.tizeirc_ ROCK A eve, BABY. Rock a bye. baby: in the tree top. When the wind blOWs the cradle will rock: When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, Down tumble baby, and cradle. and all. Rock a bye, baby: the meadows in bloom; Laugh at the sunbeams that dance in the room Echo the birds with your own baby tune, 000 in the sunshine and flowe s of June, Rock a. bye, baby: as softly it swings. Over thy cradle the mother love sings; Brooding or cooing at even or dawn, What will it do when the mother is gone ? Rock a bye. baby: so cloudless the skies. Blue as the depths of your own laughing eyes Sweet is the lullaby over your nest, That tenderly sings little baby to rest. Rock a bye, baby: the blue eyes will dream Sweetest when mamma’s eyes over them heal: Never again will the world seem so fair— Sleep, little bird, there are clouds in the air. Rock a bye, baby; the blue eyes will burn. And ache with that your manhood will learn Swiftly the years come with sorrow and care With burdens the we: dimpled shoulders must bear. Rock a bye, baby; there‘s coming a day Whose sorrow a mother’s lips can’t kiss away Days when its song will change to a moan: Crosses that baby must bear all alone. Rock a bye, baby; the meadow‘s in bloom. May never the frosts pall the beauty in gloom Be thy world ever bright as to-day it is seen. Rock a bye, baby; “thy cradle is green." —R. J. Burdette. in Hawkeye. NELL’S GUARANTEE. BY LEIGH FORD. “A disappointment connected with . something near your heart,‘ and-«lei me see.” She turned the cards up meditative- ly on the shining oak table and put her hands to her head in a pretty af- fect'ation of wisdom. “That means love,” laying her finger on the five of hearts, “eternal love——the love of some woman. It looks like an old friend, and she runs in hearts. I think. Yes, she is quite light; can you place her?” “As far as coloring goes,” he laughed, “I know any number of light women; yourself, for instance.” “Oh! I’m not in it; my hair is too yellow. This one is more of a demi- blonde, something like Miss Maitland, bronze hair and blue eyes.” “My dear girl, Miss Maitland isn't blonde at all; if you can’t do better than that for me, I’ll throw up the Whole concern." > She smiled and ran off a few more cards, counting every third one in quite a professional manner. “Well, if it’s not Miss Maitland.” shaking her head, “you will have to fill in the name yourself. There is the ace of spades; that’s bad luck, and a death, and—011! 'there's your wish. Have you made a wish?” ‘He shook his head. . ' “You didn’t tell me.” ' “Well, I tell you now; make it right away, and. a good one too, for I believe it’s going to come true.” “But,” he protested, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, “if I make such an important one, I want a guarantee: are you prepared to give it to me?" “Don’t be absurd, Jack; this is seri- ous; now wish something good.” “Must I tell you what it is?" “No,” doubtfully. “You won‘t have ’ to, but you can if you want to.” “lVell—I will tell you if I get it; now, mind, this is very important.” “Select three cards then. Does it concern a woman ?” “Yes.” “I might have known it. or dark?" “That would be telling.” “Oh! You are too provoking,” petu- lantly picking up the cards. “it would serve you right if I said you didn't get your old wish at all.” “But you won't do that?" “Be still. I will if you don‘t let go‘ of my hands. See! You are making me drop all the cards.” “Nonsense! I'll help you pick them up. Just tell me if I get my wish.” "Well, I’ll see. There’s that ten of diamonds and the deuce, and—ah! the ace of hearts. You will have it sure; but there is a little disappointment just at first. I see—dear me, Jack! What are you doing? Let go my hands.” “Not until you have given me a guar~ antee for my wish.” “What do you mean?” “I mean—oh! well, you have known it all along. You are my wish. No, no, don't move. Come, dear, be serious With me for once.” "But I don’t want to be serious," she cried, trying to draw away from him; “you have spoiled all my fortune. Look! Here I see a gift coming.” "What do I care for the cards, or anything else in the world but you? Come, Nell! Give me an answer. You must have some kindness in your heart for me, your old friend.” “That’s it,” she whispered faltering— Iiy, for the first time letting her eyes meet his..-“W'e are such friends. I have known you all my life—I—” rub- bing her hand on the table nervously, “I am fender of you than almost any one; but how can I tell if that is love? Jack, dear, can’t we go on in the old way? I don’t want to marry.” Her fingers closed pleadingly. “Why should we spoil .it by getting married?” He made a quick, impatient gesture. “Oh, yes! I .know it is different with men, but I would be contented to live on just as we are for years. W’hy, see? Is she light We would never know what it was to \ tire of each other. We would not have all the romance brushed off our love by the monotonous intimacy of mar- ried life. We would have all of the delight with none of the despair. .l don’t know why marriage should be regarded as the height and pinnacle of earthly bliss. It seems to me it is the one great institution that destroys love.” She gave a restless sigh, and let her chin sink into the soft palms of her hands. ‘ He stood looking at her a momcn‘ his heart smothered with pain 9... longings and love. Then he leane. slowly forward, and took both) her hands from her face, and held them it the firm clasp of his. “Nell. dear,” he said, softly. “Yor talk this way because you don’t know what love is. Why, do you suppose for a moment that mere pleasant com- panionship would satisfy a man who loved you? He would only be half a man to accept what you suggest. As for me. I cannot go on with our friend‘- ship. I will not take a crust when l have asked for bread. You cannot help it, clear, and I must drop out of your life and live my own as best I may.” He dropped her hands, and turning away began to finger mechanically the ; little string that regulated the lamp, 3 until the flame began to flicker and i finally went out. ' “I beg your pardon—I have a match ——I can light it again,” he muttered, hastily. She watched him in silence as he struck a. light, and with a steady hand ; once more sent a soft glow over the room. _ Her eyes traveled to his face, with _ the light shining full upon it. It was i strangely still. She felt a peculiar lit- tle fluttering sensation in her throat. “Jack,” she whispered, fal’tcringly. He turned in a ‘udden passion, and, catching both her hands, drew her to him—so near that his white face was almost touching hers. She did not move, but a deep flush crept over his tanned cheeks. and his arms tightened convulsively. The force of his clasp crushed and hurt her.~ His face came nearer, nearer; their breaths ninglcd; then. with a sharp exclamation he loosened his hold —-so quickly, so suddenly, that she al- most fell backward. , “Forgive me,” he muttered hoarsely; “don‘t speak to me. Good-night. good-night to your mother, too.” He pulled aside the curtain with a rough hand, and stepped into the hall. She could hear him getting into his coat. Her hands werg still fingering the cards. From the force of habit she turned three up. Her eyes fell upon them as they lay under the lamp-light. A mistake-he was getting his cane now. A—the door was opening—a heartache. She felt the cool night wind on her neck and turned slightly; then there was the sound of the clos- ing door echoing through the silent house—a mistake. Her eyes clung to the cards. They seemed to mock her. She stretched her arms out blindly toward the door and tried to call his name; her lips did not move. Then in a frenzy of pain she scat- tered the cards on the table. Her eyes fell suddenly upon one. She snatched it recklessly from the pack, and rush- ing into the hall, flung the door Wide open. “Jack, Jack?” she panted. He was half way down the steps, and as he paused and turned toward her, she impulsively turned and threw the card at his feet. He stooped won- deringly and, raising it, held it up to the light. It was the fiVe of hearts. “Nell!” he cried, springing up the steps. A sudden flutter of nervousness swept over her, and, with'a throb of fear, she slammed the door. tight; but he knocked heavily against the panels. Say 3 “N ell—Nell, open! What do you mean?” The door did not move. “Sweetheart!” There was a little uncertain turning of the knob, and a crack of light ap- peared. Crushing through it, he caught the slight, trembling form in his arms. “Nell—Nell, open—what do you mean?” “I mean," her words falling spas- modically from her lips, “I mean—that I want to give you my—guarantee.”— New York Truth. ANatural Remedy. Yawning is one of Nature‘s remedies for a certain condition of internal af- fairs. Yawning exercises all the muscles of respiration and the lungs. Yawning is a natural massage for the organs of respiration; Yawning re- lieves pain caused by accumulations of wax in the ear. Yawning is about the only means of exercising those muscles over which the will has no control. It answers the same purpose for the muscles of the ear, throat, nose and chest that stretching does for the muscles of the legs. Popular Sentiment. English Traveller—Why did the Americans think so much of Grant, when he said “Let us have peace?” Oosmopolitehli‘or the same reason that they thought so much of Cleve- land when he said ”Let us have war!” All you have to say to an American is “Let us have something”—n-o matter what—«and he is right with you.-—New York Journal. Not in The Dictionary. Teacher. “What word are you look- ing for, Brown?” ~. Thad Brown. ”Why, teacher, you wanted to know what a woman would be called who performed a brave act. Now, a man who acts bravely is a hero, but I can’t find word for a brave woman.” Teacher. “TVhat is the word?” Thad: “Shero; but it’s not in the dictionary.” Jul—,0 Lug Out of the Biolitlis of Babes. Mother (angrily)—Erhel, if you don’t sit still I'll punish you. Why can’t you be patient? Ethel—’Gause 'I ’sp-sct-s its just as hard for me to be patient, mamma, as it is for you—Truth. - "peruse. two-thirds of every healthy infant’s life should be spent in sleep.’?-, 1. “Well. don't tell me about it; g; talk ' sent to the front with Gov. Atkinson's , of his master’s death and his own fidel- . young Marster, an’ I seed ’im way in to baby.”—Ghicago Record. 3 waEkLr-nORWALn’ FAITHFUL UNCLE BOB. Atkinson's Family Friend and the Story of the Frlemlship. No official in the United States has a more faithful itor than has W. Y. Atkinson, Governor of Georgia, in old Uncle Bob. The old negro is now over sixty years old, past the time when he can earn his living by hard work. So, when first elected Governor, three years ago, Gov. Atkinson wrote a letter to Uncle Bob, then living in Griffin, and offered him a place as jani- tor at the Capitol at a salary of $20 a month, and the old dorky gladly ac- cepted the place. He stood sadly in need of assistance, for he had been turned out of his own domicile by a girl whom he had dopted when she was a little thing, and had reared and educated out of his own earnings. When Gov. Atkinson was suffering with the attack of appendicitis that came near proving mortal last year Uncle Bob sat on the doorsteps in front of the sanitarium where the Governor was being treated night after night, and never left his post unless he was required to go on an errand for his sick master. When the operation was per- formed he sat up the whole night, and his was among the first voices to cheer the Governor in his convalesceoce. One day the Governor was indispozsed and Uncle Bob heard of it and went to the mansion to spend the night with, his master and to cheer his lonely hours. The Governor was restless. Uncle Bob began to recount the occurrences of his past life so as to help while away the hours, and for the first time re- lated his war experience. He was Gov. : in: SE... . eldest brother, John B. Atkinson, who was a member of the Seventh Georgia Regiment, and he recounted the story ity, apparently unconscious of his own heroism in the affair. “Hit was on de mawnin’ of do fus’ Man-asses,” said he in his old planta- tion lingo, “an’ we had stopped to get breakfus. I wus busy wid dc camp fire tryin’ to hurry up do breakfns. ’case dem wus sich squally times dat we didn’t know wat minit we’d hat- ter jump and run, w’en de Gin‘l cr- dered de Sebcnt Geawgy to forrerd. I watch Mars‘ John as he lip to his feet an‘ grab his musketan’ fall inter line. “In er mighty few minits do ridg- ment come tearin’ back, but Mars’ John was slow ’bout COU‘Ll'fl', a-n’ des fo’ day got to de camp dc Eight’ Geawgy w us Ordered to forrerd. an’ dey bein’ or lot 0’ Mars’ John’s kinfolks ’mong dcm Eight’ Geawgy people, w’cn he meet ’em he turned an’ s.arted back inter de fight. I was whar I could keep my eye on ’im, ’case I done promus ol’ Missis I gwi-ne for watch out fo’ de front or de flag des er chargiu’ an’ er hurrayin’, an‘ den dey wus or flash lack lightnin’ in front an’ he fall. “I neber had such feelin’s in all my burned days. De bullits wus er flyin’ thick as hailstones, an’ I seed do men waver au' fall back, an’ I knowed (lat dey‘d done let us: po’ boy all lone on de fiel‘, and I look roun’ fo some way ter git to ’im. boy was or little ravine d-at led oif in erroun’erbout way, an’ I slid inter dat nu’ crawled fo’ er quarter uv er mile, tell I got high ’noug'n ter retch ’im ‘dout ’sposin’ myse‘f ter de bullits. I crepe up for whar he laid, an’ he wus er tryin’ to load ’is musklt. Er great big ball done struck ’im in de side an’ tore er hole w’at look lack I could ram my fls' in, but he wusn't payin’ no ’tcntion to de woun’, but wus er tryin’ to load de gun. I ’splained to ’im how bad hurt he was, an’ 'suaded ’im ter git on my back and hol’ on ter me twel I could git out or dat place. De bullits wus er singin’ roun’ my head, an’ I had ter crawl back tot de ravine wid him on my back, an‘ den creep erlong twel I got over de hill an’ out er range er de bullits. “He was bleedin’ tur‘blc an‘ I knowed dat of I didn’t get he‘p soon dat he’d bleed ter die. So I walked an' run as fas as I could go fo‘ six miles ter dc station an’ den I had ter wait eber‘so long fo’ de train come gwine ter'Richmon’. De ball wus lodged in ’is lef’ side an' I des knowed dat ’is insides wus all tore up, an‘ I give ’im water an’ set an’ fanned ’im an’ bathed ’is face all dat long Sun— day mawnin’ twel-de train come. “Well, sah, at las’ de train come an‘ I managed ter git de po’ boy on boa'd an’ we started on dat ride ter Rich- mon’. W’en we got dar de hospitals was so crowded dat I t’ought I’d never 'git er comfo’terble place fo‘ Mars’ John. He was out’n ’is head an’ kep’ er talkin’ ’bout home and de home folks and hit almost bruk my heart to lis’n tor his child talk. Hit was late Monday night ’fo’ I could git er sur- geon to dress de woun’ an’ den hit was too late. Death done struck de pO’ boy w’en de doctor ’examined de woun’ a-n’ shuck ’is head an’ said mortifica- tion done sot in. All dat I could do wus ter set by de bed an’ wet ’is lips an’ for’ed an’ bresh back do long ha‘r dat looked so boyish an’ curly as he. laid dar gaspin’ fo’ breath, Hit wus ’Way pas’ midnight, an’ I was des drappin’ inter a lil’ doze, w’en he spoke ter me, a-n’ he ax Whar he wus, an’ I tol’ ’im dat he wus safe an’ I wus dar to see dat he wu-s tuck good care uv, an’ den he ax me w’at time hit wus, an’ I tol? ’im hit’s soon be day- light. I a.x ’im ef he feel better, an? be sorter smile lack an’ say he feel fu-s’ rate. Den he ’gun ter tell me w’at to tell he maw w’en I ‘git .back ter Geawgy, an’ I couldn’ keep down de tears, an’ he tol’ me I mus‘ be or better sojer dan dat, an’ ter tell de folks dat he done ’is bes’. “I gin ’im some water an’ be drink a. sip an’ den tell me ter tell all de folks good-by fo’ he’d never sec 01’ Geawgy no mo’, an’ den I des bruk down. He beg me ter raise ’im up an’ I lif’ ’is head an’ be fetch one long bred and was gone.“.—New York .‘Sun. ‘ | narrow epaulette collar. TAFFETA SILK MUCH WORN. Gray 3 Popular Color for Those to Whom it is Becoming. (By Special Arrangement with the N.Y. Sun.) The, most interesting element in the development of fashion is the fertile imagination of the dress designers, who meet the demandsfor variety in summer dresses with amazing abil- ity. The results are more charming than ever this season, since there are no extreme exaggerations in the out- lines, and anything in decoration which is becoming and in good taste is in order. Such a condition in the af- fairs of fashion helps out the scheme of individuality in dress, which is al- ways one of the secrets of success. It is necessary that the cut and finish of the skirt should give it the effect of radiating out from the waist, and es' sential that the sleeves should be close fitting, with some sort of small puff or narrow frills at. the top, but the bodice will admit of every possible va- riation that fancy can devise, and still hold its own in the 2.3.01; of fashion. Suit the style of costmoze to the figure is a safe rule when. fashion furnishes such a variety in styles. ’ Taffeta silks are very much worn, and one of the fads of the season is- to have a black taffeta skirt trimmed with lace-edged. ruffles or rows of vel- vet ribbons, and two or three waists to make variety. One for evening may be made of black net or chiffon over a color. and another of the silk trimmed to match: the skirt and brightened with color at the neck and vest. Sashes of the silk finished on the edges with a frill of lace or a raffle of silk are worn with these gowns. , Harmonies in white and gray are very popular with those who find this delicate tint becoming, and a very pretty gown is made of pale gray can— vas, lined with gray and trimmed with white satin, covered with yellow lace, arranged in the form of a vest, and Yellow Mal- tese, lace is much used for this pur- pose. The most fascinating gowns in the summer outfit are the muslins, and the daintiest sort of evening gowns, as well as those for afternoon, are made of organdie, especially in cream white, with plenty of cream lace for the trim« ming. The skirt is usually hung over a second one of the same muslin cut exactly like the outside one, and either plainly hemmed or finished with a lace edged ruffle. The silk underslip. which may be of color or plain white. is worn underneath this. One rather enticing advantage about the organdi: gown is that it may be constructed 0; the most girlish and youthful princi pies, and still be quite suitable for ma tronly women. Pale yellow orgaudii trimmed with Valenciennes lace am made up over white is a Charmin; dress for a pretty brunette. It is sometimes made very striking with ; belt and bows of black satin ribbon. Bertha effects are very popular on | these thin gowns. A FAMOUS excuasmu RECALLED. ' Given to Interest Capitalists in Northern Pacific Stock. A Northwestern Congressman, who was on the famous excursion which Henry Villard gave to witness the driv- ing of the golden spike of the Northern Pacific road, recalled some of its inter- esting features recently: “It was the greatest junketing trip in the history of the United States, bar none,” said he. “Villard had completed the road, putting an enormous amount of money in it, and he decided‘ that he could interest English and German capital in the enterprise by taking the capitalists themselves out over the road. So he made up his party, includ- ing a large number of distinguished Americans—General Grant among them, I remember—and four trains of Pullman ear-s, each train hauled by! two locomotives, started for the North- west. You never saw such entertain- ment as was lavished on the party. Champagne flowed like water, and no one was allowed to pay for anything— not even for a shave or a newspaper. The trip altogether must have cost at least $400,000, for there were 400 per— sons in the party, and $1,000 per head is a low estimate. “Well, the tragic part of it was yet to come. The sword of Damocles was hanging over Vill-.-‘:rd’s head all the time, and he did. not know it. He had invited the English and German capi< talists to go out over the road. They had never sec—2n anything except rail- roads between cities closely situated, and they could not. appreciate trans- continental lines. They could not un— derstand how a road could pay that ran through stretches of unsettled country, and while they were dining oif Vil- lard's terrapin and champagne, they were wiring back to New York and London to sell the Northern Pacific stock. The stock, which was worth 78 or thcrcabout when he left the East, kept drOpping until it was down to 50. Villard could not account for the de- cline. Finally he was telegraphed to hasten to New York to bolster up his property. Hiring a special engine, he hurried East as fast as steam could carry him, leaving his guests to follow behind him, which they did, but mark- lug every mile of the way with a drunk- on orgie. Champagne bottles were flung around the cars and out of the Windows, and costzy cigars were tram- pled under foot, just for the fun of crunching them, "The sequel of “that famous trip al- ways reminded me of Napoleon’s trip to and item Moscow. He went out in glory and hurried home on a sled to save his head and crown, while his army followed in. a rent behind him. Villard traveling on. a special engine to save himself from ruin, was history re- peating itself.”—W‘ashi.ngton Post. NOBLEMAN. A- POLICEMAN. Must Serve Ten Years On the Force to In- herit a Fortune. The strangest of all the many re- quests that have been made of Mr. Hanna since he took up his leadership in politics came to him when Baron von Mncgge, a young German, solic- ited his influence to obtain an appoint ment as Deputy United States Mar- shal, at any place where the sur— rounding-s are agreeable, at any salary, or any amount of fees. that might be offered. The applicant, who is well vouched for and is undoubtedly all that he pre- tends to. be, told a strange story of the will of his mother, a wealthy, but eccentric, German, who stipulated that he should: serve ten years as a , policeman before he should come into his fortune, her idea being to teach him self-control, develop his character and convince hill] of the dignity of labor. As he did not wish to serve in such an humble capacity among his former and future associates. Von Muiegge came to the United States to serve his time. He has been on the force in several cities, and is now employed as a watchman by a railroad company in Cleveland. The man is personally known to Mr. Hanna. His term of servitude expires in No- vember next, and the baron is anxious to spend the remainder of the period in surroundings which will be more agreeable than those in which he has been situated for the last nine years. He would like to be deputy to the United States Marshal of the District of Columbia for the next six months, and has asked Mr. Hanna’s influence to secure that position—Chicago Rec- ord. ‘ Number of Mechanical Movements. i There are more than 310 mechanical movements known to mechanics to- day, and all of these are but modifica- tions of those found in the human body. Here are found all the bars, levers, joints. pulleys, pumps, pipes, wheels and axles, ball-and-socket movements, beams, girders, trusses, buffers, arches, columns, cables, and supports known to science. I \Vell Named. ! “The month of May is very appro- priately named," remarked the youth to his friend.” ; “In what regard?" . P "Because its weather is so uncer-_ lain.” ; “How does the name May apply to uncertain weather?” 1 “Well, it may be hot or it may be cold; it may be wet or it may be dry.” —Pittsburg Chronicle. l Dusty Dan: “Wot’s dis Spring fev-E er dart you hear so much about?” i Roving Rube: “I’ll tell yer. De igno- rant laboring classes has er fallacy- dat dere’s a time of year dat er man hates ter work more’n udders—dat’s Spring fever.—Twinkles. “I second the motion,” said the man on the rear of the tandem. j- . ._._ _...._.- ._... .. ..__._..._..___, seamed—A wemuessor GENERALS But It Always Exclm the Envy a Younger Mom. Kissing pretty girls hasbeen a fa write occupation of nearly all greal men of mature age, military men be ing particularly given to it. Gen Grant was perhaps the notable except tion. This recalls an incident which came under the observation of the wri: ter at Galena, 111., shortly after the close of the war. Gen. Grant had re turned on a short visit to his old home A great crowd was assembled at the railway station to welcome him. As the General alighted from the train he ‘ was greeted by a procession of a dozen or more young ladies. As the first blooming miss grasped the hand of the here she held up her ruby lips—the lips of brave and tender girls like this are always ruby—with the firm but inex- pressibly sweet compression which every experienced escalator recognizes at a glance as meaning business. The General seemed surprised, flushed slightly, glanced down the line of wait- ing beauties, drew a long breath, and then, with the resolute look of a man determined to fight it out on that line if it took all Summer, he deliberately and with praiseworthy impartiality kissed every girl in the procession. The General was a modest man,‘but he was never known to flinch in the face of his duty to his countrymen-or countrywomen. Gen. R. E. Lee, notwithstanding the staid decorum of his ordinary demean- or, was ever ready, it is stated, to face an emergency of this kind... At Lexing- ton, Va, in the closing years of his life.- there were many pretty girls and many. osculatory encounters, the girls being quite willing to “have it to say” that they had been so distinguished by the great commander. The college boys- heard of it with mingled feelings of envy and emulation. To. this day, it is said, the visitor at Lexington will. be stopped at this or that turn of the road. by his guide, with the remark: “Here, in 1860, I saw Gen. Lee kiss Miss- So and-So. They met; they chatted. At the parting the damsel would say, ‘Why, General, aren’t you going to kiss me?’ and thereupon the General would respond with evident animation.” A. great number of spots at the Southern Mecca are decorated with similar le- gends—so many, in fact, that the tour‘ ist is inspired with regrets that he, too, was not a great General and strate- gist. Gven. Sherman’s exploits in. this at- tractive field are more widely known. Indeed, they were extended. over a wid-er area and were performed with, perhaps, a trifle less discrimination. At every Grand Army. reunion there would be found a number of blooming misses who aspired. to kiss the Gen- eral. Being a gallant man—every sol- dier must be gallant—Gen. Sherman re- sponded to the seductive challenges with exemplary alacrity, tothe sorrow ' of the young officers, who though-t such sweetness wasted on. an old. man, and a married man at that- It does seem hard. Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, who opposed Gen. Sherman on so many fields, was in this line of operations also a rival worthy of his steel.. It was not the good fortune of Gen. Johnston to attend Grand. Army reun— ions to any considerable extent, but in his limited sphere Gen- Johnston had in his last years a great many Confed- erate admirers of the charming sex, who, with his ready sanction, testified their cordiality in the characteristic and always pleasant feminine manner. He was a handsome man. even in ex- treme old age, so that there was no drawback to chill the fluttering heart of the impulsive feminine patriot. It must not be assumed that the Gen- erals that have been named are the only ones who have had the courageto meet their feminine admirers of the- third generation half way. Their name is legion, so far, at least, as apprecia~ tion goes. It is noticeable, however, that the girls draw the osculatory line- at Major Generals. They are severe in their requirements, exacting rank, fame, and an age few ordinary mortals can attain without falsifying the fam— ily records. The kissing of great Generals is to be distinguished from that of great politicians. President Buchanan, it is true, was a truly fortunate man in- this regard, but he was a President and a bachelor. He was, in fact, wholly out- side of the category of ordinary politi— cians, Whose kissing is commonly re- stricted to children and babies. Such osculation is useful in a campaign, but it is said not to be exhilarating. A Friendly Critic. Sir John Millais was once attending a celebrated case at Bow street, and was accommodated with a seat in the press box. In front of him sat a. youthful new addition to the staff of a leading London illustrated paper. “Don’t. you think that would be an improvement?” suggested the great ar~ tist mildly, pointing out some tech- ’ nichal defect in the sketch the young- ster was engaged on. The young fel- low was highly indignant at first, but. eventually adopted the alteration, which so improved the sketch that he turned round and inquired some- what patronizingly, “Who may you be, sir, who presume to correct my work?” For answer he received a card, on which was inscribed, “John Miliais, R. A.,” accompanied by the kindly remark, “We are never to old to learn. Perhaps you may be able to give me a timely wrinkle one of these fine days.” If Chnmpaigne Flowed Like Beer. “Oh. dear!" sighed Chollie. “I Wish champagne was as common as beeah.” “Then you would just float in it?” asked the common person. , “Deal: me no! I would not dwink it at all. It goes to my head so.”——Ino dianapohs Journal.
Norwalk Chronicler