The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 30, 1891 · Page 6
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

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Wednesday, December 30, 1891
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THfc TJPl^R i)as J M6totes, AfeO^A. loWA. bfiCEMBEK 30, Thfi Old tfr>« It first fifgnn none ft-or kfinw, But It (irow (tnrt (rrew iirfrt jtrow and And hctwecrt the houses Of IlofHJ nmlKudgC For ft htinrtrotl fonts there Wftrl been n ffriidiro; S"or a hundred lon«r and bitter yonra, , From the tlrno of llio cnMj- ploncorn, With hi* dying lironth onoh Old Mnn TlitdffO Had bprnifiathod to hlfi song tliatmimo old The fiirms ndjnlncrl. For ft Immlrcrl yoars Tholf ttnt-R o'er fonooc nnd branch? Brcorn And IroBpnfldlnK IIORB find ncrvwl onoli As he fuipsoil In his clicoks 1o piins that feud. On down to his boys, ftnd limy kont It warm, And Ilint-o vital)' 1. 11 soul im oltlinr fiirm,, Of tho lioiicoof Hood or ilio trllio of 1 1 nil fro, But folt It ft duly lo hold thai jrrudiro. Bo down through tliojrrlmllntr, oronklnfrjrenrft, With Jura nml nqimhhleH nnd Bimrls and Biiocrn, Tlioy hud draiCRod through tho mlro und oozo and sludKO „ ..... Tho oneo proud nntnon of Hood and Iludgc. Hut tlinro onmo ft time when n fair young Mot u liiHty son of llio other brood Aii(l straight In ouoh tmlpltiillnir lionrt A Ion unseen shot a Ilatnliig dart. I/)\'() luuKlifl nt fouds. Those twain woro wed. They Rotllod dowi ..... And now, 'tis said, This youthful Mr. and Mrs. Rudgi* Keep ill)— nlaal— that RHIUO ol>l urodpo. -Chl<MW> Trlhdno. FELL INTO A FORTUNE It IB tho 1st of October, and Instoiul of being among thu Loiiglails, I inn seated In tho smoking room of u well- known Bohemian club, Inwardly cursing tho hiinl fiiu; that detains me in town for, mind you, I had nil Invitu- tion l,o ii cerlniu house in Blankshiro, whom I would bo Hiiro of a welcome of tlm warmest, but pressure of work, combined will) somewhat limilud ro- Bonrco.i, compelled mo to declitin. Things might bo worse, f reflect,and tho rijflootlon carrion mo buck to', uii- otiier 1st' of October, loss than a do- ondo ago, wlion things wore decidedly worse. IIow well 1 remember tho day, a glorious bright sunshine—oven In'London! Thoro had been u sharp, frost the night before, and tho unfortunate horses wore slipping and falling on the greasy wood pavement. I fool a more than 'usual sympathy with- them for I, too, have been slipping and falling on tho pathway of life,,and my prospects are none of tho brighl- esi. 1 was slandlng at, the corner of a well-known wimi-ond thoroughfare •where several linos of trafllc converge and it mattered little to mo which way I should turn my foolsldps, when an old gentleman, tapping mo on the arm. Inquired If J would bo good enough to -give him a wing over tho crossing. He in not, lie explains, so young as ho used to bo, and is unaccustomed to Iliroad liiH way through such a maze of vehicles. I am not in the best of humors with mankind generally, but I give him my arm, and slowly, for my companion's steps are rather feeble, I pilot him over llio crossing. "Dnconlly.-off old fellow," I think to myself. "Lives In the country evidently, and just up in town on hn.Si- m'SS." "Very slippery tlii.s morning," lie remarks. "Very, indeed," I reply; "must bo pleasant in the country, though." "Yes; just llio day for shooting, eh, 1 "' he returns. Some involuntary movement on my part must have caused the old genllo- mnu's explanation, for it is many a diy since I had a gun in my hand, and the mere mention of shooting had aroused old memories. But we have crossed the busy street, nnd the old boy looks up at. me gratefully, yet withal, keenly. I, glad enough to be alone, turn iiilo the park, :iind ponder within mvself why the odi- >tnr of the 1'f.imy I'tlJ'urcr should have •rejected my lust manuscript. Where •is ii. by the wayP Thought 1 had .stuffed it into my pocket as I came 0111, but must have lost it. Anil hero I am sitting in a comfortable chair at mvoluh. Oh, yes; things are decidedly Letter than I hey wore oight years ago, when 1 piloted the old gentleman over the crossing. I can not help thinking of Tommy this morning with feelings of envy. But it is preposterous. What chance have I of aspiring to the hand of fair Ethel Complon, whoso father has been himul to say that Complon Towers and its broad acres shall bo his Ml tie girl's when ho is gone, for the squire has no son and Ethel's two elder sisters have married into the peerage. Decidedly "a rising young author," as one critic, kinder than his fellows, has been pleased to dub me, would have to rise considerably before having any chance in that quarter. Tommy, I should mention, is a brief-' less bam.st.or, of so mo eight and twenty, inheriting from his father an in- OOIDO of^ about three hundred a year, whioh'ho supplements by occasionally backing winners and contributing smart "pars" to the society journals* and when these means fail, which is pi'uity often, he goes to see "a man in the city" who, on the strength of his being heir to his bachelor uncle, lets him have a trille of "ready," and charges him some 65 per cent for the accommodation. 1 am the sole tenant of the smoking room,'save old Hoberl, the waiter, who moves nervously about, re-arrantiing things that don't want it, and evidently desirous of entering into conversation. At length he catches my eye and comes forward with tho Timca in his hand. "Nice day, sir; soon the Times, sirP" lie begins. "Yes, nothing particular in it, is there P" 1 reply. "Only this, sir," returns Robert, directing my attention to the "Deaths," whore I read as follows: "On September 29, at the Grange, Blankshiro, Thomas Edwin Jenkins, aged 87." 1 put dowu tho paper and look up at Uobort. ."1 thought as how that might bo Mr. Jenkins' uncle, sir," ho says. "1 suppose it will bo a groat tiling for him, sirP" •'I suppose so," I reply mechanically, und, not caving to continue thu conversation, J rists ifnd saunter toward the window, whence I watch tho evor- chnn<riii£ crowd iu the street. I arouse nivsoU'—I will go l\)uio and work. On' my arrival I nnrt several matters re-quiring absorbing attention, for some iioiiffl. The ne*t morninir l»nngs new ditties, rtiul it is not ifrilfl late in the iijiH.riinoii that 1-am ffei'f. Vlien ' f?° '" tlYu club, wnero I find a lelter awaiting me; it is from Tommy asking mo to go down to the Grange. The funeral is to take place next day. I don't care about going, but must not deny my friend at such a moment; so, finding'there is a train from I'adiling- ton wliieh wit! just get me down in lime, I dispatch t a wire to Torrtmy telling hihi to fexpeoi me the following morning. ' ; A trap meets mo at the littlo country dial ion, and a shdrt drive brings me to the house of mourning. Tommy greets me with a silent handclasp. The last sad offices over wo returned to the hpnuo—Tommy and myself a ferret-eyed littlo man whom I am certain was tho family solicitor, and one or two others who, from their display of grief, I took to bo some distant rel$ ativos who have expectations. Squire Ooiiipton, who had come to see the last of his old friend and neighbor, follows in his carriage. Reaching the house Tommy, after a few whispered words with life legal man of business, draws mo aside into an mujccupiod room. "Frank." ho says, as soon as the door is closed, "J fuel in an awful funk; do yon know," he goes on before I can put in aword, "the poor old boy found out all about my going to the money lenders just before he was taken ill; in fact, I believo ; the knowledge hastened his end." "What nonsense." J reply, but Tommy goes on. "Yes." he snvs, "tho night before he was taken ill he said ho wanted to have a long talk with'mo nlioiil business matters, and then and there ticked me if it was true. I acknowledged it. of course, when he inquirtid why I did ,not come lo him if I was in want of'Hinds. To this I could make no adequate reply, whereupon he desired me to leave him, as he wished to be alone. I'm afraid he's altered his will, for the. next day ho complained of'nol feeling well, arid telegraphed for -old' Pouneehy, tho solicitor, to come down, and they worn closeted together the best part of the afternoon, and I noticed l?onucoby looking very curiously at me to-day— but they're waiting for us," as a knock came to the door. "Well, I will remain here," I say; "I have no right to bo present on an occasion of this sort." '•I wish yon would come with mo," says Tommy, plaintively, but I am resolute and remain where I am. I liavo not Ions? lo wait. In loss Ihan a quarter of a'n hour Tommy returns, exhibiting an expression of countenance thal^ is at oneo puzzled anil crestfallen. • "Of all the extraordinary wills!" ho bursts forth; "the old chap has cut me oil' with a beggarly thousand pounds, and after a lol ,'loft to different charities tho balance, nearly twenty thousand pounds, is to go to some follow who o'nco picked him out of the gutter in town, or so'mo thing of that sort." "Hut llio estate, what about tha|;P" 1 interpose, gently. .. "Oh, that is vested 'in trustees—old I'ou nee by and tho squire, the income to 1 go to paying off my dobls, and I am not to touch a penny until every claim is discharged—whenever that will be," he adds, ruefully. "Oh, well, it's not so b'ad, after all," I say, when he bursts forth again. "Tho worst of it all is a pot of money going to an entire stranger whose name is not even mentioned, and whose only claim on his sympathy appears to bo that he once helped him over a crossing." An uncontrollable agitation seized me. "Tommy," 1 say at length, "have you—is there—any portrait or photograph of your unefo?" ' "Yes, yes, there is a portrait in tho library and a photograph somewhere, but whyP" "Let"mo soo tho photo," I answorod huskily. lie leaves mo for a few minutes during which I endeavored to regain my composure. Presently ho returns and hands mo a cabinet photo, faded, it is true, but an exact likeness of the old man 1 conducted over, tho crossing oight years before! "Tommy," 1 say, after a .pause, "1 believe 1 am the individual alluded to in your uncle's will." "Nonsense, man; you must bo taking leave of your senses." "Be that as it may, the fact remains that on the 1st of October, oig^ht years ago, I distinctly recollect assisting a»i old gentleman over tho crossing at llvde Park corner who. resembled this likeness in a most remarkable degree." "Oil, that settles it, then; I'know it's tho 1st of October," Tommy responds. "Yon bad bettor come into tho library." 1 follow him, and iind tho various individuals before mentioned sealed in silence round Ihe lable. Mr. Pounce- by, the solicitor, raises his eyes from the documents ho is now poring over as wo enter. Tommy is tho iirst lo speak. "My friend here, Frank ILibson, seems to think ho is the individual referred to in the will, Mr, Pouncobv," and so saying ho drops into'he nearest chair. "Take a seat, Mr. llobson,' 1 says tho man of law. "In Mr. Jenkins' excited stale ho must have given you, 1 fear, lint a very imperfect outline of tut) testator's intentions, As you are not one of the family it is unnecessary that 1 should do more than read that porluin of the will to which Mr. Jenkins has alluded. IPm! ha! hero it is: 'And, all the residue of my funded properly 1 give and bequeath to tho person who on tho first day of October, 18i>0, assisted mo over tho crossing at Hyde Park corner, if ho can bo found, and I have placed in the hands of my solicitor, Jorum Pounceby, Ksq., in Linoolus'-inn-tiolds, a sealed envelope.,, tho contents of which will, I believe, be snllicionl to load to his identification, it' living, and in case the said individual, after due inquiry made, shall not bo discovered, or be found to be tlead, limn 1 give . and bequeath such residue to the afore-mentioned charities, to bo divided among them in like mminer ami iu the same proportion as the other moneys hereinbefore uiou- tioneU.' I may add," continued Mr. ment, "that the' te'stator irameo thnt clause himself ;\nd would hear of no alteration. Now, Mr. Hobson, rebut have von to say?" "Only that .on that very date I did assist a'gentleman over life crossing at that particular spot who boro a striking 'res<Hiibl»hce to this photograph, which I understand to be that of the late Mr. .Jenkins." 1 Far too slender evidence, I am afraid, but the envelope the testator refers to .is here, and We will see if it will throw aiij* light on the inatlcr; in the nieantime will you oblige hie with your signature," pushing a pen and nik toward mo. I draw near to the table n,nd some-: what nervous)}- write my name on a sheet of paper. The contents of the envelope uro not voluminous, and hi* doer! Mr. Poll nee by would seem to have seen them before, for ho takes HD my signature and seems to be diligently comparing it with something within. Presently he asks: "Were you engaged in literary work eight years ago, Mr, Hobson P" "I endeavored to be, but my efforts did not always meet with success." "Do you recognize that as one of your unsuccessful efforts?" ho asks, with a smile, bantling mo a manuscript. Good heavens! it was . one of my early effusions, across tho top of which the editor of tho Penny Pilferer had scrawled the usual "Declined with thanks." Then as I made no reply, ho added, "I presume tho signature at the end is yours," to xvliich 1 bowed an assent, and was about to return tho M.S. when'he. stopped mo With "No, no, Mr. llobson, it is yours, and I hope your future writings may prove as remunerative to yourself as that one has done." Tho I'o.st of my story is soon told. Ere another 1st of October camo around Ethel and I woro married, and wo live in a nice house in a far from unfashionable suburb, and in tho house is a room which I call my don, but which Ethel persists in styling the library. Anvway, it is pretty full of. books, valuable and otherwise, but on no volume has the wealth of the book> binder's art boon more extravagantly, lavished than llio thin Lome whoso title is displayed as "Declined With Thanks." ' - FRENCH NOTIONS OF AMERICA. ICxplitltH of Soul ml Hull Fiiltlimlly Dol liy 11 I'nrlM I'uriiilloul. The notion that the United States is u country principally inhabited by people of Indian race still clings to a groat many Europeans, and even some of those who are educated. The most singular misapprehensions concerning the Indians and the purl of the country I hoy bcciipy are continually appearing in the newspapers iu Europe. A French periodical called Snicuua Pour Tons (Science for All), which declares its aim to bo the enlightenment of tho public, recently published tho following absurd article: "We have received some interesting information concerning tho incidents which preceded llio recent rising iu arms of the Indians in the west, and one of tho lir-it engagements. "The Sealed Bull, thqir chieftain, having ro.solvod lo make known the fact that tho Indians had not received their annuities and certain promised munitions,betook himself to Ihe capitol at Washington. "There he laid before the president of the legislative body his complaints of the governmental agents, who he declared had stolen what was tho Indians' due, "lie was informed that his declarations would be taken under consideration, and ho departed. But tho promise naving remained without performance, the Seated Bull once more came to the capitol. "This lime, in the midst of tho assemblage, the Sealed Bull did not utter a word, but drew his tomahawk and dealt with it a lorrible blow upon the nmrblo table which was before him. The lable was broken in two. and the chief's tomahawk buried itself iu the floor beneath. "It was the token of the chief's declaration of war. '•The Seated Bull then loft tho capitol without any one daring to lay a hand upon him. Itelurning to his canoe, which ho had lied to one of Ihe piers of tho great bridge across tho Potomac river,he paddled rapidly back lo his own territory." AtuhlBon's Maids and Matrons. A girl in Atchison has a peculiar way of attracting attention to horsolf. She scallops her linger nails, and leaves thorn that way. An Atchison girl recently refused to marry a man, saying thai sho thought too much of him; sho believed she was certain to lliiuk loss of him if she married him. ' An Atohison woman has the fad of naming her cats, dogs, and chickens for her friends. When her neighbors hoar her abusing Mrs. Smith they know it is not her frjoml sho is abusing, but the cat, which has probably boeu"steal- ing cream. Au Alchison woman, who used to worry herself sick anil thin with jealousy, has settled down to common-souse view of mou, and is now plump and full of health. As a result her formerly frisky husband lias become very devoted and dutiful. Au Alchisou woman, who rece'ntly interviewed ton married women on the subject, finds that four married to escape being old maids, two married for a homo, live married because some othor woman wanted their husbands, and one married because she reallv thought so much of her husband that sho could not help horsolf,— Atchison Globe. A Divorce Decision. A Now York judge has decided that a man can not get a divorce from his wife because her private character before her marriage was not so ijood as she represented it lo bo. The idea was that if such u divorce were allowed then anybody who concealed before marriage any slight personal matters, such as bail' temper, defective education, physical defects, and so ou, would be liable to be divorced us soon »3 found out. THE DONKEY IN MEXICO, s ft some arid.'then, Th*i Mont DnHtA nnrt t'lUlonfc of 'Sin Ktfltl «nrT HIP Won't Ahn««(i. • ' ' •The Mexican burro is. of ali animal*! the most fearfully abused. Without him -Mexico Would not life- Mexico. Ho is a veryHooile auime.l. Job himself was not more patient. -It wonder that he does not inherit of the "spunk" of his ancesiors, while loaded down past give a vindictive kick now and just to show $hat som» times the downtrodden worm will turn. A most pitii ful sight it is to see him on his way to market, loaded dowu with- greens" — now and then giving a sniff as ho • inhales the.ir — to him — delicious fragrance. If he 'dared lie xvotild take -a mouthful, but his master knowing Ins weakness, has cruelly muzzled • his mouth, so ho jogs on uncomplainingly, bearing his hunger best he may;.it ; ap* peals to one's sympathy to see him-.. arrayed in a sort of wilk Wswon — pint cups to ten gallon cans dangling gracefully from his head to his heels, making such a racket when empty as to almost drown the sound of his' melodious voice. . Sometimes you may see him representing himself as a butcher cart. loaded down with the carcasses of various animals, of which tho goal ranks foremost then again ho appears us a charcoal vender. This is a light job for him and becomes, so exultant over it that he becomes q r uite frisky; bill, alas, his joy is of short duration. for tho next day the poor unfortunate burro is loaded to the guards with rock or some, other heavy material, making' him feel so humble, so degraded, .that he hangs his head for very shaiiie, and he feels so exhausted as tho heavy bur- dou presses more and more' upon him that should ho try, though over, .so hard, he could not raise a respectable bray to save his life. A most ludicrous sight is to see .him, decked out with as much lumber, as can be piled on him, from "the contemptuous looks vvith which ho gazes 'behind him nt tho long pieces, the longest dragging with at least a foot on Ihe ground, he must- feel that he has been converted .into something "abomiiHilly ' feminine. " As Spoopen- dyke would say, "all he needs is a paper bustle and a Gainsborough 'hat to '''make a dodgasted woman of him'." . His ancestors are vicious, dud 'not to bo fooled with, and they have a right to bo, for, they have been imposed upon and scoffed at until' it is only just that they kick any one with whom they come in contact. We; seeing that they can nol nor will not. stand such treatment, vent our silicon occasionally. but often administering' a good pounding on the poor, • little. unoffending, piuient burro that molests nothing but his provender, nnd deserves pity and compassion from all and every one." — Tf-xus 'tiiftin'i^. WHY HE WAS WOUNDED. How Jolin S. "JV1s»> Got. IHoorod III n Po- HHcul Debate. Round-headed and pugnacious John S. Wise of Virginia is not only making his mark in New York as a lawyer, being now the recognized legal expert in the country on law as it relates lo alectricity, but lie tells Stories to his groups-of friends that are related all over the city, says the N. Y. News. He told me one recently iu which the joke was ou himself—and • very much so. He had boon making a spuech in a joint debate with a democrat iu Virginia, when ho made some assertion about the confederacy and its lost cause, and added: "I can speak ou tho subject of the lost cause with somewhat of authority, fellow-citizens, for I was in the confederate army, and I woro the gray, and I have federal lead in my body, republican as I am." Quick as a Hash his antagonist called out: "Where were you wounded P" "In the valley," replied Wise. "-Where were you wounded, sir?" rnpoated his autogonist, "At Newcastle, sir, iu the valley," replied Wise. "No, 1 mean in what part of tho body, sir, were you wounded?" "Oh," exclaimed Wise, "in Ihe head. Tho mark is on my scalp yet." "1 thought so, fellow - citizens," screamed his opponent, taking tho front of tho platform. "I have known for yoars, since John S. Wise became a Virginia republican, that he was an awful crank, and 1 have suspected there was something the matter with his brain. But now 1 know all about it and so do you. That Yankee bullet in his head knocked his brains-crooked and has left him without' political sense." Wise relates this story as the only timo lluvl he was over floored in stump speaking. That "Littlo Woman." A story of the Greoly expedition which may have boon in print at the time, but is worth repeating, was told at n dinner one evening lately by a navrtl otllcer lo whom the occurrence was a personal reminiscence, says tho N. Y. Times. Ho accompanied tho Bear in its mission of rescue, and happened to be one of tho party that actually found the small band'. It is history that the moment was a desperate one for tho Greely men. Tho last drop of liqiior had boon poured down the throat of one of them, who seemed lo be dying; and, about at tho end of hope and resources, and weak with hunger and suffering, llio liltle company was sell ling into the stupefaction of overwhelming misery when the rescuers suddenly appeared. Once more they wore iu the world. At such a timo a man is apt to conceal his emotions, and the tragic meeting was accompanied with a simplicity that in itself was tragic. A cheerful "Halloa, old man!" from the rescuers, and a grunt or two from suoli of the survivors as were able to grunt even, and it was over. Then followed the attempt to get the poor follows iu condition to be moved to the ship. Nourishing food and drink were given to them, aud they were cheered by talk of home and friends and the latest news, But the process was slow at Iirst. Chief John Low seated himself by Lieut. Greet v. w;h6'. gnunt witlt stiirrfr •(Ion and wiUUyed tftth late despait, seemed to'take Bltle.lifetfit of him. , 1 -Well 'colone]." he =aid Hnally.after several apparently Ineffectual (W^rts lo arouse the still .laz.-d ' officer. 'Ihcrtfa . ond little wrtman will be glad of this dftvVworki" •. : • ''•;•-. '" Greelv raised-his eyes, then dropped them again ; half sullenly. ••'•Little WomanP he reneated with a sort of a gVjtiwh "she'We'ighs 160 "if she •weighs a pound." And tUeli Mr. Low kmnv, he would come ar'otind ail right;. A Colt on a Cowcatcher. A young colt, the property of Abiah Hayes, the noted stock-raiser, who resides near the Ohio anil Indiana bound* ary, on the "Big Pour" Railroad* had ; a thrilling ride, on the cowcatcher of-a fast freight engine. A valuable mare and her offspring had escaped from a farm-yard just as the train canle nois: ily by. The colt, whose four weeks of life had been insufficient to acquaint" it with the vociferous harml.essness of .a railway train, seen from 'a safe distance, "became frightened -.and ran 6'h the track ahead of Ihe engine. Almost instantly the cowcatcher of the engine thrust its nose beneath the' colt, aud a sudden shako of the engine jerked the animal upon its iron frame, where it hung helpless and terrified, but out of danger.. .The intelligent mother galloped frantically after the colt, jumping fences and uttering'pitoous neighs distinctly audible above tho roar of the cars. The marc appeared, so frantic with grief that' 'the trainmen slowed clown, anil,, finally slopping nearly two miles from the , point .of collision with the colt,, removed .the, youngster 'uninjured 'from its !.perilous position. .Witnesses of the mooting between the animals say it was enough to move one to tears. The .mother caressed the little one, jumped up und down and acted in.the most o'xuber'ant manner. The last soon of the pair . the mother was holding her hose iigalnst ifce .colt's head as if whispering her joy!" . ., STYLES IN MEN'S HAiR.' A Little Taste ItrqnlHlto to Suit the Hend It, Is Oh: '' : Men do not pay sufficient" atteutiqn to their hair, affirms the N. ,Y. 'Barber. They dross well., buy nobby foot and head gear, but often" ignore the proper cut of their hair. lii nine cases out .of ten look at a man's head when he removes bis hut and you can readily distinguish his quality. . A gentleman never shaves his head close unless the condition of his hair requires it. Let the hair grow to a proper length ordinarily from one and a'half lo Ivvo and a half inches. The.length sho.uld con? form to the.skull and serve to conceal defects of contour, and glaring deficiencies 1 .. A big..njan '.with a ihick, fleshy neck usually lakes delight iu shaving .his liead with a .convict-like closeness until he bears a resemblance to a prize h'<rhter. ,He should let his hair grow Ipiigfn the back without reaching clown over his nock; that is, it should .'be lopped off gradually at the bottom. Grove.r Cleveland wears his that Way, whereas if it were cut close it would 'look,abominable. A sliII. greater aid iu such oases is lo part the hair slightly in the back. A person with a slim neck • is not so easily advised. If he has a-.big bump,at the base of the skull ho should wear the hair .cut as short as possible without becoming vulgar.. A'low-forehead 'should have the hair pushed upward. Persons with narrow temples should conib the hair on each side forward inslead of brushing it back, as is generally the case. Instruct the barber to cut that which grows closest to the temple ex- Iremely close, and by overlapping the thicker portions in front and cuttiu, them off precisely where the 'foreheai ends, the effect "is of wide temples merely covered by the hair. Above all things do not let the tousorial fiend, as he often docs, hack away Ihe growth behind tho ears. . A QUEER LAKE, It Lies Knsl-. of Lake TmiRnnylka and Is Slowly Drying Up- , ^- . ,^U. Moi Lake Hukwa is about 100 miles long jincl from thirty to forty hiiles wide, says Goldl/iwiiite'.s Geographical Magazine. The lake lies iu a very barren and inhospitable country, in which respect it forms a great contrast with the surrounding regions, whic.li are among the most fertile -and prosperous in Africa. The lake is east of Lake Tanganyika, and about sixty miles irom it, in about longitude 82 degrees east of Greenwich. The parallel of 8 degrees south latitude crosses the' lake, and the sheet of water extends, much more to the south and east than is indicated by the dolled linos on our maps. .The natives say it would take man}' days to go arou.nd Ihe lake in a canoe, but they never do so, owing lo their enemies. Its waters are dark in color, blackish, muddy, and -quite uu- driukable. • A boy who went into the lake to bring a specimen of its water to Mr. Cross hatl to go a distance of 300 yards before ho could till his bottle, and then he was knee deep iu.mud; The lake is apparently the shrunken vestige of u much grealer.lake. Trees were point ed out to the explorer as having a few years ago been at water's edge,'though they wore now several miles from the lake. There are no hippopotami,crocodiles, or canoes in the dark, uninviting waters, as far as Mr. Cross could'uscertain, The mud ou the shores is really a form of lime, and is covered with a crustaceous deposit of white suit. There had boon no'rain iu tho neighborhood for Iwo years, and Ihe Souqno river,which enters the lakoi seems to lose itself to a great extent iii the sand as it approaches tho lake. It may he inferred, therefore, lhat Lake Hukwa is rapidly evaporating. All the natives affirm that there is no outlet, and Mr. Cross thinks this.is undoubtedly the fact. Not Wanted. Mr. Hasher—"I'm going to 'ask uiy friend Jackson to come here to board. He is look ing for a'nice, quiet place. .The poor fellow works like a beaver." Mr. Hasher—"Well, I dou't want him hero. Beavers do all their work with their teeth."— Harper'* L Vfa Hot* ft N*r»y M»n AtteA In 'a thisA <•'«« ini>nt. "I wns in Rochester Monday, ninjr," said a traveling man to H .(JbsHrv.r reporter'*- "a'ud. atlendcJd of the theaters. Between the some fool in the <ralfery> pillWl •'-„-and another fool in the dress-circle at mice yelled 'lity-', There, was ft«ftW* stiipt'panic. arid fuui it'not been $)?'&• dozen 'crvoUheaded motr *h<l' ™M A6 t thai the orchestra kept right albfig. playing there -would..have been a tern* blescene. As it was several ladies' fainted and men and women rushed over the back of the seats , to thedobf as though ihey were daft. .K.JI-. "But there was one incident that I shall never forget as long as" 1 life". A tall gentleman about 50 years' or pgd^ steppe'd upon his seat and'drew ft t6?< volver from his pocket. -In- a. 'vmce' that could be heard for some distance around him he said: ..-.-. . '* "There is no fire, aud I shall be , tempted' to shoot the first man that tries to rush out of here and possibly trample upon women .and children. I mean just what, I say, aud when the excitement, cools down if anybody, will' point out the miscreant that raised the cry of lire I will give the gentleman $50 for his tro.uble, and agree to whip the scoundrel \yho raised the false alarm within five minutes or forfeit another fifty.' "Then 'ho stood there as quietly as if nothing had disturbed him, and 'the people who heard him 'knew liy looks that he meant business, would do just what he said. • 'Go for you!" called • a- half-doKcn voic and the people-in thai section .sat quietly during the several minutes -of terrible excitement that -..prevailed* #1 over the crowded house. When orde* had been restored, the gentleman resumed his seat and enjoyed the play?" A "Beat" That Boat Them All. "I had a bad time with a- dead-beat recently." srtid a clei'k atut-well-known hotel. He was a drummer for a soap house in this State,, apt! I had reason to believe him al-J right;,in fact, he had always acted- squarely i before, "and when ho walked in here and registered ami-dropped his case of samples on the floor, J. didn't think of asking him for money in advance.. After he had been shown his room he came. ,to the office and asked me to loan him' $2, saying ho was short and could'-] not get any money until the next day. 1 cheerfully let liim'have the money, He went out and in a couple of'-hours' sent to me for $2 more. "That.-1 refused. For three'days my friend did not show up, and I at'last removed his things from his room and stoi'ed them, and charged him the time the room had been at, his disposal.. In about a week I got a letter from him, saying he -had' been > sick, and asking me to forward the case of .samples when he would remit' the amount he owed. I wrote that "l wanted the money first. .The answej came that I should have it'the mbnie the samples were received, and as l ; samples were worth practically nothing as collateral, and I still had faith in the fellow, I expressed- the things. Here a' few days ago I had the pleasure of seeing ihose samples brought back to me by the express man with 76 cents charges on them, wliich I had to pay. Tho confounded scalawag had deliberately sat up a job on me to make mo go down'in my pocket again, after beating me out of'$2 in cash and 'a'three days' bill. For clear, cold, crystal]!ne'gall thai particular dead r bent, will always be enshrined iu my memory as the king'of kings."— Cincinnati Tiincs. a Mark Twain's Coveted Professorship. Mark Twain made plenty of fun for a delighted audience at Bryn Mawr college recently. . "I have been elected an honorary member of the class of '94," said Mr. Clemens. "I fool deeply grateful to my fellow-classmate's for" llio compliment they have done mo, the more so because I feel I have never deserved such treatment. I will'reveal a secret to you. I have an ambition; that I may go up and up ou the ladder of education until at last I may l,ie a professor of telling anecdotes. 'This art is not a very-high one, but it is a Very useful one.. One class of anecdotes'is that wliich contains only words. You begin almost as you please and tali and talk until your allotted time and close when you gel ready. Pwill illustrate this by a story of an Irish and Scotch christening, "in this Scotch- Irish village a child had been born and a largo number of. friends had collected to see-it christened. The minister, thinking this a good opportunity for displaying his oratorical-powers; took the baby by his hand, saying: -He is'a little follow, yes, a.little fellow, and aa 1 look in your faces I see an expression, of scorn which suggests that you despise him, But if you had the soul of a poet and the gift of prophecy i you would not despise him. You would look far into the future and see what it might be. Consider how small, the acorn is from which grows the mtehtv oak. So this little child may | e a great poet aud write tragedies, or"a great statesman, or perhaps a future warrior wading in blood to his neck? he may be—or—what is his nauioP Hia name, oh, isMary W" 1 — PhUadelphia, Women ase excluded from the gal, lenos of the Japanese parliament because, as a Japanese newspaper says, they miglu be moved by the debates 1)oliliceul State BeU of a King. The stale bed of Sobieski, kin" of Poland, was -made of Smyrna S 0 ?d braid, embroidered in turquoises l\th verses from the koron. Iu wpp5r& were of silver gilt, beautifull'v Bed und proiusely sut with enameled and jeweled medallions. U had been taken irom the Turkish camp before ' Vl2m. irls The Indian. /--/I

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