MISCELLANEOUS.

Dunstan Times, Issue 722, 18 February 1876, Page 3

MISCELLANEOUS.

The richest woman in America is Miss Kitty Wolfe. Her income is 1,000 dollars a day. Would you work very hard to keep that kind of a Wolf from your door ? *• After all,” says an old doctor, “ there are only two kinds of disease —the one of which you die, and the other of which vou don’t.” A little too clever at it.—James Wharton wealthy, but with a reputation for fastness, married recently. On the morning after the wedding the bride asked her husband to perform an office of the toilet for her, made necessary by the absence of her maid. Her husband did It willingly, and when it was concluded was astonished to find his pretty wife in tears. “ Why, my own precious, 1 ’ said ho, “ what is the matterwithherhubby's pet?” “ 0, Jimmie, Jimmie !” replied the poor girl, crying as if her heart would break, “if yon hadn’t

laced a thousand corsets you never could have done it like that !” A venerable goose has just died in Paris. Pour “ Babet,” which belonged to a kitchen gardener, and had been in the family for 230 years, and up to a short time since had preserved its senses, always answering to its name. Lately it grew somewhat inert ami sleepy, but its great age entitled •‘Babet” to a place in the Jardin des Plantes. Either the honor or the journey proved too much for the poor bird, and it died immediately on its arrival. A Rural Critic.—After Madame Carreno’s concert was over, be quietly took us aside, and gave vent as follows to bis pentup feelings “ I tell you mister, she was a slasher. Our Gennie. couldn’t hold a candle to her. When she first sat down she looked kind o’ wild ; then, with a howl, dug her fingers into them ’ore rough notes' and shut ’em like lightening up into the thin ones. Then she paused for a reoly, mister. She then commenced at the right hand side, wont a-rippling down hand over fist, till she pot clean down, making a noise like thunder. She then yanked a handful out of the centre, and planted them at the end, then wriggled around with two fingers, grabbed up another fistful, punched right and left, went ripety-hopety-scotchy up and down and I tell you that ’ere planner howled. She then gave another snort, and when she went she hurst in like mad, raised up off her chair, stuffed three fingersful there, chromed six more in the corner, gob 1 led up a few more tunes, and settled their hash in minute. After that she tackled it with her loft hand alone. Between yon and me, mister, the man that owned that ’ore planner went shiftin’ around on Ids chair as though ho had a carpet tack under him. Good-night mister.’’— Fort Wayne Seutiual.