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Ohio Cincinnati Weekly Times Newspaper Archives Feb 21 1884, Page 1

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Cincinnati Weekly Times (Newspaper) - February 21, 1884, Cincinnati, Ohio ■ L Vol. XLI. TVo. 8.CIIVCJIIVIV-A.TI, THUI*,SI>^Y, FEBRUJLRY SI, 188-4. #1 F*er Year. Separation. Stop! Xot to me at this Wtter (lepartinfc S|>cnk of the sure consolations of time! Fresh be the tvonod, still renewed by iU smart* iUK, So but tiiy image endure in its prime! But, if the stc.ailfast comniamlment of Kature Wills that remembrnuue should always di-cny— If the loved form and the dccp-cherished features Host, when unseen, from the soul fftde away— lie, let no half-effaced memories cnmbei*! Fled, tied at once, be all vestige of thee! Deep be the darkness and stilt be the slumber, Dead be tlie past and its phantoms to me. Then, wlirn we meet, and thy look straya to-wam me. Scanning my (ace and the eh.angcs wronght there; “Wlio,” let me say, “is this stranger reganls me. With the gray eyes and the lovely Ixrown . haii-r —iMutthew Arnold. M£W8 AXD NOT£8. Canada’s militia, 37,000 strong, cost loat year fTadjOOO. The king of New York highwaymen, who has Just liocn arrested, rejoices in the name of Goodie. A Boston firm has an ordemfor shoes for g colored preacher at tlie South thiU will DC numbered “twenty-fours.” At Ediiiiiurgh last month Jane Kirk,cpn-ricted 203 times of i>etty oflenses, was sent to jail fur the thirty-fourth time. She had '.«.i-c’i-sdji.-spciit days of last year in prison. An outs¡K)kon critic of Montreal winter carnival festivitic^ says tlic Marchioness of Lansdowiio, wife of the new Governor General, and three lady companions were eon-Biticuous at the lute reception us “the only £iiglisli women yet seen in Montreal whose cluthes fitted them.” For the last mouth the Czar has been in such a deplorable state of nc-rvous dcpres-siou Jbat to all intents and purisca he may be regarded us insane. lie is said to be thoroughly terror stricken, and lives in a state of jmiiic which would be ludicrous if it did not produce such melancholy coiisequeuces. The French schoolboys have been grievously disgusted at the reduction of their Christmas holidays by the present Minister ot Public Instruction. At Mouti>elier an outbreak took place, but a caution from the Minister that the maicoiiteuts would be excludc<l from examinations fur a year sufficed 10 suppress it. All idea of the depth of interest fblt In Birmingiiaiu, Eugland, in the sports practiced by its citizens may be formed from I the fact that the recent defeat of the Aston Villa foot hall team, by (jueeii’s Park, Glasgow, ill their tie for the Associatimi cup, was described in one local pajier inside a black mourning border. In a detailed review of the history of^the Life Saving Service, published in the Tacoma Ledger, Governor William A. Newell, of tVushingtoii Territory, stoutly maintains his title to be regarded as the originator of that noble institution—“with which,” he savs, “1 hud rather be asso-ciateil as the inventor ami first advocate tliun to lie the ¡lossessor of all the gory honors of the world.” A i-ecent suggestion that the French Chamber of Deputies should vote money to take out of pawn the various articles pledgt‘d to tlie Paris .Mont de Piete for small sums resulted in the npi>oiBtment o( a committee to iiiquire into the inatter, who reported that among the articles which would thus l>« reclaimed would W some ft,uOO oi>-era glasses uiiil (>0,000 gold rings, besides numerous meerschaum pii>c8, umhrellns and prayer books. Tlic mciniiers of the Court at Rome have been throw n into ecstasies of admiration by the e.\celleiit manner in which the I’riiice of N aides passed his school examination the other day. The King and Queen and a iiundK*rof iieiKonagcs were present, and tliey all professed to bo as much astonished at the ability displayed by the infant prodigy us were the doctors In'the temple at Jerusalem. The child had been carefully cruiiiiiied fur the ordeal, beiisihle pcofde, according to the I.oiidon Truth, are of opinion that he is kept lar too closely to his tasks, and that if his brain oontituies • to be so hardlv worked there will be very little bruin lelt iiy the time heia eighteen. The Burial Place of Ue Loug. IN. y. Times.] The widow of Lleutcuaut George W. De Long, tlie arctic explorer, is considering two proi>ositions as to the final interment of her husband’s reniaius. Several years ago Mrs. Marlon Luverre, living at Four-teeutli street and Fifth avenue, built a buiidsouie nmusbleuni in the midst of SOU acres of pines on lier projierty at Kastport, Long I bland. Three of her friends are burii d in it -two ot them in a vault nnder-neatli and oik> in an iimi sarcophagus In a littli* room fiitml up liks a parlor ami lighted witli stniucd glass wiiidowrs. It is so nrratiged that bereaved persons mav sit tlicre tor hours in the preslnce Of their dead, passing the time in reading or writing. L\on thing has lH>‘>n done w hich could be (lone tosoiten the gloomy apiiear-aiiee of a tuinb. Since Mrs, De Long has been in tids city Mrs. laiverru bus called on her se\eral limes, and lust week suggested that siie allow Mr. Do Long’a remains to U‘ placed in a du|»licate sarcophagus in lier niausoleiim. It it was desir(Hl tiiat he should be buried near the other niendiers of Ids crew .Mrs. Lavcrro would arrange for provlilingtliem w ilh graves and sidtalile heaiistoiies outside the mausoleum. Mrs. De l.onir lias not yet decided wliether to accept or doeline tho oiler. The Wood-lawii t’emelery .Xssocinlioii has idso urof-fered a burial ¡d d for the interment of L eut, De i.oiig and other mcmhers of the Jcnu nctte’s crew. To Kill Cockroauliea. [Life.] Take one pound of hecew nx, two ouncoe of best shellac, melt together, nml wlieu at n lemperntureof 312 degrees, add me ounce of Paris green, uiid pour iu your roaelies. WKI.Lii’ M.VV-UTLE (Liver) PILLS. lOi auU 2Ú0-3UY^S 8ACB1F1CE. BY U. C. L. “^fy last hopo rests iu you, May.” “In me, fatlier?” May Warren made answer in a tone of surprise, raisin<¿ her sad, anxious eyes to her father^ face. As if her gaze discomiiosed him, Mr. Wnrreii turned Jiis head, and his gluucc wandered restlessly round the apartment. Tie was an okl man, with a tall, spare figure, thin, gray hair, and was sitting in an arm-chair by a table covered with papcr.s, wliilc his pretty danghtcr. Mat', sat beside him on an ottoman. Site repeated the words: ‘Tin me, father?” “Yes,” he replied, starting from a momeiit’.s abstraction. Do you rc-mcniber Colonel Leigliton, iny dear?” “Colonel I^cightpn! An old man with a heavy beard, partly gray, and pleasant blue eyes. He dined with us a few weeks ago. Yes, I remember him, father?” “Not so very old, ^I.ay—not old as I am—and one. of the iiiiest men living. He is wealthy—very wealthy—too.” He met his 'danghfci'’s questioning gaze fully now, as if ho wished her to read something in lils face. She kept her dark eyes lixed ioarchiu«r|y upon his countonance, the ebb and flow of the soft color upon her checks betraying the quick pulsations of her heart. “What do you mean, father I” she askod, atlougth. “I saw him last night. He oflfcred to help mo—save me, if-” “Ifwhat, father?” “If I would give you to liiin.” The wonis líame hurriedly from Mr. Warren’s lips, as if he fcaieil that if he delilieratetl he should not be able to niter them atall. As they fell on his daughter’s cai*she started to her feet, pusliing back her hair flora licr pale face, iu a licwildercd soi-t of \vay, as if she were half stunned. “Many me, father? Colonel Leighton ?” sho criiid, in a low tone. Mr. Warren took her hand and drew her down to her seat again. “May, Colonel Leighton will be a good husband to you. 1 have known him from boyhood, and understand Krfcctly Ids character and principles. B loves you—will be kind to you, and strive’in every way to make j'ou happy. And more—and more, May; be will save me from bi ggury I” He paused, but his child, with her face bowed ui>oii her hands, made no reply—nor stirred. The mute distress that her attitude betokened was not unnoticed by him. “I do not foree you to this, Maj% remember; the matter is left to your own choice. But you know what my wish is—wliat the alternative will be if voii do not accept the oflcr.” éhc knew only too well. Fully she rcalizetl bow absolutely necessary the luxuries to which her father had been accustomed wore to him. Absolute loss of iKissossion did not seem the most dreadful thing in the world to her, but she knew what a wreck it would make of him. In licr vouth and strength the future would still be bright and full of hope to her; but how could he, with his aged frame and burden of sixty years, coinincnce life anew ? The hoi>eful thought that she could work for him and supply him with his accustomed comforts, atforded her but a niomciit’s comfort. To him, with his stnbboni. aristocratic ideas, tliis would be the most severe trial of all—his delicately reared, petted child l.ahoriiig for Ills support. He would never he reconciled to it. There was no altcniative, she saw at a glance. Then with a desiieratc cflort to think calmly, she rccallod the form of Colonel Leighton. She rc-inemhcred his howeil liead and silvered heard, his dark, deeply furrowed face, and fifty years. She could get no furtlicr. A younger face, with merry azure eyes, and tossing sunny hair, sprang ii > in strong contrast. Strctcliing out icr hands to her father, as if for pity, she cried out; “I can not—oh, father, I can not I” The old man sank hack with a groaiu “Ixist—then 1 am lost I” ho cried, shuddering. There were no reproaches, only those hitfcr words and that despairing attitude. AVIilte and tearless she ^at at his feet, the agony of her heart written on her ifncc. The wild, dcsi>erato thought that the sacrifice was iHissihle, occurred to her. “Father, dear fatlieiT” He i-aiscd his head, whitened witli tiio frosts ot his sixty winters, ami looked at her with a gleam of hope in his sunken eyes. She crc|it into his anus us she had done when a child, and laid her soft check against his wrinkled brow. “You know that I love you, father,” said she. “I can never reineniher you hut as kind, tender and forbearing witli me. Your heart has been my homo all my life. 1 will work, beg, biiflVr for you—I will die for you —oh, how willingly, if need ho I But 1 hat—oh, father, you do not know what it is you ask!” Ho did not speak, hut a moan broke auconti*ollably IVoui his lips, as he rested his head upon her sliouldcr. The struggle in her heart scut dark, shadowy waves across her face. Could blic—could she? “Father,” she wliisiicred, hurriedly, “let mo go now. 1 will seo you again-answer you to-morrow.” And she left him. He could not see her face iii the gatliei ing darkness, only a glimpse of bomcthiiig white, hut ho felt the i|uiveriug of her Ups as she bent to kiss him, and rcnelied out hisurnisto embrace her, but she was gone. “Heaven pity me I” 7^1'® words came like a wail from her lips. She was alone in her chamber, flung prostrate upon a low couch, with her face hid in the cushions. The sound of the rustling foliage of the garden, and ^tlic chirpiiig of the birds, came in tlii*ough tlic open window with the damp evening breeze, and the pale light of the rising moon filled the i*ooin with a soft radiance, but she was unconscious of everything but her misery. The. hoi'ise was so quiet that the sound ot a footstep crossing the hall lielow fell upon her ear, and aroused her to a momentary interest. She heard a door open—the library door, and then a voice uttered a few words of common-place greeting. Sho reineinbered it well, and sprang to her feet with a desperate, insane thought of flight. But the door closed, the house was still again, and she was calmer. She crossed the room listlessly and drew back the curtain of the window. Tiie scene without was beautiful. The moonlight lay breadly on the garden, turning to silver the tops of the trees, and inakiiig tho little lake beyond look like a gi*oat white pearl. Gazing earnestly downward she saw a tall, shadowy figure standing beneath the shade of the old,elm. AVith a low cry she sprang from the room and a moment after stood beside her lover. . “Comc,jí last, my treasure,” cried Mark AVinchcster, folding her in liis arms. She remained leaning passively against his breast, while he pressed passionate kisses upon her forehead, cheeks and lips. “AYhy have yon made me wait so long, darling?” he said, Softly, and taking both her slender hands in one of his, he pressed them to his lips. “AYhy, how cold you are I How yon tremble I” he continued, as she clung to him. “AVliat is the matter, May ?” ‘•I waited because I dreaded to meet you, Mark.V “AYhy ? AVhat do you mean ?” And, brokenly through her tears and sobs, she told him all. lie did not speak or stir while she was talking, and when she had finished there was a long silence. She lacked courage to say more—lie would not ask. She rei>eated the last words, “And tomorrow I must give him my answer.” Still lie did not speak. She looked up at him. In the dim light alio ooiild see liis rigid, agonized face, white lips and gleaming eyes. She stoic her arms about his neck, and drew his forehead dowu to her lips. “Speak to me, Mark; say that you do not blame me.” He knew then that she had decided, and w hat tho decision was. “And you will leave me, May, and marry that old man ?” “Heaven pity me, Mark, for I must. I will heconio ids wife, and I will be true and faithful to him, fur he will he kind to me. You will hear of me thus, and when you do, remember my Words, Mark, that you have my heart.” “I will remember, May. God help us both, for I shall never forget you. They shall bury me with this upou my heart.” And he drew a tress of soft brown hair from his bosom. For a raoinciit more—one little,pre-cious momeut—lie held her against Ids heart, and then kissed her, put her gently from him, and was gone. For a inuinent she stood ulonc under the trees, with clasiicd hands and face upraised to the quiet sky, and then she turiietl and walked silently toward the house. A light from the library window streamed dowu on her, and as slic looked up, she saw the shadow of a bowed figure fall across tho cur-Uiii. “Father, you are saved I” she niur-inured. A hand was laid guddcnV on her arm, and she started with a low cr^. “Good evening, Miss May,” said Colonel Leighton, “I have been seeking you.” She Imwed, and stood silcully before him with a calm, downcast face. “1 have been talking with your father,” he coiitinuetljFiftrelcssly milling a roso from a bush near incin, “Ho tells me that you have promised to think of my proposal, and let ns know ivTiat your decision is to-inor-iw. Is there anything I can say which will infitience you to form that conclusion in my favor ?” “You can not say anything which will influeuco mo in the least, Colonel Ijcighton. As my father has said, you ihall have my answer to-morrow.” Ho glanced at the young face, so sad in its calm dignify, and then looked down at his fingers again, which were busied in tearing to pieces the blossom he held, and allowing tho erimson petals to full at his feet, as if they were fragments of the lieart ho was breaking. Ill the long silence that followed she glanced up at him once with the thought of flinging herself upon his mercy by giving him her conlidencc; lint tiie stern expression of his face reiielleil her. “Miss May,” he said, suddenly, “you are averse to this inarriage.” His tone aided in rendering his words an assoilion. Sho was startled, hut replied, quietly, “Do you think 80 ?” “I must be blind if I could think otherwise,” he continued, with sudden energy. “May AVarren, yon know that you hate me—that yon would dio rather Ihuu become mv wife, were it not for your father’s sake.” Belore she realized wliat she was doing, tlic monosyllable “yes” slipped from her lips. “And in doing this, do you realize hoxv you would wrong us botJi ?” She was silent. “It shall never be. I will never call you my wife, knowing that you do not love me—that your heart is not in my keeping. I will not tell you of my hopes, liuw I have dreamed that my last days w ould be my happiest ones—it would not interest you. Now I have only to say that you arc as free as if I had never seen your sw'cet face.” He ])Rnsed for a reply, hut she made none. Bewildered by her position, she did not know what to say. “I know that I have only myself to reproach,” he w ent on. “My motive in ottering your father niy assistance was a purely selfish one. The consequences are only what I deserve. I had no thought of the long years during wliicli he had been iny true ami faitliful friend, hut cruelly took advantage of his position to gain iny own ends. Yes, I am properly punished.” Títere w’as a bitterness in his tone, a despondency in his attitude, that greatly changed his accustomed, dignified composure of manner. Half unconscious of what she did, only sensible of the pity she felt for liiin, the young girl put her hand ujiou his arm, and said, softly: “Forgive me.” “Forgive mo, rather, my child,” ho said, gently, taking the little hand in one of his, *‘for tlic misery I have caused you. I should havie known that our paths in life could never be one. But good night, I will not detain yon.” She did not shrink from him as he bent down to kiss her forehead, with lii^ last w ords. He stepi>ed aside to allow her free passage to the house, but she did not move. “You arc thinking of your fatlier,” he said. “Do not he distressed on hia account. Remember me in your pravers to-night, and sleep sweetly. It is all I ask.” He did not wait to hear her fervent “God bless you!” or witness her hurst of joyful tears, hut quickly left her. The morning sunshine streamed boldly into the apartincut of old Mr AVarren, where he lay in thO lieavy sleep of pliysical and mental exhaustion. The forenoon was fiir advanced when the servant riJhscd him,infoiTn-ing Jiim that Colonel Leighton W'altcd iu the library. Making a hitsty toilet, the old man left his clinrnbcr ami w ent to join his friend. Tho'gcutlc-men met cordially, and Colonel Leighton immediately requested that May might be sent for. They waited hut a few minutes before the door swung noiselessly open, and, wearing a white morning robe, the young girl entered. At a motion from her father she sat dow'ii upon a low scat at his feet, and then glanced up with a confiding smile at Colonel I^iffhton, who stood leaning against the mantelpiece, with an expression of face half-sad, half-admiring. “AVe are waiting for your answer, May,” said Mr. AVarren, quietly. “I will leave the matter entirely in Colonel Leighton’s liaiuls,” slie replied. The old man ^aiiccd perplexedly from her to his friPml. Colonel Leighton stepiied forward. “My old friend, James AA'arrcn,” lie said, “I met yonr daugliter last night, ami talked with lier. I discovered with wTiat feelings slic regarded a marriage with me, and can notallow the sacrifice she Avon Id make for your sake. I will never marry her; siic is free. And noAV I have to ask your pardon for the nuniuniy way in Avhich I have taken advantage of your ciii-harrassincnt, ami have come so near to destroyinii the haiipiiiess of your child. Every power of mine shall be exerted to its utmost to relieve you, ami all the reward I ask is the knowledge that you and May do not despise me. Nav, nay, no thanks. I deserve rather to be scorned for the part I have acted. But I have one favor to ask, old friend. AVill you allow me to choose a husband for your daughter ?” “A'oii have niy full and free iiermis-sion,” replied Mr. AVarren, smiling through his tears. “But I hojic you will be more successful in your choice than 1 have been.” “Never fear,” said the Colonel, with a glance at Alay. Flinging oi>en a door that led to another aiiartmcut, he called, “Noav, niy hoy!” and Mark AVinchcster sprang'into Üio room. “Behold your futuro sou-lii-law,” said Colonel Leighton; and ere the old man could cunipreheml the scene the young couple knelt for his blessing. At a motion from his friend he gave it willingly, and never was there a hajipier party. Through tho intcrjiosilion of his iVieml, Mr. AVarren Avas saved from ruin and his daughter made ha|)]»y. AVhen May that morning asked for a solution to the problem of (.'oloniT l^'ighton’s knoAvledgc of Mark, he replied: “1 did not Avait half an lionr in the garden to no piiriiosc, little one.” Ami sho umlcrstood that he had overheard her coiiA'crsation Avith her loA'cr. Through his infiuouce Mark’s talents as an artist became known to tho Avorld, ami a fcAV years aftcrAvaril ho hccainc a popfilar painter ami a wealthy man ; ami out of gratltmlo to hh benefactor ho christened his flrst-boru son Edwin Leighton Wimhes-tci*.ABOUT OPERA-GLASSES. AA'hat They Are Made of and What They CJoat. [New York Tribune.] AVliat Avith sapient eye-glasses ami OAvl-eycd opcra-glasses, tho aA'crage play-house audience has boeanio an aggregate of petty masked batteries, each of Avhich is trained on the others with merciless dircctne'^s ami continuity. Some facts as to the “great gnus” in this raking fire were recently learned from a courteous salesman at ajcAvcler’s. Said he: “I sliould say that, judging by our experience, the sale of opera glasses has increa.scd threefold over sales of two years ago. Indeed, to meet the heavy dcinami, w'e imported as m%ny a thousand pairs for this season. Imported ? a’CS, for tJicre arc no opera-glass makers in this country knoAvn to the trade. Voigtlaendcr, of A^icnna, and Chevallier, of Paris, are considered the best makers, though others, like I^maire and the firm of Bardou et fil.s, both of Paris, arc not Avithout reputation. London run? to the first tAA’O the same as New York. Besides stock frem Voigtlaendcr and Chevallier avc keep glasses stam]icd Avith our 0AA;n name, and made for us in Paris; av’c consider these quite as good as tlic former, hut sell them at a slightly cheaper rate. Toll you something about the materials used? AVell, ojiera glasses huA c cither six or tAV'clvc lenses. The latter, as you may suppose, possesses double i»0Avcr; they are also ifiore achromatic—have less foreign coloring than tho six lens gla.sscs. For the eye pieces flint glas.s is used; also rock crystal, Avhich is smoother and clearer yet. For the end piece flint and croAvn glass is used, the first being best made con-pavo ami the other COIIA’CX. Of course the quality of the glass varies, and then the grinding, focusing and adjusting are oí importance, dciicmlingou the maker. AVe iuíjíL* look at the frames and mo»»"ting now. Our clicapcst pa»»'" iniA'c brass IramcvS, lacquer‘»<' black, and mountings of ooni leather. These range in price from IfS to !|¡15, depending on the size and mimbcr or lenses, six or Iaa'cIa’c. Only one quality of glass is used in them. Those of the next higher grade range fixiin |15 to $50, and liaA'c ainminnm ft'aincs, the price varying with the quality of glass and the size. The atuminnm frames Iiha'c a silvcrish color, Avhicli ncA'cr tarn-islies. More of these frames arc sold than of any other kind, their extreme lightness making them i>opn-ar. Sometimes the siherish color is exchanged for black, by means of lacquer. The next grade of o]>era glass includes tliuso with inoimtings of mother of iieaiT, of smoked jicaiT, and of oriental ]>earí. The coloring of the last tAVo is artificial. These same tAVO have heavy franic.s ($13 to |50), and tho light aliiminal frames (JfJO to 175). The mother of jicarl frames cost frosn |35 to )|!70. In all three the heavy frames arc gilded Avitli French gilt. “Noav avc come to what are called ‘fancy cases.’ Ivory and shell are no longer included in tlie.se, as the first discolors quickly, and both of them crack and break easily under atmos]>Iicric infiuenccs. The fancy glas.ses have frame and mounting alike, and arc the enameled, the gold, the silver and tliccluininnin. The enameled glasses cost from 1^100 to 1^175; the plain gold from to ¡|i2G0, the i>lain silver IKX), the etched silver|130 and the aluminum plain $75, enameled $85, Of conr.sc, yon know, there arc cxccptionallv high-priced glasses also. Sec, here s one of gold inlaid with diamonds and saji-ihircs, and costing $.500. AV'^c lavc one inlaid with rubies and costing |5,0(!0. The novelties just now ill this class of glas.ses are mountings of Avhat is called Persian gold (a maroon color brought out of gold by chemicals acting on tho alloy, Biid causing also an enamel cU'ect), u mounting of white culf-skin, and a mounting cntireW of aluminum. Here’s av'cry striking one-ground of tho silvery aluminum covered with lace-work of gold. It costs $250. The Persian gold mounts costs $185 and $350. For dress occasiians a frame of ulumiimm and a mounting of mothcr-of-])carl is ]>oimlar. Are vcst-pockct glasses ;<till sold ? I hud a dozen two weeks ago and hav'c only one left MOW. A’oigtlaeudcr makc.s these also, their price being $18.”“TOBOCCANINC." The Delightful SciiMatioii It Creates. [Montrcul Cor. Ito-itoii Globc'.] AV’lioevcr would enjoy one of the most profound and nnsiicakablc sensations of life must come to Montreal and take in the long slide of the Aion-treal Toboggan Club grounds. There is nothing in tho way of s]>ccdy motion which will comi>ari! with it except grca.sctl lightning, and there was no feature of tho last carnival more thoroughly enjoyed by tho American visitors. For the benefit of those who have not seen a toboggan, let me say that it consists of a long stri]) or stri]»s of wood about three-sixtcentlis of an inch thick, from fifteen to twenty-four inches wide and from four to eight teet in length, heul up at the forward end and strengthened on the top side by round side and cro.ss barsaliout an inch thick. A soft cushion is laid on to minimize the ef-ftH?t of the “bumps,” if there ha])pcn to be any on the track. On this enshion the ladies and gentlemen scat thcmsclve.s, generally tailor fa.sliion, the steersman, lioweA’cr, reollniiig on his loft leg with his right hanging out to steer by. The load having been nicely stowed, sometimes as many as half a dozen persons, the steorsinan takes his place, a w^trning cry of “All ready” is gi\’cn, and the toboggan is gentiy started down the hill. It soon gains impetus and the sliders gather themselves more tightly together, hut this must he done with caution, as any aAvkwai*d movement is attendcil with danger to the mover and the safety of the whole load. AVhcn any part of your clothing trie.s to blow away on a toliog-gan slide let it go; any desjieratcoi* awkward attempt to .save it may post you more than the probable damage to the article. About a quarter way down the slide yonr velocity lias increased very perceptibly ; half way down yon feel as though you aa'cic flying through the air, and just before you eoine to the foot of the hill yon seem to have taken leave of all idea of time and distance, and to be making one grand rush into s]iacc witli just a faint kind of conception of the jiossiblc consci|ucnces of a sudden stoppage, and a kind of des](eratc determination to hold on and be brave about it, anyway. If you arc on the long slide, you prebably lose yonr breath, and as you arc gasping tor it you realize that yon have reached the bottom and arc spinning over the level snow at a somcAvhat nicKltlicd rate of speed. Soon your toboggan stops, and you arc suddenly roused from the reverie yon have fallen into duviiig the closing run of your toboggan by the cry : "Up and out of the way,” and seramble ii]) and out of the track in a most undignified niaii-iicr, Just in time to aA'oid bt*ing run over by a heavily loaded toboggan which flies past yon, having got its siijierior nii)menj.u»« in eoiiseqncnce of its    'VC ght. So great is the msu on the slides at times that the toboggans follow close behind each other. AVhen you begin to take stock of yonr sensations, yon find yonr blood tingling at the cud of cA’cry toe and linger. Your teeth cliuttcr jiossl-bly. Your eyes sparkle. You foci a.s though yon had had an cxiicrience .worth recording in your diary, and ten to one you want to climb the hill and try it again. Some jieoplc get enough in one slide, btit they arc usually jieople who have not been able to get tlicir liv'os insured or have a fear of dying before tlieir better halves. All healthy and pi*o|ierly constituted people want to try it again. Two liittlo Tom. Two litllp tots on the caiTK*t «t nlay, Timl of their u«ual gnuies one iluy. one to the other; “Let’s play stool. I’ll l>e leiieher. and don’t yon fool; Jtiit sit iu> nice like a sure 'nough .tolar; lou’ll miss your le-son, 1 bet you u dollar.” Cast mg al>out for a wonl to spelL Blue eyes on |>uss iind her kktleii fell; As an object lesson lliey p«iti« witli grace. The ninnmin w ashing the hahv's face. “Sl»cll tat,” the teacher gr.ainlly gives ont; “quick, now, mind what you’re about.” Tlie “scholar” failing, with ignominy Is sorely shaken and dniilicd a ninny. The word rc|ieatcd, again she fails. When the wenc on the riig again avails: And the teacher rclenfH, consi-ii-ncc-siiiittmi— “if you tan't spell tat, sjiell titten!” -[It. T. CVmtEST Ftx. Pfopai;atlnK Planta. [New York I'ost.J A lady had a friend who, on departing for a long cruise in foreign Avatcrs, presented her Avith a bimch of roses. Her first thought Avas hoAV to preserve these as long as po.ssiblc. She propagated a plant from every stem, and on the return of her friend shoAved him a thriving bush from each variety of rose Avltich had been given her. An absolutely important condition Avlien propagating plants by cutting is that the stock from Aviiich the slin is “snaiqx’d” shall bo jH'rfoetly licalthv ; noxulisractory results can be had from avcuI^Iv plants. The health of a |)lant can be determined by the way 111 Avhich a sllj» breaks off. If the Avood snaps and does not bend or “knee,” it may be depended upon to root freely. If it bends, it indicates that the AVood is tixi old, or otherwise not vigoreus. Cuttings should be taken frem young Avood before it ifi’OAVS liaid. A prevalent impression Is that cuttings must be snapped at an “eye” or "joint.” This freiiuciilly leads to an unsuccessful result, be-cunsc at the joint the shoot isa])tto lie hard ; half an inch higher is the best place to separate it. The degree of tempcniture required to root cultiii'is of almost all green house and beuding plants is sixty-five degrees of bottom heat, ascertained by pushing a tbennometer into the sand, and an atmospheric temiieratnre of liltcen degree.^ less. Common sand is the safest medium in Avhieh to insert cuttings. 'J'his should be scattered on the hot bed or given house bench thivc inches deep and backed doAvn firmly. After the cuttings are ]mt into the sand, until they root, they mu.it never be i)crmitted to get dry ; olhorAvisc the i»roivss Avill fail. The sand should he kept soaked Avith Avater. The iirojiagatiiig house must be shaded and ventilated. 3’he time ie(|uircd fur cuttings to root is from eight to twenty days, aeeordlngto the variety, and condition of cnttings. For amateurs Avho IniA'e not u pro-jiagating liou?e, the “saucer system” will meetewry reiitiirenient, and propagation Avill be as sncccs.sfiil and sure as if done on a bench or hot bed. Take old jilates or saucers and cover with sand an inch deep. Saturate the land Avith Avater until it is like mnd. I'nt iu the slips or cnttings thick enough to touch one another. Fxiwsc the saucer to tho sun iu a AvindoAv. and never shade. Keep tho sanil soaked, lor if it dries onco tho slips Avill droo]» and never rally. Tho land of the five Is the home of those who use Dr. Itull’a Cough Synfp. I'lice ouly ceuts. “Can a mule driver be a Christian?" is a recent couuudrum. Luckily few of us are put to so severe a test.— [Hartford Times. Even tlic wicked conidn’t stand on slippery places yesterday iiioriiiBg, and tlie gowl had an unusually baitl time, as avc hap[>eii to knoAV personally.—[IaiavcII Citizen. Kate Shelly, the brave Iowa girl, Avho saved a raihvay train frem destruction, is being made the subicct for poet’s .songs. She deservcs a beU ter fate.—[Bismarek Tribune. LcndviUc claims that cbronic disease is an unknoAvn thing in that vicinity. The fact is ¡icoplc don't live long enough there to die of ehronio di.seascs.—[Burlington Free Press. If it be true that the physicians liavc plenty to do attending the imaginary uiimcnts, it is cquully true that the sick hav'e plenty to pay for imaginary cures.—[Boston Traus-crijit. Amateur tenor fiom Paris)— "And have you never heard of Gounod’s ‘Crepúsculo’?” Unmusical lady —“Oh dear I No, how dreadful! Is it anything like spinal meningitis?” —[Life. General Butler has Avriticn a letter to an Erie man, in Avhicli he states that he is out of |m)Iíííc.s "for gixMi.” The General docM not state Avhcther it is for his OAvn or the coniitry’.s.—[Oil City Blizzard. A thirteen-ycar-old girl of Amherst, Wis., has ouly blue spots on her face Avhcrc her eyes shqiild be. Wc have Si'cn such i»henomcna ladore, iiurticn-larly after Fourth of .liily, Christmas and elections.—[Texas .Siftings. Tliey do say that the photograph of a Colorado Senator got mixed into a pack of cards in ti.-c at a ^amc iu Washington and Ava‘m’t noticwl for eight haiids, eA’crylnKly playing it for the Jack of spades.—[Boston Post. “I should like to hear yon singlóme day,” remarked a gentleman to a young lady Avho avus studying music. "I sliall l>e delighted. I have the song Avilh me uoav, and Avill .«ing it for you. “What song?” “Why,’Some Day.’” “All! yes. I meant some other day Avheii I shall have more leisure.”— [Musical Recoixl. A AA'oman Avho invaded West Bend, Wisconsin, and claimed to be the pro-})rielor of the toAvn and the Avhole country, Avas declared to bo crazy and taken care of by the toAvn officials. This fun ishes a prcoeilcnt for locking up the ra'lroad men Avho labor under the delusion that tliey oavu the earth. —[Boston Globe. “That reminds mo of a familiar song,” said the president of the punsters’ club, pointing to a gilded owl Avbieh sAvnng in freiit of a taxidermist’s shop. "lIoAV so ?” inquired his private secretary. “Because it’s ‘Owl hang sign,’ mj b ly.” The secretary was arrested on t charge of a.ssault Avilli intent to kill —[Ncav York Journal. AVhen Pa Kepr Kiill .\lM>ut the Ditch [L iiilHvillc euiiriur-Jouriii.l.J Said one younj; lady: "I jmt know wi are ipiie' to he waihed ouraguin, and pi is *ab btuhliorn us lie was last year, lit slack to It that the water wouldn’t conn into the hoiibe, and dug a ditch tbrougk llie yard to carry it off if it criSMiHl Fiiltoii strei't; hut wlicn liu got out of l>ed into water a fiwit ilivp on the tl.Hir about iiiid night ao didn’tsay a w ord ultout tho ditch.’* MeriTeJ PraisB. The universal praise bestowed upon Kld-ney-AVortas an iaviileuble rcia'xljr for all disorders of tlio kidaeys, liter and botveU lb well merited. Its viriuesaivnnivorsall know n ami its cares are reiMirted on sides. 31any olntiaatu cases have suc-euinhed to it'after tliey had Ixva given up lit the doetoi’b, ami a titorougli treatment will never f.iil to cure. Sold by all druggists. ¡See adv’t. The t^iiecii iiiul Hbr Henlth. [Dimliin AVoi'ld.] I hear that tlie Queen lierself w rote tho paragraph alsait her health which appeareii in tho Court Circular last wtvk. The min. iite Rceuraey of tliis ntlleial record of Court doings is a lioint on which Her .A|«jesty it very tenacious, and she n.saaily edits, and frequently revises, the daily uuuuuuee-ments. How can you remain a sufferer from dy*-pepslu whoii wurso eases than yours aro being 01111*11 by HihhI’s sursaparilia. Try It, Ibvelier’s double, the man w ho s M tlie tlieaU'rs and gets tho Brooklyn pastor*-name iu tlie paiH>rs, is .John AVjnuiii Their resemblnnco is very strikin-^. lly all • UOt'Oll ON TOOTllAt id:, ’ ma lie. ■lid.

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