SISYPHUS.
The flush of ti;e dawning day
SU'als up o'er tlie brow of night-
The wood-thrush's tender lay
Is the echo of lost delight.
8Iave to a merc'less cod';,
Atrain up thi toilsome road
I roll ihc b;.rdeu of pain
Numbing my heart and brain.
"While ti e clank of my cruel chain
Ri-es, a sad refrain,
To the gods in the r blest aboric.
Eoupe, heart! the sunl'ght falls
In a scintilhmt. golden shower;
'the fccnt of leal and flower
The radiance lhat enthralls,
The gods' best gifis to men,
They all are mine agaiu.
He only is sen ile slave
Who diggeth for Hope a grave;
Who weais as a jewel rare
His burden of loll and care,
Who meets defeat with a song,
Who suffers and still is strong,
Oulwitteth the fund Despair.
Throb on, oh dauntiesi heart!
Wake birds with jubilant voice !
Thou sorrowing earth rejoice !
Crush back the tears that 6tart!
Freed from burden and chain
In my strength I shall rise again
Where the billows of silence roll;
By the hope in my inmost soul
At last I shall reach the goal :
Where the palm of viclorv nods
That stands in the holy place,
I shall meet the fateful gods
And brave them face to face !
Sarah D. Hobart, in The Current.
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE.
She was one of those beautiful girls,
born as if by mistake of destiny, into a
family of laborers. She had no dowry,
no prospects, no way of becoming
known, loved, and married by a rich
.and distinguished man; and she gave
her hand to a petty clerk of the Bureau
of Public Instruction.
She was as wretched as a disinherited
princess. A woman's beauty and
grace take the place of birth and fam
ily. Her native refinement, her in
stinct for elegance, her facile wit, are
the seal of royalty, and make a daugh
ter of the people equal with the great
est lady.
She suffered constantly from the
wretchedness of her abode, the bare
ness of its walls, the age and ugliness
of its furnishings. She dreamed of si
lent ante-chambers, hung with Orien
tal stud's and lighted with lofty bronze
lamps; of great drawing-rooms draped
with ancient silks, and of coquettish,
perfumed little parlors, for long and
intimate talks with close friends.
When she sat before the round table,
covered with a thrice-used cloth, oppo
site her husband, who uncovered the
soup-tureen with the delighted excla
mation, "Ah, good soup! there is noth
ing better!" she thought of delicate
dinners, of gleaming plate, of tapes
tries to people the walls with ancient
.personages and strange birds in the
depth of enchanted forests; she
thought of whispered gallentries re
ceived with a mysterious smile, while
the fair listener partook of the rosy
flesh of a trout or a wood-hen's wing.
She had no dresses, no jewels, noth
ing; and that was all she cared for
all she was made for. She had no ir
resistable longing to charm, to be en
Tied, and admired, and courted. She
spent days in weeping with regret and
despair.
One evening her husband came
home with a proud look bearing an in
vitation to a ball at the residence of
the Minister of Public Instruction.
Instead of being delighted, as he
had hoped, she threw the invitation
spitefully to the floor, murmuring:
"What do you expect me to do with
it?"
"Why, my dear, I thought you
would be pleased. You never go out,
and this will be a fine opportunity. I
have been at infinite pains to get it."
She looked at him with irritation,
and demanded impatiently:
"What do you expect me to put on
my back?"
'He had not thought of that. He
stammered:
"Why, the dress you wore to
the theater. It looks very well to
me "
He stopped, stupefied, overwhelmed,
at seeing his wife in tears. Two
great drops rolled slowly from the
corners of her eyes to the corners of
her mouth.
"What is the matter, dear!"' he
-began.
But by a desperate effort she
-overcame her distress and an
swered calmly, as she wiped her wet
cheeks:
"Nothing. Only, I have no dress,
and, consequently, 1 cannnot go to
the ball. Give " the card to some
friend whose wife is better fitted out
than L"
He was in despair. He tried once
'.more:
"Let us see, Matbilde. How much
would a suitable dress cost; something
simplo, which would be useful to you
-on other occasions?"
She reflected a few seconds, count
ing up the sum, taking also into the
-question the amount which she could
ask for without calling forth an im
mediate refusal from ner economical
husband.
At last she replied, hesitatingly:
'I cannot tell exactly, but it seems
to me that I could get along with 400
; francs."
He turned quite pale, for he had
-saved just that sum, intending to buy a
.gun and join some hunting parties the
follow Lag summer. He replied, how
. ever:
"Very well, I will give you 400
francs. But you must get a handsome
dress.
m
The day of the ball drew near and
Matbilde seemed sad and anxious. She
itad not been like herself for
i three days. To her husband's in-
quiry as to what troubled her she
. replied:
-I have no jewels, not a single stone
to wear. I shall make a very mean ap
tpearance. I had almost rather not go
at all."
But he exclaimed:
"How foolish vou are! Go to your
friend. Mme. Forestier, and ask her
to lend you some jewels. iou
: are quite intimate enough with her to
.do that"
The next day accordingly, she told
her perplexity to her friend.
Mme. iorestier brought a large case
from her cabinet, and told Mathilde to
take her choice.
She looked at bracelets, at a
pearl necklace, and a Venetian
cross. She tried on the jewels be
fore the mirror, and could not make
up her mind to give them up. She kept
asking:
"Have you not something else?"
Suddenly she discovered in a black
satin box, a magnificent chain of dia
monds, and her heart began to beat
with immoderate desire. She seized
it with trembling hands. She clasped
it around her throat, over her high
dress, and looked at herself in ecsta
cy. Then s-he asked, hesitating, full
of trouble :
"Can you lend me that, only that?"
"Why, yes; certainly."
She rushed to her friend, embraced
her passionately, then bore her treas
ure away.
'
At the ball Mathilde was prettier
than all the others, elegant, smiling,
and intoxicated with pleasure. All
the men looked at her, asking her
name, and begged to be presented to
her. She danced with abandon, in the
freshness of her beauty, in a sort of
cloud of happiness.
She left about 4 o'clock in the morn
ing. Her husband threw over her
shoulders the wraps he had brought,
modest garments of every-day life,
which assorted but poorly with the el
egance of her ball toilet. She felt
this, and wished to escape without be
ing noticed by the other ladies, who
were wrapping themselves in rich furs.
Her husband tried to restrain her, but
she was already descending the stairs.
When they came into the street no
carriages were visible. They walked
shivering toward the Seine. At last
they found upon the wharf one of
those old coupes, seen only after
nightfall in Paris. It brought them to
their own door, and they entered
gloomily. For her it was all ended.
He was thinking that he must be at
his desk at 10 oclock.
She took the wrappings from her
shoulders before her mirror, that she
might see herself once more in her
glory. Suddenly she gave a cry :ind
turned to her husband in distraction.
There was no necklace about her
neck.
They looked in the folds of her
dress and cloak, in her pockets, every
where. They did not find it.
"You are sure you had it when vou
left the ball?" he asked.
"Yes; I had my hand on it in the
vestibule."
"If you had dropped it in the street
we would have heard it fall. It must
be in the cab. "
"Yes, that is most likely. Did you
take the number?"
"No; didn't you notice it?"
"No."
They looked at each other in con
sternation and Leoisel began to dress.
"I will go over the whole distance
we walked," said he, "to see if I can
find it."
He went out. She sank into a chair
and remained there in evening dress,
without fire, without strength to go to
bed.
Her husband returned about 7
o'clock. He had found nothing.
He went out again, and she waited
all day in the same state of terror be
fore this fearful disaster.
Leoisel returned at night with a
pale and hollow face. He had found
nothing.
"You must write to your friend,"
said he, "that you have broken the
clasp of the necklace and have sent it
to be repaired. That will give us
time to turn around."
At the end of a week they had lost
all hope. Leoisel, looking five years
o'der, declared:
"We must contrive to replace the
necklace."
The next day they took the box
which had contained it, and went
from shop to shop, ill with chagrin and
anxiety, looking for a necklace like
the lost one. They found, at length,
a chaplet of diamonds which appear
ed to them exactly what they wanted,
It was worth 34,000 francs. They
begged the jeweler not to sell it for
three days, and made the condition
that it should be taken back if the lost
one should have been found before the
end of February Leoisel's father had
left him 18,000 francs. The rest he
would have to borrow. He obtained
1,000 francs from one man and 500
from another, 5 louis here and 3 louis
there, he incurred ruinous obligations
with the whole race of usurers. He
risked his signature without the least
idea whether he would be able to hon
or it; and oppressed by anguish in
view of the future, by the black pover
ty he saw settling down upon them,
by the prospect of physical privations
and mental tortures, he called for the
new necklace, counting out to the
merchant 34,000 francs.
When Mme. Leoisel took the neck
lace to Mme. Forestier the latter said
with annoyance:
"You ought to have returned it
sooner; I might have wanted it.
But she did not open the casket.
Mathilde now became acquainted
with the life of the necessitous. She
took up her share of the burden hero
ically. She was going to help pay this
frightful debt. She dismissed her ser
vant and changed her lodgings for an
attic. She learned to perform the
coarse and odious tasks of the kitchen.
She washed the dishes, and wore her
rosv nails to the quick on the bottoms
of "greasy kettles. She washed the
soiled linen and dried it on a cord at
the window. She carried the ashes
and sweepings to the street every
morning, and carried up water, stop
ping at each landing of the stairs to
breathe. She went to the grocer and
the butcher, her basket on her arm,
defending her miserable money, sou
by sou.
Her husband worked evenings.clear
ing a merchant's account, and often
did copying at live sous a page.
This life lasted ten years. At the
end of that time they had paid all,
with accumulated interest.
Mathilde looked old. She had be
come the rude, strong, hardened
woman of the poor, with unkempt
hair, rough hands, and gown awry.
She talked loud and scrubbed the
floors with great splashing of water.
But at times, when her hnsband was
out, she sat before the window and
dreamed of that ball, so long ago.
where she had been so lovely and sc
admired.
What would she have been had she
not lost her necklace? Who can tell?
How small a thing can make or mar a
destiny!
One Sunday, as she was taking a
quiet stroll, she noticed a lady leading
a child. It was Madame Forestier,
still young and lovely. Should she
speak to her? Yes; certainly. And
since it was all paid she would tell her
the whole story. She drew near.
"Good day, Jeanne!"
But the other was astonished to be
so familiarly addressed by a peasant
woman, stammered:
"Why! Madame ,1 do not know
You must be mistaken."
"No; I am Mathilde Leoisel."
Her friend uttered a cry.
"Oh! my poor Mathilde ! how you
are changed!"
"Yes: I have seen harddays since I
met you last, and many privations
and all because of you."
"Because of me! How so, pray?"
"Do you remember the diamond
necklace vou lent me to wear to the
ball? We'll, I lost it."
"Lost it! Why, you brought it back
to me."
"I brought you back another just
like it. We have been ten years pay
ing for it. You can see that it was
not easy for us who had nothing. It
is all over at last, and I am in a meas
ure content."
You bought a necklace to replace
mine?"
"Yes. You didn't notice it, did
you? They were just alike."
Mme. Forestier seized both hei
hands with much emotion.
"Oh, my poor Mathilde! Mine were
false. They wer worth at the most
500 francs." Inter-Ocean.
A QUEER CLIENT.
Cowboy Fun.
"I shall never forget an experience
of mine in Montana a little over two
years ago," said Brakeman Schultz, of
the Northern Pacific. "There were
Andrews, the conductor; Wylie, the
engineer; Colby, the fireman, and my
self running No. 3 passenger on the
Montana division, and one night
about dark we were getting out of
Miles City, when a red light was seen
by the engineer, and he stopped the
train. Just as it stopped about a doz
en cowboys, togged up in full uniform,
each with a brace of revolvers in his
belt, got into the coaches, while a few
more guarded the engine. 1 knew
trouble was coming as soon as I saw
them get on, and I took a seat anions
the passengers. The conductor did
not appear at first to realize that any
thing was wrong, but went to the for
ward part of the coach, when half a
dozen of the buckskin-clad boys grab
bed him and set him upon the coal
box. He protested, but the boys paid
no attention other than to tell him not
to move a finger, as they were going
to shoot the lieels of his boots off. I
rather enjoyed the fun, though I lay
mighty close, fearing that they would
notice me, but they didn't before the
conductor was short the heels of his
boots. He was white as a stowflake,
but he held up bravely, fearing a mis
calculated shot. Then they caught
me and tied me and a passenger back
to back and set us over a seat, and
then commenced betting among them
selves which would pull the other
over. The stakes were put up, and
then two of them got prongs and be
gan touching us up with them. The
fellow I had pitted against me was a
Swede, and neither of us had any show
to pull the other over; then I resorted
to a stratagem, and when they gave
the Swede a prong and he jumped
about a foot, I pulled hard and he
came flying over the seat, and went so
far over that he nearly broke my
back. We were loosened then, and
they took the Swede's boots off and
stood him on his head, and then played
the bastinado on the soles of his feet.
Well, you'd died laughing to hear that
poor fellow bellow, entreat, pray, and
cuss those cowboys, and, although my
legs were smarting from some dances
I got, i just roared. After they had
done enough mischief they shot out
the lights, and left the train." St
Paul Globe.
Young Married People.
"Drive gentlv over the stones!"
This piece of advice, which is frequent
ly given to inexperienced whips, may
be respectfully suggested to the newly
married. There are stony places on
the road to happiness, which, if not
carefully driven over, may upset the
domestic coach. The first rock ahead
which should be marked "danger
ous," is the first year of married life.
Here, especially, it is the first step
that costs; as a rule, the first year
either mars or makes a marriage.
During this period errors may be com
mitted which will cast a shadow over
every year that follows.
On awakening suddenly from sleep
we feel put but and rather cross.
May not the young husband and wife
experience feelings not entirely differ
ent when they awake to reality from
the dreams of courtship and the fas
cination of the honeymoon? Every
thing most once more be contem
plated after the ordinary manner of
the world, once more '.with subdued
feelings spoken of, considered and
settled. For the first time husband
and .wife see each other as they
actually are. Each brings certain pe
culiarities into the married state to
which the other has to grow accus
tomed. They have now to live no
longer for themselves, but for each
other, and the lesson is not learned in
a moment. In all things indifferent
the husband and wife must be willing
to yield, however new it may be to
them, however different from what
they themselves thought. Self must
be sacrificed in order thereby to gain
the help of another beloved existence.
A lady once asked Dr. Johnson how
in his dictionary he came to define
"pastern," the knee of a horse. He
immediately answered, "Ignorance,
madam, pure ignorance." This is the
simple explanation of many an acci
dent that takes place at the com
mencement of the matrimonial jour
ney. The young couple have not yet
learned the dangerous places of the
road, and, as a consequence, they
drive carelessly ovor them. Tin. I
Quiver. i
1 Practical Common-Hcnse Man Suddenly De
veloping Amazing Freaks.
Among the brilliant army of coun
sel which Col. Rogers, whose unsettled
mental condition recently got him into
trouble with a Staten island hotel
keeper, had called to his relief, was
Ira D. Warren. The colonel fancied
that a great many people were earn
estly engaged in doing him serious
injury, and had intrusted a variety of
litigation to Mr. Warren, Clark Bell,
Roscoe Conkling, Lucas L. Van Allen,
and others. In regard to this remark
able case of dementia, Mr. Warren,
said:
"The case of Col. Rogers is nothing
to the extraordinary insanity that be
fell a client of mine some years ago.
He came of a fine family, and was
well known about town. He was quite
as much my friend as my client. I
knew him and all his family intimate
ly. His affairs had been in my hands
nearly twenty "years, and during all
that while I knew him as one of the
most practical, common-sense men I
had ever met. Indeed, he was the
embodiment of vigorous and robust
manhood.
"One day he came into my office and
told me he had contracted to purchase
ten houses. I thought I knew his
financial condition almost to a dollar,
and I was surprised at the announce
ment, for I did not see how in the
world he could carry it out. He spoke
very aecisively, however, and as he
did not seem disposed to confide his
plan to me I assumed that he had got
hold of some money somehow or other,
and knew what he was about. He
wanted me to search the titles of the
property that he intended to buy, and
added that the men would be in my
office at noon the next day to sign the
agreement of purchase. Sure enough,
at noon, they were on hand, and ac
cording to his instructions I drew up
the papers for both of the contracting
parties to sign. Then to my infinite
astonishment, he said he was going to
pay $5,000 down on the bargain.
" 'This is absurd,' I said. -It will
take me a week to look up those titles,
and these people are strangers to us.
What if the titles are not good?'
"O never mind that,' he answered,
indifferently; 'they're all right. Be
sides, I have plenty of money, lots of
it, oceans, more than 1 know what to
do with. Pay up, pay up.'
"I knew that this was all nonsense,
but I supposed that he had his reasons
for wishing to impress the men with
his presumed wealth, so I said no
more but reluctantly gave them his
cheek. A day or so afterward he re
returned and said briskly, Warren, do
you want to make a fortune?'
"'How?' I asked.
" 'I'll let you into it,' he said. 'I
have arranged to buy all the lots in
Central park from Fifth avenue to
Eighth avenue up to Seventieth street,
and I'm going to erect a building on
them thirty stories high.'
"I looked intently at him as he
made this bewildering proposition.
His face was as straight and as seri
aus as if he were considering to buy
a simple building lot in Harlem. I
was forced to believe that he was se
rious, and, consequently, that his
mind was disturbed. So I answered
that I thought well of his plan, and
would see what money I could raise to
carry it out. 'But just now,' I added,
I'm a little short, ana should like to
borrow a few thousands of you. How
much have you on hand?'
" 'Half a million,' he answered as
coolly as could be. I knew well
enough what he had, and asked for
$10,000. This, I knew, would not
leave him more than $100 in cash. He
gave me his check and left the office,
and within five minutes 1 had it certi
fied and secure. I then wrote his
wife, and her reply was convincing
that he was clearly insane, his mania
being that he was immensely rich. A
day or two later he came into my of
fice in company with another man
whom I recognized as a picture-dealer.
Then, for the first time, I saw
symptoms of insanity in his face. His
eyes were wild and bloodshot, and his
features contorted, as if in rage. I
immediately concluded that we were
to have a live time over that $10,000,
and quickly rose to my feet to prepare
for it.
"He walked rapidly up to me,
grasped my hand, pulling me toward
him. whispered 'Old man, lend me
$500 till to-morow?'
"I wasn't prepared for that, and
hardly knew what to say, but reach
ing into my safe took out an old check
book, long since disused, and point
ing to a stub that showed a balance
in bank of less than $100, I answered:
'Does that look as if I could?'
" 'No,' he replied, 'it don't and
wheeling around, he darted out of the
office as suddenly as he had come in.
"The picture-seller remained, and I
asked him what all this meant. He
answered that my client had bought a
cart-load of chromos of him to be sent
to his friends. I told him he baa bet
ter keep his chromos. In a week my
client became violently insane, and we
removed him to Dr. Barstovv's asylum
in Flushing, where he died only a few
weeks later. We found that he had
been buying jewelry, diamonds, pic
tures, bronzes, houses, and any vari
ety of things, all of which we re
turned upon slight compromises. My
action in obtaining that $10,000 check
saved his family from poverty. But
what a remarkable case of sudden and
inexplicable insanity!" New York
Tribune.
Six Millions Gone iu Smoke.
Of late years the impression has
been gaining ground that the old-time
celebration of the Fourth of July was
falling into desuetude, and that in the
not-distant future the bonfires, fire
works, and other accessories of the
day would be given up. A visit to the
various manufacturers tends to dispel
the delusion that firework on the
Fourth are going owt of date.
"The fireworks season," said a lead
ing dealer yesterday, "begins early in
February, when the far w:est sends in
its orders. The factories are busy
with these until early in the spring,
when the states east of the Mississippi
begin to stock up. It is a curious fact
that, although the north, from Maine
o California, lays in a full stock to
blow up on the Fourth, not a dollar is
spent by the people south of the Po
tomac and Ohio rivers. They use
them only on Christmas day. The
demand for all kinds of goods fell off
rapidly, for two or three years after
the Centennial, but for the past five
years it has steadily increased, and
this year I think will show a general
increase all over the country. 1 don't
believe that there was ever before so
many fire crackors exploded as on
Saturday. From all the data obtain
able 1 should say that there were dis
tributed over the country over 500,
000 boxes, worth about S500.000. Then
the big crackers, which have risen
rapidly to favor, have been more ex
tensively sold than at any other time,
the patriotism of the young men who
are too old for the old-time fire crack
er expending itself in producing the
unearthly din these big crackers make.
Of course I judge at least $500,000
more were blown into smoke and frag
ments on the Fourth.
"The fireworks manufactures do
their best to discourage the consump
tion of firecrackers, but the youug peo
ple appear to have renewed the loyalty
to these time-honored explosives, and.
our opposition seems to have made
but little headway. The fireworks
now mostly in demand are of a kind
decide .Uy superior to those mostly iu
vogue in the past, and the demand for
them is not by any means confined to
the big cities, but Oregon and Mon
tana want just as good fire goods as
we can make. Of these, rockets,
Roman candles, and the various col
ored lires have struck popular fancy.
There have been sold this vear, I
think, fully $5,000,000 worth of these
for consumption on the Fourth alone,
so that Saturday witnessed the disap
pearance of fully $6,000,000 in smoke
as an evidence of tiie patriotic feelings
of the country north of the Ohio river.
"This does not include the new
fangled Japanese fireworks, which are
now extensively used for daylight ex
hibitions. Every visitor of a country
fair now thinks the show lacking if the
committee does not set off between
each heat of the races a lot of these
Japanese constructions. Their use,
however, is almost entirely coufined to
such occasions. But few are sold for
the Fourth, as the celebrating patriot
of to-day, like his predecessors of old,
wants just as much noise as possible
by day and just as handsome a show
by night as money will buy." New
York Times.
Til? Increase of Profanity.
It seems as if this increase were cor
respondent with the general spread of
intelligence, the distribution of wealth,
the increase in the number of grad
uates of the public schools, the gener
al expansion and activity of the people.
It is certainly in many individual
cases the inevitable concomitant of the
imperious instinct of expression and
selt-assertion. This instinct is becom
ing more and more developed in an
entire class of our people, who are be
ginning to feel the effects of civiliza
tion, of increased population, and of
social propinquity. Whereas once
they were few in number, under the
necessity of hard work and wholly
unoccupied with the thought of amuse
ment, they are now numerous, well-to-do,
moie or iess gay, and they
accordingly feel in its fullest measure
the workings of the great instincts of
expansion. Accordingly they have
"begun to curse and to swear" like
Peter when he felt himself an imper
ious desire to say a great deal and
really had nothing to say. With a
great many, perhaps with most swear
ers profanity simply means the arti
culate expressioa of thought or emo
tion. For people whose powers of
expression are slight, who have only
recently come to feel the need of any,
profanity has the attraction of seeming
to be very expressive. We shall
never as a nation, swear any less un
til our society in general insists more
on adequacy and accuracy of expres
sion and definitely makes up its mind
what is mere interactional exuber
ance and what is grossly indecent.
Philadelphia Press.
An Angel Rat-Catcher.
There is at present in the county
hospital a professional rat-catcher,
named Angel. He is a half-witted,
low-browed fellow, and his looks indi
cate that he is anything but what his
name would imply. As a rat-catcher,
he is a success, and late yesterday af
ternoon he gave an exhibition of his
powers that was simply wonderful.
Several of the best rat terriers in the
city were procured, and against these
Angel was pitted. The first exhibi
tion of his beastly work was at the
hospital, where twenty-five rodents
were dispatched. Angel killing a ma
jority. The party then went over to
Gerber Brothers' slaughter-house,
where the "game" was found to be
more plentiful. The rodents had con
gregated by the score under bales of
hay. and the exciting contest was kept
up for over an hour. The dogs and
man would gather about a bale, some
one would give the hay a sudden tip,
and the rat-catchers would rush in.
Angel, with the rapidity of lightning,
would grasp a rat with his left hand,
and with his right gave the rodent's
head a quick twist that would break
its neck instantly. At other times he
would grasp a rat in each hand, dash
them together, and both would fall to
the ground lifeless. Over one hund
red were killed here, and Angel killed
two to the dog's one. Prior to Angel
going to the hospital, he gained a liv
ing solely by killing rats, and on one
occasion slaughtered forty-five in one
hour in the basement of a K street
establishment. S'teramenlo Record
Union. Lccy Larcom recently lectured in
her native town, Lowell, Mass., on
her lite and the life of all mill girls
thirty or forty years ago, when she
worked twelve hours a day and edited
Tlie Operatives'1 Magazine in her "leis
ure hours."
A Toronto psper has printed twenty-five
and a quarter columns of a speech by a mem
ber of Parliament. This will make our con
gressmen restive. The Toronto paper should
be remonstrated with.
In an address to young men. Dr. W. Pratt,
of London, says that married life is by far
the most healthy.
The Perfect Bartender.
A gentleman whose nose had the
ruddy hue which is sometimes ascribed
to the lavish absorption of spirits lean
ed familiarly over the bar of an up
town cafe as he said:
"Perfect bartenders are rare. It
takes as much genius to run a bar
satisfactorily as it does to become a
lawyer. Of course, I do not say what
kind of a lawyer, but I will say a fair
ly good lawyer. This is a busy age
we live in, and men do not rke to take
unnecessary trouble. I have often
noticed a crowd of men who walked
into a barroom chatting agreeably,
and who have been utterly broken up
andknocked endwise by the questions
of a stupid bartender. Right in the
midst of a good story, or just as the
point of some good anecdote has been
arrived at, the stupid bartender gets
the orders mixed up and has to ask
everybody over again or forgets what
you ordered. He interrups you without
the slightest compunction of con
science, and the whole of your story
is knocked in the head. He never
remembers the sort of drink you like,
forgets your name, gives you Vichy
instead of seltzer to mix with your
liquor, and makes you feel under cer
tain restraint while you are near him.
He is almost as bad" as the very flip
pant bartender, who places his knuc
kles.on the bar, leans forward, smiles
sweetly, and says, 'Whats your pleas
ure, gentlemen?' before you have had
time to draw your breath or come to
a full stop.
"I tell you a good bartender is a
jewel. The best one I ever knew retired
from business with an independent
fortune. He has gone oves to Europe
to see the country, and will keep his
eye peeied, and if any large opportuni
ty is floating around loose there lie
can be depended upon to gather it !n.
There are a great many men who con
sider drinking worthy of culture and
intelligent study, just as a great many
epicures cease eating oysters and take
to eating clams on the 1st of June.
They drop whisky cocktails on the 1st
of June and Uike to whisky punches.
This perfect bartender of whom I
speak had heard me remark about
Christmas time he was then keeping
bar in a well-known tip-town hotel
that it was my custom to change my
drinks on the 1st of June, just as it was
other men's custom to go from oysters
to clams; and when 1 walked in on the
1st of the month of roses 1 was startled
and pleased to have him put up a whis
kv punch on the bar instead of the
hotter concoction. This was many
years ago, but 1 knew then that that
man would succeed. He was quiet,
gentlemanly, and never forgot a name,
and hung up drinks with such defer
ence and respect that even pronounced
beats made it a point to pay him They
did not humiliate bartenders in those
days with any of these patent, bell
ringing, self-checking, automatic de
tectors, and we all rejoiced to see
Billy start a place of his own before
he had been iu the business two years.
Until he gave up the business he al
ways worked behind the bar. 1 don't
think this is because he distrusted any
of his bartenders, but because he
thought so much of having his custom
ers well served that he could net de
pend upon any one but himself." New
York Sun.
Preserved Walnuts.
Preserved walnuts are delicious, and
well repay the trouble of preparing
them. The nuts should be gathered
before the end of June, and must be
without the inner shell and free from
spots. There is an old saying that
nuts gathered on St. John's day, June
24, will be in prime condition. For
each pound of walnuts take one pound
of sugar, some cloves, and cinnamon.
Prick the nuts with a sharp wooden
skewer in several places; lay them in
a large bowl and cover them with fresh
water, which must be changed three
times a day; leave them in the water
for fourteen days. At the end of this
time cook them quite soft, changing
the water once; let them remain in
cold water over night, and the next
morning let them drain thoroughly by
placing them on a sieve. In one side
of each nut stick a clove without the
blossom, and in the othr a piece of
cinnamon. Then clarify the sugar in
this way: To each pound of sugar add
a gill of water and cook until quite
clear, taking off any scum that may
form; for each pound of sugar add
the juice of one lemon; then boil the
nuts for a few moments in the sugar.
Let the nuts lemain in the sirup for
three days, and then pour off the sirup
and boil it for five minutes. Put the
nuts in jars and pour the sirup, cold,
over them. Should bits of the shell
separate from the nuts strain the sirup
before the second boiling, so that it
may be perfectly clear, although no
harm is done by leaving the bits in.
New York Gymmercial Advertiser.
A File Wanted.
Hn had a wizz-wazzv. eo-as-vou-
nlaaan ctait as h Annroached a citizen
standing in the door of a drug store.
and he took on nis nar ana maue an
old-fashioned "kerchy" before asking:
"Say, be you a lawyer?"
"Well, I know something of law!"
"Say, then you can help me out. I
was out last night. Indeed, I'm out
yet."
"Been on a spree?"
"K'rect. Just sobering off to go
home. When I git there she'll say
I've bin off'n a tear and she'll jaw and
file a dozen affidavits."
"Who? Your wife?"
"Of course. Say. I, want to file
something. I don't know what you
call it, but a lawyer ought to know.
Suppose I said you was a thief? What
would you do?
'Punch your head."
"No! not What would you do in
law?,'
"File a general denial."
"K'reet, again! That's exactly
what I want. She'll roar and take on.
and I'll tile a general denial and plead
privilege on facts. That's what I was
after that's what'll humble her in no
time. Say have sunthin'?"
"No."
"All right just the same. Let's
see. General denial, and the burden
of proof is on her. Jury trial verdict
of not guilty, and 1 come out
whiter'n a spring lamb. Awl right
much obieeged hie a long,''
Detroit Free Press.