TOLL'VER'S NELL.
Sho's n llttlo mlto o' croetur,
llnr'ly linco high tor a iluolc,
Hut tor sight neuter, owector
Fnco hni nevor been my luck.
Hn'r n mtclillin' norrcl color,
Y.vck tliat roalco thu shy look dullor;
"Thct's her stylo and suit mo woll
Kz tho rest o' Toll'ver's Noll.
l,nws! ftho woulitn' rach my shouldor,
Boosted upon tippy-toe!
Yet I feel er rlstht smurt bolder
Wen she nln't so vo'y close.
. Cur'us thot n got sh'u' dnzo mo,
Won no man cr beast kin fnzo mol
""Peers llko Its a k'nd o' spell
t No ono lies 'cep Toll'ver's Nctl.
V 1 nm not much U9C" ter takln'
Any word off any tnan:
Hut I sot plu" " scart an' shakln'
' Won slic caslon'ly boz; "I)anl
Itow long 'foro ye'll'low It's truo
, Thot I ho v no uo for you t"
Sho's n master hand to toll
Cuttln' things, is Toll'ver's Noll.
Thar bo men 'ud git orfandod
Hy sech plaln-out talk, yo sayf
1 Woll, It 'pears cz of I'm londod
V Strcn'th tor stan' It thls-a-way;
Tor I'm boun' ter stick till sho
Takes mo tor Rlt shot o' mo;
To kin wear out any gel,
Tho shu's sot as Toll'vor's Noll I
Era Wilier Mctllauon, in Tid-nUtt
MR. CLOVIStt'S GIFT.
Tho Thanksgiving It Mado in tho
Deacon's Houao.
Two smiling middle-ngnd faces
looked nt ono another across llio libra
ry table. Mr. Clover win recounting
lo lils wifi tho prospects of success
that had opuned in his business this
fall. "Yes, my dour," ho said. "wo
must do something unusual hy way of
n Tlnviksivliifr offering this your.
What nhall il b ?"
II w much shall it ho? lirst," said
Mrs. Cover.
"Woll, say a thousand; weeansparo
it as woll as not."
,"1 know what I'd llko lo do havo
tho church ro-frosoood and soino now
carpets put in. That stained ceiling
mid that worn path up tho contor aislo
do distress inc."
Kcry llting in Mrs. Clover's house
ivas fresh a id shining. Her eyos were
spoiled at homo for shabhy things
abroad.
"Woll. I'd likn to hoaulify the
church." said Mr. Ciovor. I'll speak
to some of tho coininllteo after prayor
moiting and toll lltoin what wo pro
pose." "Will (hoy lot us?"
4Lil II-? " Well, I guess so."
"And let us havo some choice about
colors and carpets, I hope?"
"O i, you'll see; you'll have it all
your own way."
Mrs. Ciovor looked beaming. In
fact, two vorv happy people went lo
jiritver-meetlng that night.
"Nice folks." said Kboni..: r Grist,
the sexton, as hosawthoin pass nptho
jiislo; "but sometime there's a loello
of (he 'strut and crow' about 'inn,
loo!"
Indeed, good Mr. Clover was that
mlniilo nuHlllating a Utile Thanksgiv
ing speech In tho mooting, which per
haps might haVo had tho echo of tho
"crow" only too audible in II for cap
tious oars.
Hut tho speech never was mado; for
ho had not been live minutes in moot
ing before there oamo some words out
of tho Now Testament, which soeincd
to pull his heart right down from lis
place of j ibllatiou and stick il full of
thorns. A shadow foil over his ruddy
face, and his wife, who did not In the
least, understand it. immediately co
llected It in her own.
The words which had this unhappy
Effect were llicsn:
"Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to
the altar, and (hero rememberest. that
thy brother hath aught against thee,
leave there thy gift before the altar,
and go thy wnv; lit"- I be reconciled to
ihv brrthor, ami then (tome ami oiler
thy gifi."
Ami there sat, across (he aisle,
nearer the door, but still within reach
of every uuousv side glano '. a brother
who had something agai ist Mr. Clover.
It wits oulv poor old D.taeon S moil.
His face was thin and severe; his hands
shook; his hair w as white; his clothes
were shabby. II t ha I Icon made dea
con because of lil- burning .gal; but
the s 'verity of his spirit had not made
him popular in the church, lie was
often el odils with his brethren. He
o'Utcd heresy In every broey. lie
mourned wr a church whoso mem
bers Huuetimes allowol dancing and
i-sird-playlng in their homes, and evou
took drives on tho Sabbath. Pour
Deacon Simon, who often stood atone
testify lug for old wavs of righteous
ness, and whose sensitive spirit was
so r.miicd by the Indill'erenco with
which his testimony was received!
duly last month he had objected to
ti children's October Sunday where
there should be autumn loaves and
kindred frivolities brought Into
t'lturch. Then llrolher Clover, who
looked so good-natured, but had
u choleric temper of his own
upon occasions, had tired up and
spoken Iiimty words to the good doa
noi, words as rude as a blow. They
had b 'en received in slloium; they had
novel been upnlogivswd for; ihoro had
buon liltle inli icoiirse butwuou tho
two inc'lnilCC.
"I won't apologise. " said Mr,
Ciovr now to himself. "I tulU him
i he iriitli. a. id nothing cite would
have slopped hio talk, ami nerved our
turn."
"If thy brother hath aught against
tlu.,." luinimud tho uuwelooiue words
in his mind. ,
Ho ns going to spoil a good thing.
Wc couldn't stir hand or foot In tltia
chuiuh If somebody illdu't pin down
Ids dniulnuorlug spirit. I'm Kind I
did II."
"If thy brother hiith aught against
thee" repeated tho echo.
"Jlu'd no business U luy It up
against mcl Ho ought to thank ino
for tolling him tho downright truth."
"L-nvo thcro thy gift before tho
altar" ropoatcd momory again.
"Stop a good thing hccatiso I" don't
ploaso an old curmudgeon llko that I"
"F.rst ho reconciled w.lth thy broth
or" sang tho inexorable verse.
"There's no such thingl Might as
well try to bo reconciled with an old
boar. There's no use wasting words
with him."
"Thou thou como and offer thy
glfi."
"I'diawl pshaw! What a fool I
am! 1 haven't heard a wo- d Dr. Par
s uis has boon saying. Now who's
going to ofler prayer? D.jarl if il
isn't Simon!"
There wero fow of tho customary
greetings botwoon the Clovers and
thoir neighbors whon tho mooting was
over. Without waiting to sco any
member of tho business committee.
Mr. Ciovor hurried headlong out of
the church. His wifo lost no timo in
asking for an explanation.
"Oh, I'm all upset; I'm such a fool!"
"What Is it?"
II i know ho would havo to toll hor
In tho ond, and besido it was roally a
relief to him to do so. Sho askod somo
close questions. "Tell mo just what
you said," she demanded.
"Well, ho said wo wore just teach
ing tho children to make play out of
worship. That made nn mad, and
says I: 'D.iacou Simon, if you'd been
tlK-re when they brought tho children
for Christ to bless yod'd havo been ono
lo rebuko them in sure as fate' Thai's
j ist vour (-p!rit right through!"
"What did ho say?"
"Not a word; though ho kinder
flushed up. Ciiicss be was mad. You
soe, I was. Tho way I spoko was as
bad as tho words. "
"You've got to ask bis pardon."
"Yes." groaned her husband.
"You might as woll do it now. I'll
go tho rest of the way alone; you go
right back and Hud him."
"It won't he a might of use, Ellen.
Tho niinuto ho hoars of the church be
ing ivdocoralod, ho'll ho mad again.
Ho can't abide any thing now."
Hill you'll have done your duty.
I'd go right o IV."
Mr. Clover turned, slowly but
obediently. There was nothing of tho
"strut" or "crow" in his manner now.
Ho looked quite cowed and humbled.
Doacon Simon lived quite out on the
edge of, thu town. There ho had in
herited a farm and homostoad. He
had toilo.l hard over his stony acres,
and they had yielded him but a scanty
living, yet he was deeply attichedto
the old place, as everybody know.
Mr. Clover was surprised as ho en
tered the old-fashioned hall to find llm
carpet taken up, and only a big pack
ing box ready to be nailed upstanding
Ihoro in place of furniture. Tho par
lor, too. was baiv. except for some
chairs piled up, two-and-two, as if for
removal. O.io of these was gl von him,
and he was asked to wall for a few
moments. Piosonlly, In hoard the
deacon's well-known voice at evening
devotions In tho next room. And
I lies ii were the words that
trembling old voice was speaking;
() Lord. wo thank Theo that
Thou host blessed to us the shelter of
this home so long. Now, go with us. its
we go from hence. Thy will h i done.
O. Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling
place In all In all" and hero there
was a break, and, in the silence, the
sound of a woman sobbing was audi
ble. A new idea broke upon Mr. Clover's
inlml and greatly agitated him. ' Cm
il be thai Martin has foreclosed that
mortgage?" he thought. "Yes, it inusl
lie; I heard the deacon was hard
pressed to raise his interest. Not hint:
else would havo moved him out of his
old place. 1 declare it's too had! It's
awful!"
His errand was forgotten; he was In
a fever of d 'sire to do something help
ful. When Diacoii Simon o line in, he ,
went, toward him with extended hand
and such earnest sympathy In his face
as no troubled hearl could have re
fused. "Brother Simon." he said. "1
hadn't heard when I came, but It's
just roine to mo that you're going to
irlvo no your home."
"Yes; I'm obliged to. It's tho Lord's
will."
Oh. no." said Mr. Clover; "I can't
believe It vol. Wail- wall; I want to
talk to you."
D.'acon Simon drew another chair
from the corner, and sealed himself.
"1 onine." said his visitor, "to ask
your forgiveness for tho riulo way I
spoko at I ho meeting last month. I'm
ashamed that I spoke so; ashamed
thai 1 showed suoh a temper. Do for
give mo!"
The deacon looked bewildered for a
moment, thou he Miomod to. recollect.
Oh, lliat." he said; "I didn't lay it
up against you. I might, perhaps, if
1 hadn't hud so much trouble since;
but oilier things put it. out of my
mind. 1 haven't any thing against
you, brother; I'm tisud to lindiug tho
church folks dill or from mo."
11 1 looked m meek, worn ami patient
the old man who had boon some
times sieru and severe -that Mr.
Clover's heart was broken.
"Tho Lord forgive me!" he nald.
"And nun, too." said obi Simon. "I
know I've been too dorfuuitlo.ll with
in'y Judgment, and tried the brethren.
1 can mo it all, now I'm gohuf to
leave."
"To leave! You don't moan you'ro
golujr to leave llio churehP"
"Why, yes; wj'ro koIuj; up oonutry
to my wlfo' folks, fur u while, at least.
Wo'vo lost our homo horu, you know,
and I don't soo Just how to bogln
again, yul. I'm an old man to bogltt
again."
"Hut wo can't i parol Wo crm'l
spare you out of tho uhuralw Wo
can't pparo you out of tho prayer
meeting." Doacon Simon looked soarchlngly at
Mr. Clover's Honest, earnest face, and
presently tears dimmed his oyos.
"You roally moan it; you'n sayinir
it in oarnesi!" ho said. "Well, thank
the h rd! Seoms to mo now I can go
in peace. I mado sure' overbod v
would ho gl 1 1, and it hurt mo most of
all just now. I I have loved the
church. Nobody prayc I deeper out of
his heart for it than I."
No; and I toll you wo can't spare
such praying; wo won't, cither, if I
can holp it. Ciuie. I .want to talk
this all over. 1'vj gtsoim monov to
Invest. This is the very placo I'vo
bo -n looking for to put it in; near to
the town; rising in tho valuo every
day. Mirtin's going to put it in the
market; I'll buy it from him. if you'll
stay her i and kocp it for mo."
The deacon could not keep the light
from rising i' his face, but ho sal I
stoadih: "Tho farm won't bring you
tho interest of your money. I'vo done
my boston it and I unow."
"Never mind, it'll bo trebled in
nluo in ten years for building lo's,
and besides 'wouldn't it pay if there
was somo capital put in, you know
fertilizers, and now machines?
Wouldn't I llko to try the cxperi
monll Hit I couldn't do it alone.
Won't you s. ay and help mo out in
il?"
Doacon Simon had boon a proud
man. lie had never nsked sympathy
or help in his life. To have them
poured upon him unasked in this hour
of his desolation was vory sweet to
him; swocior than ho had words to
express. His heart clung to the old
placo. Hi could not refuse tho friend
ly oiler thus made to him.
"What a Thanksgiving t his will ho
for us!" ho said, as ho bade his visitor
good night.
"You won't mind. E'.lon," said Mr.
Ciovor to his wifo that night, "if llio
church is not re-decoralod this year,
will you?"
"No," sho roplied "it can spiro
tho pnlnt better than it can Doacon
Simon's pnryers."
"You don't, think I'vo fetched tho
gift off tho altar changing my plan
Willi il?"
"No;" a'id presently sho ropoatcd:
"Inasmuch asyo havo done it unto one
of tho least of theso my brethren, ye
havo douo it unto me." 1. E. Jim-nctl.
AN INCREDIBLE STORY.
A Blory Tliut Diiublii Discounts Klilor
IliiiCijio'il' lrl notions.
1 'The great domiimi at present for im
probable stories loads lo the belief
ibat tho following yarn will bo vory
popular:
It was night.
A horseman slowly wound his wa
at a mad gal'op up tho hill road which
led to Cookport.
A ride of three or four miles brings
him lo his destination in Iwo minutes
and a half.
II i stops bef ro a hiimblo vino-clad
collage, tho palatial marblo rosidenco
of Miss Agatha Hiiugorford Snipps.
Agatha is tho only daughter of hor
narcnts, who manage to liv.i sumptu
ously in hard-working retirement on
an income of lift'.' dollars por year.
Mr. and Mrs. Snipps nro both dead.
Although Agatha is an orphan, she
has been roared to know no want.
Her education was a finished ono fin
ished this very year, in fact; and, in
crodiblo as it may s"om, sho not only
knew as much when sho left collogo as
when she entered il, but she had actu
ally loarnod smoothing.
She hiul learnod that it is not proper
to ask for a second plate of soup un
less she is vorv, very hungry.
"Agatha." said Mrs. Snipps. "who is
thai woman alighiiug at tho galei'
"That woman," observed Mr.Suipps,
without giving Agatha time to reply,
"is Mr. Montgomery Dighy Jonos, and
ho has como to see our Agatha. He
loves her. but he does not like to pro
no o, knowing she is the heiress of
all those vast estate. Ho hesitates of
incuinbir himself with so much prop
erly, as well as with a wife. Hut,
Agatha," turning to the girl, "treat
him well. Ho will make a good sou
in-law."
"The old folks withdrew as Mr,
Jones rang the hell. II was soon
ushered into the parlor where Mil tho
blooming Agatha, a tall, willowy girl
of four feet high and weighing two
hundred and seventy-two pounds ton
ounces.
Agatha and D gby were ongaged.
although tho girl's parent's know It
not.
They had been betrothed for two
da vs.
"Kronlii'," said Digby, as he stopped
within the doorway.
"Howtlv," replied Agatha.
She kept hor seat by tho window
while Digby seated himself across tho
room by the door.
After some desultory conversation
Digbv remarked!
"Agatha, 1 hoar that thov have
funm oxojllont loo croam at Ilrown's
o iiifeotlonory. LjI us go mid got
M.1H."
"No," replied Ajratha, "1 never
ont lea cream. ' lul-lUU.
Far Too Mistrustful.
"What luck did yoti hv at tho
farui-houisur" nakod ono tramp ot ait
other.
Nin nt nil. 'llio woman was too
blamed mistrustful"
How wts ihnl?"
"When I askud her for something to
nut blio al?m mo It i oouui saw wooit
1 told w 1 could."
Yes. whnt then?"
"Why, I'll bo dog-gourd if sho didn't
wnnt w to provo It." Mcrchanl irau
efer.
HIS FIRST WALTZ.
The Maiden Kffort of a Yonnj Man on
tho Light rnntnatlr.
A norular voting business man con
fided tho deta.ls of an amusing though
snmewhat dclicato situation to a re
porter tho other day, and tho latter is
making a base betrayal ot tnnt con
fidence in giving tho story to the pub
lic, but. "murder will out" "It all
camo of my not having learned to
dance," ho began, "ion see, when I
was a kid, and tho girls (my sisters)
went to dancing-school and wero
brought up in tho way they should go,
I did not caro for such things, and
hooted at tho confounded bobbing and
twisting and turning, which even now
seems rather absurd to nie. I volun
tarily left school rather young and
wont into business life, and havo sinco
had neither timo nor inclination for
dancing. As tho girls grow older, wo
had a number of little social hops at
tho house, but I always managed to
got away. I never hail any dtsiro to
dance until tho othor evening. A certain
young lady, whoso black oyos I had
admired from a distance for somo time,
was present at ono of our little gather
ings. I usually managed to got out of
tho way when tho dancing began, but
I was so engaged in conversation with
hor that tho music had struck up be
fore I was aware of it. I lot tho first
danco pass without saying any thing,
but I know my companion was a lino
dancer and vory fond of the amuse
ment. 1 think that tho first danco was
an "octogettc," or somo thing of that
kind, for thcro woro eight people in it.
Whon that was over tho musicians
struck a livclj jinglo which I imagined
I recognized. That is a polka, snro,
thought 1 now is my chance. 'Miss
Dlank,' I said, growing as red as a
tulip, 'my sisters havo often tried to
teach mo to dance, but have given it
up as a hopeloss case. Is is the thing
they arc playing a waltz or a polka,
or a utiruianu mug, or w iniu is
it?' She laughed, but did not an
swer. After tins confession 1 resumed:
Will 'you dare venture a turn?' Sho
was only too ready; sho evidcn.ly did
not know what was beforo her. 1
placed my hand timidly on hor side
and grasped her waist in a vice-like
grip. Then I began the polka to tho
best of my ability, and, to my horror,
sho began to waltz. I tried to wait,
too, but made a dismal failure of it.
Tho room was small and ovorcroded
with dancers, and though our career
was short-lived wo managed to como
into collision with almost every couple
on tlie lloor. My sister rescued her
friend, who took tho matter as good
naturedly as could bo expected with
her torn dress and bumped and
crumpled condit'on generally. 1
sneaked away into otitor darkness, and
hereafter will never attempt to imitate
the 'Heathen Chinee' by playing a
game that I do not understand. I am
a fool and 1 know it, but to have the
fact intimated one, two and three times
a dav for a week by the members ol
one's own familv is not at all consol
ing. Rochester Post-Exp rcss.
A POWERFUL REMEDY.
Why I'ncln John KoIiisim! to Swnlloir Mil
Own Mrdlrlnc.
In the village of O , in Contr.il
New York, lives a sharp-tongued old
bachelor whom I havo known for
twenty-live years as "Uncle .John."
Undo John is something of a character
about town, and not destitute of
Yankee wit and shrewdness. He used
to make and vend in an amateurish
way a certain cough mixture, the mer
its of which he preached to his friends
with great enthusiasm, warranting the
remedy to euro any cold in twenty-four
hours "or no pay." One of his old
friends, whom we will call Ike, being
alllicted with a severo coughing cold,
Uncle .John used his best efforts in
argument, persuasion, and finally vehe
ment and profane scolding, to get him
to try the remedy. Hut Ike could not
be induced to "chance it." Not long
after this Uncle John caught a hard cold
himself, which was accompanied by n
most distressing cough that shook his
poor old frame uuniorcifiilly. It did
not, however, prevent his coming
down town' and "settin'," as ho
called it, in Ike's market. The cold
hung on for a week or more, and tho
cough had grown no better. Finally,
one day Ike resolved to bravo Undo
John's sharp tongue, and tease him a
little about his failure to rid himself of
the cold, and the following dialogue
ensued. You arc to understand that
Uncle John's replies woro interrupted
with violent coughing.
John?"
"What yor want?"
"Cot a bad cold, 'ain't yo?"
"Yes; got tho wust over had'n my
life."
"Hangs on prottv bad, don't it?"
"Yes; boats all."
Hesitatingly: "why don't you try
some o' y'r cough inod'eino you, want
ud ter sell mo?"
"1 thought mobbo y' was fool 'nough
tor ask that question: d'yer s'poso I
w ant tor live jorevcri" Harper's JIag
uiine. The Regular Thing.
An old gentleman of Detroit was
pasuiiijf tlutmyh the n ii mony of taking
liU fourth wifo the other day. At tho
impiKiilve climax ot'uuigood pruaoher
mail's part iu tho performance tome
body was heard otjling in an ad join
ing room.
"My goodness!" exclaimed one of the
gtieate in a dramatic whisper, "who on
earth it that crying on this festivu oc
casion r"
That?" ropllojl a inieh!ovoiis mntn
bor of tho oxpoiiouced bndogroom's
family; "that's no tHdy but Km. Sho
always boohoos whon pa's getting mm"
iriod." Detroit i'rc 2Y -
PATAGONIA'S FATE. ' j
How a houlli American Conntry Was Ab
sorbed by Its Jfelchbor.
There used to bo a place called Pata
gonia. It appears on our geographic.
now as a drear and uninhabitable
waste, upon which herds of wild horses
and cattle graze, that aro hunted for
their llosh by a few bands of savage
Indians of immense stature." I am
quoting from a school-book published
in 1886, and in common use in this
countn. Tho samo geography gives
similar information about "tho Argen
tine Confederation." It makes the
Argentines roar with rage to call their
country "tho Argentine Confederation."
It would bo just as polite and proper lo
call this the "Confederate States of
America." A bitter, bloody war was
fought to wipe that name off tho map,
but our publishers still insist upon
keeping it there. It is not a confeder
ation; it is a Nation, with a big "N,"
like ours one and inseparable, united
wc stand, divided wc fall, and all that
sort of thing tho Argentine Republic.
To call it any thing else is an insult to
the patriots who fought to make it so,
and a reflection upon our own intelli
gence. Several ears ago Patagrnia was di
vided between Chili and tho Argentine
Republic, the Ministers from the
United States to tho.-e two countries
doing the carving. The summits of
the Cordilleras were fixed as the bound
ary lines. Chili took the Strait of
Magellan and the. strip along the Pa
cific coast, between the mountains and
tho sea. and the Argentine Republic
tho pampas, tho urdiipelago of Ticrra
del Fuego being divided between thooi.
Sinco tho partition ranchmen havo
been pushing southward with great
rapidity, and now the vast territory
is practically occupied. There arc no
more wild cattle or horses there than
in Kansas, and the dreary, uninhabited
wastes of Patagonia have gone into
oblivion with tho "Great American
Desert." The remnant of a vast tribo
of aborigines still occupies tho interior,
but the Indian problem of the Ar
gentine Republic was solved in a suiu
iiury way. There was considerable an
noyance on tho frontier from bauds of
roving savages, who used to como north
in the winter time, steal cattle, rob
and ravish, and tho outposts of civiliza
tion were not safe. General Roca, the
Sheridan of tho River Plate, was sent
with a brigade of cavalry to the frontiet
to prevent this sort of thing. East and
west across the. territory runs tho Kin
Negro, a swift, turbid stream like t lie
'Missouri, willi high banks. Fifty miles
or so from tho mountains the rivet
makes a turn in its course, and leaves
a narrow pathway through which every
thing that enters or leaves Patagonia
by land must go. Across this pass ol
fifty miles General Roca dug a ditch
twelve feet deep anil fifteen feet wide.
Tiic Indians, to the number of several
thousand, wero north when the work
was dono, raiding the settlements. Ai
spring came they turned to go south
ward as usual, in a long caravan, witn
their stolen horses and cattle. Roca
galloped around their rear, and drove
them night and dav before him. When
they reached tho ditch they became be
wildered, for they could not cross it, and
after a few days of slaughter tho rem
nantthat survived surrendered and were
distributed through the army as sol
diers, while the women were sent into ii
semi-slavery among the ranchmen they
had robbed. The dead animals and men
were buried together in the ditch, anil
there has been no further annoyanci
from Indians on the frontier.
The few that remain seldom conu
northward, but remain around Punta
Arenas, the only settlement in tin
Strait, hunting the ostrich and ot hot
wild game, tr.-ding the skins for whis
ky, and making thenisches as wretched
as possible. The robes they wear an
made of the skins of the guamico, a
species of the llama, and the breasts ol
young ol riches. There is nothing
prettier than an oslni'li robe, bill caci
one represents the slaughter of fron
sixteen to twenty onng birds, am.
they ate getting ram hmI expensive' u
tho birds are being exterminated, iu
our'bulValoes have been. William E.
CurliA, in Jltu'iicr's Mnyazinc.
A Spider's Fatal Mistake.
A small gardener spider had spin,
his web in a corner where a perpendic
ular column and a horizontal rail ii.ct.
and from the ambush of a hidden crack
awaited his dipteroii- prey. A hand
some cllow vap p.i-sing that way e
pied the graceful trap and made foi
it. Setting his feel lightly on two oi
three of the mohi he started up h
great buzzing, which shook the wd
from cud to end. Tho watchful spiih-i
ran out a little way, stretched forth;,
delicate foot to make sure of the locu
tion of the siipp.MMl Hy, ami thci,
rushed for it, alighting on the w.i.-;.
with a gleeful jump, and no doubt u
grin of hideous triumph. Hut Mr.
Spider had ieckoiit without his hi-t
Like a Ihudi of llgh niug the wiup's six
nimble hr eo..-d up. in him, the gr.-uv
ful body bent n.-arly doiiLlo, and omv
twice thrice, again and again, tin
sharp ting picr. ed Uk luck'w npidcr.
A hi Mi'ugglo grew fainter, mm
linulh ceaaed, the wasp, with a pricg,
disentangled hiiutdf from the silken
net and bore an ay his spidery victim
in triumph. Albany Journal.
Wifo "What absurd nonsense,
that to rniM.' an umbrella in the Iioums
is an omen of ill luck!" Husband
"Not at nil. Didn't Mr.- Hobson, to
whom joh lent ytnir uinhrolla a ooaple
of woks ago. open it In the hallway?"
Wifo "I boliovoahiMltd." Husband
"Woll, havo you swn the umbrella
blnce?" .V. 1". Sun.
TWO LITTLE MINERS.
How Thejr Kppt Their l'arents Supplied
With Plenty of Fuel.
Nearly a quarter of a century ago
a man who lived in an Eastern State,
ovcrtaknn by the American passion for
the hardships of pioneer lifc.moved
with his family to tho then unsettled
Wo3t, Tho family consisted, besides
the husband, of a wifo and two little
daughters, and tho journey westward
of many hundreds of miles was made
in a covered wagon. After numerous
hardships the little household at length
reached wfiat is now the great State of
Illinois, but what was then an almost
unbroken expanse of wild forest and
prairie land. The country pleased tho
adventurer, and he built a rtido log
house upon tho edge of a prairie
bounded on ono side by a wooded bluff,
and watered by a small stream. It was
a promising sito for one of tho great
farms of tho future, and even the first
year of tho settler's occupation saw an
abundant crop of, corn and tho family
safe from privation, so far as food was
concerned.
Winter came, one of the severest over
known in the Notthwest, and the only
want felt in tho household was for fuel.
The settler discovered, too late, that he
should have built his hut close to the
wood, or havo provided plenty of fuel
before winter arrived. He had rea
soned that it would bo the easiest way
to haul wood to the houso upon the
snow, and his plan would have been all
right had he been able lo do the work.
Unfortunately, just as the hitter cold
weather set in, the hither broke his leg.
He could do nothing, anil upon tho
mother, who was herself ill. and upon
tho two little girls, devolved the hard
task of supplying wood for the fire.
Many trips were made to tho bluff,
and many an apron full of dead twigs
and bark" was brought to the cabin, but
the little girls, who had to do the work,
nearly perished on their journeys. Fi
nally came a great, snow four or five
feeUn depth, and further trips were
impossible. It seemed certain that tho
family, far removed from all help, must
die of cold.
There wa a rude cellar to the cabin
and into th-N, for greater warmth, the
family moved. A few twigs and pieces
o.' bark remained at this time, as the
result of the children's last trip to tho
bluff, and with those a fire was built
upon the cellar lloor. It burned well
enough, but as the wood was consumed
there was noticed a grca: deal of crack
ling anil sputtering, and tho ground
beneath and around the lire turned red.
It attracted the curious attention of the
family, and it finally dawned upon
them that the lire had been built upon
a bed of coal. In digging for the cel
lar the pioneer had stumbled upon an
outcropping coal seam, but ho know
very liltle about coal and hail not
deemed tho circumstance of any con
sequence. Now he changed his mind.
There wa no longer any danger of
freezing to death.
The family moved up-stairs again
and tho two little girls becamo coal
miners. They had only an old ax and
a shovel, and I hey wero small person
ages and not very strong, but they did
not have a great deal of difficulty in
getting out a sullicient number of pail
f tils of coal a day to keep the lire go
ing. Rofore spring came they had a
big hole dug into the bottom and into
the skies of the cellar. They made it
quite a roomy place, probably the
largest cellar in Illinois at that time.
The family prospered, and those two
little girls aro now middle-aged women
anil mothers of families who often
laugh over the hard winter's experi
ence of many years ago. And you can
not tell either one of those two middle-,
aged, comfortable-looking women any
thing about coal mining. They will
toll you that they know all about it;
that they, in fact, started tho industry
in this part of the country. Natiomd
Labor Tribune.
THE MALE FLIRT.
What lie Is, Who II.' U, mill llovr IIh
MlllCTM His ('llllltl'-tt!l.
The male llirt is an individual not
confined to our own days, nor yot oven
to our own century. From tijno im
memorial thK terrible yet fascinating
person has scoured society just as the
pirates ami bucciiieers of old aro said
to have scoured the sc. is with their
powerful and irresistible charm. There
is a weird aitraetion about him, a fear
ful joy at his approach, a horrible and
unnatural delight at the hare mention
of his naine. Like the vampire of Gor
man fairy lore, he subjugates the senses
and curdles the blood at one and tho
same time; he is delighted and yet
alarming, enticing ami yet appall
ing, all at once. The male llirt is
the terror of mothers and tho detesta
tion of the whole race of elderly
aunts, and chaperoues of all kinds. Wo
have all in turn been warned against
him, all cautioned to steel our hearts to
his advances and to barricade the por
tals of our souls against his erpent
like depredations. " Yet so contradic
tious ami so foolish is the nature of
woman that there is not one of its,
young or old, who has not at somo
ti.ne or another of our lives fallen a
Mlling victim to this seductively dau
giious individual. Tue male llirt is
made no neither by practice imr yet by
education he i born no; just as genius,
or cooking, or miitlio'ii'iiics is born
with u man, so in Hiriing in its higher
blanches, implanted within him by
nature. He is not ofteu a handsome
man. although he i invariably u pleas
aifl one, and ho is not, as a rule, popu
lar among his fellow men? Fathers
and brothers eyo him with suspicion as
soiuelhing which thev do not wholly
comprehend, while husbands turn cold
shoulders upon his blandishments, or
at Inibt troit him with freezing
nolitonoss. Men, in short, look upoii
him askance, and ono and all iiuiK
in running him down hut. per
haps, that is only buoaiiso they are jeal
ous of him. Loiulou Ssciilu.' -