner. And I hava seen Charles Sum- per silting on_that sofa at the right, in closo conversation with some kindrod epirit. Robert Dale Owen and Henry James, Sr., eschange Yiews on_spiritual “shadows and substances.” And i it be just after the holidays, and you go in early enough,—for he keeps carly hours,— sou may find the poot Whittier. Somo of the Fomous Professors from Cambridge mako their appearance now and then; and ome of the frequent guests is ono of the best of tho Radical essayiste, Samuel Longfellow, the broth- er of the post. But these are but a fow of the meny who congregats in the old rooms. Poets, paintors, politicians, and philosophors find thoir way here, sooner or later. If oneis a stranger, it is worth while to take & glence at the ancient curtains of French revolutionary = fame, at the _furnituro coverings of veri- table Gobelin tspestry, sod st the curinus great sndirons, in the form of msssive ewers, which once gleamed goldenly in a French palace. So frequent bas been the mention of these curiosities, by tongue and pen, in the East, that the subject bas gn.sud into & perennial joke with Mr. Phillips, who frequently addresses his friend, the ownor, in jocular fashion, as “Lord of the Golden Andirons.” Before I leave the subject of society and the clubs, Imust not for- et to speak of another outgrowth of this social, tellectual, high-pressure system, the TOUNG LADICS' CLUB, which meets every Ssturdey during *the sca- son.” It is composed of girls from 16 to 20, rosy creatures, who, not content with the present system of school-cramming, whichi takes in all $he ‘ologica and protty much el the isms, have formed themselves into this littlo company for intellectunl improvement, and weekly sit snd propound some _brain-whisling question of ecience or philosophy. Thoy are actually so deep Into it that they havo bad Emerson resd an estay to them, on which occasion they showed their appreciation so heartily that the venerablo sage wanted to come again. At the first look, this scems like a little too much of a good thing,—s little too much of the brain-busi- Tess; but, when ono comes to consider amo- mout, it is apparent that these spontaneous ont- breaks are much better than the school-cram- ming, and productive of better results; and, then, why shouldn't the girls have their brain- clubs as well a8 the boys their debating lyce- ums? But one begins.to bave a little fear for the bodies of these brainy Bostonians, in view of all these things; for this esst-windy climato keops every faculty wound up ab its bighest pitch. * Outside of all this rapid parlor- , these mental pyrotechnics, the practical fe of Boston moves ou, perhaps, with less Fapidity than cities to the W estward. | e laying out of streets, and building up, fio on steadily, but ¢arefully and ¢autiouely, intho burnt distriot. ‘The large firm of Webster Brothors, leather-deaiers, Fho waro GREAT LOSERS BY THE FIRE, but who so magnanimously refusod to take help from *poor, crippled Chicago,” as they ex- pressed it, havo recoived help from an unex- pected sourco. Some years ago, they began that plan of co-operation which gives, at the end of cach year, & certain porcentage of profits to the cmploye. ~ After the fire, the employes clubbed together and refused to draw their percentage of the [present _sour, but, instead, offersd it tothe irmas a loan. So sincero was their beliet in Lhe Integrity and future prosperity of their employors that they also offered to mort- gage their homes, if necessavy, for thosame pur- Poee of assistance. This argues well for the co- operation system, most certainly. Spealing or thinking of the fire, and its rout of ruin, one recalls the various hairbreadth es- capes of firms that all New England at least knows, and of ono that has a world-wide reputa~ tion,—that of 7 7. B. 06G0OD 4 CO., publishers of the Atlantic Monthly. Said one of thie firm to me: ** I stood six hours on the roof of our building, expecting every moment that the flames would reach ns.” Standing in the uthors’ room,” the other day, with its books, snd its pspers, and its associations, an od thrill, almost as if of escapo from personsl dan- ger, went through mo, as the near poesibility of the destruction . 8o lately = threatened occurred to me. Most litersry people who aro habitues of “ Osgood’s,” as tho_place is termed familiarly, have had, I sm told, pro- cisely this peculiar fecling of personality in this connection, which is essily explained, for it is & kind of waysido-inn of meeting to almost all ture. Chicagoans connected with the Jubiles Press of last eummer, who wers bronght into contact with XMr. Osgood . himself, “the man who never lost his temper through the whole thing, by Jovo,"—tho astonished and ad- miring verdict of oné of his coadjutors in that time of pressing cares,—will be glad that their courteous friend escaped tho fiery ordesl. And certainly all the Atlantic readers, and the chil- dren, will bo thankful that their montbly feast was Dot delayed. Ganerm. —— SELECTIONS. BY DUTF PORTER. —All death is & life begun. —Count it an assurance of more vital good when God denies yoi. —In a wordy combat between Social equals, the best-dressed man has one point in his favor. —Tt needs danger to bring a man wholly into life, just as pain does & woman. You cannot disorder anything; what seems like disorder is transition. God permits many things tomporarily for man's education that are but the marringof his universal plan, which i justified by the conse- quences of the temporary wrong. Deepest streams make least murmur, whether they are those that course among the hills or flow from human hearts. —None of the faculties of the soul have ever ‘becn defined, becsuse their essence is infinite. —Ong trembles for the republic when he looks atits girls. —Many & time the most effective Gospel is that which comes outof a basket rather then out of a mouth. _ —Tho lark, when at sunrise she rises sing- ing sbove our sight, shows that it was not from lack of poszer to climb that she made the hum- ble choice to build her nest in the grass. If you could endow the smallest insect with the sense of the beautiful and the infinite, it would see God, and this vision would render it immortal. Inall the ills of infancy, Nature calls more for our patience than for our remedics. The whole body is the tongue of a man, and it is all the time unconociously talking of what & man is. Floquence is truth looking up to Heaven. Nodsyie well spent unless it leaves the spender in the best possiblo state for the follow- m%dnys. ternity is an ever present Now. We know there is no loss—no death,—only transition to fuller lifo. There are some faces that seem a8 if they had never seen light, —The shadowy future, with its gloomy phau- toms, never comes. —Dower to get freedom becomes the measure of the power t0 use it. —The arms wo sharpen for a _conflict to-day may bo used, perhaps a_contury hence, in con- fests wo have not as yet suticipated. —Wihen God bresks our idols to pieces, it is notfor us to put the broken bits together again. Teach your frail girl that, though she may find pleasure’in the gallant Bupport of a brother's &rm, his care shonld in no way cripple hor en- ergics, or rob her of her birthright,—noble ‘womanhood. Indigestion i charged by God with enforcing morality on the stomach. The God way of judging, by which one takes snother’s case and judges it from that othor's own standpoint, is seldom practised. Commonly the greater part of life is spent in loading up,—burying tho soul undera great freightage,—getting knowledge, wo call it God's tine, impalpable_air, spread around the earth, is not moro_cunningly mixed from pun- gent gases for oar hourly bréath, than life itself 16 thiuned and toned that wo may receive aud bear it. In the awful mystery of human life, it is o consolation sometimes to believe that our mis- fortunes, perhaps even our sins, are permitted o be imsirumanty f our education for Immor- {ality. TLovo, it nothing clso, inclines the soul to fesl its helplossness and ba prayerful,—to place its treasures ina Father's hand. A woman's heart has its strength in love, and, when love is taken away, alas for her who is de- doprived of it! All that life, at its worat, can do, may be borne with it; without it—groat God! what deserts filled with horrors stretch around,—endless everywhere, but in that dis- tant, narrow point, where the gatoway of tho future life opone. — - AFTER THE ACCIDENT. Mouth of the Shaft. ‘What I waut is my husband, sir And if you're a man, cir, Yow’il give me an answer,— Whero is my Joe? Penrbyn, sir, Joo— Cnernovanshire ; Siz months ago Since we camo here— Eh 7—Ab, you know | ‘Well, T am quiot e s But I must stand b hnd wil, Ploase—T'l be strong If you'll Just let me wait Inside o' that gate Till the news comea along. “ Negligence " ~ That was the cause. Are there no laws— Lawa to protect such a5 wo? ‘Well, then? 1 won't raise my voice, ‘There, men 1 won't make 1o noise, Only you just Jet me be, Four, only four—aid be say T= Baved ! ond the other ones {—Eh t Why do they call? Why ate they all ZLooking snd coming this way ? ‘What's that 7—a messsgo? 1 take it. 1 Xnow his wife, elr, T break 1t # Foreman " “0at'hs ama # Qut by anc . S sk B L, Bay to his wife Soon he'l ba frea.” Will 17—God bless YT, Tt mel —Bret Harte in Januiary Seribner, FASHION, Many ladies are vrasrinfi with black silk houso dresecs, & soft, woven silk sash of some bright color, knotted on loft sido. —Arsenic in carpets is tho latest ‘‘desth in thepot.” The dark and colors now so fashiona- ble contain & dsngerous proportion of the poi- son. —The hideous blue and brown veils with which our belles disfigured themaclves last_win- ter no longer vex our eyes on the promenado. —In Now York, receptions will be very gencral on New Year's Day, the statements that the cus- tom of receiving on that dayis going out of fashion being sheer nonsonse. - Tortoiso shell jowelryis rapidly going out of fashion. A very perfectand cheap imitation has Tendered it common. Amethyat sharesthe same fate. —Pretty little laco caps to wear st breakfast are very popular with young married ladies. They save an immenso deal of trouble-in axrang- ing the hair. 1 = Z_A new featuro of socisl entertainments this winter will bo * pound parties.” Thoy dorive this name from the circumstanco that each per- son invited is requested to farnish a pound of astry, confectionery, fruit, or other edibles for bo isble, and thus s elegont supper is providod. | Tho partios &re given at privato ros- doncess New Englandors who bave any interest in litera- | BRET HARTE'S NEW STORY. “DMrs. Skaggs’ Husbands.” The opening and longest story in Bret Harte's new volumo (published by Usgood & Co.), 4 3rs. Skaggs' Husbands,” is new, 2nd hasbeen witten only a fow weoks.' It opens in Califor- nia, among rougbs. and drunkards, and stage- drivers, at “ Angel's,” and closes at Newport, among willas and belles, and all tho azparatus of American woalth., Being too long to quote en- tire, wo shall select portions of it, in which the striking traits of ito porsonages appesr ; con- necting them with o brief summery of tho amit- ted parts. 1t opens at Angel's with this exhibi- tion of our old friend Yuba Bill,” the stage- driver, who is the deus ex machina or special providence of the story. BABR-ROOM CHERUBIM. It was the custom of the driver of the Wing- dam coach to whip up bis Lorses and enter An- gel's at that remarkable pace which the wood- cuts in tho hotel bar-room represented to cred- ulous humanity as tho usual rato of speed of that convoyance. At such times the habituel ex- pression of disdainful reticence and lazy official soverity which he woro on the box became in- tensificd ss the loungers gathered about the ve- Dicle, and only the boldest ventured to address him.’ Tt was the Hon. Judge Beeawinger, member of Assembly, who to-day presumed, ~perhaps 5, oo the strength of his official position. “ Ay politicr] news from below, Bill2” he asked, 8s tho latter elowly descended from his lofty perch, without, however, any perceptible coming down of mien or manmer. “Xot much,” esid Bill, with deliberate gravity. “Tha President o’ the United States hozn't bin hisself gens you refused that seat in the Cab- inet. The gin'ral feelin' in perlitical circles is one o' regret.” Trony, even of this outrageous quslity, was too common in Angel's to excito either & smile or & frown. Bill slowly entered the bar-room Quring a dry, dead silence, in which only & faint spirit of emulation survived. 4Ye didn'l bring up thet agint o’ Rothschild's this trip? ” asked the bar-kecper slowly, by way of vague contribution to the prevailing'tone of conversation. - “No,” respondod Bill, with thoughtful exacti~ tude. ““Ifo sxid ho couldn't look inter thet clsim o' Johneop's without first consultin’ the Bank o’ England.” Tho Mr. Johneon here alluded to being pres- cnt o8 the faded Tevoler tha bar-keeper had Iately put out, and as the alleged claim notori- ouely possessed no attractions whatever to capi- talists, expectation naturslly looked to Lim for tome response to this evident challenge. Ha Qid so by simply stating that he would #take sugar” in his, and by walking unstendily toward tho bar, as if sccopting s festive invita- tion. To tho credit of Bll, be it recorded that o did mot attempt. to corzéct he misteke, but gravely touched glassos with him, and after say- fug “Here's_snother nsil in your cofin,”—a cheerful sentimont, to which And the hair sl off your hend,” was playfully added by the others,—he threw off his liquor with o single dexterous mevement of head and elbow, and stood refreshed. : * Hello, old major!” seid Bill, suddgnly sot- ting down his glass. * Are you there?” It was a boy, who, becoming bashfully con- scious that this epithet was addressed to him, Tetroated sideweys to the doorway, where ho stood beating his hat againat the door-post, with an assumption of indifference that his downcast ‘but mirthful, dark eyes, and reddening cheek scarcely boro out. Perhaps it was owing to his sizo, perbaps it was to a certain chorubic outline of face and figure, perhaps to a peculiar trast- falness of expression, that he did not Jook half bis ago, which was rea"’y 14, Evorybody in Angel's’ knew the boy. Either under the venerable title bestowed by Bill, or as “Tom Islington,” aftor his adopted father, his was o familiar presence In tho gattle- mont, and the theme . of much local criticlsm and comment. His waywardness, indolonce, and unaccountsble amisbility— & quality at once suspicious and gratui- tous in a pioncer community liko Angel's—bad often been the subject of fierce discursion. A Iargo and reputablo majority believed him des- tined for the gallows ; & minority not quite so roputable onjoyed hia presence without troubling themselves much about his future; to one or two the evilpradictions of tho majority possessed neithor novalty nor terror. “ Angthing for mo, Bill ?* asked tho boy, halt mechanically, with thie air of repeating some joc- ular formulary perfectly undorstood by Bill. ¢ Angthin’ for you ! echoed Bill, with an ovor- acted koverity ‘equally well undorstood by Tommy,—* snythin' foryou? No! ~And it's my opinion thore won't e anythin' for you ez long ez you bang around bar-rooms, and spend Tour valooablo time with loafera and bummers. it 1" Tho roproof was sccompaniod by a suitable exaggoration of gesture (Bill had seized & do- canter) beforo which the boy ratreated, still good-humorcdly. _ Bill followed him to the door. ¥ Dern my skin, if ho hezn't gono off with that bummor Johneon,” ho added, as ho looked down the road. “What's he expectin’, Bill?” asked the bar- kecper. ‘5 lottor from his aunt. Reckon he'll hov to talo it out in oxpectin’. Likely thoy ate glad to get shut o bim.” “Ho' lendin' a shiftless, idle life horo,” in- terposed tho member of Assembly. “*Well," ssid Bill, who_nover allowod any ono but himeelf to abiso his protoge, “secin’ he ain't expectin’ no oflis from tho hands of an en- lightened constitooency, it 1is rayther a shiftloss life.” After delivering this Parthian arrow with a gratuitous twan ing of the bow to indicate its fonsive personality, Bill winked ot tho bar- keeper, slowly resnmed s pair of immeneo, Dbulgy buckskin gloves, which gave his fingers tho appearance of being painfully soro and bandagod, strode to the daor witbout looking at anybody, called out, ** All aboard,” with & per- functory nir of eupreme indiffcroneo whother tho invitation was heeded, remounted his box, and drovo stolidly away. [Tom is_tho youthful horo of tho story, and doea not dic or come to any bad ond, in spito of the doubtful circumstances of his introduction, and tbe still more questionablo conduct now to bo described. No soonor does the stago go off than *Johnson,” whoso real name turns out to bo Jack Adams, thio first of Alrs. Skagge’ husbands, begins to go off too, into incipient deliriunm tremens. Whereupon Tom, as below deecribed, at onco becomes the impromptu superint tendent.] CALIFORNIA INERRIATE ASYLUM. By this timo Tom, half supporting {ho unsta- blo Jgnson, who doveloped o tendency to ocea- sionaly doelh across tho glaring road, but check- ed himeelf midway each tims, roached tho corral which adjoined tho Mansion House. Atits far- ther extremity was s pump and horso-trough. Hore, without a word being spokon, Lut ovident- Iy in obedienco to some babitus! custom, Tom Tod his companion. With tbo boy's_assistanco, Jolnson removed his coat and neck-cloth, turned baclk tho collar of hie sbirt, and gravely placed his head bonesth tho pump-spout. With equal gravity and deliberation, Tom took his place at the hundle. For a fow moments only thosplash- iog of water snd regular stroiss of the pump broke the solemnly ludicrous silonce. ‘Then there was s pause in which Johneon put his hands to his dripping head, folt of it critically an if it belonged to somebody elsc, and raised his eyes to his companion. “‘That ought to fotch it," said Tom, in answer to tho look. “Efit don't,” replied Johnson, doggedly, with sn_air of relieving himself of all furthor ‘Tesponsibility in the matter, *it's got to, thet's all It 43t " referred to somo change in tho physi- ognomy of Johnson, ‘it had probably boen “fotchod” by the process just indicated. The Dead that went under the pump was large, and clothed with bushy, uncertain-colored hair; tho faco was flushed, pully, and oxpressionicss, the eyes njected and full. The head that camo out from under the pump was of smaller size and different shape, tho hair straight, dark, and sleek, tho faco palo and hollow-cheeked, tho eyes bright and rostless. In tho haggard, norvous ascotic that rose from tho horse-trough there was very little trace of tho Bacchus that had bowed thero a moment before, Familiar as Tom mast have boen with the spectacle, he could not help looking inquiringly at tho trough, a8 if_ex- octing to Boo some traccs of tho previous Fohnssa in its ehallow depth. 'A narrow strip of willow alder, and buckeyo, —a mero dusty ravelled fringo of tho greon man- tlo that swept tho high shoulders of the table mountain—lapped the edgo of the corral. Tha silont pair wero quick to avail thomselves of ovon its scant eholter from tho overpowering sun. They had not proceeded far, before John- &on, who was walking quite rapidly in ndvance, suddenly brought himself up, and turned to his com panion with &n interrogative “EL ? " 1 didn't spesks,” esid Tommy, quietly. +Who smd you spoko 2" eaid Johnson, with quick look of cunning. *“In courso yon dida't speak, and I didn't sposk, neither. Nobody spoke. Wot makes you think you spokez" he continued, peering curiously into Tommy's oyes. Tho smilo that habitually shone there quickly vanished as the boy stepped quietly to his com- paninm's side and took lis arm_withont a_word. “ 1 courzo you didn't speak, Tommy,” said Johnson, deprécatingly. “ You ain't the boy to go for to play an old soakor like mo. That's wat 1 like you for. That's wot I seed in you from tho first. I sez, ‘Thet 'ero boy ain't_goin’to play you, Johnson! You can go your whole pile on bim, when you can't trust even a bar-keeper.’ Thet's wot I said. Eh? This time Tommy prudently took no notice of the interrogation, and Jobuson went on. “Ef T was to ask you snother question, you wouldn't 80 to play me neither—would you, Tommy 2" No,” said the boy. “Ef I was to nek you,” continued Johnson, witliout heeding the reply, but with n growing anxiety of eye and a norvous twitching of his lips,—+of I 'was to ask you, fur instance, f that was 8 jackass rabbit thot jest passed,—oh ?— you'd sey it was or was not, ez the caso may be. You wouldn't play the ole man on thet 2" “No,” said Toramy, quietly, It wasa jsckass Tabbit.” WEf Iwas to ask you," continued Johnson, “ef it wore, eay, fur instance, a green hat, with yaller ribbons, you wouldn't play me, and say it did, onless,”"—ho added, with intonsified cunning, —* onless it gid?" “XNo,” eaid Tommy, * of course I woulda't ; but then, you see, 5t did.” “Itdid 7" “1t did " repested Tommy stontly; & bat with yellow ribbops—and—and—a re Be!.l;," een idn't got to see the ros-ette,” enid John- son, with 8 elow snd conscientious ' deliberation yet with en ovident sense of reliof ; ** but_that 2in't seyin’ it warn't thore, you know. EL?” Tommy glanced quickly at his companion, Thero wero grost besds of prespisation on hid ashen-gray forchend and on tho ends of his lank hair ; tho hand which twitchod spasmodically in bis was cold and clammy, tho other which was troe, had s vagus, purposelsis, jerley nctivity, as it attached to some deranged mechanism. Without any epparent concern in these phnomena, Tommy halted, snd_seating himself on & log, ‘motionod his companion to a place boside him. Johnson obeyed without & word. Slight as was tho aet, perbaps no other incident of their sin- ar companionship indicated as completely the fominanca of_this careless, half-offeminate, but self-possessed boy over this doggedly self-willod, abnormally excited man. “Jt 2in't the square thing,” esid Johnson, af- tor s pause, with 5 langh that was neither mirth- ful nor musical, and frightened away lizard that had been regsrding the pair with breathless suspense,—* it ain't the square thing for jack- s rabbita to wear hats, Tommy,—is it, eh? “Well,” eid Tommy, with unmoved compos- ure, *sometimes they 'do, snd sometimes they don't. Animals aro mighty queer.” And hero Tomumy went off in an animated, but, I regret to say, utterly untruthful and untrustworthy ac- count of the habits of California fauna, until he was interrupted by Johnaon. “And gnokes, ch, Tommy ?” said the man, with an_abstracted air, gazing intently on the ground before him. “And enakes,” said Tommy; ‘but they don't bite,—at lesst, not that kKind you see. There, don't move, Uncle Ben, don't move; they'ro gone now. And it's about time you took your dose.” Johnson had hurriodly risen, asif tolesp upon tho log, but Tommy bad a8 quickly cancht hia arm with one hand, while he drew & bottle from his pocket with the other. Johnson paused, and eyed the bottle. *1If you ssy 8o, my boy,” he faltered, as his fingers closed nervously around it; “may ‘when, then.” He raised the bottle to'his lips and took long draught, the boy re- garding him critically. When,” said Tommy, Siidonly, Johmson. star fushed, snd re- tarned tho bottle quickly. But the color that Dad risen to nis cheek stayed there, his eye grew )..48 restloss, and o they moved swsy ngain, the ond_that fested on Tommy's shoulder was Btesdier. Their way lsy along the flank of Table Moun- tain,—a wandoring trail through a fangled soli~ tudd thst might have seemed virgin and un- brokon but for 8 £o oyater cans, yoast powder ting and empty bottles that had been apparently ntranded by the *‘first low wash” of pioneer waves. On the ragged trunk of an enormous pine hung a fow tuits of gray hair, caught from » passing grizzly, but in strange juxtsposition at its foot lay an empty bottle of incomparable bitters—the chef d'@uvre of & hygienic civiliza~ tion, and_blazoned with the arms of an all-heal- ing ropublic. The hesd of a rattlesnake peerod from & case fhat had contained tobacco, which ‘was still brightly placarded with the high-colored effigy of & popular danseuse. And a little beyond thia the soil was broken and fissured, there was & confused mass of roughly-hewn timber, & straggling line of sluicing, & hesp of gravel and dirt, rudo cabin, and the claim of Johnson. ‘The claim worked by Johnson in his intervals of sobriety was represented by half & dozen rudo openings in the mountain-side, with tho heaped- up debris of rock and gravel before the meuth of each. They gave very little evidence of en- gincering skill or consiructive purpose, or in- eed showed anything but the vague, succes- sively-abandoned essays of their projector. To- day thoy served another purpose, for 43 the sun Dad heated the little cabin almost to the point of combustion, curling up the long, dry shingles, and starting aromatic. tears from the green pine beams, Tommy lod Johnson into omo of tho larger openings, and with » sense of eatisfac- tion threw himself panting upon its rocky floor. Hore and there the grateful dampnoss was co donsed in quict pools of water, or in a monoto- nous snd soothing drip from the rocks _above. Without lay tho staring sunlight,—colorless, dlarifiod, intense. For a fow momonts they lay resting on their elbows in blissful: contemplation of the heat they bad escaped. “Wot do you say,” said Johnson, slowly, without looking ab his com- enjon, but abstractly addressing himself to tho Tentscape boyond,— wot do Jou a5 to to straight games fur ono thousand dollars ? W atSit fivo thonsend,” roplicd Tommy, ro- flectively, also to the landscape, * snd I'm in.” “Wot 'do I owe you now ?” emd Johnson, after & longthened silonce, “One hundred and sovonty-Svo thousand two ‘hundred snd fifty dollars,” roplied Tommy, with businese-like gravity. ‘‘Well,” said Johnson, after a doliberation commengurato with the magnitude of the trans- action, “ef you win, call it & hundred and cighty thousnd, round, War's the keerds 2 ‘Liey were in an old tin box in a crevice of a rock above his head. They were greasy sad worn with service. Johnson dealt, albeit his right hand was still ancertsin,—hovering, after dropping the cards, aimlessly about Tommy, and being only recalled by s strong nervous effort. Yet, notwithstanding bis incapacity for even honest manipulation, Mr. Johneon covertly turnod » knave from the bottom of the pack, with such shameloss inefiiciency and gratuitous unskilfulness, that even Tommy was obliged to cough and look elsewhere to hido his embarrass- ment. Possibly for this resson the young gon- tleman was himself constrained, by way of cor- rection, to 8dd s valuable card to his own hand, gvfi and above the number he legitimately old. Nevortheless, the game Was unexciting, and dragged listlossly. Johnson won. Ho recorded the fact and_the smount with the stub of & pon- cil and shaking fingors in wondering hicroglyph- ics all over a pocket diary. Then there wasa long pause, when Johnson slowly drow some- ihing rom s pocket and eld ic up Deforo hig ‘companion. t was, spparently, a dull red stono. “ Ef,” gaid Jobnson, slowly, with his old look of canning,—* of youhappened to pick up such a rock oz that, Tommy, what might you ssy it was P’ +“Don't know,” eaid Tommy, «Mightn't you say,” continued Johnson, cau- tioualy, that it wns gold or silver ?” # Neither,” said Tommy promptly. “ Mightn't you gsy it was quicksilver? Mightn't ou say that of thar was o friend of yourn ez new whar to go and turn out ten ton of ita day, and every ton worth two thousand dollars, that he had a foft thing, 8 very soft thing,—al- lowin’, Tommy, that you used sich langasge, which'you don't ?" “But,” asid tho boy, coming to the point with eat directness, “ do you know whers to gob it ? ave you struck it, Uncle Bon 2" Johnaon_looked' carefully around. “I hey, Tommy. Listen. Iknow whar thar's cartloads of it. ~But thar's only one other specimen—tho mate to this yer—that's above ground, and thot's in 'Frisco. Thar's an sgint comin’ up in & day or two tol ook into it. Isont for him. Eh?" {Soon after, Johngon informs Tom that ho has taken him into partnership in this quicksilver mine, which turns out to be s real discovery, and then goes on to hint at the tragedy of his life.] SALVIATED WITE MEBKERY. Johnson passed_his hand over his _cold foro- Lead, wrung tho damp ends of his hair with his fingers, and wen ou; Timos when I'm took bad ez I was to-day, theboys about yer sez,— you sez, maybe, Tommy, -ive whiskey. It i, ommy. It's pizon,—quicksilver pizon. That's what's the matter with me, I'm salviated] Sal- visted with morkery.” “T've heerd o' it bofore,” continued Johnson, appealing to tho boy, **and ez boy o’ permiskus reading, I reckon you hev too. Them men as works ih Cinnabar sooner or later gots salvisted. It's bound to fotch ’em some time. Salviated by ‘merkery.” “WEst are you goin' to do forit?” asked Tommy. “ When the agint comes up, and I begins to realizo on this yor mine,” said Johnson, contem- latively, “ I goes to New York. I sez to the arkeop' o' the hotel, Show me the biggest doctor her Ha shows me. I sez to * 8alviated by merkery,—a year's atandin’,—haw much ? Ho sez, ' Five thonsand dollars, and taka two o’ these pills at hedtime, andsn ekil number o’ powders at meals, and come back in & week.) And Igoes backin s week, cured, and signe a cortifikit to that effect.” incouragod by a look of interest in Tommy's eye, ho went ou, S0 I gets cured. I goes to the barkeep, and 1 sez, *Show me tho bigzest, fashionblest house thet's for salo ver.' And he sez, ‘The biggest vat'rally bllongs to John Jacob Astor.” And I sez, *Show him,’ and hio shows hrm. And I sez, “Wot might yon ask for this yer house?’ And he looks at mo scornful, and sez, *Go way, old man; you must be sick.’ And Ifetches him one over the left eye, and boe apologizes, and I gives him his own price for the house. 1 stocks that houso with mohogany furniture and pro- visions, and thar we lives,—yon and me, Tom- my, you and me !” THe sun no longer shone mpon the hillside. The shedowe_of the pines were beginning to crecp over Johnson’s claim, and the air within the cavern was growing cLill. In the gathering darkness his eyes shone brightly as e went on: * Then thar comes & day when we gives a big spread. We invite Govners, members ¢’ Con- gress, gontlemen o fashion, and the like. And among 'em I invite o Man as holds his head very high. s Man I once knew ; but he doesn't know I'knew him, and he doesn’t remember me. And he_ comes and sits opposite me, and I weiches him. And he's vory airy, this Man, snd very chipper, and he wipes his mouth with a whito hankkerchief, and ho smiles,and ho ketches my eye. - And he 8cz, ‘A glass o' wine with you, ith 37, Johngoo;” aid g il Lis glass and 6113 mine, andwerises. And I heaves that wine, glass and 1], right into his damned grinnin' fuce. And Ii6 jumps for me,—for he is very game, this Man, very game.—but some on 'em grabs Lim, and he eez, ¢ Who be yon?' And I sez, ¢ snggs! daunn you, Shaggs! Look atme! Gimme back my wife and child, gimme back the money you stole, gimme buck the good name you took smay, glmmo back the iealth sou_rafned, gim- me back the last twelve years!” Give 'em fo me, damn yon, quick, beforo T cuts your heart ot And naterally, Tommy, ho can’t dojt. And so I cuts his heart out, my boy; I cuts his heart out.” The purely snimal fary of his eye suddenly changed again to cunning. * You thinks they hangs me for it, Tommy, but thoy don’t. Not much, Tommy. ~Igoes to the biggest lawyer thoro: and I says to bim : * Salvisted by merkery, —you hear me,—salviated by merkery.’ And ho winks at mo, and he goes to the Judge, and he so0z: ‘This yer unfortunot man isn't responsiblo, —he's been salviated by merkers.’ he brings witnesses ; you comes, Tommy, ond you 86z 6z how you've seen me took bad afors ; and the doctor, "he comes, and be sez a8 how he's seen me frightful ; and the jury, without leavin' thoir seats, brings in & verdict o' justifisble in- sanity,—salviated by merkery.” [Tommy goes to get s doctor for his delirions triond, but in the meantimo Johneon goes crazy, runs off, plunges into the Stanislus River, and is supposed to be drowned or shot. His quicksilver mine is deeded and willed to Tommy, who thus ‘becomes worth some hundreds of thousands, and is sent off to the East by Yuba Bill to bo edu- cated. Tho departure from Angel's and from San Francisco is thus described :] 1t was also characteristic of Angel's that no feoling of envy or opposition to the good for- tune of Tommy Islington prevailed there. That Le was thoroughly cognizant, from the first, of Johnson's discovery, that_ his attentions to him were interested, calculated, and speculative was, however, the general belief of the majority,—a belief that, singularly enough, awakened the it Soglings of genuing raspact for Tommy evor shovn by the camp. ‘*He ain't no fool; Yuba Bill seed thet from the first,” eaid the bar- keeper. It wa: Yubs Bill that spplied for the guacdisnahip of Tommy sftor his accession to ‘ohngon’s claim; and on whose bonds the richest men of Calaverss were ropresonted. It was Yuba ‘Bill, also, when Tommy was_ sent East to finish his education, accompanied him to 8an Francis- co, and, before parting with his charge on the stésmor's deck, drew him asde, and ssid: *Ef at enny time yon want enny money, Tommy, over snd 'bove your 'lowance, you kin write ; but e you'll take my advico,” he added, with a sudder huskingss mitigating the severity of bis volco, (you'll forgot every derned old spavined, stringhaltod bummer 28 you ever meb or know at _Angel's,—ov'ry one, Tommy,—ev'ry onel And so—boy—take caro of yoursel’—and—and —God bless yo, and pertikerly d—n me for a firat-class A 1 fool.” " It was Yaba Bill, also, af- ter this speech, glared savagely around, walked down the crowded gang-plank witha rigid and aggressive shoulder, picked a quarrel with his cabman, and, after bundling that function: into his ovm vebicls, took the reins himself, an drove furiously to Lis hotol. It cost mo,” said Bill, recounting the occurrence somewhat later at Angel’s,— "1t cost me & metter o' $20 afore tho Jedge the noxt mornin’; but you kin bet high that I taught them *Frisco chaps suthin now sbout drivin'. 1 didn't make it lively in Molntgomnry street for abont ten minutes,—O no!” [¥o are next introduced to Tommy ag Mr, Is- lington, at Newport or *“ Groyport,” ten years later, wooing and winping Misa Blanche Mastor- man, tho belle of the season, who is the dsugh- tor of Johuson and the adopted daughior of Mrs, Skegge' second husband, whom we arc permitted to know as Mr. Mastor- mar, living in & grand villa near the ocesn. Meagtime = Yubs Bil has beon married to Blanche's mother sa hor fourth or £fth husiand, snd Johnson has beon in tho Californis Insane Asylum at Stockton. Nobody ‘but Yubs Bill knows this interesting key to the story, and so at the critical moment, when Blanche is abont to accopt Tom, and Jokinson is about to kill Masterman, we have this scene of] TUBA BILL AT NEWPORT, In an arm chair, in the contre of the room, s man sat apparently contemplating a large, stiff, sellow liat with an_enormous brim, that was laced on the floor beforo him. His bands rested ightly between bis knees, but ono foot was drawn up at the side of his chair in a peculiar manner. In the firstglance that Islington gave, the attitude in some odd, irreconcilsble way suggested o brake. In another moment Lo dashed scross the room, and, holding out both hands, cried, Yuba Bill}” The man rose, caught Ielington by the shoul- ders, wheele'l him round, hugged him, folt of his tibs, li > & good-naturcd ogro, ehook his hands v..iculy, hufihad, and then eaid, someylatrusfally, **ad how evor id you kao S Secing that Yuba Bill evidently regarded him- self as in some elsborate disguiee, Islington laughed, and suggested that it must have beon instinct. “And you?” said Bill, holding him at arm’s Iength, and surveying him critically,—* you!— toe think—toe think—a little cuss no higher nor & trace, a boy as I've flicked onter tho road with a whip, time in agin, a boy ez never hed much clothes to speak of, turned into a sport! " Islington remembered, with s thrill of ludi- crons terror, that he still wore hisevening dress. “Tumed,” continued Yuba Bill, severcly, “turmed into & restyourant waiter,—a garsong | Eh, Alfonse, bring me » patty o foy grass and an ‘omalette, demme ! “Dear old chap!" said Islington, laughing, and trying to put his hsnds over Bill’s beardo ‘mouth, ** but you—you don’t look exactly like yourself! You're not well, Bill” And, indeed, 2she tumed toward the light, Bill's éyes ap- pearad cadaverous, and his hair and beard thickly streaked with gray. “Maybe it's this_yer harness,” said Bill, o littlo anxiously. “ When I hitches on this yer curb” (he indicated & mussive gold watch-chain with enormous links), *‘ and mounts this ‘ mos ingstar " (he pointed to a vory large solitai pin, which had the sppearance of blistoring his whole shirt front), *‘it kinder weighs hoavy on mo, Tommy. Othersise, I'm all right, my boy, all right.” But ho evaded Islington's keen eye, and turned from the light. i You have_something to tell mo, Bill,” said Tslington, suddenly, and with almost brusque directness ; out Withit.” g Bill did ot speak, but movéd unessily toward his hat. “ You didn't come 3,000 miles, without & word of warning, to talk tome of old times,” said Is~ lington, more kindly, * gladas 1 would have been to soe you It ien't your wey, Bill, and you know it. We shall not bo disturbed Bere,” hio sdded, in reply to sn inquiring glance_that Bill directod to the door, * and I am ready to hear ou.” o TFirstly, then,” snid Bill, drawing his chair nearer Islington, “ answer me ono question, Tommy, fair and square, and up and down.” “ G on,” saud Islington, with a slight smile. Tt T ghould eay to you, Tommy,—say to you, to-day, right here, you must come with me, Z_yon must leave this place for & month, & year, two years, maybo, perhaps forever,—is thera snything that 'ad Koep you,—snything, my bog, ez you couldn' leave " INo,” sasid Tommy, quictly, “I sm only visiting here. 1 thought of leaving Greyport to- dag.” TBut it I should ssy to you, Tommy, come ‘yith me on » pasear to Ching; toTapas, to South Ameriky, *p'raps, could you “ fl?‘ Said Tslington, after a slight pause. « Thatr isn't enpything,” said Bill, drawing & Bi little closer, and lowering his voice confidential- Iy,—“ennyihing_in the way of a young woman _Yon understand, Tommy—ez would keep you ? They're mighty sweot about here; and whether & man is young or ok, Tommy, there's always some woman as is brake or whip to him !” In = cortain excited bitterness that character- ized the delivery of this abstract truth, Bill did not see that the young mams face flushed sligut- [ 1y a8 ho angwered *“ No.". ““Then listen. It's seven years ago, Tommy, thet I was working one o' the Pioneer cosches over from Gold Hill. Ez1 stcod in front o’ the stage-oftice, the Sherill o’ the County comes to mo, and o sez, * Bill,’ sez he, IV’ got s looney chap, a8 I'm in_charge of taking 'im dowa to the 4sium in Stookion. He's qulet and pescer- ble, but the insides don't like to ride with him. Hov you enny objoction to give him alift on the bos besido you? 1 ez, *No; pub him up When I came to go and get up on that box_ be: sido him, that man, Tommy,—that man sittin’ there, qulel aud pescesble, was—Johugon! “He didw't know mo, my boy,” Yubs Bill continued, rising and putting his hands on Tom- my’s shoulders,—*ho didn't know me. Hodidn't know nothing about you. nor Angel's, nor the quicksilver lode, 2or evea his own mame. Ho said his name was Skaggs, but I knowed it was Johnson. Thar was times, Tommy, you might have kuocked mo off that box with a feather; thar was times when if tho twenty-seven passen- gers o that stage hed found thoirselves swim- ming in_the Americen Biver five hundred fect below the rosd, I never could have osplained. it satisfactorily to tho company,—nover.” 4 The Sheriff said,” Bill continued bastily, as it to precludo sny inferruption from the young men—tho Shoriif said ho had boenbroaght into urphy's Camp, throo years beforo, dripping il mater, and aaiforin’ with perirussion of the brain, and had been_cared for_generslly by the boys round. WhenT told_the Sherift I knowed %im, 1 got him to lesve him in my care; and L tools him to 'Frisco, Tommy, to 'Frisco, and T put him in charge o’ the best doctors thete, and pud his bosrd myealt, o was notliir he idn't have ez he wanted. Don’t look that way, my dear boy, for God's ssko, don't! 0, Bill,” said Islington, nsing sad stagger- ing 0 tho window, ** why did you kecp this from Ingto Why 2 ™ ssid Bill, turning on him esvagely, —why? because I warn'i n fool. Thar was ou, winnin' your way in college; thar was you, Tigit’ in tho world, and of eome account t3 it; yer was an old bummer, 0z good ez desd &2 it,— aman ezoughter been dead afore 2 man oz never denied it! But yon alius liked him better nor me,"” seid Bill, bitterly. _ i ! Forgive me, Bill,” aid fhe young man, seiz- ing both his hands. X know Sou did it for the best ; but go on. “ Thar ain't much more to tall, nor much use £0 tell it, as I can see,” said Bill, moodily, “He nover could be cured the doctor said, fof he had ‘What they called monomanis,—was always talk- ing about his wife and darter that somebody had stole away yoars ago, and plannin' revenge on that somsbody. And six months ago he was missed. 1 tracked him to Carson, to Salt Lake City, to Omaha, to Chicago, to New York,—and here ! ““Hore!" ecnoed Islington. “Here! And that’s what brings me here to- day. Whether'shes crazy or well, Whether's he's huntin’ you or looking up that othor man, you ‘must get away from here. You mustn't see him. Yon and me, Tommy, will go away on & cruiso, In threo or four years he'll bo dead or missing, snd then we'll come back. Come.” And he roso to bis feet. 5 “ Bill,” said Talington, Tising also, and taking tho hand of his_friend, with the same quiot ob- Btinnc{ thet in the old days had endeared him to Bill, wherever he is, hero or elsewhere, ssne or crazy, I shall seek and find bim. _Every dol- lar that I have shall be his, every doilar that I have spent sball be returned to him. I am young yet, thank God, end can work; and if there is & way out of this miserable business, I %1 knew,” said Bill, with a surliness that ill concesled Lis ovident admiration of tho calm figrure beforo him,—* I knew tho partikler style of d—n fool that yon was, and expectod no bet- ter. Good-bye, then—God Almighty! who's that?" ) He was on_his way to the open French win- dow, but bad started back, his face quite white and bloodless, and his eyos staring. - Islington ran to the window, and looked out. A white skirt vanished around the cornerof theveranda. When ho returned, Bill had dropped into a chair. =: ¢ T must have been Miss Masterman, I think; but what's tho matter ? " * Nothing,” suid Bill, faintly ; ,have you got any whiskey handy ?" 11t was Blanche, whose rosemblance to ber mother, bis *‘ghe-dovil " of & wife, bas over- come the sensitive norves of Bill. She has over- heard the conversstion, and, captivatod by the gelf-denying and_molodramstic generosity of Tom, sho accepts him on tho &pot.” But in com- munleating the newa to_her adopted pa, she comes vory pear secing him cut to pieces by the infaristed Johneon with a long knife. Nothing but the indispensable Bill saves the poor million= aire, in manner and form following, to wit, and this'endsjtho story.} JOHNSON CARRIED TO THE SKIES. It was the fignro of an old man, with rolling eyes, lus trambling band erosping long, koen F3306,—a Sguro moro pitishio than pitilest,more pathotic than terrible. But the mext moment the knifo was stricken from his hand, and he struggled in the frmgraspof another fi that apparently sprang from tho wall beside DR Yo, Mastormsnl” cried the. 0ld man, hoarsely; “Eiveme fairplay, and Il kill you et #Which my neme is Yuba Bill” said Bill, quictly, “and its time this d—n fooling was stopped.” Sl Tho old man glated in Bill's faco eavagely, “I know you. Youre one of Maaterman's friends, —d—n you—lst mo go ill I cut his heart out—1o} mo gol Whero is my Mery?—whora is my wifoi—thero she isl thers!—therol there! Mary!” He would hsve screamod, but Bill placed his powerful hand upon_his mouth, and he turned in tho _direction of the old man's glance, Distinct_in the moon-light the figures of Talington and Blanche, arm in arm, stood out upon tho garden path. “Give me my wifel” muttered the old men, hosrasly, beteon Bill's ngors. “ Whero is sho?” A sudden fury psesed over Yaba Bill's face. # Where i your wife ?” he cchoed, pressing the old man back against the garden wall, and Bold- ing him there 88 in 8 vice. * Where is your wifo?" he repested, thrusting his grim, ‘sar- donic jaw and savage oyes into the old man's frightoned face, * Where is Jack Adams' wife ? Where is my wite? Whare is tho she-devil that drovo one man mad, that sent snother to hell by his own hand, that oternally broke and ruined me? Wherel Where! Do youaskwhero? In jail in Sacramento,—in jail, do you hear P—in Jail for murder, Johnson,—murder.” The old man gasped, stiffoned, and then, Te- Taxing, uddealy slipped, o mero ivsnimato maas, 2t Yuba Bill's fact.. With » suddon revulsion of feoling, Yuba Bill droppod st his_side, and, lift- ing him tenderly in his srms, whisperad, “ Look np, old man, Johnson! look up, for God's sake | it'a mo,—Yuba Bill, and yonderia your daughter, and—Tommyl—don't you know—Tommy, little Tommy Islington? " Johnson’s eyes slowly opened. He whisperod, «Tommy! yes, Tommy{ Sit by me, Tommy. Bat don's sit 8o near the bank. Don'é you see Tow the river i8 rising and beckoning to me,— hissing and boilin’ over therocks? It's gittin’ higher!—hold me Tommy,—hold me, snd don’t Jotme go yot. We'llive tocut his heart out, Tommy,—well live—we'll —* His'headsank, and the rushing river, invisiblo to all eyes save s, leapod toward him out of darkness, and Dore him awsy, no longer to the darimess, but throngh it, to tho distant, peaceful, shining 80a. —_—————— HUMOR. Joint education—Gymnastics. —Guilt frames—Prison windows. Nature's tailoring—A potato patch. —In tents excitement—Panic in a circna, —Pies that suit the Celestials—Pup pies. —The condiment for lato dinners—Ketch-up. —When & man’s necktie is untied, how untidy 'he looks ! Tt is strango that g0 much cosl should be found when it is constantly sought ¢ in vein." —People who sell hay do business on & “ large seale.” —Itis not considered civil to ask a milkman forapicceof chalk, “Doctor, is tight-lacing injurions 2" * Of cors-ct is, madsme.” - —Why is the letter ¥ like & younglady? Be- cause it makes pa pey- —The worst kind of education—To be brought ap by & policeman. NG A kangaroo is & curions chap: when its wide awake its loaping. ) —The Pheenix was raised in s hotbed, and that's whot made him soar. i —A blacksmith can not only shoe & horse him- sel, but ho can make o horse-shoe. —¢The Pacific Slope "—The Quaker Pence Commissioners running from the Indians. —In what case is it absolutely imposeible to ‘be slow and sure ? In the case of a watch. —One style of bonnet is called the * Man- becauso it takes a great deal of & *‘man's hard " earnings to pay for ono of ’em. —Tt is strange that when s man does not de- siro to givo up » building whose lese has run out, he releases it if he can.” —' Meet mie ab the i:zte, love," has been changed to * Mest me at the grate, love.” The cool weather has necessitated the change. —A little girl at Dubuque amended the Lord's Praver by asking for “her daily ginger-broad.” —When a naughty little boy breaks s window, he should be punished, on the principle tha panes and penalties go fogether. —Thia is the affecting epitaph on & deceased Rock Island Captain's tombstone: “ He's done n-cetching eod, and goue to meet his God.” —Whan Jonsh’s failow-nassopzers Difched | him overboerd they evidently regarded him a8 neither prophet nor loss. —Does it not seem to be strange that the pub- lic shonld find their coal more W the owners have all graarl to coalesce?. —The Hartford Times tells of & gentleman in that city who, on getting & glass of eoda, was retiring from the store without the usual little ceremony ‘which follows that operation. “Racollact,” 8aid the polite proprictor, **if you Lo:a your 'pocket-book, you dida’t pull it ‘out ere.’ —*Discontented Wife.”—Whether you cza safely sweeten your husband’s coffee with suger of 1ead will depend & good deal on the intimacy of your acquaintance with the attending phy- si ician. —Itis stated as a_bovinological fact that the milk of & young cow is apt to be foaming. Which is highly probable, aa the creature is naturally heifervescent. g —The reason an urchin gave for being late at tchool, Monday, was that the boy in the next hiouse was going to have & dressing-down with a bed- and he waited to hear him howl. —Our literary critic says thera couldn't be & more appropriate title for & recent novel thaz “ A Capital Investment,” becauso, like the best advertised railsvay bonds, it has a crude intereat. —A New York minister, preaching the funera} sermon of a famous skater, the other day, eaid he had * gone where thera'ia no ice.” That wes capablo of very serious interpretation. M. Guizot is very old, and & lover of ths fine arts. Latterly Lie visited a Venus, beausi- fally sculptured, and the guide, to flatter the ex- statesman, remarked that the artist was over S0 years of ege. ¢ What o memory he must po.- Boss,” replied Guizot. ome time since 8 young minister, wishing to impress his Sabbath-school with the digmity of lifo_ by reference to the fact that men Lad couls while ordinary snimals bave none. Btri ing s attitude, ho asked, * Now, children, vl is the great difference betwoen a monkey and boy 7" “The tail, the tail, the tail,” came from all parts of the house, and the minister was sotisfied. The Art of Conversstion.—Big Mr. Hawking (sententiously): “Do you know, dr. Jawkins, it Das often struck me that one man's f00d may be another maa’s poison?” Little Mr. Jawkins (more sententionsly): “ Well, I won't go 8o far as to say that, Mr. Hawkins. 'But Lam certainly of opinion that what may prove eminently bens- ficial to the health—a—of one individual—a— msy prove extremely detrimental, and, indeed, absolutely fatal to another individual—a—diffcz- ently constituted—a!” 2 —A young boy attending & mired school of Ps- ducah vrites to us complaining of the partiali which the teacher shows thegirls, In conclusica ho saya: “But, thank the Lord, if they docrowd us out from the stove, andplay ‘blind man'sbu* with the teacher in reCess, they can't ride bare- back on a horse, nor play leap-frog, nor wesz Dreeches, nor make doga fight, nor throw rocka at cats, nor go in Swimming, nor smoke and chaw; can they?” On reflaction, we rather think our young correspondent is mistaken. We have seen girls who, wo believe, can do all theso things ; but one thing they can't do. They con's stand on thoir heads where boys are.—ZLouistilis Courier-Journal. GIRLS ! PASS ALONG! PARAPHRASED FROM BERANGER BY JOHX G. SAST, Bless me! whata rou{a;uw Of girls at me thelr glances throw, As they gayly come and go, The light coquettish throng ! Can’t the darlings hear me eay, #1haye had my youthful day Now, I put mchzlnnel away Giris | passalong! Ah, my Zos| pray deaist] Booth, 1 care not to be kissed 3 Ask your mother if T list, To Cupid®s eiren songs? Bhe—but that is entre nous— Enows what Love and I can do? Fer advice you'd beat puraue— Glrls| pazs along! Laura you would hardly guess How your grandma used to press Tips of mine :—well—I confess— Ve didn't think it wrong; Took | sho's comlng | tempt ma nod In guy saloon or shady grot ; Girls 1 pass along1 ‘You smiling too 1 you naughty Ross 1 wonder now if you suppose T'm not aware what sort of beaux Around your besuty throng 1 1 imow the husband-hunting crew, And all tho pretty trickathey do; T'm old, but much too young far you § Girls ] pass along | Away—sway I—you madcsps I—fly— Your roguish arts why will you try Toblind » groybeard—such as I— With Oupid's slender throng? Yat, like powder-magazine, My heart trom fing sparke T screen,— Tho sparks that shoot £rom WANtoR 630~ Girls | pass along| ) A DAY-DREAM. In a long-forgotten packet, ‘Tied np with & silken I found it only a letter, lish hand, Traced in T read it over and over, , me! &s I Aid befare, In the dsys that were fall of sualight,= The days that are no more. X dreamed of 3 golden summer, And lilacs, . And a sound of sylvan musle, “And the eyes that aTe with Ino yet, A flood of purpls sunset TIn scintillant Elm—y came, il the deep old forest kindled, And burned i¥e a field of fiams, ‘There came a girlish With billows of fioating bairs And he bent ber face above meé,— ‘An angel over my chair I enw it all fn 5 woment, While I held the crampled sheet; And then, a8 the vision {aded, The long, gray eity atreet, ‘With its hateful rush and clamor, Came back to my weary 65es A, still the fruitiess strrgglo | Ab, till the worthless prize! TaEO. CARTENTEF Cmioado, Dec. 20, 1872, e e A Grateful Cat. A cat in a Bwiss cottago had taken poigon, ana came in a pitiful state of pain to scak its mis- tress' help. The fover and heab wero 5o greet - that it dippod its own pawa into a pan of water, sn slmost unheacd-of procesding in s weter- hatingeat, She wrapped it in wet linen, fod it with gruol, nursed it and doctored it 21l the sy and might atter. It recovered, and could mob find ways enough to_show its gratitude. Ouo evening she had gone up stairs to bed, when & mow at at_the windoy roused her, She got up snd opened if, and found tbe Cat, which had climbed a pear trez nailed against tho house, witha mouse in 1 mouth. This it lsid as an offering at its m tross' feeb and wentaway. For abovesy it continued to bring these tributes to hes. ‘Even when it Lind kittens they were not sllowed to touch this reservedshare, and if theyattem: ed to et it tho mother gavo them a little tip, “That is not for thee.” After avhile, howest the mistress accapted the gift, thanked the giver with o pleased look, and restored tho mouss, wrhen the cat permitted ber children to take the groy which hud served, its purposo in her oyes ero was a refinod feoling of gratitude remem: bered for months after, quite disinterested, snd placed above the natural instincts (always strong in & cat) toward her own offspring.—Good Words. _— Episcopal Cathedral in New York. A New York letter says: * The suggestion throvn out by Bishop Potter a fow weeks 220 for the erection of an Episcopsl Cathedralin this city is favorably received by the members o the various Episcopal churches. The Bishop paid that overy effort was being made for ths immediate erection of the contemplated atruc- ture. Tha various committees will be perfected in ' ghort time, and the edifice will be as costly s tho Fifth Avenue Cathedral. Alresdy & number of woalthy Episcopalians have promisei %o become liberal subecribers, and sui- scription lists Do opened at t: rincipal banks. In conmection with il Bathedral it ia also proposed to fonnd a college for the training of young men wishing to_enter holy orders, and s musio’ school, in order that the services msy be carried out in true catbedral style. As soon'as the preliminary srrangéments are completed a pablic meeting Will be called. e = Trick on an Engineer. From the Poughkeepsie, (N. Y.) Euale, One night last week & Hudson River Railroad engineer, while going north with his train 2i lightning {speed, suddenly obsorved & man o iho track. He blew his whistle seversl times a1 » signal for danger, but he didu't move. It Jain ho endesyored to stop the train ; it was toc Iate. The engine struck the man with fall fo completely aunihilating him. The man W: made of snow, and was placed on the track by 2 joker. An atfempt had proviously been mads to play the ssme trick on auother enginec:, bt hio dotected tho choat. by the whiteness ci the effigy. Thelast ono, howaver, after beivg laced on tho track, was bleckenod with 8oot {mm alocomeotive amake ateck,