‘ us all along and have told you,” Surgeon Powell said, calmly. “ Not so, they do not know you.” “It must be, for how would you do so?” “ As I knew that you had left Fort L———, that you had gone into the Shadow Valley and were warned of danger by the lVoman in Black -—-as I knew that you had better take my advice and followt etrail of your two friends when they leave, still remaining unknown to them, and not letting them suspect that you are fol- lowing them.” “ But why should we follow them 1?” “ Because, Texas Jack. as I said. you may be able to keep bitter foes off their trail, and more, they will lead you right to where you wish to go, into the Shadow Valley, and four men are better than two, especially four such men as you are. “ Besides. you have already had proof that the Woman in Black is friendly to you. “ Shall I give you another good reason L?” “ Have you another?” “ Yes: the daughter of Major Hembold, Of Port 3—, has been kidnapped by Toll Takers, at least so it is thought. and the tw0 scouts are going to rescue her—if they can.” “Then go we do, for i know the major and his beautiful daughter well: but may i ask who you are, sir!” and Surgeon Powell gazed fixedly into the face of the in ‘sterious man. “ Sandbox Bill, the ravo in Broadcloth, sir— until you know me better. _ “ Good-evening, gentlemen,” and the strangest of strange inen raised his sombrero and rode on his way, leaving the amazed friends gazing after him, too much astonished to utter a word. CHAPTER XXXI. SELFsBETRAYED. A “'OMAX on horseback in a scene that was wild, desolate and lonely in the extreme. A woman riding along a ridge, sheltered bya gr0wth of pines, and yet pausing nOW and then to glance down into the valley where two horse- men were visible coming toward a canyon which cut the range in twain. ‘ The woman was mounted upon a horse as black as ink, and her saddle, bridle and trappings were of the same somber hue. Her form was elegant. her seat in the saddle perfect, and yet there was something weird about her appearancc. Her habit was jet-black, her sombrero and gloves also, while her face was as white as snow, and really seemed to be whitened, so like u 1in was her complexion. Had not the face been pf such ghastly hue and so surrounded by black, it would have been beautiful; but as it was, it looked like a face cut in marble, and about the large eyes was a look that was weird. Her age it was hard to tell, also on account of this coffin-like surroundings of the face of white and black. and she might be tWenty, per— haps ten years older. Halting her horse by a low-spoken word, she leveled a glass at the two hOrsemen and said: “Yes, they are strangers, and I must meet them, for, once they pass into this canyon, it will be like Dante’s Inferno—to leave all hope behind. 80 saying she turned away from the top of the fidge and rode down a trail leading to the val— ey. After a ride of a mile perhaps, she entered the narrow canyon, where were overhanging cliffs, huge bowlders and patches of timber. It was a pass which a score of men could de» feud against hundreds. At length she halted behind a large bowlder which had dashed down from the mountain above. Upon the other side was another rock of equal size, and the two stood like giant sentinels to guard the canyon the pass between them being but twenty feet viide. There the woman sat upon her horse behind the rock on the right, and so still was the ani- mal and the rider, they appeared like an ebony statue. Up the canyon came the two men who had attracted her attention, and they had in the lead a pack-horse. On they came, slowly and cautiously, and as they reached the narrow pass between the two roc s the woman rode out before them. Both men drew rein and dropped their hands upon their revolvers. But her right hand was raised, and weapon- less. and she cried: ‘ . “ Hold, men! I mean you no harm !" “Yer sprung yerself upon us kinder too sud- den, miss, and mighty nigh got a leetle lead, for which I are glad ter say yer didn’t git a dose Of_ fer it are onhealthy medicine. “ lied we seen yer at night, its mighty nigh probable we’d hev lit out pretty peert, takin’ yer fer a ghost, which yer don’t look onlike. “ lie yer the Woman in Black, 0’ ther Shudder Valley, of whom we hes heerd so much 3" “ I am, and I came to warn you not to enter the valley, for your lives will be the forfeit. “ There is death before you,” was the impres- sive warning. , “ Waal, thar is death ahind us: but why does- n’t yer want us ter enter ther valley ?” “ Because the Toll-Takers never show mercy to an honest man, and you would both be mur- dered and robbed. “ Heed my warning and go back, for the Toll— Takers may come this way at any time.” “ Hnin’t you ther Woman in Black 3" “I am so called.” “ Well, we has heer yer were a paid if ther Toll-’lfakcrs ?” “ Unfortunately, yes: but I wish no life on my hands that I can save. “ Will you go back ?” “ Not adzactly, for we huin’t honest men, me and my pqu both. “ This are my pard, (‘riant Bruce, and I be Six—Shooter Sam, late 0’ Hallelujah City. and we is going ter j’inc ther Toll-Takers, seein’ as how it are onheulthy for us back w'nur we come from.” “ My God! I have behaved myself!” broke from the Woman’s lips in bitter accents of re- gret. “ Waal, it do seem so, and as we wants ter stand solid with ther Toll-’l‘ukers, we‘ll jist carry yer inter camp and tell ’em how we saved ’em from bein’ roped in some day by a woman as they had trust in, but who are a snake in tlie’r bOsoms. “ You is our prisoner, miss!" and the revolver of Six-Shooter Sam covered the woman‘s heart. while Giant George spurred forward and grasped her hands with a grip she was powerless to shake off, had she tried to do so. (To be continued—commenced in No. 395.! I A Whist Paradox. THERE is that famous hand in which the Duke of Cumberland held ace, king, queen and knave in one plain suit: ace, king, queen in another; ace, king in the third: while in trumps he held king, knave, nine and seven. Yet with this perfectly magnificent hand and the lead (leading also quite correctly) he did not make a single trick. This seems incred— ible, but when the hands are supplied the solu- tion of the problem will be readily seen. The four trumps lying just over those held by the Duke of Cumberland, viz., the ace, queen, ten and eight, were on his left, with nine diamonds, while on his right were five small trumps. He led a trump, which was taken on his left, and a diamond led—trumped on his right. Another trump was led through him, which was Simi- larly taken, and another diamond led, which was also trumped on his right. Another trump led through the duke caused his last trump but one to fall. The last was then extracted by the player on his left. The duke had now no diamonds, that beiu the suit of which he had held only the ace an king. Then the diamonds on his left were as good as trumps and made all the remaining tricks. . TRUE HUMANITY. ni' SAM s. HALL ("BUCKSKIN saw") Gent] 7 lift your erring brother; \\ his-per kindly words of cheer; OVer him a loving mother Had dropped many a silent tear. Lift him up from off the pavem~ nt; he nor mind when Others sneer: All .015 cloahed in golden raiment Are watching from their heavenly sphere If he‘s clothed in rags and tatters— In the depths Of deep despair. Treat him as a friend and brother, lie. p him out from ruiu’s snare. Then in bright and golden letters Angels: in the rralms above Will record your Christian action ln the HeaVenly Book of Love. The Hawks and Wolves of New York; on, THE LIVINGS I'ONE MILLIONS. BY ALBERT WV. AIKEN, screen or “ INJUN DICK,” “JOE PHENIX,” “ FRESH OF ’rnisco,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER XXIX. A sTORiiY INTERVIEW. - THE senator got up from the table with the feeling of a man who had breakfasted upon saw- dust and dish-water, and hardly had he got com- fortably seated for a perusal of the morning journals when word was brought that some gen- tlemen desired to speak with him. With a very ill grace indeed the senator went to ascertain what his visitors wished. He found three gentlemen iu the hall—the same three who had started that morning from the private detective’s. office on Broadway to hunt up the girl. There was Garrowcroft. the Englishman, Mut— tlebud, the detective, and old Canary—for the old scamp had been forced to come along, as the Briton had declared he would not pay him a cent until he necertained that the information which he had given was correct. Canary had remonstrated, but the English- man was like a rock, and the old confidence~man was obliged to yield. Garrowcroft acted as spokesman: his anxiety to find the girl was so intense that even his stoical calmness had disappeared and he was never more excited. “ Senator Bumblebig?" he asked. “ Yes, sir.” “ I have come in reference to a young lady who is now beneath your roof, i believe.” The senator opened his eyes. "Miss Helen Home is the name she hears, I understand.” Bumblebig did not understand this at all, and rather resented the idea of anybody troubling themselves about his affairs. “ No such person here,” he responded, short- V. “ I beg your pardon, but are you not mis- taken ‘3" asked Garrowcroft, politely, yet with the air of a man indisposed to stand any non- sense. r Bumblebig exploded: he was just in a good condition to get in a row with somebody. . “ Great Caesar!” he exclaimed; “ am in my own house, or am I not? Get out of here, or I will have my servants kick you out.” Canary commenced to edge toward the door, but the other two stood firm. ' “ No, you won’t!” cried the Englishman. “ No, you won’t, boss-fly!” echoed the detec— tive, nevér more in his glory than when he had a chance to bully some one. “ I want you to understand that we came here on business, and we don’t want any gulf l” “ Do you know who I am?” roared the sena- tor, red in the face with rage at the idea of be- ing defied in his own house. “ Sir, it does not make a farthing’s difference to me who you are l” retorted Garrowcroft. “ I have come here on business, and I do not ro- pose to go away without transacting it. on brought the girl, Helen Home, from New York, about two weeks ago. I have ascertained in the village that she was in this house yesterday, and ,I do not intend going away without seeing her. , “ No, we don’t! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!” added the detective. Canary, all this while, prudently getting nearer and nearer the door, for the servants had commenced to gather in the hall, and the pros- pects for a row seemed excellent. “The girl was here—a beggar that I picked out of the gutter, and she repaid my kindness by stealing everything that she could lay her hands on, and last night giving leg-bail.” “ What! That poor child steal—you infamous old scoundrel!" exclaimed Garrowcroft, white with passion. Bumblebig got as red in the face as a boiled lobster. \ “ You villain! Do you dare to come here and insult me in my own house?” And the senator, fairly crazy with rage, made. a blow at the other’s face, but the Briton, like the majority of his race, was an expert in the art of self-defense, so, in the easiest manner possible, he parried the clumSily-aimed blow, and, with a single well—directed stroke, laid the senator fiat upon his back. Bumblebig struck with a bowl of rage and a concussion that seemed to fairly shake the floor : but he was on his feet again With remarkable agility, and like a mad bull again be rushed at the intruder, only to again re- ceive a whack which keeled him over a second time. The senator had got enough: the second stroke which had materially spoiled the appear- ance 0 his countenance, had taken all the fight out of him. He yelled to the servants to come and pick him up, and to put the strangers out. The first command they obeyed readily enough, but paid no attention to the second, exerting all their energies in conducting their bruised and bat— tered master to his apartment, he groaning and swearing in the most frightful manner. After the exhibition which they had witnessed Of the stranger’s prowess, not one of them had any wish to test it further. Seeing that the strangers were not disposed to retire, the housekeeper—who like the rest had been attracted by the noise of the altercation—— took it upon herself to explain: . “ Indeed, gentlemen, Miss Home is not here now,” she said. “ She went away last night se- cretly and without saying a word to any one, and Mr. Bumblebig was very much annoyed this morning when he discovered that she was gone. He has taken the idea into his head that she act- ed dishonestly, but I have been up and examined her room. and I have not been able to discover that she has taken a single article which did not belong to her. The senator is very unreasonable when he gets a notion into his head, and he in- sists that she has stolen something, which is the reason why she ran away Without sa ing any- thing. So impressed is be with this a surd sus- picion that he has taken the trouble to tele- graph to the police in New York, and instruct- ed them to arrest the young lady if she can be found.” . “ The infamous old scoundrel !" exclaimed the Englishman, in high indignation. “If he had not’thought that the poor child was alone and friendless, he would never have dared to subject her to such an insult!” . ' “ Indeed, sir, she seemed to be a nice, modest girl, and did not look like a person Who would do anything wrong,” and the housekeeper cast a peculiar, sideways glance at the stran er, just as if she meditated saymghmime more, ut was in doubt in regard to the Wisdom of so do- mg‘She would not, I am sure, and from what I have seen of this miserable old wretch, I feel certain she had good reasons for quitting his service.” “ It is possible, sir, but of course, under the circumstances, I ought not to say anythir-g about that.” “And the unfortunate child fled without leaving any clew behind by means of which she could be traced?” “Afr. Bumblebig was not able to discover any.‘ “ This is the strangest chapter of accidents: whenever I getupon the track of this poor child, something is sure to happen to throw me Off. Well, we must return to New York and see if we can find any clew there.” Taking their cue, Canary and the detective walked out of the house: the Englishman fol- lowed, but paused just outside the door, the housekeeper being right behind him. “ Madam, I take it that you are a friend to this unfortunate child, who seems to be the prey Of ill-luck,” he said, speaking cautiously, so as not to be overheard. “ Indeed, sir, I wish her nothing but good.” “If any information of her is gained, will you communicate with me? Here is my name, and my address is Brevoort House, New York.” The housekeeper read the name inscribed upon the raid aloud, then looked at the Englishman in a thoughtful way. “ What is the matter—do you mistrust me?" “ No, sir,” she answered; “ you look like a gentlemen, and like a man who would not be apt to harm a friendless, homeless girl.” “Upon my word, madam, I assure you it will be the luckiest moment in Helen's life when she meet: me.” “ Y’gm seek her for good, then-only for e "‘ Entirely for good, I pledge you that upon the honor of an English gentleman.” Mrs. Sparrow turned the card over and wrote a line hurriedly upon the back. “ There!” she said, giving him the car :“ go to that address and perhaps you may gain some information, but do not disclose to any one, not even to your companions, my agency in this matter.” ' “ Certainly not,”replied Garrowcroft, prompt- ly, and putting the card carefully awn y. “Good-by, sir, and may Heaven deal with you as you deal with her.” The strangers departed, and Mrs. Sparmw closed the door after them, feeling thankful that she had been able to put the Englishman upon the right track. 0n the way to the depot, Canary and the de- tective got 'into a violent argument. Mottle- bud insisted that so long as the girl had not been found, the old man was not entitled to any reward, while Canary declared that it wasn’t his fault if the girl had skipped in the hi ht. The Englishman settled the dispute, though, by paying the money and offering a hundred more for the discovery of the fugitive. When the city was reached, Garrowcroft separated from his companions, jumped into a cab and was driven to the address in Jersey City which Mrs. Sparrow had inscribed upon the card, but to his utter astonishment, for he had absolute 'faith that he would receive in- formation, the people at the house knew noth- ing whatever of any such person as Helen Home, although well acquainted with Senator Bumblebig’s housekeeper. Tue Englishman was utterly astonished, and knew not what to make of it. “ She meant it all right, I am sure,” he mut- tered, as he was being driven back to New York again. “ Well, the only thing to be'done is to contrive a secret interview with her so she can explain.” CHAPTER XXX. A LOVER’S QUEST. QUITE a number of chapters have we trans- cribed since the one where the details of the meeting between the lovers on the beach at Long Branch were given. The forlorn country girl has figured promi- nently in our tale since then, but the man’s name has not been mentioned, yet we judge few careful readers have failed to guess that Roland Reade and Deuby Livingstone were one and the same. In his mas uerading guise of a poor adven- turer, with al the world before him to make a fortune in, he had won the love of the country girl, although at the time he fancied that some months must elapse before he would be in a condition to claim her as his own publicly. The strange events though which followed his return to the city, the death of his mother, and his being put in possession of the fortune which she had inherited from Gloster Plantagenet seemed to smooth the path between him and his love and caused the obstacles which intervened to melt into thin air. As soon as he recovered from the shock occa- sioned by the dreadful tragedy, he wrote a carefully—guarded letter to Helen, addressing it to the village and signing it Roland Reade. In the letter he told her to be of good heart, to keep up her courage, for the future looked brighter, and he had no doubt that all would be well. He did not afiix any address to it as be judged it wisest that the girl should not answer the note. Then when affairs were all settled, and every- thing seemed to‘be going smoothly, he was un- able to control the fever of impatience which had seized upon him to look again on the sweet face of the beautiful girl who had won his heart, and he wrote again. This time he told her that he thought he would be able to arrange matters so that she could come to the city it she so desired, and that in a very few months now, he would be able to ful- fill his promise and make her his bride. This note lie-also signed Roland Reade, and directed her to address him in care Of the gen- eral post-office. Ten days went by without his receiving an answer, and, just as he had about given up all idea of hearing from her, and was meditating a trip to Long Branch, to see what had become of her, he received a letter, post—marked Long Branch. The handwriting did not seem to be hers, though, and he opened the envelope with a pre- sentiment that he was about to hear bad news. The letter was from old Waybit, and briefly said that he had received both letters written to Helen, and that he understood the trick of writ- ing letters to her expecting that they would fall into his hands and so lead him to think that the writer had nothing to do with her flight. But he knew better, and unless Helen was in— stantly sent back to him he would apply to the law to restore his ward and to punish her ab~ ductor. Deuby perused the letter with a grave face, and, for a moment, was almost dazed by the blOW. Helen was gone; she had fled from her home and yet had not come to him as be had direct- ed her to do in any such emergency. Another idea occurred to him: was it true? had she really fled, or was it only a cunning trick on the part of the old man to keep him from coming after the girl? Waybit was quite capable of such a thing, and so the young lover determined to board the lion in his den—the Jersey farmer amid his pines—and ascertain the truth. A few hours later Deuby was walking in through the gate of the farmer. Old Way'bit, who had been busy tending to his crops that morning, was cooling off in the shade of a large locust tree. Not knowing the young man by sight, the old fellow only surveyed him with the natural curiosity that the majority of rural dwellers feel at the sight of a stranger. “ Mr. VVaybit?” “ That’s in name.” “ I have a ittle business with you.” “Sart’in; sit down,” and he kicked an old stool, which stood by the rude bench upon which he reclined, over to the visitor. “ I desire a little information.” “ Well, I s’pose i can give it if there’s no ob— jection.” ' “ It is in regard to a certain young lady—” The old man sat bolt upright. “ Helen, who now lives with you.” “ Oh, I know you now!" cried Waybit, in a sudden outburst of rage. “I suspicioued you when I saw you coming. up the road. You’re arter Helen, are you, and you are the Mister Roland Reade who has been writing letters from York to her?” . “You are quite right, sir: Helen knew me under that name.” “ And what have you done with her? How dare you come here and take my gal away? Don’t you know 1 kin take the law on you, and I will, too. unless you bring back the gal!” _“ And Helen is not here, then?" Deuby ques— tioned, eying the old man sharply. so as to be certain whether he wasl speaking truth or not. “ You know she ain‘t here! and you can‘t fool me with pretending not to know anything about her. You just bring the gal back, or I’ll go to law about it. Ain‘t you ashamed Of your— self, a nice young gentleman, for to come and coax a poor man’s gal to run off with you? You have taken away my support, and how am I go- ing to get my living now 2‘" . “ You didn’t expect that the girl would stay in this desolate place and work all her life for you .3” demanded Deuby, in indignation. “ I didn’t want her to work,” retorted the old man. “ She worked of her own accord, ’cos she liked to work, and would rather work than be idle. But it wasn’t- for her work that I wanted her. I used to get a regular sum of money each month for taking care of her, and when she ran away. somehow, the lawyers in New York heard Of it, and they stopped the payments dead snort." Denby was amazed at this information, and felt convinced thatif the old man would speak he could get a clew which would enable him to unravel the mystery enshrouding the birth and early childhood of his betrothed, although it seemed probable from what Daddy Waybit said that he knew very little about the matter. “ I don’t exactly understand you,” Deuby re- marked. “ Do you mean to say that you re— ceived a regular amount monthly for taking care of Helen, and that when she left home the payments stopped it” “That is what I said and no lie about it, either. Ever so many years ago. when she was only a baby, these lawyers that I spoke of made an arrangement for me to take care of Helen and bring her up as my own child. This here farm was deeded over to me, and I received twenty-five dollars a month cash, and now the blamed thing has all bu’st, and I’ve got to work for my living, worse luck.” ~ “And you never knew anything about the persop or persons who placed the child with “ No! What did I care for them, so long as I got the money all right. i only knew the law- yers, that’s all, and it was one of the conditions of the thing, too, that I shouldn’t try for to find out anything about the child—whose she was, you kn0w, and what did I care as long as I got the money 3” “ And now payment is refused because she is gone?" “ Of course that is the reason! What other reason can there be?” “ But do the lawyers say that is the reason 2" “No, they don’t; did you ever catch a law— .yer to own up to anything or to tell the truth in his life? Nobody ever did!” “ But what do the lawyers say, then?” “Oh, they lie, as they always do,” the old man snarled. “The money has always come to hand regularly, on the first of every month, but when the first of the month came this time ‘the gal had been gone about a week; of course I didn’t think that would make any difference. but it did, for the money didn’t come. I waited four or five days, and then I wrote up to York ’bout it, and the answer came right back that there wasn’t any money for me, so 1 went up to the city myself to see about it. The lawyers were polite enough, but they didn’t give me a. bit of satisfaction. They said that the year had ended and they had paid me all the money that had been placed in their hands. The way ,they explained the matter was that the money for the year was placed in their hands in a lump, at the beginning of it, and then they paid it out to me in monthly parts. The money was gone; no more had been paid in, and they supposed that the party did not intend to pay any longer. Of course 1 said that there might be some mistake about the matter and that they had better see theparty, and tell ’im the money was gone. But no; they said they reck- oned the thing was all over, and that I had bet- ter be cbntent with what I had got. Then I asked if I couldn’t see the party, but they said they couldn‘t give me any information as they did not know the address now—a blamed lie, of course. To kinder smooth the matter over, I said that if I had krown that the party would— n’t like it. I wouldn’t have let the gal go off or. a Visit, but, anyway, I would fetch er right home. I thought that would fix things, you know, but they didn’t seem to pav any atten- tion. The old fellow said that it'llidn‘t make any difference where the gal was, whether she was away or with me; the money had stopper! and that was the end of it: but they didn’t tool me for a cent. I knew they had found out that the girl had run away, and that was why they had stopped the money.” It was plain to Deuby now that the mystery surrounding his beloved was even deeper than he had anticipated. “ Suppose I go and see the lawyers—’7 ‘Oh, yes: you want to catch some of the money! ‘ cried the Old man, angrily. “ Just you bring the girl back, that’s all!” It took a long time for the young man to con— vince the old scamp that he really knew moth-- iiig of Helen’s present whereabouts, but had come in search of her; but at last old Waybit acknowledgel that he. might be mistaken, and then Deuby astonished him by saying he Would ive him five hundred dollars if he could find elen—a proposition which the other accepted gi‘cedily enough. A heavy heart Deuby bore back with him to the city; and now there was another lll‘lll eager to find Helen Home. (To be continued—comnimiccd in No. INS.) Bajnner Casuals. THE King of Siam has sent six young men of the royal line to be educated at Westminster College, Pa., at his own expense. TORNADO risks in the lVest and Infant assur' ances in England and New York, are profitable policies for insurance companies. 7 THOMAS A. EDISON has secured 400 patents on different subjects, and 300 applications for pat- ents in his favor are still pending. QUEEN VICTORIA is now 71 years Of age, and is in robust health. She has never had a severe illfiess and has always taken great care of her- se . “ COLD air on tap ” is no fake. A Philadelphia company is furnishing the frigidity to customers and nursing a business that may grow to large dimensions. STANLEY reports the Dwarf tribe of Africa the oldest aristocrats of the world, with institu- tions dating back fifty centuries. They are ruled by a queen, are a monogamous race and are skilled artificers in iron and ivory. A RICH mine of nitrates in the form of muni- mified alligators has been found at Maabeteh, Egypt. The recent transaction in Egyptian cats was so profitable that Colonel North, the nitrate king, has announced his willingness to interest himself in the alligators, in which case Lord audolph Churchill and the Prince of Wales ill take shares in the undertaking. The crocodiles are wrapped in cloth and are packed like sardines, in layers. with palm leaves be- tween t'oem and countless eggs to fill up the interstices. Popular Poems. J U LY. The liens are scratching in garden beds, Dasiroyiiig the early shoots; The butterfly‘s seen in the meadows green: Folks banker for early fruits. The youth is wearing his last year‘s straw: The girls are in muslin dressing: The dust-clouds fiy when the air is drv, And the watering-carts are a blessing. The sun looks down from the cloudless blue, And stares With all his might: And the query ‘ ls’t hot. enough for you?“ is heard from morn ti.l night-Boston (lb/(rier. :0:— The Sweetest Time For Courting. ’Tis pleasant to sit by the parlor stove When the coal is biiglilly glowing, On a winter night with yonrown true love, While the fierce nortlieaster‘s blowing. But pleasanter far is the summer nighi. When the dew is on the roses, And fair Diana’s silwry ilgllt A beauteous scene discloses. Oh. then to wander through the grove, Where the breeze with the balm is laden. And softly tell the tale of 1 .ve To a fair and gentle. maiden 1 Oh, the. soft, the balmy summer night, When katydids are sprrting, And we See the fireflies flashing-bright, Is the sweetest lime for courting. —Bostm ('o'ul‘iél'. 203—“— NOT READY YE l‘. St. Peter sat in his lodge by the gate, And idly jingled his keys, For arrivals had been rather slack of late, And the good saint was taking his case. He had heard a footstep. and turned around, And looked the intruder o’er, A party who lately arrived on the ground), Who stood with eyes fixed on the floor. “ What‘s the matter with you ?” St. Peter inquired, ‘LSomeihing seen s your mind to embarrass; Perhaps thos wings are not what you desired, Or your 1' is not cut a la Paris?“ “Well,the fact is, you see, I‘m a crank on base hall 1" Me: kiy answered the new arrived tenant, “ And I really would like. to go back till next fall, To witness the race for the pennant." -— ’I’crre 11mm Erprérx. :01 A MARTYR 0F INDEPENDENCE. They bound him firmly to the stake With cruel, ruthless bands. (Oh, God! for very pity’s sake L'nloose those biting bands.) With fiendish glee they propped him up, The deadly fuse they lit. (L t pass, oh Heaven, this deadly cup! Relent, grim Fate, one whit I) Brighter and brighter grew the blaze, Hotter and yet more hot. (" Forgive," he prays, “their cruel ways, In wrath avenge me not!") No groan escaped his flame-kissed lip, Forced by his anguish greal. (Behold. the angel guards let slip The bolts of Heaven’s gate !; Great Heavens! ’tis done! his noble soul Has left its earthly pocket; "llid tears Of stars it gains its goal—— One less Distinguished Rocket! —Bufi‘::lo Courier. :0! HEARD IT BEFOB E. You tell him a joke you relied on as new, He smiles in a ivearisome way. From a comedy new you recite him a bit, He says he saw that at the pla . You give him a story that never yet failed To set all who heard it in a roar, He nods half-approval and turns him awa v, And murmurs: " I’ve heard it before.” The girl whom you woo in your tenderest tone, Who ae heart you are seeking to gain, LiStens coldly to all you may have to protest, Secming only to Wish you‘d refrain. You seek for some phase not totally trite, And e’en the thesaurus explore, It's all of no use. and you bid her good by- You see she has heard it before. How sad it must be to go onward like this, With nothing on earth to enjoy, And never make any one happy yourself, And only find things to annoy. His life like an orange whose juices are gone, ’l‘is a dry, empty etch, and no more: Alas! he is much to be piticd, not blamed—— The. man who has heard it before. — ll'u-hz'anou Past. :02 A (‘5! \ NSON. The days are longer, The heat- gi‘ows stronger, Importing to life an added zest: With bright skies o'er us, We remove the po ous Plasters again fer the back and chcst. The farmer knowing, His shrewdness showing. When urban d Wellcrs don ('lolliing thin And the llziiiiiel siiii‘s out. Ills shingle pii's out Announcing lhu; boarders are “'lllkt‘ll in. 19 The, meadows gav are. Where ll! firiwvrs of lliiy are. And the bllllfl‘OL-t crooks in the reedy bog, And undrr fellows, Wlicrc brush most dense is, The policeman chases the unlicciued dog. Though Sol is glowing, Ills ivurliitli hesiowii‘g Where the feat!“ rod sullEISlf‘l'S flicir cliorals hymn. The small boys shiver As zit the river, They slowly peel f)l‘ their first spring swim. Oh ! June is glorious When she’s victorious, ('l’cr blustering B‘wrces, and south winds blow, Sweet odors bringing, And the corn is springing. And the farmer lays for the tilleVIllHCl‘OW. —I)’,)~'fo'¢ (VI/rm. IO! THE DAY \VE DO NOT CELEBRATE. BY ROBERT J. BL'RDET'I'E. One broiling day in hot July, John Adams said, long years gone by, “ This day, that makes a people free, Will be the people's jubilee; “ With games. guns, sports and shows displayed, With bells, pomp, bonfir. s and parade, “ O'er all this land. from shore to shore, From this time fOrth fl.»revei'ii101'e." The years passed on. and by and by, Men‘s hearts grew cold in hot July. And one New England Mayor said. " Uf rockers I am sore afraid: “ And whnso sends one up ablaze. 1’“ send him up for twenty days.” Then said the Mayor O‘Ilay )lchiaIle: “ Thayre uz no ii'ade. fur no peruse.“ And Mayor Hans Von Schwartzenmeyer, I’roclsimcd: “ I‘ll haf me no bonfier.” Said Mayor Baptiste Raphael: “ NO make-a ring-a dat-a bell." “ By gar,” said Mayor Jean Crapaud, “ Zis July games vill has to go." And Mayor Kniid Christofi‘errssonn - Cried: " Dj-Jlllll to bjim who fjiics a gjunu I” 3 At last, said Mayor Wun Lung See: “ TOO muchee hoopla bobberee I" And so the Yankee holiday In 1900 passed away. ‘mn— my. _. . no" ~...~.‘»..-v. \— Varan'...-h""”‘.'