The Pet of the Drillers.

•A,SKETCH OF LIFE IN TIIE OIL COUNTRY1.

•?,Yqp'l_ excuse me, sir; but you see, we're all unstrung to-day and sort of wan dering about aimless like. The boys haven't .the heart to work and the drilling tools are standing idle in the derrick.!' My wife, dear heart, is near crazy with grief and does take on awful. You see, sir, Baby is dead.'

'Baby?' ~,,.,.,, . ' *Yes, the little girl. She wasn't our child, but we loved her just the same/ She wasn't a baby, though you might think so from the name. She was seven or eight years old, but the name " Baby" came te ns with'hcr.when her mother died.' )J The old driller brushed away a tear with the sieve of liis blue flannel shirt and turned a sorrowing face toward a clump of pine trees away out in tho McKean country oil fields, at tho front of the line of dcvelopt ment. , A rough hemlock board house peered through the trees and cast a long shadow down the broad aisle mado by the sombre pines, and around and over the unpainted door vines and flowers wpre hanging in profusion, the one redeeming feature of the homely house and its lonely surroundings. I had asked the old man for .the privilege of taking supper with him at the house, and had, at his request, dis mounted and tied my horso to a young pine preparatory to resuming a long ride hack to Bradford.

' I don't know what kind of a supper the nld lady will have; not very good, perhaps, hut you aro welcome to what there is. Everything seems turned upside down to day; but como along, sir, I sec she is waving her,sun-bonnet at me.' With hesitating step the old man led tho way over the threshold of his forest home. His wife greeted mc quietly aud kindly, while three or four drillers and tool-dressers seated about the room acknowledged the stranger's visit with careless nods and then resumed their:'conversation as though no thing had happened. The|mcal was a solemn one, and during it I learned the history of Baby, and why they loved her as their own.

BABY'S HISTORY. A year before, a woman had moved to ' Bradford from tho lower oil country with her: little girl and had essayed the struggle for' .existence with , such employment a? her hands, wasted by poverty and sickness, could find to do. It was a bitter struggle,; a fight between life and death,, with fearful odds in favor of death. Life was sweet to her, not for herself alone, but for her little girl, who, if death should mercifully heal1 tlie mother's broken spirit, wouM be cast upon the world of strangers, to drift,'God alone knows where. The woman was proud and. would not ask assistance, for she^had •once been wealthy and a leader in refined, cultured society. ' Her husband was dead, or something worse—at least he was dead to her and Baby. What matters it cither 'way? But the end came one day, and' Jioor littlo Baby awoke one morning to,kiss* ips which answered not back again, and to' nestle in arms that would never more be streched forth in protection and guidance for the little baby feet. , ~ The girl went out and sat.on the floor step and Cried as if her heart would break, and presently the old driller came along, and, touched by the little waif's sorrow, took her in his strong arms and asked-tho cause of her trouble.

'Mamma is in there,'sobbed the little oue, 'and she won't speak, and her face is oh ! so cold.' The tired hands were folded pcacefnlly across the stilled heart, and all that was earthly of the poor,, patient, struggling mother was lowered tenderly away from tho sight of the little orphan forever. Baby found loving friends in the old driller rtnd his 'wife, who, loving children, had never been blessed themselves.., The little one was a joy and a beam of sunshine to the old people, while to tho drillers and roughly-clad .followers of oil she was a wilful, capricious pet, ruling .overtho great-hearted men with : sceptered power. Every one loved her aud gladly submitted to her loving rule.' And 'now that she was dead and lying so cold, and still, and silent, in tho home she had ; brightened and made joyous, tlie loving : hearts to whom she had been all in all, were stricken in helpless misery. Saddened by the pathetic story, I stood by the bed of death and looked down into .a face- from which had faded tears, and fears, und earthly pleasures, wearing a smile as if iv pleasant dreamland, about to waken to call of birds and.breath of flowers. And the soft Summer wind, laden with the perfume of the sighingpines, came in through open doors and windows and kissed the dead child's cheeks and blew the wavy brown hair about the smooth white'brow in care less freedom. With a mute grasp of tho , old driller's I hand, I rode aWay, dowji the aisle of sombre piues and over a long, lonely highway to Bradford, pondering oyer the tenderness and kindness of ii grizzled; gray haired follower of the over-shifting scenes of oil.' ' ....' , ■)> '■' AVAGKMfs'fIOIIN, " I^ate at night, in ,conipany with a.fricud, I sat in the waiting-room of One of Briidr ford's large hotels discussing ' the latest Warren county strike. The door opened slowly ah'd a disreputable-looking Vagrant slided into the room, holding by the neck d dirty violin. Propping liimself against,the wall, and at the same time eyeing tlie.sleepj ing hotel clerk, ho made preparations to play, i! ~- ... ,i (% j ' Lot us get out of this. I don't want to he tortured,with an infliction on the sacred name of music.'said my friend, as he moved toward the door. 'It's some wandering ' * bum " playing for drinks.' _ j Mechanically drawing him to his seat, I waited for tlie music, mentally defying the fiend to do his worst. The bqw touched the strings softly and drew forth a burst of melody such as one rarely hears outside tlie great music halls of the World. Oh, such a floor of music, mellow and soft and beautiful; so full of pathos and sorrow. One might well believe that the poor tatter demalion, the wreck of better days, was pouring forth his very soul in the memory of what might have been. When the last strain of melody had floated out into the night, we beckoned him to a seat and drew from him his story. He was born and reared a gentleman—any one could tell that from the manner in which he took his seat and listened to our questions. 'Why don't I play in concert halls?", he interogatively answered. ' Why can't I make a name iv the world as well ? Because; curse it, drink lias me in Ms power with the grasp.of a thousand fiends. I wasn't always like this. It was ages ago, it seems to mci but only a few years in reality, that I had a wife, a child, a'home and a fortune. The fortune -was left me by a dying mother, and I determined to move my family to the oil country and go into business, in hopes of increasing my already comfortable store. Like, all men who lives in the oil country I • tried my hand a speculating on the market. * If you know what it is to lose a fortune at one fell swoop then you know.how I felfj. Great God, what agony! Then I took to drink and became a worthless -wretch. It was an awful fall. Those who were up the highest always'fall the lowest, and it seemed as though I never should land anywhere this side the great lake of fire. In one Of' my saner moments I took my violin and drifted [out into the world, determined hot

to drag down my wife and little girl. Since boyhood I had been a performer on the violin, and when I arrived at manhood I was an accomplished musician. I have becu wanderipg oyer since, without home and friends. Merciful heavens, where will itend.?', ~ ~,,... ■ , ~,,;.., ■

.', And in a voice, tremulous with emotion from thoughts of the happy past,he leaned back with liis violin, aud sang softly: , i, ..: Only a poor old wanderer, ' '' .■•'■ ' 'i No place!tO call my homo; :• ■ !■' ~.,,, No one to pity me, no one to cheer mo, As friendless and sadly I roam. The melody of the piece wasi full of touching- pathos,:and ashe ceased singing lie shook with supreßsed sobs.. . rn>i 11.1 •■ * ' I have come oack to the oil country to take one look at my family before drifting into oblivion,' lie said, slowly ; 'but I find my wife is—is—dead and my little girl in the family of a driller out at the front. God pity tho little ono and guide her footsteps, fori cannot. What a father Idm ! But she shall not see mc. I will just look in at the window and see her and then go away. I'am poWerlessto do anything for her, for I cannot do anything for myself. lam going up to sco hor in the morning. ' I love her just as dearly now as I ever did, the beauti ful littlo blossom. Oh; what a world, what it world! Stranger, don't speculate ill oil. And if you lose, be manly enough to keep from the accursed stuff that has killed my wife, ruined me, and will make my child s pathway through life a way of thorns. Don't doit; don't. But good-night. I tire you with my ravings. Yes, I will go up to the old driller's 'house in the morning and take a last look at my little girl.' A last look! Yes, the very last, for brown-haired Baby was his only child. I couldn't toll him tho bitter truth. It was cruel, perhaps, to let him go on in hope, but I couldn't tell him his only gleam of hope in life was all ready to be laid away under the pine trees and the wild flowers in the lonely forest. To take a last look ? Heaven help the unfortunate wretch.

Some More 'Hows.'

How many ot our rich yachtsmen really care anything for yachting ? ' How much happier life might be if minds could bo trained to forget past troubles. How hard it, is -to avoid listening and liking to listen to scandal about our neigh bor. '•-..>! How tame life would he without troubles* and difficulties to overcome.. _ | i How. few value or cultivate a good pair of legs and lungs. V-, *-•*,.' How the old are forgotten by the young. ,i How unfortunate that so many of the, aged should* make themselves unattractive, and oven repulsive to the young. | How strong we feel when we have never been sick. . " • i : How many men and women are there without a weak spot somewhere ? * How whiskey does bring out a man's true nature and show the mado up and artificial side of his moral character.. ■ ■ ■, r | How muoh i : better is a ' dog's life' than those of some men and.woman. . ■ ;- ■;'.<. How few now brooms, after all, sweep clean unless there's a clean sweeper behind them. ~i . ■--' ii- < ! , . .- i How sorry some people are for faults which they will commit again next month. How awfully awful it would be if every body, without warning told the truth. How we do love to shut our eyes to what we fear may be n reality. How much good wo would do were wo only rich. . ' i How little good wc do when we are rich. '„. How contrary and eccentric seems ono who thinks for him or herself. How poor are the medicinal spirits sold by. one-third of our druggists;|j ' How very large the book in which might be written all we don't know.

How very small the book in which might be written all wo do know.

■ How few baTbers can shave a man with out trying on him their conversational ■powers. > . ~.:...,.-..,;. ,;.,, , , How much more we know at twenty than at forty. »;,,.;i [,■• ■ ~;i I How useless it as to argue with a woman when sho is angry. . ,i , Or a man. ■ !'

! How little credit, ih given children for what they see, hear and understand. •. How much dignity a cigar does put in some men's mouths and hearing. | How charming and beautiful are the greon fields and groves—in books, * ** ' How hot nro the green fields and how; the mosquitoes .do bhc in the groves—out of books. , •■• 'i > * ■■, , '~::. ,i; ; j . How, difficult it is to tell whose boiler will blow up next -..-■, ■ ■ *..■;■,.; i. »l j How sad, tothink it will be somebody s boiler.;' ~!,.«. ■■■> ■■:*: 1.1 •;• >!•! ■■* ! "!-;!t| |

. : How Wo do go on nursing our hidden pet sin until it/finds us out and blows us up. j : : How idiotic it is to act upon the maxim, ' Never put: off till'to-morrow what can'bo done to-day.': ;il -••' ••■'■• i , How much better is it; ;* Never to do any thing: to-day that can .bo put off till to -morrow.'- *"• ' *,!, , ■_.*_ How few understand that; if too many things be undertaken *tb-day none of them will lie well: on thoroughly done.- •■• How much harder it is living than dying: How does-she-heod-T: —r—r j How '.much more money wc-spend than we mean to. I How hard it is for the many to make both ends' meet; and what1 poor ends they are when-they do meet. ' * '.'-:' "j ■ How very poorriches can make men.- ' ': How will millionaires get their letters'of credit recognized and honored in heaven ? How history does lie!' ' ' ■ : ' How many truths are scorned and laughed at, and how hiany fictions are believed and honored. " ' * How quickly a'man or woman gets old when they insist on being old; feeling old, and acting old. • '"."'.; How little young people care if they are fools, and how angry old people are because young people don t dare if they are fools'. —Graphic. - '*' ■".' .''' ■ , -.; ,^ I

Bringing, his Bear in Alive.

A number of sportsmen- had recently en camped in a region out West famous I for large game, and one of the party, known as a great braggadocio, though a poor hunter, boasted that he would bring in the first bear. At twilight the sportsmen, with the exception of the self-constituted Nimrod, had re-assembled about the camp-fire, and anxiously waited the appearance of the delinquent. Suddenly the noise of hasty footsteps and stertorous breathing sounded close at hand, and the hero of the hour appearedr-hatless, perspiring, his clothing torn, by bush and briar, and running at the top: of :his speed, pursued by a bear, A half-dozen rifles were brought into use, and the beast fell, pierced with bullets, but a short distance .from the camp fire. The hunter (or- rather the-hunted) inquired whether the hear was killed. " Yes, con temptuously responded one of his comrades,. "but why didn't you shoot,him." The, man, returned q, half-pitying, half-reproach ful glance, and replied, "Dp you think I am so reckless or foolish as to kill a'bear' when I can bring it in alive .'"

In British Prisons.

SEVEN YEARS A CONVICT—HORRIBLE EX PERIENCE OF JOHN MCOUIRE.

(Cincinnati Enquirer.)

There is at present in this city a man named John McGuire,- who served seven years in confinement in English prisons for desertion from the Royal Army. Last even ing he reported his experience to an "Enquirer" reporter, The details of his terrible career sound more like a horrible romance than the truth. Though compara tively a young man, he looks already very much aged. His face has a wild, hunted look, and his once raven black hair is now entirely gray. He is a large, powerfully? built fellow, and physically would be, a tough customer to handle. McGuire :was in the English army stationed in Ireland in 1850. He deserted at the City of Kilkenny, and was soon recaptured at Liverpool, just as he was about to start on a vessel for America. He was at this time but seven teen years old, and on account of his youth, ho was sentenced to 168 days' confinement in Arborn Hill Prison, in Dublin. Here he had his first little taste of English prison life. The first seven days of his incarcera tion he was without a bed, during which time lie was in solitary confinement. It was a common occurrence for prisoners to be terribly flogged every morning. After his liberation McGuire was sent with his regiment, Battery B, Second Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery, to Gibraltar, where he re mained four months. From there he Was transferred to Halifax, Nova Scotia. There McGuire, not profiting by his former ex perience, with fourteen others laid a plan to desert and escape to the United States, but, as before, he was caught when just about to embark. He, with nis companions, were locked up, and, after several weeks, were tried by a military court-martial, presided over by General Doyle, and all were sen tenced" to imprisonment for from seven to fifteen years penal servitude on Spyke Island, the most

NOTORIOUSLY HORRIBLE Of English prisons. McGuire received ten years as his dose for desertion. The men were first transported to Mount Joy Prison, Dublin, where they passed confinement on probation for from two to twelve months. While here McGuire became acquainted with O'Donovan-Rossa and other prominent Fenian prisoners. Eossa was very .un popular amongst the convicts. He treated them with the utmost contempt, and offered every indignity in his power. Treachery was added to | insult, and one single incident; serves to show that the detestation of the, prisoners at Mount Joy was not undeserved. It was against the rules of the prison to ask for tobacco. One poor devil who couldn't resist the temptation to secure a piece, of the weed, went to the cell in. which Rossa was confined, and begged him for a chew of tobacco. Not only did the celebrated Fenian leader refuse the simple request, but. informed one of the guards. He, being a kind- hearted fellow, didn'tpunish the trans gressor of the severe rule. The contemptible conduct of ftossa came to the ears of the Rev. Pnther Chaplain of the prison, and he went at once to Kossa and inquired of him t "Are you one of those who would rescue our country?'" Rossa replied, "Yes, lam.'' "God help Ireland, then !" said the priest. From the time of this incident O'Donovan was regarded with feelings of the utmost abhorrence and disgust try his fellow prisoners of whatever grade of crime. McGuire served nine months in Mount Joy, and was then transferred to that awful pen, Spyke Island, where death, with all its terrors, would be a welcome relief after some months spent within its polluted^ pre cincts. No one knows what prison life is until he is landed upon Spyke Island. "Then," said McGuire, "we first felt and realized that we were convicts, beyond the pale of society and the law, and at the mercy of our captors. And they did every thing possible to impress upon us the horrible situation in which we were placed; The eyes of a guard followed us everywhere; as if we were wild beasts who would at any moment jump upon them and tear them to pieces. Heavily armed, still they seemed *

AFRAID OF US,

| And watched us like dogs. The guards were not allowed to strike us, but they tried every expedient to exasperate us to hit them', for terrible punishment would surely follow such an indiscretion.oh our part." At the time McGuire was committed to Spyke Island there were 700 prisoners on the island, comprising the worst thieves,, hurt glars, murderers, and Government prisoners in Ireland.~-"AU were middled" indiscrimin-j ately together,! the poor fellow. ,who had simply written a threatening letter and the villain whose hands were stained with blood; being compelled to occupy the same cell.| Spyke Island is but two miles distant from Queensto.wn. Harbour, but only one man has ever escaped the clutches of the vigilant officials stationed'there. He. was Maurice Luby, the principal Warden's man. , Lubyi managed to get: away from Camden Fort and reached the United States in safetyJ He took with him from his place otim\ prisonment a suit of clothes, a,gold watch and chain, and sixty sovereigns belonging to the Warden. The. conscientious, fellow subsequently returned the watch and chain; Luby entered the Union army, i and fell dead, pierced with rebel bullets, at; the battle of Gettysburg.* ;*: - . . r j

Some.very noted criminals were ih prison with McGuire, among them O'Connor, the Fenian, who for once attempting' to escape was given fifty lashes. He served thirteen years of a sentence for life. A man, named Brady, who is how working in the mines of Pennsylvania, carried afourteen-pound ball and chain on his right arm and leg*for eight years. The rules on Spyke Island were inhumanly severe. M'Ouire carried a ball and chain for six months. But there is one redeeming feature about the English system of prisons, a prisoner is allowed a reduction of the time ot servitude for good behaviour. Col. Crof ton's system gives a five-year man, if he conducts, himself properly, but three years and nine months; a seven-years' sentence is.satisfied with five years; ten years, seven years; and a fourteen-year sentence is within the discretion of the directors what .reduction shall be made. But to a prisoner for life there is absolutely no hope for mercy. He must drag out a miserable existence, with nothing to look forward to but death, which is gladly welcome. The poor unfortunates are worked in the quarries and required to draw wagons loaded with stone, like so many mules dr horses. The fare is very simple, consisting for the most part of twelve ounces of bread, and, three times a week, eight ounces of meat.

Joseph McGuire served seven years of his ten years' sentence. Just before he left his place of captivity, the convict burying ground was changed to another portion of the island, and many of the bodies were removed. A skeleton was dug up on which the awful ball and chain were fairly riveted. The prisoners'who were standing around looked gloomily upon the solemn sight. At last the poor fellow, whose manhood was crushed by the severe treatment of prison life, remarked-:-" Once a convict, a convict forever." ■; ':•.-■ i

• t > The difference between pigs and pugilists is not so very great. The latter peel for the fight and the former fight for the peel.1

Good for Flies.

' Say, do you know what s good for flies queried a Woodward-avenue butcher, as he entered a drug store the other day. > ,

ii ' I guess I can put you up something for about a quarter,' was the reply.

'.When the dose was ready tlie butcher was' told to pour it out on plates'and set them on the counter, and he hurried away to give it a trial. In about an hour he sent for the druggist to come over. .The 10,000 flies in the shop, before the dose was fixed, was multiplied by four. --, .ii ■;, .-'.-■ ■■ i 'Great lands! but I'm being carried off by flies! exclaimed the butcher as'he waved a long knife around his head.' . .-'..,. ; ( 'Well, why don't you got something .to kill 'era off!' * . . .

'Didn't I, but it ha3n't killed;one.' /

'Of course it hasn't. You wanted some thing good for flies and I gave you clarified syrup ! It's the best stuff to draw flies and keep 'em contented I ever heard of. , Why didn't you tell me you wanted a fly killer ?'

MARVELLOUS CURE OF ASTHMA BY A NATIVE WEED.

■ Some time since attention was called in these columns (states the " Queenslander') to tho curative properties, in cases Of cold, bronchitis, and kindred complaintß, of Euphorbia Piluli fera, and it is most gratifying to learn that the publicity thus given to the fact has been the means of saving a valuable life, for we are in formed by a person whoa month ago saw the writer of the subjoined letter—which we'here reprint, and which cannot have too wide a pub licity—that " he looked like a man marked for death." It is to be hoped that members of the medical profession in particular wUI take special note of this remarkable case. The following is the letter, which we produce from the. columns of the Rockhampton '-Bulletin," to the editor of which paper it was addressed:—'-Sir,—lt is with some reluctance I appear before the publio In the columns of a newspaper on a subject which may seem at first sight to be of a some what private character; but it is impressed on my mind that having, by a very, simple rpmedy, been relieved from much suffering, and prob ably from a premature grave, I feel it a duty I owe to society—to' suffering humanity—to pub lish far and wide tie fact that we have __' medi cinal plant of great value growing as a weed in almost every garden in the district, which, if utilized, is an infallible remedy for Colds, Coughs, Bronchial Affections, Diseases of the Respiratory Organs, and Asthma. , (It has' been used successfully in cases of Congestion of the Lungs, Liver Complaints; and for inveterate smokers it is invaluable, as it neutralizes the effects of nicotine poisoning.) I allude to the plant known by the botanical name of Euphor bia Pilulifera. It is well known to many of my friends in Rockhampton that;for several months past I have been Buffering from the effects of a neglected cold, resulting in a dis tressing cough, coWous expectoration/and -what appeared to be chronic bronchitis, and more recently asthma. My suffering from tightness of the chest, difficulty of breathing, loss of ap petite, as well as loss of rest and sleep brought me down to the verge of the grave; and I De ilieve it has beenunder Providence owing to the skill and care of my medical adviser that I have ' been sustained so long. My friend and fellow citizen, Mr; George Fox, knowing my case, called on mo about a fortnight ago, and informed me of the healing virtues of the. Euphorbia Pilulifera, as published in the "Queenslander," •which on being pointed out to me was quite familiar as a somewhat troublesome: garden weed. I had a decoction prepared from a hand ful of the plant, and even the first dose had a magical effect, and I have continued to improve since taking it. My appetite iB restored; for the first time for the last nine months I can sleep all night without cough or expectoration, and lean breathe as freely as ever I did in my life. If any poor sufferers like mysolf desire any information respecting this remedy, I shall be most happy to attord it; residents in the country wishing to communicate with me by letter, enclosing post age stamp, will have full information, and if necessary a piece of the plant wiU be forwarded if requested. I may add that several other resi dents in town can bear testimony to the efficacy and value of this plant—indeed it needs no great stretch of the imagination to suppose that an all-wise Providence has pro irlded in the vegeta ble world " a remedy for all the ills that flesh is heir to,"if we only know where to lay our hands on them.—l remain, &c„ W. Allen (of Acheson and Auen)_Rock___tan, December 17,1880. In addition to the above .a numbeeof cures have been effected—sufferers from Asthma for periods extending over two to seven years have been cured—and the inestimable blessing of Bleep and good health realised. A gentleman suffering from Chronic Bronchitis for a period of thirty-five years has informed Mr. A_L_N that after taking tho decoction one week ne had not enjoyed such excellent health since he was seventeen years, of age, although he had been under the most'eminent physicians in London and the Continent. Baron Yon Mileller, the greatest botanical authority in this country, whoso name in a household-word in Australasia, writes Mr. Ai__n from Melbourne to say that the decoction prepared from Euphorbia Pilu lifera, is used in South America as an antidote for snake bites; and that itis used with advanti age to promote the secretion ot urine. Care, however, must be taken not to take the decoct UOn too strong, in too great. quantity, or too frequently, and rather keep within the limit prej scribed in the directions than exceed it;—Ad VT,

BITS OF FUN.

■ so . The crockery-ware dealer is a very set man. A dinner and a tea set man. Spontaneous combustion occurs when you sit down on your wife's best hat.' ' It is a mistake to assume that a rose'du ally other name would smell as wheat.. ;; Dogs, it seems, get seasick. Thisac* counts for the dog watch on board ship. ' It is not good for; a man to be alone, iin« less he holds both bowers and the,"ace;; 'J/ - Don't judge of a man's character: by, the umbrella he carries. It may not bo'his;. / The impecunious' man, MW martied'alr heiress always spoke, of 'her -as a 'capital wife. ' ' ''[.'. ' '*;'.') j'.,'f, '4T' "..' 'II V'l''1'' 01 To make a Chairman catch the scents of the meeting, over-ripe eggs, are' sometimes used.- . ' :'.'.,. ■~' . i:, " i..,7. When you cover a sick man.with ,a .quilt are you trying to cure, Mm with a counter. pane?: . i '.:'■'■ ■■■■■''■'*■■ ■iy:u--i\\:w\ ;,;>_.'.,.. f ■'I'm off for'your rope,', said tlie conS demncd man as the Sheriff led him* forth to the scaffold.'' '"7- ' v,y-y ,;il i. -i.v ' Nigara has a daily, paper.' /This is no news. It has long issued a daily sheet over the falls. : V ,',: ' ]'■'■'.' A great many men are like a rocking horse.; They are always on the'go, hut never get ahead. .' .''.-.'.',">' ~-!' Birdlings are very selfish creatures; they take the food right out of their mothers' mouths. ■'■■■;■• ..;.;:, -| . A Norristown man, the father of '■ a large family, call his flour-barrel Maud S. It goessofast, '; " "■;' <><y.\u: -.','<>"•> It is an astonishing fact that a man never gets drunk enough to mistake achurchfor a saloon. .','■. !,.'." 7,7.' ,'"■ "'.'' ". The maiden of forty who paints and puflis herself to look like twenty is merely making up for lost time. -.- ~;,,7 ,', j ;'!.'..'.. Muggins says he don't wonder his sweet* heart is afraid of lightning—she's soawfully attractive. ' >'. i>-,-,,-. ■■:'{• Ha man only saw himself occasionally as others sees him,- he'would.feut.his own acquaintance oh the spot. - '■ •'.'''•■>" i< J£ a man is:. really: truthful', and 'doesn't enjoy telling a he, we don't see.why the blazes he wants to go fishing.' " ' I A homely young girl has the consolation of knowing that if she lives.to be^forty she'll be a pretty old girl.., „.,. ,' ~7,7;,: . _. Our Ameiican horses are becomingeso fast that pretty soon there won't be a watch small enough to time them. vii,-',,,;, -~-,/ . Student: What is, jiolitical'-'edontiiiiy ? Running on' the: same. ticket with 'a^very rich man who will pull you through.' :-.''* Women can undergo the,Mi^ue;t)i walk ing better tluui.men, because^'when'"they're tired you, can't see their pants., ',7.-77. It was Jean Paul who said.lto jove eaf-ly and marry late is to' hear,a lark: singing at dawn, and at night. eat' it, (roasted for sup per/.:-, (itil ,;,;.*: ..i>jt_]. /. .ofiii-ihoat! Talk' about the facial expressions of great actors' I" Did you 'ever see a small boy-with his.mouth'filled Withl plug tobacco for ;the first'timet*'1 *- ■'. ■",'*** .imhiUh -v.,-r - : -.r Some of our hotel-keepers have recon sidered their action,-and ivill'once more employ college students asSvaiters,* in order to give the young men a chance to learn a profession at which they cdn'taake a'living after graduating. '~,." ! , 7 . Apropos ot long prayers, a, deaConsays :—• ' \Vhen Peter was endeavouring to walk On the water to meet his Master; and Was about sinking, had his Supplication.beenaslong as, the introduction to some of our modern prayeps, before., he got. half thrpughhe would have been fifty feet under.water.'

STA-^SATU&DAY SUPPLEMENT^ SEPTEMBER 24-11881

Printed and Published by the Proprietor, HeNBY Brett, of Symonds-street, at his Gjoeral Printing Office, Wyndham-street, in thffPro vince or Auckland, New Zealand. '- r -■•, > Saturday, September 21,1881.

4



W"".' A:Mn%'>M D, R N.,O, : W'Ni G. TTAgiBT.T,, Fruiterer;. . ■;,! ii/: nil - Upper Symonds Street.i..;:i!,: ..j j Has added to his Fruit Business that of Grooer "..; in .■:: ••• and Oilmen's Stores. :i rcilcji -o -His* Teas'will be found of the choicest assort ..'ments. :Has also a large assortment 0f.,; j ~ ,;.,, Jams, Preserves,Spices,etc, etc, , , AT-THE LOWEST TOWN MUCES^FOR CASH. ; j TTrriZAUD OIL; ia a distinguishing TV name, given by Frank Weston to his Medicine, which. i_ composed of various Vegetable Oils, Healing Gums, Rare Balsams, Roots, Barks . and Herbs, (found only on the Great Amer ican Continent,) forming the Chemical Compound universally known as "Weston'sj Wizard Oil. : This Medicine Was: first introduced, by Frank Weston, to the Australian Public in 1864, and the wonderful and mysterious influence it exhibited in stopping tho most excruciating Fains, Aches and Infirmities, in a few days after its use is well known. Its mirac ulous power in rising the Bed-ridden, Crippled,Rheumatic,Weuralgie,divest ing the system of sill suffering from pain, inflammation and .weakness, curing in.a few days the sickness and diseases of months and years giving instantaneous Ease and Comfort in afl. ordinary pains and aches, either inter nal or external, all cramps, spasms, congestions, &c, is well known. Weston's Wizard Oil has the power to distribute itself over every part of the body internally as well as extern ally, curing the most inveterate cases of tumors, ulcers, scrofhla,; diseased liver, piles; swellings, wounds, &e.,&c. KEMPTHORNE, PROSSER & CO., Agents, ' '"'. '"*, * UCKLAND.



TVmJ^ttUtQtih aNfifi '~Etit r,&. , i ' WiTCHiIAPER AND JEWTSDLER," '• '! :! k;ar a'S!g.XhjA^'e l .-.b;'6, ; ad!: : ] (Next door toMr.McPherson's). ••,••? Watches. Clocks, and Jewellery neatly repaire -,!•■• ii:>7'.,W_V,-Ail ,Ij'iSf4:TiK'.R|S ; 7-'...7.l. f ~,,,' ~,..! ,".,7,'.i'f fir.Aiyn,',; ;,[,,! Vi'i- ■'■'••. )"■■'■ - :!;;' ''^A^^^'i^l^^iEßsr | .. t t-ia^QUKEf?',.STREET, ~7" \ . - ~,'.".i„-,.f vliin' ..-.,,-'-,.'>'"..".,. /, ..,.-,; j ..(Opposite the. union Bank),^ '• ';']--. ■'•7;; f| ,;'''',, AtibKLAND;;'''i'>y' *■'•'* * •;'•/' NE:W,:S!e'4SiQ^'^^EAS^: ' ' . V ..'.,,.:Hrani|V REcoMSf^srb-p.^ '.'. :, , M;r s, ■§. E R7R 0 w, ,;<: 381; Upper Queen Street, .'... t ~, DRESS MAI^R,:MII,I_NEE,,JEtc., [_.'.- Returns her sincere; thanks to herinany friends for their, kind patronage.during the past year, and trusts by. prompt attention 'to all Orders to merit a continuance; :**' ''*■'* !.** ** • ' ii„ _lRS.P.has a fresh lot of'SPRING GOODS now offering at Very LowtPrkes,^,, , njQ 'i "'-xru e'-'s^'tMi^e n^_; ':'.. "'".,'" J . By'going'to'"" "77- " •" '".'. '•'■'. '.'wl'iiTEß ''B'A'Y.'NE, ;;;7' i X yber Pass General Furnishing Stoke You can have Furniture, Hardware, arida' General.Assortment of Useful Articles at and below Town-Prices. Funerals con ducted oh moderate charges;, Caskets, of aU sizes kept in, Stock Prompt attention giventO a_ Orders^, , • -"' B* ; C R 0 C X E R . * •'*' '■ BOOT AND SHOE MAKER, F.ifff i M, Victoria street. Air kinds of Ladles' and Gentlemen's Boots made to'order of the best quality. Town and Country Orders promptly executed.