Puslapio vaizdai

"He knew before he married you that the report was false," replied Bertie.

"You mistake," said her ladyship, calmly; but a dark flush passed across her face, and her hand moved so as to shade it still more from him.

"I wrote to Ralph myself, Estelle," said Bertie; "I begged that if you had heard the report he would go to you and contradict it. I did not dare to write to you. Your friends had forbidden it; you yourself had forbidden it; and besides I krew-"

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"That a letter in your hand would never reach me," said Lady Tennent. Right; it never would have reached me. They were only too glad of any plea that could turn my thoughts from a poor soldier."

It was so strange to him; so terribly strange and sorrowful to see her sit there unmoved, with her beautiful face cold and passionless, as though the soul that once shone in it were dead. "Oh, Estelle," he said, falteringly, "you gave me but one year of remembrance-one short year!"

"I gave my life to you, Bertie Tennent," she replied; "to any joy the world might have for others, I died when you did." "Yet you married!" said he.

"Yes," she replied. "I married your cousin Ralph. He did not live very long; only three years. I am sorry he should have died with this treachery on his soul. I hope he is forgiven."

Lady Tennent's eyes wandered to a portrait on the opposite wall, but they did not linger there; they gave it a passing glance, and then came back and rested on the figure which still stood in shadow. A momentary softness flitted over my lady's face; a momentary cadence of appeal touched her voice.

"You would ask how I could marry him without love," she said. "Bertie, I had a miserable home. My father taunted me with remaining a burden upon his hands; in a multitude of ways I was made to feel how little he and his new wife wanted me, how gladly I should be given away. I was worn out and desolate. Oh, if fathers and mothers knew the fearfulness of that desperation which seizes the girl that feels herself a burden in her own home! I never deceived your cousin. I told him I had no love for him; but he urged me, and he was kind then. It seemed to me of little consequence where he remnant of my life should be spent; I did not think it would be long. I was mistaken, you see."

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"I have no love to give," said Lady Tennent, sadly. "It died out with you. My heart is turned to stone, I think. I have lived because I could not help it; monotonous days coming one after the other, welcome only inasmuch as they brought me nearer to the end. All these strange passions and emotions of human hearts fail to touch me now; no one longs for my presence, no one would miss it if I were dead. I have lost the power of loving. As for you, if I had known you were living it might have been different; I cannot say. You-you are not-"

Something in his face stopped her. It grew deadly white, even to his lips. He came forward out of the shadow; he bent one knee-not to her, but that he might approach her on her low seat--and he lifted one of her hands to his lips.

For the first time Lady Tennent was agitated, and a strange memory, like a breath from the pines in the Ghost's Walk, stirred her heart. She might have thought that he was going to say more; perhaps even a sudden doubt concerning herself, and the love she had just told him was dead, flashed across her; but Bertie was not going to say more; in the agony of this unexpected wound which she had given him, he could but leave her, silenced for ever. He held her hand a moment, and looked up straight into her face. "Estelle, good-bye," said he. "Though my own dream is over, try to care for some one. An unloving woman is a monster on this beautiful earth."

Lady Tennent started forward with a smothered cry, but Bertie never heard it; he was gone. In that moment, while he knelt looking up at her, she had seen his face in a great gleam of firelight, and knew that the same soul shone out from his eyes; knew that the old ideal she had clung to and glorified was a delusion; it never had been Bertie; it was a lay figure, robed in such colors as her fancy had delighted to throw about it.

Lady Tennent bent down and covered the eyes that had not wept for years. They wept now, passionate tears at first, then gentle; they thawed the ice about her heart; they filled her with tender thoughts, with amazed wonder st her own life, with longings which she scarcely even yet understood. "An unloving woman was a monster on the earth and she had been that monster. She had loved no one; not even the stepson for whom Sir Ralph, in his dying moments, had prayed her care; she had gone through life, aimless, hopeless and callous;

'Estelle, one word about your husband," said Bertie. "At a frozen woman. Lady Tennent rose and walked up to her husleast he was kind to you?"

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A torrent of words broke from Bertie's lips; tremulous, tender, pleading love that had increased with years-wistful eagerness to atone for the chilly past, to fold her, his darling, the hope of youth and manhood, in the mantle of his love, through which, if storms must touch her, they should come but lightly.

It would be too much to say that Lady Tennent never heard him. She did listen; but not a feature of her face changed, no emotion, unless it was a sort of wondering pity, came into it. This man who stood before her was Bertie Tennent indeed; but not her Bertie, not the young lover who had been dead and buried for her; but a stranger whom she would have passed if she had met him, with no recognition. That Bertie was young and radiant, full of hope and joy, and eagerness for the battle of life, full of passion and enthusiasm. It was he to whom her heart had been given; he was dead; she had never thought of him as one whose youth passed with the passing years. This Bertie, with the keen brown face, and the gray sprinkling on his hair, was another man; he bore but little resemblance to the other; he was a stranger. Lady Tennent turned her calm face upon him again wonderingly.

"Poor Bertie !" she said.

He started at the words. Pity stings us so bitterly from lips which we know are about to refuse an offered love. And Bertie knew what she meant.

band's portrait. She fancied that even on those senseless lips there was a look of accusing sternness.

"Oh, how could you do it ?" she said in her sudden passion. "I was a good wife to you, I was indeed! If you can hear me say so, you know that it is true. For all your cruel neglect and jealousy, and bitter injustice, I have never before forgiven you. Now that this great treachery is added thereto, I forgive all. Ralph, I will love your son; be at peace."


LADY TENNENT had a writing-table before her, and packets of old letters were scattered about it. Yellow they were, and scented with the scent which lingers in old papers; and Lady Tennent was putting them all away except one. She had found what she wanted, but it seemed that she shrank a little from opening this packet. Her fingers lingered over the string that tied it; a tremulous movement of her lips betraying that these old papers, whatever they were, had power to move her strangely. Well, they were nothing but old love lettersfoolish affairs, written and sent by hands hardly removed from childish, simple enough to have provoked a smile from indifferent lips. But Lady Tennent did not smile over them. The fragments of a withered rose brought a sudden pallor to her face. She remembered putting it by to keep, as she had vowed, for ever. Then came a copy of verses in a man's handwriting. No doubt they were halting and trite-we will not look over her shoulder to read them-but to her they were instinct once more with the spirit and the hopes of the time when first she read them with shining eyes. That time was coming back to her from under its crust of imprisoning ice; the world was

changed since yesterday, for yesterday she would have spurned these useless records of a dead past, and put them from her. Lady Tennent took from this packet a small miniature, and looked at it long; then she pushed aside the table a little hastily, as the door opened, and her step-son-the young Sir Ralph-came up to her. He had a book in his hand, but Lady Tennent saw that he was half laughing, and detected a paper in that book which she knew had nothing to do with its legitimate contents.

In the midst of such thoughts, the memory of his last speech to her flashed upon him suddenly with strong dismay and remorse. He had called her a monster! How was it possible for him to use such words! Would she ever forgive them?

If Bertie could have known what those words had helped to do--if he could have known about the little slip of paper which was being folded for him-things might have worn. a different aspect. But my lady never sent it. She could not. The act rose up and reproached her as unwomanly. She had sent him away, and there was nothing more to be done. Lady Tennent

"Is your book very amusing, Ralph ?" said my lady. The lad started and looked up at the unusual gentleness of could see, as she thought this, the tall figure of Bertie come out the tone.

"'Tis only a stupid muff of a Valentine!" he replied, flushing up and laughing outright. "Some of the fellows sent it, of course. I don't think I should like to show it you, my lady."

When Ralph said this, he expected a cold reproof, or a shrug of polite indifference, and he glanced at my lady furtively, to be amazed at the change in her.

Lady Tennent herself was silent. She knew that the impulsive and excitable young baronet would have loved her as a mother if she had let him; but she had repulsed him so often was it too late now?

of its shadow, and lower itself to the level of her seat; could see the gleam from the fire light up his face; could almost feel the touch of his lips on her hand, and hear his voice, "Try to care for some one."

What chances had she missed that could never return in all her dreary, self-absorbed life? What chances remained to her now that she was awake, and saw how poor a thing her life had been?

Lady Tennent looked round with a shiver, when a servant came in to close the shutters, and draw the heavy curtains over the sounds of another brawling night. There was wild work up in the Ghost's Walk amongst the pines, she thought. How

"I am to start to-day, you know," said the boy, watching their dark tops would sway and rock against the gray sky beher. "I am come to say good-bye, my lady." hind! How the wind would toss their arms about, and whistle through them!

She turned towards him and held out her hand.

"It will not be for very long, Ralph," she said; "but I shall miss you. I hope you will enjoy yourself, and be happymy son."

In spite of herself, that came out with difficulty. But no such words had ever greeted him from her before; no such look, half sorrow, half tenderness, as that which brought the sudden mist to his eyes, and made him seize the hand held out to him and kiss it.

"I never thought you cared," blurted out the boy. I thought-"

"You fancied I did not love you. Perhaps my manner might have been kinder, Ralph; but try to believe that I am caring for you always. You are my son, you know-your father's last charge," said Lady Tennent, looking into his eyes a little wistfully.

Now that she was changed, what if the change brought only fruitless effort and disappointment? But Ralph, taken by surprise, and remembering remorsefully many a sharp answer of his, and many an act of hidden disobedience, was softened at once, and could only stammer out that she had always been good to him-too good. Lady Tennent stooped and kissed his forehead.

66 Remember," ," said she, "that you are dear to me as my own son could be. If ever you are in trouble-a trouble even out of which I could help you-will you think of me then, and trust me, Ralph ?''

"Yes, mother," he replied.

He said it shyly, for the first time, but the lad's heart was touched, and he wanted to do or say something which should show her that it was.

Then the lad went away, and my lady sat down again at the writing-table. She sat there a long time thinking; and at last she took up a pen and wrote that note which was never sent. There were only two words in it-"Come back."


When the servant was gone my lady held out a slip of paper, and bent over the flame with it. It was the poor little note! As she watched it curl up, a sudden thrill of consciousness stirred my lady's pulses as they had not been stirred for years. She knew that strange footstep in the hall, and knew that he had come back as she burnt his summons. She never turned from the fire to meet him. She saw the words come out on that bit of tinder, as you may have seen burnt words come out again to mock you. Did he see them?

"Estelle, I am here to pray your forgiveness for my rougl words. Oh, Estelle! you and I should part friends, if we can be nothing more."

He held out his hand imploringly; then Estelle turned the face over which so wonderful a light had come towards him.

"Bertie-mine !"



WATERPROOF CEMENT.-Take new sweet cheese, and work it in hot water until the butter or greasy portion is all removed. This changes the cheese into a tenacious slimy mass. thoroughly washed, remove the cheese to a hot stove, and knead a quantity of air-slacked lime in so that the mass will be sufficiently strong for use. It must be applied forthwith as it sets rapidly. The articles to be joined must be heated quite hot, as high as 200 deg., or scalding water; then united and bound so they will remain in contact until set; in about three days the articles may be used. It is said that this cement is capital for aquaria; also for wood, glass, and stone, or earthenMr. Schofield states that he has tried it on a steamware. boiler, and that he made a "soft patch," so called by boilermakers, with great success.

HARD GINGERBREAD.-Two pounds of flour, one-half pound of butter, one pint molasses, one-fourth pound sugar, one ounce ginger, one-half teaspoonful cream of tarter.

MEAT PICKLE.-Moist sugar, one pound; common salt, two pounds; saltpetre, a quarter of a pound; fresh ground allspice, one ounce; water, four quarts; dissolve. This will pickle meat, to which it imparts a fine red color, and a superior flavor.

WHEN Bertie left his old love, there was none of the contempt in his heart which she had imagined him as feeling. He was smarting under the sting of a keen and cruel disappointment, but he did not blame her. He never felt the big drops of rain that swept against his face, nor the wind that buffeted him as he walked. To come back as he had done, with his full heart, TO EXPAND FLOWERS.-Tulips, and many other flowers, when and hear her say calmly that he was nothing to her-could be cut early on a dull, cold morning, are seldom very well expandnothing! It seemed to him that whatever change might have ed. If they are afterwards placed in a warm room, and their passed over her, she would still have been the same to him-stems put to stand in warm water, it will cause them to expand his own. That could never be now. He had now to go out their flowers as well as they would have done on the bed on the into the world again, a lonely, disappointed man, to live out brightest day in spring. This is not only applicable to tulips, his cheerless life as best he might. but to many other flowers as well.

FARMER'S PUDDING.-Heat one quart of milk to boiling, then stir in slowly one teaspoonful of Indian meal. Mix with this about six good apples, pared and sliced, and add two tablespoonfulls of sugar, one of butter and a little allspice and nutmeg. Pour the whole into a deep dish, and bake until done, or about forty minutes.

SHEEP SKINS FOR MATS.-Steep the skins in water, and wash them well till they are soft and clean; they are then scraped and thinned on the flesh side with the fleshing knife, and laid in fermented bran for a few days, after which they are taken out and washed; a solution of salt and alum is then made, and the flesh side repeatedly and well rubbed with it, until it appears bleached; after which make a paste to the consistency of honey, of the alum and salt solution, by adding wheaten flower and the yolks of eggs, and spread this paste on the flesh side; after this they are stretched and dried, and, when dry, | rubbed with pumice stone.

REMEDY FOR DIPTHERIA-The treatment consists in thoroughly swabbing the back of the mouth and throat with a wash made thus: Table salt, two drachms; black pepper, golden seal, nitrate of potash, aluw, one drachm each. Mix and pulverize, put into a tea-cup half full of water, stir well, and then fill up with good vinegar. Use every half hour one, two, and four hours, as recovery progresses. The patient may swallow a little each time. Apply one ounce each of spirits of turpentine, sweet oil, and aqua ammonia, mixed, every hour, to the whole of the throat, and to the breast bone every four hours, keeping flannel to the part.

MODE OF EMPLOYING SODA IN WASHING.-Into a gallon of water put a handful of soda, and three quarters of a pound of soap; boil them together until the soap is dissolved, and then pour out the liquor for use. This mode of preparing this detergent for washing will be found far preferable to the usual mode of putting the soda into the water, or of adding, as is usual, a lump to the water in the boiler, in consequence of which so many iron moulds are produced in many kinds of clothes. In the washing of blankets, this mode of proceeding will be found admirable, and render them beautifully white.

TO CLEAN PAINT THAT IS NOT VARNISHED.-Put upon a plate some of the best whiting; have ready some clean warm water, and a piece of flannel, which dip into the water and squeeze nearly dry; then take as much whiting as will adhere to it, apply it to the paint, when a little rubbing will instantly remove any dirt or grease; wash well off with water, and rub dry with a soft cloth. Paint thus cleaned looks equal to new; and without doing the least injury to the most delicate color, it will preserve the paint much longer than if cleaned with soap; and it does not require more than half the time usually occupid in cleaning.

TARTS OF PRESERVED FRUIT.-Line small plates with a rich crust; make a rim of puff paste, and bake it ten or fifteen minutes, until the paste is quite done; then fill them with any kind of preserved fruit, brush them over with the white of an egg, sift on a little white sugar, and set them in the oven about three minutes.

CHAMPAGNE CIDER.-Take good pale vinous cider, one hogshead; proof spirit (pale), three gallons; honey or sugar, fourteen pounds; mix and let them remain together in a temperate situation for one month; then add orange-flower water, one quart, and fine it down with skimmed milk, half a gallon. This cider will be very pale; a similar article, when bottled in champagne bottles, silvered and labeled, has been often sold to ignorant persons for champagne. It opens very brisk if managed properly.

ICE PUDDING.-Boil one pint and a half of new milk with one teaspoonfull of isinglass. Beat five eggs and mix them with the milk as you would for custards. Take a tin mould with a cover, oiled, not buttered, and line it with candied fruits, such as plums, greengages, &c. Then pour the custard in very gradually, so that the fruit will remain at the bottom. Put on the cover, and bury the mould in ice for the whole day, only turning out the pudding at the moment it is wanted..

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VALUABLE HINTS.-The leaves of the elder, if strewed among corn or other grain, when it is put in the bin, will effectually preserve it from the ravages of the weevil. The juice will also kill bed-bugs and maggots. Insects never touch elder bushes. The leaves of elder scattered over cabbages, cucumbers, squashes, and other plants subject to the ravages of insects, effectually shield them. The plum, and other fruits may be saved by placing on the branches and among them bunches of the leaves.

BANBURY BUNS.-Prepare some dough with two tablespoonfuls of thick yeast, a gill of warm milk and one pound ol flour. Let it work a little, and then mix with it two and a half pounds of currants washed and picked, the same weight of candied orange and lemon peel, cut small, a quarter of an ounce of allspice, and the same of ginger or nutmeg; mix all together with a half a pound of honey. Put into puff paste cut in an oval form, cover it with the same, and sift sugar over the top. Bake these cakes for a quarter of an hour in a moderate oven

BLOWING OUT A CANDLE.-There is one small fact in domestic economy which is not generally known, but which is useful as saving time, trouble, and temper. If a candle be blown out holding it above you, the wick will not smoulder down, and may, therefore, be easily lighted again; but if blown upon downwards, the contrary is the case.

TO PREPARE CocoA.-Cocoa nibs require two to three hours' boiling to extract all their goodness. The vessel containing them should be placed near the fire, so as to heat gradually nntil the decoction is at the boiling point, at which it must be kept, and not permitted to boil violently. It is a mistake to suppose that nibs are soluble, or that a high color is requisite for goodness. Flaked cocoa is nothing but the refuse of better preparations.

A USEFUL EMBROCATION FOR RHEUMATISM, LUMBAGO, OR STRAINS. Half an ounce of strongest camphorated spi.it, one ounce of spirits of turpentine, one raw egg, half pint best vinegar. Well mix the whole, and keep it closely corked. To be rubbed in three or four times a day. For rheumatism in the head, or faceache, rub all over the back of the head and neck, as well as the part which is the immediate seat of pain.

SPRING SOUP.-Spring soup may be made of a knuckle of veal allowing a quart of water to each pound-with four calves' feet, a little cold ham, or salt and cayenne, simmered slowly for several hours. Add, then, two quarts of young green peas and a pint of asparagus tops, previously boiled with the juice of spinach and other green herbs or vegetables, and a quarter of a pound of butter rolled in flour. Boil up together, and serve.

POOR AUTHOR'S PUDDING.-Flavor a quart of new milk by boiling in it, for a few minutes, half a stick of well bruised cinnamon, or the the thin rind of a small lemon; add a few grains of salt, and three ounces of sugar, and turn the whole into a deep basin; when it is cold, stir to it three well-beaten eggs, and strain the mixture into a pie-dish. Cover the top entirely with slices of bread free from crust, and half an inch thick, cut so as to join neatly, and buttered on both sides; bake the pudding in a moderate oven for half an hour, or in a Dutch oven before the fire.


HIS OWN TRUMPETER.-A colorel of one of the Bengal regiments was recently complaining at an evening party, that from the igno. rance and inattention of the officers, he was obliged to do the whole duty of the regiment. Said he, "I am my own major, my own captain, my own lieutenant, my own ensign, my own sergeant, and-" "Your own trumpeter," said a lady present.

Mrs. Jem.ma Jipson cou never go to bed without first looking underneath to see if somebody was not stowed away there. But her search had always been bootless. At last, however, one night, she spied, or thought she did, which is all the same. the long looked for boots and legs.

"Oh, Mr. Jipson! Mr. Jipson!' she screamed out, “there is a man under the bed!"

"Is there?" coolly drawled out her husband; "well, my dear, I'm glad you have found him at last; you have been looking for him these twenty years."

THE RETORT COURTEOUS.-A clergyman and one of his elderly parishioners were walking home from church one frosty day, when the old gentleman slipped and fell flat on his back. Tee minister, looking at him a moment, and being assured that he was not much hurt, said to him, "Friend, sinners stand on slippery places."

The old gentleman looked up, as if to assure himself of the fact, and said, "I see they de, but I can't."

WHERE THE FASHIONS COME FROM.-A youngster and an old salt were conversing in a town in Devonshire. The boy was curious to know where all the fashions came from.

"Why," said Jack, leisurely turning his quid," from Portsmouth, to be sure."

"But where do the Portsmouth folks get them ?" "From Brighton, I s'pose."

"And where do the Brighton folks get them ?" "From London, I reckon."

"Well, but where do the Londoners get them ?"

Jack was by this time getting a little uneasy under this steady fire of the youngster, but he managed to reply, "From Paris, of


Even this did not satisfy the questioner, who immediately asked, "But where do the Paris folks get them?"

This was too much. Jack turned upon him, and giving his trousers a hitch, exclaimed, “Why, right straight from Satan!"

At a tea-party, where some Cantabs happened to be present, the lady who presided over the tea equipage "hoped the tea was good." "Very good, indeed, madam," was the general reply, till it came to the turn of one of the Cantabs to speak, who, between truth and politeness, shrewdly observed, "That the tea was excellent, but the water was smoky."

DIVINITY AND POTATOES.-A clergyman in the course of an argumentative sermon found it necessary to express his disagreement, upon som doctrinal point, with those who had published explanations of the passage in question; he accordingly spoke as follows: "Commentators, for the most part, do not agree with me." A farmer in the parish, who had listened to the discourse, appeared the next morning in the clergyman's study, bringing with him a sack of portly dimensions, which he begged the rector to accept, telling him at the same time that, "He had heard him say in his sermon that common taters did not agree with him, and so he had brought him a sack of his best kidneys!"

A black servant was once found by his mistress in the kitchen giving way to a series of b'hoos, accompanied by a copious flood of


"Why, Tom, what is the matter with you?" asked the kind hearted lady. Tom replied, "Dey sez my brodder-b'hoo-hab been and gone and mar'd a wite woman-bhoo!"

"I should think you would be glad of it, Tom," rejoined she. "Wy, missis, I feel jes bad 'bout my brodder marr'in' a wite gal as you'd feel 'f you brodder'd mar'd a culled lady."


If you don't marry them, they despise you.

If you do, they abuse you.

If you don't let them have their own way, they hate you.

If you do, they ruin you.

A Dutchman was relating his marvellous escape from drowning, when thirteen of his companions were lost by the upsetting of boit, and he alone saved.

"And how did you escape their fate?" asked one of his hearers. "I tid not go in the pote," was the Dutchman's placid reply.

Man travels to expand his ideas; but woman-judging from the number of boxes she invariably takes with her-travels only with the object of expanding her dresses.

MUTUAL MISTAKE.-Lord Seaforth, who was born deaf and dumb, was to dine one day with Lord Melville. Just before the time of the company's arrival, Lady Melville sent into the drawing-room a lady of her acquaintance, who could talk with her fingers to dumb people, that she might receive Lord Seaforth. Presently Lord Guildford entered the room; and the lady, taking him for Lord Seaforth, began to ply her fingers very nimbly; Lord Guildford did the same; and they had been carrying on a conversation in this manner for about ten minutes, when Lady Melville joined them. Her female friend immediately said

"Well, I have been talking away to this dumb man." "Dumb!" cried Lord Guildford; "bless me, I thought you were dumb!"

The Rev. Sidney Smith, whilst preaching a charity sermon, frequently repeated the assertion that of all nations Englishmen were most distinguished for the love of their species. The collection proved inferior to his expectations; and he said that he had evidently made a mistake, for he should have said they were distin guished for a love of their" specie."

A MUSICAL CRITIC FOR YOU.-A fellow was invited to a party, one evening, where there was music, both vocal and instrumental. On the following morning he met one of the guests, who said: "Well, how did you enjoy yourself last night? Were not the quartettes excellent ?"

"Well, really, I can't say," said he, "for I didn't taste them; but the lobster salad was the finest I ever ate!"

An Irishwoman compiaining to a magistrate of a person who was in the habit of throwing slops in her yard, was told that it was a Luisance and ought to be abated. "Bated is it!" says she. "Faith, and I'll bate her myself, if your honor says the word."

An elderly gentleman being ill, one of his friends sent a messenger with the usual inquiry, which, however, he had not pronounced with due emphasis. I'll thank you to take my compliments, and saying, "He's just sixty-eight, sir!” "The messenger departed on his errand, and speedily returned,

ask how old Mr. W. is."

Dr. Thompson took occasion to exhort his man David, who was a namesake of his own, to abstain from excessive drinking, otherwise he would bring his grey hairs prematurely to an early grave. "Take my advice, David," said the minister," and never take more than one glass at a time."

"Neither do I, sir," said David; "neither do I; but I care unco little how short the time be atween the twa."

A favorite mode of introduction in Brazil is said to be "This is my friend; if he steals anything from you I am responsible for it." Many a person thinks he is honest because he has never cheated.

If they see a better looking fellow than yourself, and take a fancy Instead of that he is only honest because he has never been to him, why, ten to one but they run away from you. Get married! Not if I know it.

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tempted. What the world calls "innate goodness" is very often a full stomach; and what it terms vice is quite as frequently an empty bread-basket.

INCOME TAX.-Horne Tooke is said to have given in his return under the property-tax, as having an income of only sixty pounds a year. Being, in consequence, summoned before the commissioners, who found fault with his return, and desired him to explain how he could live in the style he did with so small an income: he replied, "that he had much more reason to be dissatisfied with the small. ness of his income than they had; that as to their inquiry, there were three ways in which people contrived to live above their income: namely, by begging, borrowing, and stealing; and he left it to their sagacity which of these methods he employed."

Two gentlemen having a difference, one went to the other's door A gentleman walking with two ladies, stepped on a hogshead and wrote "Scoundrel!" upon it. The other called upon his neigh-hoop, that flew up and struck him in the face. "Mercy!" said he, bor, and was answered by a servant that his master was not a home. which of you dropped that?" "No matter," was the reply; I only wished to return his visit, as he left his name at my door in the morning."

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A mad Englishman a Paris recently smashed the face of a statue in one of the public squares, because it looked like his faithless wife. He'said, by way of apology, that he thought women of that kind should be dis-countenanced.

for the intensity as for the shortness of his friendships. "Yes," Some people were talking about a gentleman celebrated as much said a wit, "his friendships are so warm that he no sooner takes them up than he puts them down again."

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"Why does father call mother honey?" asked a boy of his older brother.

"Can't tell, 'cept its because she has a large comb in her head."

A notorious miser, having heard a very eloquent charity sermon, exclaimed, "This sermon strongly proves the necessity of alms. Í have almost a mind to turn beggar."

An old washerwoman would hang her clothes to dry on the railings of a church, and after repeated prohibitions from the churchbless ye, sir, ye wouldn't go 'an take the bread out of my mouth, wardens, she came out with the following burst of eloquence: "Lord would ye? 'Sides, sir, cleanliness comes next to godliness, parson says."

THE LAP OF LUXURY.-A cat enjoying her milk.

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Every lady wishes to nave what is called a speaking eye. She Would make a mouth of her eye.

Madam, will you please give me your name ?" "No, sir, I want it myself."

Two may agree together, but three are always at odds.

Many men and women have sad occasion to know that two do not necessarily make a pair.

There is gold plate and silver plate; but the best plate for a hungry man is that with the most and best food upon it.

If a lazy husband orders his wife here and there before he gets up in the morning, she needn't obey till after he goes to bed at night." AN ACCEPTANCE AT SIGHT.-Receiving a black eye. Why is a washerwoman the most cruel person in the world? Because she daily wrings men's bosoms.

"There are ties which never should be severed," as the ill-used wife said when she found her brute of a husband hanging in the hayloft.

CANDID DARKEY.-Don't be excited, Massa Greeley, I did not mean to wound your feelings. I said, Massa Greeley, it was not your fault, but your misfortune, that you were not born a collud pusson-you've just missed being a great man, Massa Greeley-I'm sorry for you.

A sentimental young man thus feelingly expresses himself :"Even as Nature benevolently guards the rose with thorns, so does she endow women with pins."

Hearing a physician remark that a small blow would break the nose, our Daniel exclaimed, "Well, I donno 'bout that. I've given my nose many blows, and I've never broke it yet."

don't care what color it is; and when he kills his pig last week, he'll pay you what you owe him."

"Father wants you to send two yards of black tweed cloth; he


Aw! how duth you like my moustache, Mith Laura?" lisped a dandy to a merry girl." "Oh, very much; it looks like the fuz on the back of a caterpillar."

A gentleman, in advertising for a wife, says: "It would be well if te lady were possessed of a competency sufficient to secure her against excessive grief in case of an accident occurring to her companion."

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YOUNG SPECTATOR.-I think, uncle, I've done well. I have sold my business to a young enterprisin' white gentleman, about my own age; but he says he must hab de use of my name!

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