A Bull-Fight in Peru.

A LADY writing from Peru gives an .•account; of a bull-fight -which she atten ded. She says: Soon a side door opened and a bull, maddened by previous torture, bounded into the arena, a train of torpedoes saluting him. He stood still a moment, panting with excitement^ his fceautiful eye filled with a wild expres sion ; then, pawing the earth furiously, he was approached by a capeadore, who flaunted his bright capes in his face. The enraged beast rushed at full speed upon horse and rider ; but just as the horns were lowered to gore them the capeadore, with wonderful dexterity, turned his horse quickly in another direction and repeated the teasing, which was followed by another attack, the bull being out-maneuvered by the sudden approach and irritating display of the other capeadore; and thus they drew the danger from one to the other. But not • always does the capeadore escape ; many times a y^ar both horse and rider are killed or severely wounded by an unusually fierce or fleet bull. Whe'xi at last the poor animal became intoxicated with frenzy, then the wild play between the tnata dores, the "ficadores, and their victim commenced, and the excitement made one shudder and grow sick with horror.

It seemed as though evil spirits clothed in dazzling garments were before us, tempting death in every motion ; flying in every direction they were, their long capes now trailing on the ground —winding in and out of the labyrinth of poles—rushing at full speed the whole length of the arena, the bull like a wild demon close at their heels, till some retreat was reached and the baffled animal given a chance to make but a plunge, when another chase was given him. At last he began to show fright with his anget1; then a picadore l with the most insiduous daring and graceful motion, approached the bulls head, whirled a scarlet cape in his face, and, with a swift throw, fastened into his neck a barbed arrow. Three or four of these weapons were thus planted, and a wreath of blood encircled the suffering creature's neck. Shaking his head, and bounding with pain, he became ter rible in his fury, which met with a corresponding increase of agility and power on the part of the matadores and picadores.

At this juncture, a matadore pre sented himself before the master of ceremonies and asked permission to kill the bull. It was granted; he bowed low in acknowledgment of the favor, and came forward with, a proud bear ing, sword in hand, over which a gay cloth was thrown to attract the poor animal to his death. Then this fear ful tragedy in pantomime increased each moment in fascination and cruelty blanching the cheek of a novice, and bringing the colour of excitement to the faces of those accustomed to such scenes.

No words can describe the infuriated, passionate, bleeding creature, panting with fear, tossing his head madly with pain, pawing the earth in desperation, and yet relentlessly pursued by his tormentors, who grew more daring as the excitement increased. Heck lessly these men exposed themselves to danger —darting under the hull's horns, running races with only the trailing cape between them and a most ignoble death. But in the whirling of alf those bright colors, and the evolutions of those splendidly costumed men, there was method at this stage. The animal had to be driven into and kept within certain limits, and after a while confined to plunging from one to another. The bull-killer kept close by his side, watching his opportunity, and calculating with a nicety worthy of a better cause, the motions of his victim, knowing when a mad plunge would come, and, with his cape or the end of his swerd, he met it with an incomparably graceful spring. Thus the brute without a soul, and the brute with a soul, met face to face in the almost equal contest for life. Quick as lightning the long, gleaming sword was thrust behind the shoulder-blade, that it might find the heart. Often the first thrust is not successful, and the tortured creature, bounding and writhing in agony, loosens the sword and it falls out, when the chase has- to commence again.

Sometimes, it is said, he dashes near the box of some brave senorita, and she reaches out her tawny hand, blazing with diamonds, and plunges deeper into the wound the cold steel. One metadore being successful, buried the sword to the hilt in the animal's body, when he soon staggered and fell with a heavy thud, while his tormen tors circled around him, waving their brilliant capes in exultation. The bands struck up triumphant strains, by the tumultuous ac clamations of thousands of spectators and the firing of rockets. Tour horses then were hurried into the arena, drawing a pair of low wheels, to which the dead bull was attached, and urged on at full speed by the lash, they dashed out through a gateway. This last act seemed the very climax of cruelty, yet was an appropriate inspiration for the next scene. On the afternoon in question eight bulls were slaughtered. "We witnessed two of these inhuman scenes, then were thankful to make our exit and breathe the pharisaical prayer, 'We are thankful, O Lord, that we are not wicked Peruvians.'

Then and Now!

The Idyll of Gawge Agtjstus and Claka Angelina.

I saw two beings in the hues of Youth, Gawge Augustus and Clara Angelina, s ting upon a grassy mound in Central Park. They were far apart from the rude throng of common, vulgar-minded humanity. Oh! wasn't Gawge Augustus handsome; such a lovely part to his back hair ; his mou stache so delicate, expressive and tender; and such eyes! And then, what a sweet dresser he was —he didn't pitch his clothes on with a pitch-fork—aot much. As the ladies all said ' lie was simply splendid !'

And as for Clara Angelina—she was an angel—all except the wings. Her magni ficent golden hair, ornamented only with a single rose—of the-last-rose-of-summer left-blooming-alone variety ; her entranc ing complexion, alabaster neck, superbly moulded arms, bewitching blue eyes, from which the love-light seemed to float out into bewildering expression through a hasy mist of languor—ah ! how beautiful were they !

Gawge Augustus and Clara Angelina, her hand resting in his, his tenderly clasps ing, pressing hers, while her head rested gently against the throbbing lappel of his manly coat.

They were castle-building—she and he. He had been an architect in that line for many years. Only for the past three months had he been building them for her.

They were engaged ! and in the soft palace of fairy future and

Description fails to paint the home to which, could his love have fulfilled its prayers, or raised enough ducats, his hand would lead her.

Engaged—how sweet! He gazed down into her dear eyes, and quivered. She returned his fond glances, and her soul seemed wafting itself to paradise. What an ecstacy of happiness !

Who wouldn't be engaged and be going ;o get ' married ?'

What dreams of bliss, of joy, hope, and blessad promise; poundcake, little love suppers, long walks by moonlight; billing and cooing all the long days, he toying with her lovely silken locks, she with her gaze lingering long and fondly upon his glorious moustache, and the budding mutton-chop whiskers which were just beginning to cast their shadows upon his finely-modelled ears.

So then we see them, guileless innocents, sitting upon that knoll.

What cared they for the rough jests of unseemly, vulgar boys, with their cry— ' Oh! isn't he spoony ?' They were building cloud-capped towers and gor geous palaces. Gawge—all style*; of the greenest of the green-blooded aristocracy, and so wealthy—millions behind him ; and Clara Angelina—delicate, high-toned, refined— as tender as a South-down chicken—why shouldn't they build. ?

'Dear Clara, how my soul is lifted to realms of ecstatic joy ; how it expands as it laves itself in the sensuous glory of thy love. Soon, dearest—yet it seems so far off—soon we will be united—our hearts throb in unison—and then '

' Oh, Gawge ! isn't it sweet ?' ' Clara, my own, my beautiful!' ' Gawge, see those nasty boys making faces at us !'

' Never heed them, dearest, they are so far beneath us that ' ' Oh, Gawge !' ' What, Clara ?" * I'm so happy.' • Dear darling, let me enfold you in these protecting arms. ' For ever !'

' Yes, for ever and a day, until our hearts crumble to ruin aud moulder in the dust away !'

A lapse of three months is supposed to occur for refreshments, incidental to the wedding of Gawge and Clara. They were married!

Another lapse—twelve months. A change has come o'er the spirit of their dreams.

Gawge is not wealthy. After marriage he confided to Clara the fact that he was only a down-town counter-jumper, price £2 a week.

Clara fainted—and came to. switched off, changed cars, and accepted the situa tion. The palaces crumbled. The castles melted into the thinnest air. A scene at midnight !—let us lift the veil. Histe the curtain ; sling in the music; Only a short twelve months ! Clara and Gawge in a mean vulgar tenement-house flat. Gawge is an" awful wretch. Clara is no cook, don't mend her stock ings, and the golden locks are at Simp son's. They have an offspring. It is—what there is of it—a boy. A bouncer, all lungs and mouth, and as ugly as sin. Time, miduight. Gawge has been out late, attending a protracted meeting of the Pc nuckle club in a neighbouring beer saloon.

He is aweary, and hies him to blissful repose beside his own Clara Angelina. Weather colder than a frozen clam. Fire out in the stove. No kindling in.

Gawge plunges into bed, and slides off into the' sound dreamless sleep of in nocence smoothed by labor.

Presently comes a yell as of the Warm Spring Indians when they get upon the trail to a whiskey vat.

' vv ho-wa-wa-blow that young ' v exclaimed Gawge,

' Gawge,' says Clara, ' get up quick ' dear little tootsy-wopsy biddy-chicky; wicky boy, what makes 'urn cry cry.' ' Pins V growls Gawge, turning round for another nap.

' Gawge, get up, wake up, I tell yeu. Popsy's croupy, I know he is. You're a big brute, that's what you are. Poor little boy—Gawge, get up quick.' Gawge does get up, lights the candle, and grabs up the squalling popsy. The young man's soul is full of unexpressed swear—enough of it if materialised to smash out of existence all the babies on the face of the earth.

And don't he anathematize the hour he was donkey enougn to get married. He shivers and swears,, and douses ipicac into popsy's mouth, and finally is permitted to return the popsy to the snow white arms—red at the elbows —of his no longer angelic Clara Angolina.

Then the ipicac operates. Then he is pinched up again. And so till daylight doth appear does the wretched victim of misplaced matri mony browse up and down and around and about that room, and then, finally Clara, lovely Clara, gets up, her eyes like two burnt holes in a blanket, and opens with a morning lecture.

Gawge down town with a head-ache and no breakfast.

And such is life ; such is now, and such was iben ! Beware, young man !

A Romance of the Sea.

New Stoby op Pitcaibn Island.

An educated Jack Tar in the naval hos pital at Mare Island, Cal., sends to the San Francisco ' Call/ the romantic details of a marine adventure, being an incident in the cruise of the United States steamer Vandalia, wherein the perils of a ship wrecked crew in the Pacific Ocean and a visit to Pitcairn's Island are graphically told. The fact too, that a Boston clipper ship and a Cape Cod captain constitute, mainly, the subjects of the story, lends a local interest to the sailor's 'yarn,' and reminds us, for the thousandth "time, that truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. As long ago as 1858, the Vandalia sailed from Panama for the Marquesas Islanns, a distance of 4000 miles, which was accomplished in thirty days. The day after the arrival there, a trim little schooner-rigged yacht, bearing the Stars and Stripes, came into the harbor, which is called JS Tukahiva, and anchored along side of the war vessel. The crew of the strange yacht proved to bo Captain Enowlcs, Mr. Bartlett, his chief mate, and the carpenter and three seamen of the clipper ship Wild Wave of Boston, which was lost on the Island of Oeno, in the Southern Pacific, in the month of April previous. The schooner yacht was called the John Adams, after the last snr vivor of the mutineers of the ship Bounty. The lost Wild Wave had voyaged from Boston to San Francisco, and not being able to procure a charter at San Francisco, the Captain concluded to go to Valparaiso in quest of business, lie took 32-5,000 with him, as it often happened that a guano ship in distress put in at the latter point and he might bo able to purchase a cargo of guano ; if not, he would be in a fair way for Callo, whore charters were plenty. Before leaving Boston his mother had requested him to send his brother's re mains (which were buried at Lone Mountain Cemetery, in San Francisco,) home for burial in the family grave-yard. Accordingly, he had them exhumed, a case b<>ing made to enclose the coffin, and put on board the Wild Wave. With several Chilenos as passengers, crew and all numbering forty-two souls, he put to sea in March. With a good ship and gentlemanly officers, all went well uutil the fatal night when the ship struck on the coral reef of Oeno. After experienc ing great trials and privations on the island, Captain Knowles, having first reburied his brother, started for Pitcairn Island, a distance of seventy-five miles. A picked party accompanied him, and a large supply of the necessaries of life and a chronometer were taken along. The voyage was a daring one. Captain Knowles started in a metaliic life-boat, and arrived safe and sound. But there was no one there to greet the party. The houses were deserted. There were twenty eight houses, a church and a school-house. Posters written in English and stuck up conspicuously, told the shipwrecked sail- ; ors the fate of the offspring of the mutineers of the Bounty ; they had been taken, by authority of the British govern ment, and carried to Norfolk Island, some 3000 miles away. However they left behind them everytning to make the party comfortable. There were all the spon taneous fruits of the tropics in great abundance —oranges, lemons, pine-apples grapes, bananna, plantain, guava, cocoa nuts, bread-fruit, etc. There were also innumerable wild hogs, dogs, cats, chickens, goats, sheep and ducks, which could all be had for the mere trouble of capturing. The inhabitants had been gone four years. The houses were well supplied with bedding aud rude furniture and plenty of cooking utensils. There was an oven by the side of each one, and an

aqueduct of water running past all of them. There were, also, all kinds of necessary clothing, lots of calicoes and white cotton not made up, carpenters' and blacksmiths' tools, books for the church and school house, muskets, powder, etc., etc. The party's boat having been smashed while landing on the island, a new one was made. On the first night the Captain, with his mate, buried the §25,000 which he had with him, at miduight, and they alone were in the secret. The new boat was launched after much difficulty, and when all was ready, for sailing, three of the sailors refused to accompany the ex pedition, requesting the Captain to inform the world that Pitcairn Island was re-inhabited, and ready to open fresh trade with all passing ships desirous of a fresh supply of fruits, vegetables, mutton, fouls etc., and securing a promise from the Captain that he would send them each a Kanaka maiden for a wife. After shaking hands with them and bidding them good bye, the schooner sailed away. It was the'intention of Captain Knowles to revisit Oena, but having a strong north west wind for three days, it drove the party so far to the south-east that they concluded to go to the Sandwich Islands. With all the necessaries of life, they rather enjoyed themselves. The wind headed them off westerly so much that they concluded to go to the Marquesas, where, after a passage of seventeen days

(the distance straight is 1100 miles), they arrived, as we have before stated, and anchored near the Vandalia. The next day the Yandalia sailed for Otaheite, a distance of 700 miles, with the party of the yacht John Adams on board, making the passage in three days. Here Captain Knowles was left, who had the promise of Captain Sinclair to endeavour to save his brother's remains, while Mr. Bartlett promised to get them to Boston. Mr. Bartlett was made a master's mate and the others shipped to be discharged at San Francisco. The Vandalia then sailed for Oeno, a distance of 1200 miles directly east, where she arrived in six days. The

wreck of the Wild Ware was found. On

I reaching the nearest point of the sottlo ment, early next morning, the romains of (Japtain Enowle's brother wero obtained

from their second burial place and brought on board. The boatswain of the Wild Wave had died and was buried there. Everybody came on board bringing their effects. The large schooner spoken of had been built by the second mate, with the assistance of his companions. The Van dalia next went to Pitcairn Island, and Captain Knowlos and party landed and 1 remained several days. Whether he recovered the §25,000 he buried, is not known, but it ia presumed that he did. No doubt there are these of Boston's old merchants engaged ill the early Pacific trade who are cognizant of many of the facts herein related, and the publication of them at this time m».j serve as a reminiscence of the early days when Boston sent more ships to the Pacific than she now does. Captain Josiah Knowles, mentioned in the mm n tire, is one of the several brothers of thiifc name, and is a native of Yarmouth, Capo Cod. He is still in active service, commanding the ship Glory of the Seas, now at San Fran cisco, and a better sailor never trod the deck of a vessel. — Springfield liepublican.

Cure for a Stomach Ache.

Thomson lived next door, and, like most intelligent men, took a newspaper. On ono pa&e of Thomson's newspaper were a variety of paragraphs, useful and enter taining, and amongst those Thomson read —■' Instantaneous Cure for Pains in the Stomach: —If you are troubled with pains in the stomach, stand on your head for a few minutes, and instantaneous relief will be felt.' That was just the very thing Thomson wanted. He had often pains in the stomach, especially on Sunday niglits, but could never get an instantaneous cure —medicine of any description he abomin ably hated. Now Thomson stored this up in his memory, determined to give it a fair trial ; in fact almost wished he had an attack on purpose to test it. Well, on Sunday night last, after eating a nice piece of ham, and a morsel, as he afterwards said, of jam tart for supper, Thomson went to bed. He fell into a pleasant nap for an hour or two, but by and bye he began to be rather fidgetty ; presently the pains attacked him. Jumping out of bed. Thomson drew on his boots and rush ed out into the backyard. Keturn ing after a bit, and while passing through the lobby, the instantaneous cure snddenly flashed across his memory. Now was his opportunity! His wife was upstairs in bed, there was plenty of room in the lobby and no one likely to disturb him because ho felt rather light clothe

Down went his hands and head, and stretching his legs to tho opposite wall, ho gave one spring and over he came, the right boot hooking on to one of tho bent cloak pegs, and pegging him effectually. Before a minute was up Thomson thought he had enough of the cure, but to get his boot off the peg he couldn't ; he hadn't suflicient strength in his arms to raise his weight up even half an inch. He tried to shout but had no voice, somehow he felt slightly upset about the throat. Knocking with his hand on the floor, ho succeeded in waking up Topsy, who always slept at tho bedroom door. Down he came, three steps at a time, and barking like to choke himself. Seeing the figure in the lobby, without a moment's hesi tation ho rushed at him, seizing hold of the only covering he had, which had fallen over his head and face, and tore it to shrcads, leaving poor Thomson as bare as Adam before the Fall. Mrs. Thomson awokf? with the noise, and, missing Thom son from her side, suspected there were burglars in the house. Lighting her candle, she went down stairs, and seeing the figure the thought flashed upon her that Thomson had committed suicide up side down, and fainted. Hearipg the awful racket in Thomson's,the neighbours of course broke open the door, and a light having been struck, ' A knife, a knife, to cut him down! Thomson's hanged himself!' But when they went to cut him down,' discovered of course that he was hanging by the leg. Half an-hour afterwards Thomson recovered consciousness, and explained matters. If tho boy that used to deliver that ' darned paper' ever comes within a hundred yards of Thomson's house, or makes believe he has got the belly-ache, Thomson hunts him.

Symptoms of Maidenly Celibacy.

When a -woman begins to have a little dog trotting after her—that's a symp tom. When a woman begins to drink her tea without sugar—that's a symptom. When a woman begins to read love-stories in bed —that's a symp tom. When a woman begins to say that she's refused many an offer —that's a symptom. When a woman begins to talk about rheumatism in her knees and elbows—that's a symptom. When a woman begins to find fault with her looking-glass and says it doesn't show her features right—that's a symp tom. When a woman begins to talk about cold draughts, and stops up the crevices in the doors and windows —that's a symptom. When a woman begins to change her shoes every time she comes into the house after a walk —that's a symptom. When a woman begins to have a cat at her elbow at meal times—that's a symptom. When a woman begins to say a servant has no business with sweethearts —that's a symptom. When a woman begins to say what a dreadful set of creatures men are, and that she wouldn't be bothered with one of them —that's a symptom.

Comments on "Dad."

Two strangers, walking up and down the railway depot to pass time away, were attracted to the locomotive standing on the rails, and as they walked around it one of theni re marked : 'It was one of these fellers that killed my old dad.' 'Is that so ?' replied the other ' Tes, busted him into nine or ten pieces. I never think of it without the tears coming.' He sighed heavily, and then went on— Dad was walking on the track when she busted him. The engineer said he

reimbursed his lever, blowed the whistle, and did all he could to save the old man, who was trotting along with his head down, but nothing could warn him. This 'ere cow-catcher picked him up, tossed him forty feet high, and he turned over seven times and came down in a cornfield.'

' And was he dead ?' asked the other. ' Dead ! Well 1 should say he was ! Every rib was broken, the vertebery waa shivered, his skull was stove, one leg gone, and he was the worst looking old man you ever saw. I shall never forget the day they brought the pieces back into the house. There was mother a-weeping in the corner, sister Julia up stairs, Jim on the bed, and I had to run the funeral business, though I was that near gone that my head swum and I couldn't keep nothing on my stomach but porridge.' It was a sad thing, indeed,' responded the other. ' You bet it was ?' continued the son, ' and the worst of it was the newspapers came out and said that dad was a blamed old fool for walking on the track —them were the very words,' ' They were.' ' Yep, them were the words, and I tell you they struck us bad. Dad might have been reckless,but he was no fool. He had a good heart, and was powerful on poetiyand figures.' He wiped his eyes on the palm of his band, and he and his companion moved away.

An Injured Man.

MoitTniEE J. Looms is now one of the most violent of the denunciators of rail road monopolies. Since his last adven ture on the cars he hates a railroad worse than an Arapahoe Indian hates a bald headed Shaker.

Loomis has fits of somnambulism occasionally, and at such times he has an uncontrollable tendency to wander into dangerous places. More than once he ha 3 been surprised, upon waking, to find himself roosbing on the comb of the roof, or hanging head foremost down the well, with one leg around the bucket handle.

He went out to Pittsburg a few days ago, and when he entered the sleeping-car the thought struck him that he might get to prowling about during the night while asleep and walk off the platform into the better world,

So he went to the brakeman and gave him a dollar, with strict instructions that if lie saw him walking around that car in his sleep to seize him and force him back at all hazards. Then Loomis turned in.

About two o'clock Loomis awoke, and as the air of the car seemed stifling, he determined to go out on the platform for a fresh breath or two.

Just as he got to the door that vigilant brakeman saw him, grabbed him, floored him and held him down. When Loomis recovered his breath he indignantly exclaimed: 'You immortal ass! What do you mean ? Lcmme get up, I tell you ; I'm as wide awake as you are!' But that myrmidon of a grasping cor poration put another knee on Loomft^ breast and insisted that Loomis was aslee™ and then he called anotherT^akeman, ajP after a terrific struggle, whicli Loomis received bumps and^^»> enough to wake an Egyptian mumr^Rhat. had • been dead for 0,000 years, the ramroad man jammed him into a berth, put a trgnk and eight carpet-bags on him, and then sat on him to hold him down until morning.

The first thing Mr. Loomis asked for when he arrived in Pittsburg was a respectable hospital where they cured the temporarily insane- He thinks his reason was partially dethroned by his effort to comprehend how that brakeman could have the face to ask him for another dollar because of the trouble Loomis gave him during the night. — Max Adeler.

A Cry from the Shore.

Come down, ye gray-beard mariners, Unto the wasting shore ! The morning winds are up—the gods Bid me to dream no more. Come, tell me whither I must sail, What peril thci'C must be, Before T take my life in hand And venture out to sea ! We may not tell thee where to sail, Nor what the dangers are ; Bach sailor soundeth for himself, Each hath a separate star : Each sailor soundeth for himself, And on the awful sea What we have learned is ours alone ; We may not tell it thee. Come back> O ghostly mariners, Ye who have gone before! I dread the dark, impetuous tides ; I dread the farther shore. Tell me the secret of the waves; Say what my fate shall be — Quick! for the mighty winds are np, And will not wait for me. Hail and farewell* O voyager ! Thyself must read the waves ; What we have learned of sun and storm Lies with us in our graves ; What we hare learned of sun and storm Is ours alone to know. The winds are blowing out to sea, Take up thy life and go !

A Hindoo Clock.—A strange clock is said to have once belonged to a Hindoo Prince. In front of the clock's disk was a gong swung upon poles, and near it was a pile of artificial human limbs. The pile was made up of the same number of parts necessary to constitute twelve perfect bodies; but all lay heaped together in apparent confusion. When the hands of the clock indicate the hour of one, out from the pile crawled just the number of parts needed to form the frame of one man, part coming to part with quick click, and when completed the figure sprang up, seized a mallet, and, walking up to the gong struck one blow. This done, he returned to the pile and fell to pieces again. When two o'clock came, two men arose and did likewise ; and at the hour of noon and midnight the entire heap sprang up, and, marching to the gong, struck, one after the other, his blow, making twelve in all then returning, fell to pieces as before.

The Detroit Boy.

[Detroit Free Press] The average Detroit youth sits up late, and when 6 o'clock in the morning comes he is in his soundest sleep. The father depends on him to make a fire, and he turns over in bed and calls out: ' .Solomon. it's 6 o'clock!' Boy dreams of chasing a rabbit into a hollow log, and, while he is hunting around for an axe, the old man calls out: ' Come, Solomon !' Boy's dream changes, and he thinks he is husking corn to get money to go to Dan Kice's circus. He is making the ears fly wken one old rips out: Solomon Spring-book!' Boy moves uneasily, and dreams that he is playing base-ball, aud see a crowd of admiring spectators seated on the top rails of the fences. 'If that boy don,t 'rouse I'll make him think he's sent for. Oh, Sol !Oh !' The boy dreams he is loafing around the Opera House door and boring people for ' checks,' and he is about to get one when the old man slips up, pulls tie quilts off. hammers away at him with the hair-brush, and chuckles: 'There! I guess you won't want me to wake } rou up more thau fourteen times more!' As the boy pnlis on his pants and gets into his vest he mentally declares that he,U run away that very day and become a pirate.

Flashes of Fun.

The end which all like to come to—A dividend. A good butcher is the carver of his own fortune. Miners search for gold in vein, but often see quartz of it. A bad thing to put up with—An unaccom modating landlord. The Irish are a hopeful people j (hey always try to wake the dead. Tim is a grate prospect, as the prisoner said pseping out of his cell window. There is nothing cc rigidly Catholic as an umbrella ; it keeps lent the year round. Spicer cays a fire-place always reminds him of Shakespeare, because it is a grate barred. A work on ' Greek Roots' was lately called for by a gardener in one of our public libraries. AVhat is that which has a mouth and never speaks, and a bed and never sleeps ? A river. Y^hy is the end of a fish's tail like the Prince Imperial of France ? Because it is the last of the bony-parts. Why is Neptuue like the man who searched for the philosopher's stone ? Because lie was a sea king what never existed. Mr. Naylle, of Toronto, was knocked down by mistake for another man, recently. He hopes they'll hit the right Naylle on the head next time.

Bettee Off Than Himself.—'For Heaven's sake lend me five dollars,' said a destitute man to his friend; ' I have had nothing in my house to eat, for four days, but rice.' ' Rice' said the other, ' if 1 had known you had rice, I would have come around to dinner.' The five dollars were not forthcoming.

The ease with which the English lan guage can be acquired by foreigners will |L- understood after a perusal of the fol "^W|£e make me some dumplings of dongh, Tli^re better than meat for my cough ; Pray leWiem boiled till hot through But noirffl^ they'ro heavy or tough. Now —I must be off to the plough, And the boys, when they've had enough, ! Must keep the flies off with a bough, While the old mare drinks at the trough." Resiaekable Incident.—On Friday morning the following singular incident occurred : T. F. Hudson's canary bird usually sits on the counter, in his store, just opposite the show window. A spar row hawk, starting from one of the oak trees in the plaza, which faces the store, made a plunge for the bird, and brought up with such force against the plate glass that it fell dead upon the sidewalk, its skull crushed and eyes protruding from their sockets. This was an enterprising forager; one leg had been shot away, and part of the remaining claw, and still the bird was in good condition. The plate-glass window was the mistake of its life,

Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impelled the "steal." —Sonoma Democrat, January 16th. Too Late Foe Him.—A student was reprimanded by his professor for his lateness at morning prayers, and excused •himself on the plea that the prayer took place too late. ' How ?' said the pro fessor ; is six o'clock too late ?' ' Yes, sir,' replied the strident. •If you had them about four I could attend; but no man could be expected to stay up till six.'

Bishop Ames tells a story of a slave master in Missouri, in the olden time of negro vassal age, who said to his chattel: "Pompey, 1 hear you are a great preaoher.' 'Yes, massa, de Lord do help me powerful sometimes.' ' Well, Pompey, don't you think the negroes steal little things on the plantation ?' * Vac mighty 'fraid they does, massa.' 'Then, Popniey, I want you to preach a sermon to the negroes against stealing,' After a brief reflection Pcmpey replied : ' You see, massa dat would never do, 'cause 'twould trow such a col'ness over de meetin'.'

At a Eegustbab's Obtice.—' What's your name?' 'John Button.' 'What are you?' ' I mean are you a bachelor ?' Noa. I'm a plain farmer.' cYes. But what's your con dition ?' ' Middlin.' ' Have you been mar ried before ?' ' Noa.' * Then you are a bachelor.' 'You knows best, Sir I dessay' 'Is your intended wife a spinster ?' Noa, not she.' , A widow, then ?' ' Noa she bain't.' But she must be one — is she a spinster?' 'SToa. She knows naught of spinning.' 'Is she a single woman ?' ' Yea, she be.' ' Then shew a spinster.' 'You knows beet, sir, I dessay.' [and yet they say Gtoveruinent officials are all overpaid."]— -Judy.

A young man who knows all about it, states his experience has taught him that a flirt is a fool who delights in fooling fools, as the fool who is fooled by such a fool is the foolishest kind of a foo\.

Sniffles Last Vice.

Since Sniffles quit drinking, an j developed a passion for gambling it seems utterly impossible for him to free himself from all immoral practices. Had he not at least one controlling sin, ha would be perfectly miserable. He would not consent to become a saiut for !j?5 a day, an 4 expenses paid. If he had to take his choice between being a preacher at §5,000 a year and a pirate for what he could make, he would immediately begin fitting out a vessel and loading it with boarding-pikes and cutlasses when he overcomes one bad habit he mopes around gloomy and discontented until he gets into the clutches cf another; and the new master fin^ s him a willing and cheerful slave,- one wl om it is hard to shake from his allegiance. Lately he has given up wholly to gambling. He keeps very late hours, for which he tries to satisfy his wife by pleading 'club,' 'lodge' and 'business.' The good woman is inclined to believe him, and she is strengthened in her belief by expres sions which fall from his lips during his troubled slumbers. "

One night lie raised up in bed and brought the back of his hand down violently on his wife's face and shouted: 'I've caught a club-flush!' As Miranda arose and washed the blood from her nose, she thus argued with herself, 'A 'flush' must be some kind of honor which the club bestows on a worthy member. Lycurgus is dreaming that it has been conferred on him, and I will not disturb him, though he did nearly break my nose!' Another night he tumbled about and uttered strange things. Finally bis wife caught the expression, 'I'll g 0 another dollar on that/ 'There'said she, 'he thinks he's at the lodge and that they are taking up a contribution to assist some destitute family. Ly curgus is a generous man, and won't be outdone in matters of charity, He never turns a deaf ear to the wails of the unfortunate. Dear, good, man, since he quit drinking he hasn't a single fault,' and filled with emotion at the remembrance of his many virtues, she turned and imprinted a loving and reverential kiss upon her husband's cheek. 'I'll take that pot in,' he said, raking his finger-nails across her face. ' Ah!' said Miranda, 'he imagines they are at the house- of the poor family with 'some supplies, and he is offering to take in a»cooking utensil!'

On still another night he cried put, 'Let's have a blind!' 'He is dream ing about putting up blinds to the windows, which I suggested the other day,' thought the confiding woman. 'I've got ace high/ murmered sniffles, 'He's got a sigh—wonder what he means by that?' said Miranda, reflec tively. 'I'll have to raise that,' said the sleeper, presently. '.Now he thinks he has made a wrong entry on his boots and will have to erase it; and probably his other remark had reference to a cypher instead of a sigh.' Well pleased with her ability to read her husband's thoughts, the innocent wife went to sleep, and Sniffles' subse quent ravings interested her no more.

An Economical Husband.

[From the Detroit Free Press]

A Few days ago a couple from lowa, on their way east, had to stop in this city, owing to the wife's illness. They went to a hotel, and for a day or two the hus band didn't complain of the cost, but when his wife grew worse, and a doctor was called in and a nurse employed, he began to hang on to the dollars which were demanded. On the fifth day the doctor looked serious and said that the woman would probably die. The husband consulted With the hotel clerk and with a freight agent, and going back to his wile he leaned over her and sobbed:

• Oh! Sarah Jane ! you musn'tdie here.!' ' I don't want to leave you, Philetus,' she replied, * bu I fear that my time has come.' •Don't! oh! don't die here!' he went on. : 'If my time has come I must go,' she said. ' Yes, I suppose so, but if I could only get you back home first I'd save at least forty dollars on funeral expenses, and "orty dollars don't grow on every bust.'

A felo-de-se is a fellow deceased. The coroner of Milwaukee denies that he cuts holes in the ice.

It is better to be alone in this world than to bring up a boy to play on the accordeon.

A man may be properly said to have been drinking like a fish when he find* that he has taken enough to make his head swim.

Awkwaed.— * Katie' writes from Brook lyn for the purpose of advising gentlemen to study the art of sitting gracefully in a chair. She says that most men seem to be at war with their lower limbs when in the company of ladies, and betray a conr sciousness of awkwardness by constantly changing position.

It is said that benevolent men are always happy. There's ono in Brooklyn who isn't. He gave his wife $lO^Jot charitable purposes, and she bought a smoking-cap with it, for the pastor.

The Chinese have names which corres pond in frequency with the Browns ana Smiths of Anglo-Saxon Christendom. Those most frequently occurring are Ching, Chang, Wang and Shib, wmett are the equivalent of 'gold, l°nK> 'prince,' and ' stone.' ■■"■'',

Printed and published by the proprietors, <***?$■ MoCcuaoh Rkbd, of St George's Bay. d *!££-. Brett, of Parnell, at their General Steam.Piw^S' Office, Wyndham-street, i» the City of A™*™^; New ealand: — Saturday, April %i, 1875

SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAK.