Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, July 26, 1883, Image 1
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY IN MUSSER'S BUILDINGK Caraer of Main and Pann Stt., at SI.OO PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE; Or 91.St if not poM ta ndrmnoo. Acceptable Correspondence Solicited. I3J~ Address all letter* Jo " MILLHEIM JOURNAL." Beyond the Mountains. Beyond the mountains—ah! beyond How tair in fancy glen ma The valley with its spreading fields, The glint of winding streams! Beyond the purple mountain's high! Stray all our happy dreams. We sit beneath the moaning pine, Hy waves that pass our door; We sny, this scone is tair, and yet We s'g'i for something more; AnCt long to pass with eager feet The tar-off mountains o'er. At eve the night bird faintly sings, In murmurs sweet and low; The new moon's slender oie*ceut gives The sky a tender glow. Ilow fair the stars, how warm the wind, How soft the rivor'a flow! But there, whore longing fancy flies. And wayward hearts still turn, A (le. per music chaims the soul, The ml stars brighter burn; And laughing streams go loaping down From nooks o'er hung with fern. When heavy clouds nl>ove us roll, I>iu. skit s are over there; When storm-winds lret around our eaves, There zephyrs whisper fair. Beyond the mountains—ah! beyond Love fills the sunny air. Overland Monthly. A COMEDY OF ERRORS. Squire Packenhui was very angry. Being a member cylhechurch hedidn't swear. But he slummed the kitchen door so violently when he came in.that Keturah, his wife, comprehended at once that something was wrong. "Bear me, A brain," said she, mildly, looking up from the apples she was slicing for pan-dowdy, "there ain't no occasion to take the door off its hinges- What's the trouble now?" "It's Betsey Briggs," answered the equire, seating himself, with some vehemence, on a cushioned chair. "The airs that creetur gives herself ex ceed everything." "Airs?" said Mrs. Packenham. "I didn't know as them was Betsey Briggs' weaknesses." "I dunno what you'll call it," said the squire. "She was out in the gar den pickin' peas, an' I jest hollered to her, as I come by, to see if she'd be willin' to entertain the sewin' society at her house next Thursday. And, i 1 vou'U believe me, she didn't say a word. Neither yes nor no!" "Well, I never!" said Mrs. Packen oam. "But," with a gentle desire for extenuation, "you mustn't forget. Abram, that Betsey Briggs is near" sighted." "That don't prevent her liearin," floes it?" sharply demanded the squire. "I didn't think o' that," said meek Mrs. Packenham, rejecting a golden, summer apple, which had a bruise on its mellowest side. "But I'm quite sure Betsey didn't mean no harm. Betsey never docs!" "I dunno how that may be," said ihe squire, morosely. "But Ido know 1 shan't put myself out to speak to her ag'in, unless she sees fit to apologize. "I can't make it out at all," said Mrs. Packenham, slowly shaking her head. Miss Carter was the next person who stopped at the Packenham house. She was a spare female, whose exact age, like that of the obelisk, was wrapped in mystery, and she was a book-agent of the most rabid type, and deadly execution. "P'raps you'd like to subscribe to the •Housekeeper's Weekly Visitor,' Mis' Packenham," said she, rounding off her sentences with a prodigious sniff. "Wal, no!" said Mrs. Packenham. "We aren't much o' readers here." "Or maybe your husband would like to take a copy of the 'Ten Leading American Patriots V' " suggested Miss Carter, still struggling with her catarrhal difficulty. "Abram don't read nothin' but the newspapers," said Mrs. Packenham. His eyesight ain't what it was and—" "Who's your neighbor down under the hill?" sharply interrupted Miss Carter. "Just beyond the brook, where the bridge is so out of repair?" "Her name is Briggs," said Mrs. Packenham—"Betsey Briggs!" "Well, whoever she is," snorted Miss Carter, "she hasn't no more manners than a mooly cow. Not to notice me, even, and mestandin' there talkin' my self hoarse to her. Not even to turn her head to look at me!" "Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Packenham, "that's very strange! Betsey's a dread ful sociable creetur. That don't seem like her a bit." "Well, that don't signify," said Miss Carter, seating nerself, and opening lier leather packet. "But I'd just like you to look at a few recent publications I've got here." "Oh, don't trouble to show 'em to me!" said Mrs. Packenham, apprehen sively. "I hain't no money to buy nor time to read; and the churnin's behind hand, this mornin', and I've got soft soap to make." "It won't take a minute," persua sively argued Miss Carter. And she sat two mortal hours in the souire's kitchen, and made Mrs. Pack - Ite BttUhrim Journal, DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors VOL. LYII. enham subscribe to the 'Housekeeper's Weekly Visitor,' for a term of three years, before she departed. "Betsey Briggs managed her the best way," groaned Mrs. Packenham, as she looked into the recesses of her empty pocket-book. "What will Abram say f The clergyman, a slender, dyspeptic man of six-aiul-twenty, stopped at the garden-gate to give lister Briggs a friendly good-afternoon, that day, but she did not return his polite greeting, lie repeated it a little louder, and still she took no note of his spectacled-gaze and new silk hat. "I hope I haven't offended her in any way," said Mr. Sweetlands to him self; and he tried to think back to the sentences of his last sermon about gos. sips and meddlers. "I don't think 1 said anything which she could by any possibility apply to herself. Miss Briggs—Miss Briggs. I say!" lie waited a minute or so for a reply which did not come; then he sighed mildly, and walked on. "These single sisters are perhaps a tritle ditlicult to manage." said he "But doubtless experience will smooth my pathway in time." And, naturally enough, the Rev. Mr* Sweetlands stepped in at Sister Pack enham's to ask her how she thought he could possibly have offended Miss Betsey Briggs. And just as he was detailing in Mrs. Paekenham's puzzled ears the tale of his perplexity, a stout, elderly man, with a §ea faring aspect, rapped at the door with the knobby handle of his ragged stick. "Ahoy, there!" said Captain Giles Gilliloe. "I hope 1 ain't intriulin', but these is all strange waters to me. I've just hailed a neighbor n* craft Betsey Briggs by name, and she don't lower no signals. P'raps I've sighted the wrong coast." "Miss Briggs lives at the next house!" Mrs. Packenham said. "That's true enough." "I'm her cousin," said Captain Giles Gilliloe. "She has invited me to moor my craft in these parts for a while, but I ain't used to heave anchor along side o' thein as don't speak to me civil. And 1 hope I've made my log-book clear." "1 really can't account for it," said Mrs Packcnbnm, with a troubled ex pression of countenance. "Set down, Cap'en Gilliloe. I've often heard her speak of you, and I'm sure she wouldn't intend any Incivility. Set down and have a chat with Mr. Sweetlands, our minister, .and I'll step over to Betsey's at onee and see what all this means." The sun had gone down in the crim son blaze which belongs only to July skies—a soft purpling twilight was brooding over the swamp meadow, and the orange lilies glowed mystically in the apple orchard, as Mrs. Packenham hurried toward the old Brigg's home stead, whose chimney stack rose out of a wilderness of tall lilac bushes. There sure enough, was Miss Betsey in the vegetable garden, her sunbonnet dap ping in the evening breeze, but just as Mrs. Packenham laid her hand on the latch of the picket gate, Bowse, Far mer Pond's lug red bull, knocked his horns against a weak spot in the adja" cent pasture fence, and came thunder ing into the inclosure with his tail in the air, his huge head lowered almost to the ground and a low-muttered note of defiance breathed through his threat ening nostrils. "La, me!" cried Mrs. Packenham, "there's that brute loose again! And not a man in sight. And Betsey Briggs with her red caliker gown on. She'll be killed as sure as the world. Oh, dear, oh, dear!" As the reflection eddied through her mind, the animal made an infuriated charge toward the figure darkly out lined against the hedge of silver-green pea-vines, uttering a savage bellow as he rushed past, and Mrs. Packenham hurried, screaming, down the hill. "Abram! Mr. Sweetlands! Cap'en Gilliloe!" she shouted. Help! help! Oh, why don't somebody come? Far mer Pond's Bowse has knocked poor Betsey Briggs down into the pea-vines, and is a-gorin' her awful! Help! help! help! She'll be killed, as true as the world! Help! help!" Just as she burst into the door at the end of the kitchen, the opposite one opened, and in walked—Betsey Briggs herself, cool, calm and composed, with a veil folded neatly over her clove color ed silk hat, and a traveling-bag in her hand. Mrs. Packenham sat down, and began to laugh and cry hysterically; Mr. Sweetlands opened his pale-blue eyes like watery moons; the squire stared; Captain Gilliloe held out his two brown hands and waved a fore castle welcome. Miss Betsey looked around in gentle astonishment. "Dear me!" said she. "What is the matter ? What is everybody looking at me so for? How d'ye do, Cousin Giles? Why don't you go on to the house? I thought you was eomin' to make mo a visit!" "I—l don't make out this here reckon in' at all," said Captain Gilliloe, scratching his puzzled head. Some how the wrong signals have been swung out. Hut it's all right now-- aye, aye, it's all right now! The iigure-head of the Hetsey Briggs can't be mistook!" "I've just been up to Albany," ex plained Miss Betsey, "to order a new parlor carpet. 1 went up and came down on the evening train; and—" "But, Betsey," cried Mrs. Paeken haui, clutching spasmodically at her friend's arm, "who is that in your back garden--gathering peas, you know? For, as true as you live and breathe. Farmer Pond's Bowse has trampled her to death by this time." "That! Oh, that's my wire dummy* as 1 had when I worked at the dress makin' trade. 1 just dressed it up in Some of mv obi clothes, as a kind of a scarecrow-like, to keep the pigeons from stealing the green peas right out of my pods. They're the sauciest creatures in all the world. Why, you didn't never take it for a live person, did you ':" And everybody laughed in chorus, the more heartily as their folly becam e apparent to them. "1 declare to goodness, 1 was (loan out of my latitude and longitude," said the sea-captain, with a chuckle. "Appearances arc deceitful," said mild Mr. Sweet lands, rubbing his hands. "I won't never believe my own eyes ag'in!" shouted the squire. And then they all three went to drive the belligerent Bowse out of Miss Briggs' vegetable garden, and to patch up the defective pickets in the fence, and Miss Betsey herself sat down to drink a comfortable cup of tea with Mrs. Packenham. "For I'm sure 1 need one, after all I've been through," said the squire's wife. "Well, I declare," said sympathetic Miss Betsey, "it must ha' been a trial. I won't never put that dummy out ag'in."— Ba t u rday Nigh t. An Ostrich's Nest. After pairing, the ostrich begins to make bis nest. It is the male alone that performs this duty. To do this it squats upon the ground, and balancing itself upon its breast bone, it scratches up the earth with its legs and throws the sand behind it. When it has dug out enough on one side to suit it, it turns around and begins to dig on another side, and continues this opera tion until it has made a hole large enough for it to sit in comfortably. A few days after the nest is finished the female begins to lay one egg on every alternate day for eighteen or twenty days. She then rests for a while, which time varies from four to ten days, and then begins to lay more. A pair of ostriches yield forty eggs- This is only the minimum number, which is always reached. It is not un usual for a well fed, well kept pair to yield fifty and even sixty eggs. The eggs are placed so as to leave no space between them. They are sat upon at first for several hours each day, and finally altogether. Tho male and the female brood alternately. At night the nuile is always on the nest, as it possesses greater warmth than the female. When the birds relieve each other on the nest the new comer turns over each egg. in order that the portion which has lain against the nest shall receive the warmth of the brooder. These birds perform tlieir duties with the greatest skill, without any noise or breakage of the eggs. They squat down, and with their head and neck rake up and overturn every one of the eggs, one after the other, without neg lecting a single one. The incubation lasts forty-five days on an average, sometimes fifty days but never continues beyond that] When the chicklings hatch out they can be heard trying to break the shell of the egg. Sometimes they succeed in doing so, but usually the father break 3 the egg under his breast bone, and seizing with his bill the inside skin, tears it and frees the chickling. Upon first reaching the air the chickling re mains limp and weak. But the warmth of the parents soon revives it, and a few hours aftenyard it begins to run about the nest, exercising its long legs, tottling over at each step, recommenc ing again its stumbling journey. Four days after they are hatched the chick lings begin to eat. They run after insects and swallow small pebbles. The father and mother do not help their little ones find food. There are six equestrian statues in Washington—more than in any other city in the world. They are of Washington Jackson, Greene, Scott, McPherson and Thomas. MILLHEIM, FA., THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1883. PEARLS OF THOUGHT. We never deceive for a good purpose. Knavery adds malice to falsehood. However things may seem, no evil thing is success, and no good thing is a failure. Genius is essentially creative, it bears tho character of the individual who possesses it. Tho light of friendship is the light of phosphorous —seen plainest when all around is dark. lie is truly great that is little in himself, and that inaketh no account of any height of honors. Envy is a passion so full of coward ice and shame that nobody ever had the confidence to own it. lie that wrestles with us strength ens our nerves and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper. Choose always the way that seems the best, however rough it may be. Custom will render it easy and agreea ble. False friends are like our shadows, keeping close to us while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us the in stant we walk in the shade. Humor and pathos Twin lakes which lie side lW side in the heart, the one gleamed of the sunlight, the other gleamed of the same sunlight's shade. When you are looking at a picture you give it the advantage of a good light. Be at least ;LS courteous to your fellow creatures as you are to a picture. Keep your promise to tlie letter, be prompt and exact, and it will save you much trouble and care through life, and win you the respect and trust of your friends. "BOOMTOIYN." The Furore for l,a<t Kpfrnlnllng In the il'oithwrit Ui|ilifcnll) lfllne*led. The great northwest is entered through the gatew ay of St. Paul. There the traveler first hears of Boomtown, the "Portals of the Sunset," the "Fa vorite of Fortune," the "Gem of the Great Golden Northwest," the "Love, lit . i t Spot in the Land of Light." the "Plucky Pioneers' Paradise upon the Productive Prairies." Not only are the allurements and advantages of Boom town advertised in alliterative prose,but the real-estate man also drops into poetry, and relates how the place has grown. In prospectus this city is the focus of all railroads that are ever to he built, the future capital of the future state, the garden spot of the farmer, the sani tarium of the invalid, the speculator's paradise, the land of golden grain, where the wheat grows in forests ami the oats in impenetrable jungles. Should our arrival in St. Paul be opportune we learn that an auction sale of Boom town lots is one of the entertainments of the evening, and we are sadly lack ing in the tourist's proverbial enterprise if we do not attend. Bands of music inviting us to the scene, play lively tunes, calf, ulated to intoxicate the buyer and loosen the strings of his purse. Like spies sent out by Moses to report upon the land of Canaan, and who re turned bearing between them that fa mous bunch of grapes from the brook Eshcol, the Boomtown syndicate have also brought with them the products of their land, and challenge Canaan itself to show an equal display of No. 1 hard wheat, tastefull) arranged in sheaf and jar; enormous potatoes, each one a din ner in itself.; and luscious fruit, which, however, owing to the undeveloped state of the country, is yet in a state of papier mache. The sales are made by that most lo quacious of auctioneers, the "Marquis of Mud," who has fairly earned his hon orable title. lie exhorts the people to catch on to the Boomtown boom, which has surely set in to stay. Then, with the sensitiveness of the true boomer, he corrects himself, and says that this is not a boom at all, but a healthy and regular growth. The people catch on. In the fever of the moment, those buy lots who never bought before. Some buy in confidence, and some in fun. Some think that kind of a lottery as good as any other, and some invest for the privilege which it gives them of oc casionally putting on the air of a cap italist, and referring, in careless tones> to their real estate in Boomtown They buy for that satisfaction which the mere possession of property gives. Where lives the man who has not bought a dog or a dressing-gown, an opera-house or a newspaper, for similar reasons ? Having purchased his lot, the travel" er feels a natural desire to look at it, and proudly stand upon the base of his pyramid of dirt, whose apex is at the centre of the earth, three or four thous and miles away. Since Boom town is an inland city, and the climate, he has been led to believe, is just wet eneugh for the farmer and just dry enough fo r the consumptive, he is greatly shocked to find that his destination is surround- A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE. Ed by a waste of waters. Only the re peated assurance that this is an excep tionally moist spring restores confidence to his soul. The steamboat upon which ho has crossed the prairie unloads its passengers at the veranda of the second story of the hotel; and when, on the following day, the investor starts out in a row-boat to hunt up his real estate, he finds that he has unwittingly sailed across it as he came into town. The exact location of his lot, however, can not be determined without a diving-bell. The corner-stakes, which were only waist-high, are under water, and he hears the surveyor, who is his pilot on this occasion, mutter to his assistant that it will be necessary to make his pegs as high as lamp-posts hereafter. —Atlantic Motnhly. Ilow the Brooklyn Bridge Cables IVoro Made. After the towers had been built and the anchorages made ready, then came the strangest work of all. To make the cables and put them over the tow ers would be a ditlicult matter Very likely it could not be done at all. Bo the cables were made just where they hang, one small wire at a time. The cables are not chains with links, nor are they twisted like ropes. They are bundles of straight wires laid side by side and bound together by wires wound tightly around the outside. They called the work "weaving the cable.' At the Brooklyn anchorage was placed a powerful steam-engine, and on the top of the anchorage were plac ed two large wheels, and with the aid of proper machinery the engine caused these wheels to turn forward er back ward. From each wheel was stretch ed a steel rope to the top of the Brook" lyn tower, over the river, over the oth er tower and down to the New York anchorage. Here it passed over anoth er whe 'l and then stretched all the way back again. The ends were fas tened together, making an endless rope, and when the engine moved, the ropes travelled to and fro over the river. For this reason they were called the "travellers." There were, besides these travellers, two more ropes placed side by side, On these were laid short pieces of oak. thus making a foot-bridge on which the workmen could cross the river. There were also other ropes for sup* porting platforms, on which the work men stood as the weaving went on* On each traveller was hung an iron wheel, and as the* traveller moved, the wheel went with it. It took only ten minutes to send two wires over the river in this way. The men on the foot-bridge and on the platforms suspended from the other ropes guided the two wires into place and thus the cables were woven, little by little, two slender steel wires each time, and carefully laid in place, till 5134 wires were bound together in a huge cable, fifteen and three-quarter inches in diameter. The work was fairly started by the 11th of June, 1877, and the last wire was laid October 5, 1878. There are four cables, each 3578A feet long, and if all the wires in the four cables were placed in lint they would reach over fourteen thous and miles. The work was long and dangerous. Sometimes the wire would break and fall into the water, and an hour oi more would be spent in hauling it up and starting once more. The men on the foot-bridge or on the cradles high in the air watched every wire as it waa laid into place. To start and stop the engine, men stood on the top of the towers and waved signal llags to the engineer. Such a mass of wires would not very easily keep in place, and as the work went on, a number of wires were bound together into little bundles or ropes, and at the end all were bound together into one smooth, round bun die or cable.— St. Nicholas. Needles. A company has been formed in Uti' ca for making common or hand-sewing needles by machinery. The needle making machine proposed to be used was invented by Eugene Fontaine, the inventor of the celebrated locomotive bearing his name, and which has made the fastest time ever yet made by a locomotive. Mr. Fontaine is also the inventor and maker of the most rapid and best pin-making and pin sticking machinery ever made. The needles to supply the world are made at Ridditch, Birmingham, and at Ilath ersage, Derbyshire, in England, and Aix la Chapell, and its suburb, Bor cette, in Germany. Ridditch and Bor cette are the principal sources of sup ply. At Ridditch about fourteen thousand persons are engaged in mak ing needles and the product is estimat ed to be about two hundred millions per week, or ten thousand millions per year. Of these it is estimated that the United States take a little more than one-tenth. Terms, SIOO Per Year in Advance. ITALIAN PI At! EM. The Mannrr lit Which the Itark-Kyed Sculplorit U'rk and Live. "Buy ray imagi s?' The speaker, a slender, knob nosed, dark-eyed youtb # stood on the corner of Seventh and Chestnut streets' and piped his plain tive melo.ly in sixty-four different keys. He was a ragged Ita'.i in, redo lent of garlic and inaccuroni. He wore a dusty slouch hat, and his toes peeped out into the soft sunlight in a suggestive sort of away. There was about him a look of chronic hunger. His voice ran up the gamut and down the gamut, lirst harsh and decisive, anon soft and supplicating, like that of a woman, ami alternately loud, low_ cracked and round-toned Rich peo. pie and poor people, jiolicenien, boot blacks, and dogs of all degrees, with muzzles and without muzzles, passed him without turning their heads, Still the prdler kept crying his dis jointed images, until at last a press re porter, with his heart full of connnis seration and his pocket full of five cent pieces, tapped him on the shoulder and said: "How much?" "A dollar and a quarter," replied the Italian. "Too mi ch; I give twenty-five cents." "Basta! one dollar." "Twenty-five cents?" "I take fifty." "Twenty-five?" "Take him along." And the reporter lifted the plaster of Paris image of a female diver, from the nomad's willow basket and laid it tenderly across his arm as if it were a baby. The image was tolerably well moulded, is made of genuine plaster of Paris, and is a counterpart of those sold in the retail stores for one dollar The marvel is how the beggars can sell thein so cheaply, and yet keep from starving. Every trade has its secrets, and that of image-making is no excep tion to the rule. To begin with the Italian plaster sculptors live upon al most nothing. Six men will occupy two small rooms. In the other room is their workshop. For dinner they have a bowl of soup, the principle in gredients of which are bones, scraps of meat, a few slender wisps of macea roni, and pepper and salt in profusion. Two huge slices of bread and a butch er knife complete the meal The men cat and work, and work and smoke. They buy the cheapest sort of plaster of Paris for one dollar a barrel. A barrel of plaster will make 500 images. The moulds are made of gelatine, which costs $1 per pound. An ordina ry mould costs $2. Each mould is made to produce not less than fifty im ages. An industrious maker can turn out, every day, 100 images. By calcu lation upon this basis, it appears that the images cost about ten cents each, not including time, of which, however the wily Italian makes no reckoning. This is the whole secret. The retail dealer says the image cannot be made for less than forty cents. So they cannot when first, class materials are employed. The American manufacturers of images employ a skilled laborer to screpe of! the mould marks and tone up the anat omy. All this counts. So does th* time consumed in the moulding. The gelatine costs twice as much as that used by the Italians. The moulds are not made to produce over a dozen ima ges. Here is another big saving foi the maccaroni-eater. The latter sel dom lives long in one place. He and his countrymen travel in droves of six and a dozen. They move from city to city, making their images. They selj one subject "into the ground" as the retailers say, and then make a vast quantity of another. Just now every Italian image maker In Philadelphia are making female divers. In a few weeks they will be making something else. Thev are keen and have a sharp eye to business. They find that a cer tain image catches the popular whim. Forthwith they make nothing else. Thousands of the favorite images go bobbing up and down Chestnut street. The houses are full of them. And so it goes. The business of image-mak ing is declining. In former years the pedlers over-ran the country. Now they seldom go into the rural districts. In the winter they make images. In the spring they divide their time be tween selling their wares and collect ing cigar stumps. In the summer they deal in ice-cream and figs and cheap fruit. When they die they are buried in the Potter's field, and that is the last of them. Their images are cast in the ash barrel and that is the last of them.— Philadelphia Press. The work of bleaching ivory for pi ano keys is so slow that at Centrebrook, Ct., at which place they are made in large quantities, 10,000 sets are some- times on hand in the different stages of the operation. NEWSPAPER LAWS. If subscribers order the discontinuation of newspapers, the publishers may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid. If subscribers refuse or neglect to take their newspapers from the office to which they are sent, they are held responsible until they have settled the bills and ordered them dis continued. If subscribers more to other places with out informing the publisher, and the news- Sapers are sent to the former place of reei ence, they are then responsible. Twk. 1 mo. |SmoB. ImM. j 1 rwu I tun |!on t*w fioo |n U column 800 400 I 600 10 W | 18 0t H column 800 800 I 12 fWI I 90 00 I 86 00 I column 800 1# 00 I OOJ 86 00 |OOOO > Wh mnka. * Hqunro. A<leinM.r%r n1 Kx. •tutors' VoticM $2.60. Transient adrertiMmenu and ' local* 10 cent* per line for -first insert.ua and ft cents per ' Una for each additional moertion. NO. 20. A Legend of Iho Dews. Earth had no dews until a baby died— A dimpled, lair-Jucod buby, whose dear eyes Peeped through 11.0 •winging gates of Para* due, And, seeing wondrous trenames scattered wide, Sought (hem with liuitleta grasp and home sick cries; And when the eager, trembling little hand Wearied in reaching lor the luring thing*, Fluttered and ioldcd—like the drooping wings Ot Noah's dove, sent out to find the land, Where no land was—then angels wept their woe For the sweet, sealed lids, and chcekt of snow; And all their rueful tears the z< \ byrs bland Gathored in dainty enps of moonlight hue, To break on babies' gruves in showers of dew! —Lucy M. Blinn, in thi Continent. PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS. Often on a strike—A ball-player. A question of voracity—How much can you eat? The maiden who formerly dr tuned of fl jwers And birds in the beautiful spring.. Is housekeeping now, and turns her thoughts lo bug-poison and lint sort of thing. Enquirer--What is the chief objec" tion to traveling in the streetcars? It costs money. An editor, in acknowledging the gift of a peck of onions from a sub scriber, says: "It is such kindnesses as these that bring tears to our eyes." Wlii.'e many men are muttering, The tana are fiercely fluttering, Fresh soda water's spluttering, And stupid chaps arc stuttering, "Is it hot enough for you?" A well-known florist says that flow ers will keep better wrapped in a wet newspaper than in any other way. This is another argument in favor of subscribing. "Man should always be graceful," says I)r. Arrnitage; and the doctor will please rise and explain how a man can be graceful when he steps on an orange peel while carrying a basket of The new western weather prophet is proud of his name—Straw, and the editor of the Boston Post, who evi dently has some faith in weather pro phets, thinks he can tell which way the wind will blow. A barber shop bit: "Is that about the right length, sir?" asked the skill ful barber as be finished cutting his customer's hair. "I like the sides and back*," was the response; "but I wish you would make it a little longer on top." The windows of houses in the Phil ippine isles are made of pellucid oys ter shells, which admit light, but can not be seen through. It is not ex plained how the woman, who sits up till after midnight to ascertain what hour the beau of the young lady oppo site leaves, overcomes this difficulty. The Biffins children, having over heard some one remark in connection with the Biffins evening party that "Mr. Spriggins will have his eye out for the oysters," had a consultation which resulted in their stationing themselves, while refreshments wero being served, in good positions to see Mr. Spriggins take out that important organ. A Religions Order of Beggars. There are to be met now anu then in Japan members of a religious order of beggars known as O Biku San. They are dressed in a fashion peculiar to their fraternity, wearing cohical bam boo grass coverings for the head, of a diameter sufficient to afford a shade for the shoulders. They live in what may be termed nunneries. When abroad their vocation is soliciting alma for the use of their community. Gen erally they are orphans or the children of very poor parents, who are willing to be relieved of their care and main, tenance. Qne of the duties exacted by their order is that they offer reveren tial worship before every temple or shrine they may pass on their begging expeditions. It is seldom that they go alone, there generally being two or three together. These women have their heads shaved, as do the priests of the Buddhist sects. There is another fraternity of beggars known as Bikuni. Widows only are eligible to enter this body of mendicants. They have their heads shaved and take a religious vow ii£yer to marry again. The proceeds of the appeals for alms made by both of these bodies of mendicants are de posited with the heads of their respect ive establishments. Formerly it was the custom of these beggars to have regular routes which they individually worked, and it was the habit of the generous, to avoid the bother of being importuned, to place their gifts in a basket, which was hung outside, tbe house on regular slated times, and it is said the sum so placed was considered sacred from the touch of any other than the particular mendicant for whom it was intended.— San Frarudx. 20 Chronicle.