x
Bellefonte, Pa., May 4, 1894,
“S—
THE BEST THING IN LIFE.
The best thing in life ? it’s ‘the bloom on the
peach, 2
It was here just this moment, and now it is
one.
It's tho thing we strive most for, yet never
can reach ;
It’s the beauty that heralds the coming of
mora.
It's the bubble that breaks. The dart shet
from the quiver.
It's the dream that Love cheats his blind
votaries with.
1's the glow on the ‘hilltop; the mist on the
river;
The dew on the flower; it’s the perfume we
breathe.
We can never attain it; it eludes us forever,
We stretch forth eager hands; it is gone
from our sight.
All life is a struggle of useless endeavor
Wien Death drops the curtain and puts out
the light. .
—IMargarel Ravenhill
BACHELOR GIRLS BOTH OF THEM.
“Would you mind passing the sugar,
Aunt Jane?’ I said—I was taking
early tea with my Aunt Jane Lamber-
ton. Aunt.Jane hastened to push me
the article in demand in her usual
prim manner, and as I looked at her
the funniest notion seized me. I laugh-
ed aloud frivolously, and I said what
I never should havesaid in a sobermom-
ent: “Aren’t we two typical old maids,
Aunt Jane, taking our dish of tea to-
gether, you know ? You with your cat,
I with my dog !”
I saw at once that the inspiration
didn’t take with Aunt Jane at all. She
made astraight, hard line of her lips
(a bad sign,) and buttered a crust with
much precision.
‘You have an unfortunate way of
expressing yourself at times, Eliza-
beth,” she said disapprovingly.
[wish te goodness I could break
Aunt Jane of calling me Ehzabeth,
and the way she does it, too, as if I were
all capitals or italics! She does it be-
cause everyone else calls me Betty, and
that is Aunt Jane's way in everything.
I really believe if Aunt Jane knew, or
believed, rather, that anyone was so
downright foolish as to call me dar-
ling she would faint dead away—that
is, if fainting were not such a dreadful
weak and foolish thing to do.
Byron, or whoever it was, must
have had Aunt Jane in his mind whea
he said “woman is a miracle of contra-
dictions,” because Aunt Jane can be as
nice as possible when she wants to. I
believe it is unwritten law that I'm to
be her heir.
Really, I’m quite fond of Aunt Jane
yet Aunt Jane looked so severe after
that unlucky speech of mine that I
was frightened and made an effort to
brighten things up more.
“Oh, well, not old maids, you know,
aunt, They have a nicer name for it
now. Say we're two Bachelor Girls.
Sit up, Dick I”” and I bent down to
hide my too smiling countenance in the
effort to balance a lump of sugar on
the nose of my beautiful fox ter-
rier.
“No need to say anything at all
about it, as far as I can see.” said
Aunt Jane tartly, making a dreadful,
hysterical rattle with the spoons. “If
Iam single its purely from choice (it
always is with Bachelor Girls like
Aunt Jane). Whether it is with yon
or not, of course I can’t say, but I sup
pose that to be twenty-four and not yet
married and some man’s slave, nowa-
days implies that vou are to be-an old
—er a Bachelor Girl, Elizabeth.”
I stirred my tea reflectively. Aunt
Jane likes to see young people ser-
ious.
“Well, and after all, aunt,” I pre-
sently said, ‘‘aren’t we much happier
as we are ?”’
Aunt Jane was charmed with the
depth of this reasoning.
“Why, really, Elizabeth,” she said
pleasantly, “really I do believe you are
getting to be very sensible. You are
growiag so like you dear mother when
she was a girl. Sometimes when you
come upon me suddenly, or hold your
head so, I declare, child, I could be
almost certain that it was your poor
mother before she married your father.
Only your mother was a beautiful
woman. Elizabeth, You are not.”
Now that’s so characteristic of Aunt
Jane. She raises you up to the
seventh heaven only to dash you down
to goodness knows where.
If you were the Venus of Milo Aunt
Jane would rather die than you koow
it. Of course, I know I'm not Venus
of any kind, but then I know I can’t
be so very bad-looking, because I al-
ways have plenty of attention, if I do
say it myself ; and if I wait for Aunt
Jane to say it will never be told.
Ifit’s a disgrace to be single.” went
on my aunt, fixing me with her eyes,
“then I'm afraid 1'm disgraced forever,
and by my own fault. I had scores ot
admirers when I was your age, Eliza-
beth, and that was not so long ago.”
(Thirty years or more is a trifling bit
of coquetry on the part of time to
Aunt Jane evidently.)
“I’m sure you had, aunt,” I hasten
to reply dutifully (and untruthfully,)
“and perbaps if you had married some
of them—-""
“I could only have married one of
them. Elizabeth !"” interrupted my
_.. aunt in the tone of a stern moralist.
“True, aunt, fortunately for your-
self,’ I said pleasantly. “Would you
mind giving me the wafers, aunt?
Thanks. Taking them altogether,
aunt, men are not to be relied upon.”
“I doo’t know much about them
now, but in my time young men were
entirely different” declared Aunt Jane
making, a ferocious dab at the water-
cress as though it were the young man
of her epecial aversion. “For one
thing, their mothers were not abject
slaves to them, and the girls didn’t
spend all their time running after
them.”
“Gracious goodness, Aunt Jave ?’ I
axclaimed indignantly, “the girls don’t
run after them now.” :
“Oh, don’t tell me, Elizabeth,” and
Aunt Jane toseed her head scornfully.
(Aunt Jane’s head make me frantic,
it’s 80 aggravatingly neat aud ladylike.)
“Don’t tell me Elizabeth,” said Aunt
Jane, “haven’t I eyes, haven't I ears?
Why, only at the Snowden’s tea last
week—By the way, why weren't you
there, Elizabeth ? I thought you and
Margaret Snowden were such triends.”
I pulled poor Dick’s ears until he
howled, but I wase’t going to tell Aunt
Jane that the reason I didn’t go to the
Snowdens was because I had quarreled
with John Chandler and knew he
would be there. It is simply impossi-
ble to get Aunt Jane to understand a
love affair. She gets things so awfully
mixed.
If she had been more sympathetic
perhaps I might have teld her about—
well, never miad.
“Well, there was your Margaret,’
began Aunt Jane again, seeing that I
didn’t answer. “There was your Mar-
garet, looking rather nice and rather
flirtatious ; and there was that yeung
‘Chandler posing as lackadaisically as
you please. I declare, young men who
once get a notion they're good looking
are simply unendurable. Be careful,
Elizabeth1 Remember, this is my
best china, and it doesn’t improve a
cup to be treated like a cannon ball I’
(Cannon ball! Such exaggeration !)
“As was saying. I don’t see what in
the world she sees in the fellow. I
can’t see what she sees in him, or he
in her.”
“Butdo they, Aunt ?”
“‘Do they aunt,” mimicked my
aunt in a way that would ruffle the
temper of an angel. “Now, what do
you mean by that silly speech, Eliza-
beth 27
“Well, I knew what I meant, but I
.couldu’t explain to Aunt Jane. I only
said instead: ‘“‘Aunt Jane, I think the!
nicest way for you and me to spend!
our old age is to travel until we die,
don’t you 2”? !
“Until we die!” almost shrieked
Aunt Jane, and her two front curls
went bobbing around in the most ner-
vous senseless fashion. Aunt Jane has
a perfect horror of death, which is the |
one convincing proof to me that Aunt
Jane has never been seriously in love. |
I only know that if when she was a
girl, John Chandler—but, what is the |
use of raking up old quarrels? I
hope we have had the last. But how
I’m ever going to break the news of our
final engagement to AuntJane without
being disinherited 1t more than I know.
She hates men so, and especially John
because John adores me. Yet, if’
Aunt Jane could but attempt to realize |
how I hate that odious old Mr. Diiling. :
He thinks “Elizabeth” (he copies that |
from Aunt Jane) “is so interesting,’
and I know he’s only hunting after:
Aunt.Jare’s money.
At any rate Aunt Jane went on to
say : “In the first place, how could
we travel without a man, Elizabeth ?”’
and she frowned that question at me
over the teapot. ‘Is that all aunt?
Would you want a man when you hate
and despise them al] so 2”
My aunt gave a little cough, “Oh,
well not exactly a man, child® “There’s
Mr. Dilling, for instance.” (I knew
that was, coming.) But goodness,
isn’t hea man, aunt?’ I asked in
some surprise. It was sach fun to
have Aunt Jane on the mental rack if
ouly for a minute. And my aunt said:
“Who. yes, yes, certainly, to be sure,”
and got herself into a nice state of con:
fusion. ‘But then, you know, he’s a
widower, Elizabeth, and they’re always
different. Mr. Dilling is such a nice
man ; quite one in a thousand, my
dear, He—"
“Oh, Aunt Jane I” I laughed rashly,
“I do believe you are falling in love I |
“Elizabeth Lamberton I” cried my
aunt, and poor Dick and I were nearly
startled into a fit. I don't dare to
imagine what would have happered
next if some kind fate hadn’t sent
Maggy Mara 1n, salver in hand.
“Well Priscilla,” demanded Aunt
Jane so sharply that the girl fairly
jumped, There's Aunt Jane again,
for you. She won’t bave Maggy
called anything but Priscilla just be-
cause her present fad happens to be the
Mayflower. (I rather think Mr. Dill
ing or somebody belonging to him
came over init.) If I were Maggy, I
would charge two dollars instead of
fifty cents extra per week for the priv-
ilege of having my name, changed,
but being only Elizabeth, I just grin-
and bear it. It's so perfectly idiotic.
Maggy was so frightened at first she
didn’t attempt to answer.
“Well, Priscilla,” said Aunt Jane
again,
“A letter, please, 'm, for Miss Betty,
which was lift be a missinger bye.”
Aunt Jane scrutinized me over her
glasses, while I trifled with my cake
and held on tightly to the edge of the
table. :
“Why, how did anyone happen to
know you were spending this particular
afternoon with me, Elizabeth ?”
“I'm sure I don’t know, aunt. I
don’t think I mentioned it to him—to
—that is—to anyone.” It vexed me so
to feel my face flaming up. Aunt Jane
can make one feel so like a con-
viet.
“Mentioned it to—to—'' she began in
high displeasure, and I felt that my
hour had come. Aunt Jane glanced
quickly at Maggy Mara. “You can
go, Priscilla.”
‘Oh, av you plaze, 'm,” . said the
buxom handmaid, sidling up a trifle
nearer and getting almost as red as
miserable me. “av you please, 'm,
would yez be mindin' av 1 had wan av
me gintlemin frins intil the kitchen
this evenin’. Cook’s going out an’ it
do be lonesome.”
“Another man, to night, Priscilla |”
cried Aunt Jane turning around to face
the culprit squarely, and I couldn't
help feeling glad that Maggy seemed
almost as reprehensible as I did—to
Aunt Jane at least. I almost expect-
ed her to fall down on her knees
(Maggy, that is,) but her staunch Irish
lood came to the rescue and made
her brave,
impertinently. “Yez do be talkin’ a]
if I kept company iviry noight av me
loife, ma'am. Shure, au’ it was away
last Saturday noight yez said I cu’d
have Michael Granigan in to sit wid
me, ma'am, but the scamp he up an’
past the house loike a streak, an’ in he
wint to Delia Maloney, an’ yez can’t
tell me she hadnt her bould face
shtuck out at the soide gate a lurin’ av
him in till her. Well, she can have
him, thin, av that's her (aste,”’ and
Maggy drew herselr up breathless, but
defiant. 1
“And pray, who is it you expect this
evening, Priscilla,” said my aunt uon-
invitingly.
“Shure, av’ it's Jim Doyle, 'm, as
foine a fella as yez'd want to see, an’ I
met him in the Park last Sunday was
a fortnight.”
“Met him in the Park, Priscilla |”
screamed Aunt Jane, in italics and
capitals, and I am glad to say Maggy
didn’t even flinch.
“Deed, thin, an’ I did, 'm,” she de-
clared. ‘“Me’n’ Joolia O'Donnell was
standin’ on Girard avenue bridge,
a-lookin’ at the hoats, an’ up he comes,
as jaunty as ye plaze, an’ tips his hat
that polite and eez, sez he, ‘Oxcuse me
ladies,’ sez he.”
“Stop, stop it at ounce, girl,” com-
manded her mistress. ‘I will listen to
no more. To speak to a man in broad
daylight ! It is outrageous—positive-
ly outrageous.”
“Qutrageous,” began Maggy, but the
enormity of the accusation suddenly
overwhelming her, she disappeared
behind her apron and emitted a heart-
rending sob.
“Oh, never mind, Maggy,” I manag-
ed to say soothing. “Aunt Jane
didn’t mean it.” For this overture [
was rewarded with an unexpected glare
from Aunt Jane.
“Arrah, Miss Betty, she did an’ she
did,” gasped the afflicted one. “To
| think av me own mother’s daughter
called outrageous for spakin’ to a da-
cent bye—"
“There, there, go along with you, do.
Have the man it you want him,” said
Aunt Jane sternly, but don’t blame me
when it's too late. You'll be sorry
when you're in your grave,” she added
in sepulchral tones, and then whisked
her chair around to me, while poor
Maggy went sniflingout. If I could
only have gone with her! ‘Oh, to be
a candle, or a lamp. or a tramp, or
something that somebody could put
out. But no, I was doomed,
“And now, Elizabeth,” began Aunt
Jane, with her most inquisitorial air,
“who, if I tay ask, who is the young
man so favored as to be made aware of
your every movement? Another for-
tune-hunter, I suppose.” (A penalty
ot being Aunt Jane's prospective heir
is that every man under 99 is a for-
tune-hunter—all except Mr. Dilling of
ancient pedigree.) If Aunt Jane bad
only turned her head away instead of
eyeing me in that uncomfortable man-
ner, I might have been able to answer
but as it was the words refused to
come. I was crimson and speech-
less.
“A pretty thing.”
aunt (oh! what a wife Aunt Jane
would have made for Solomon!) “A
pretty thing to intorm a young man of
your every movement, as though he
cares two straws |”
Now however did Aunt Jane guess.
I could stand it no longer. “But he
does care.” I burst out, “and it’s not
true when you say he doesn’t I”
“Hoity, toity,” said Aunt Jane ag-
gravatiugly, “and has he then assured
you of the interesting fact.”
“Ob, Aunt Jane,” I went on excited-
ly, and, indeed, I scarcely knew what I
was saying. “You've no idea how
good heis. He's not like other men. He
never tries to squeeze your hand, and
he never tries to kiss you ; and at the
same time he is so devoted, so deferen-
tial, so—so—"'
A look of horror had apparently
frozen Aunt Jane's countenance.
“Elizabeth Lamberton,” she gasped,
are you mad or crazy ? Squeeze my
band! Try to kiss me, indeed! I
should like to see the man—"
“Oh, he wouldn’t aunt, he wouldn’t,”
1 hastened to say in perfect good faith ;
and then, being utterly wretched, I got
out my handkerchief.
Aunt Jane can’t bear to see me cry.
There was quite a silence, broken only
by an effective sound of woe on my part
every now and then. :
Presently Aunt Jane spoke in a
kinder voice. “Who is this from,
Elizabeth 2’
The letter! Dear me. I had al-
most forgotten all about it.
“It’s from John Chandler, aunt—I
think.”
“Think ! I presume you know more
than you think about it,” said Aunt
Jane witheringly. ‘Suppose you open
it and see what that young man has to
say for himself.” Thus encouraged,
and with a profound sigh. I obeyed at
once with trembling, icy-cold fingers,
and tried to read a love letter—at
least, it wae a very nice note from
John asking me if he might call again
in the evening, silly goose—with Aunt
Jane's eyes piercing my soul like two
unfeeling gimlets, skewering me, in
fact, from across the table. I don’t be-
lieve Aunt Jane was ever in love—at
least, I don’t believe anybody was ever
in love with Aunt Jane, I don’t care
what she says.
“Well?” she said saddenly. And
being startled I stuck a corner of the
paper in poor Dick's eye, so that the
tears came to him too ; and then I got
bot and cold. “It is from John
Chandler, aunt, and he's very well—"
“Very well, is he,” said my aunt
tartly, that’s a blessing to be sure.”
The tears sprang to my eyes again,
and I arose with a show of dignity. I
could never tell her about our engage-
ment, at least, not yet. “I must be
going, Aunt Jane. It's almost 6
o'clock.”
“Well, if you must, you must. I
won't have it said that I kept you out
until ungodly
“To-night, is it,” she repeated a bit
got,
coatinued my |
at the Hanlons’ reception to-morrow.
And what have you got to wear to the
Dudley’s next week ?”
“My blue, aunt,” I said dispiritedly.
As though I were thinking of the Dud-
leys!
“Well, that's beginning to look the
worse for wear,” said my remarkable
relative. ‘Go to Moore and get her to
make you something respectable. You
can send me the bill. When you're
young and pretty—more or less—you
might as well dress nicely,” said Aunt
Jane, quite benignly by this time.
AuotJane Lamberton is a gigantic
monument of moods and tenses.
“There, child,” she finally said as she
gave me a pecky kiss, “you mustn't
mind if I was a bit put out. The men
have spoiled my temper. Come to din-
ner Sunday. I expect Mr. Dilling and
I want you to know each other very
well,’’ ebe said at the door.
“All right! I'll let you know,
aunt,” I said without enthusiasm, as I
picked Dick up. “Good-bye!”
But I'm not going, unless John
Chandler goes with me. I'll let him
tell Aunt Jane. Besides, I have a
great notion that Aunt Jane has some-
thing to tel me, and I don’t want to
hear it. I simply despise that odious
old man, and so does John.
Imagine wooing Aunt Jane!
John says it's simply ridiculous.—
Agnes Marie Mulholland.
The ‘Wonders of Brazil.
Its Magnificent Distances and Marvelous Water
ways.—The World's Greatest River.— Facts
About the Father of Waters.
Although any school-boy can tell you
that Brazil is as large as the whole of
Europe, or about the size of the United
States, exclusive of Alaska, few people
have a ‘realizing sense’’ of its enor-
mous extent, Even its picture on the
map, which covers nearly half of South
America, and the figures in the geogra-
phy, which give in a total area of al-
most four million miles, fail to convey
to the average mind an idea of its real
roagnitude. Let us get at it in another
way : Suppose you were going from
Newport News to Santos, the southern-
most port at which the United States
and Brazil Mail Steamship calls—a dis-
tance ot 5377 miles,requiring four weeks
to make the journey with the most favor-
able winds and waves. After two weeks’
steady sailing, when you arrive at Para
—Brazil’s northernmost port of conse-
quence, at the mouth of the Amazon
River, 2902 miles below Newport News
—you are amazed to find that you have
come only alittle more than half way to
Santos ; that the distance between Para
and that port, both in the same coun-
try, is nearly the same as that you have
traversed in coming all the way down
the cost of the United States, Mexico,
the Central American Republics, Ven-
zuela, and the three Guianas, past Bar-
badoes, the West Indies, the Mexican
Gulfand the Caribbean Sea. And yet
Santos is a long way above the southern
boundary of this vast country, whose
Atlantic shore-line measures 3700 miles,
therg being several important Brazilian
ports below it at which our steamers do
not call—notably Paranagna, Desterro,
Rio Grande do Sul, Porto Alegre and
Pelotas.
A LONG WAY BETWEEN PORTS.
The half dozen seaports, which rep-
resent about all the cities of conse-
quence in Brazil, are distant from one
another as follows : From Para to Mar-
anhao, 364 miles ; from Maranhao to
Pernambuco, 792 miles ; from Pernam-
buco to Bahia, 389 miles ; from Bahia
to Rio de Janeiro, 735 miles ; from Rio
to Santos, 200 miles , from Santos to
Pelotas, 250 miles. It is not surprising
that the insurgents, who are by no
means conquered, though temporarily
driven from Rio de Janeiro, can tran-
quilly maintain their ‘Provisional Gov-
ernment’’ at distant Desterro in spite of
the President and his army, and that
the people of the remote northern prov-
inces are still living in peaceful ad-
herence to the traditions of the by-gone
empire, regardless of Republican hap-
penings at the Federal capital.
BRAZIL'S GREAT RIVERS.
Note the river system of Brazil, which
is unequaled in the world for the num-
ber and magnitude of the streams that
present a net-work of water-ways as
complex as the veins in the human
body, with the Amazon and its large
tributaries standing in the relation of
main arteries, The Amazon, the larg-
est river in the world (though not the
longest), runs a direct course through
Brazil of 800 miles, from its source,
about sixty miles from the Pacific, to
the Atlantic Ocean. The great river,San
Francisco, which runs from north to
east, a thousand miles across Brazil, is
navigable for hundreds of miles before
pouring its floods over the wonderful
falls of Paulo Alonso, and again from
the sea to the falls by largest vessels ;
the Rio Negro with five hundred miles
not regularly plied by steamers, and
nobody knows what extent of navigable
waters above; the mighty Maderia ;
the Solimoes, on which steamers now
run 1350 miles ; the Branco, Xingu,
Tapajas, Araguay, Tacantins, Doce,
Mananhao, Paranahiba, Vizaharris,
Paraguassu, Jequtinhonha, Parahibal-
do-Sul, Uruguay, Iguacu, Paranapane-
me, Tieta, Para and many more that
are larger then the Ohio or Colorodo
river in the United States, with thou-
sands upon thousands of miles of navi-
gable waters.
THE RIPARIAN SUB DIVISION.
The river-system of Brazil naturally
resolves itself into three sub-divisions :
That of the Amazon, or northern ; the
San Francisco, or eastern; and the
Parana, or southern, There are many
rivers as large as the Yellowstone or
the Susquehanna that empty into the
Atlantic between the mouths of the
mighty rivers which give their names
to the three sub-divisions of the general
system ; but by far the larger part of
the waters drained from the three great
water sheds of Brazil find their way to
the ocean through the channels of the
three above named. Another remark-
able feature of this complex river-system
is the commingling of the sources of
the affluents to the three sub-divisions,
A I EST ATE WY SCR TCO SSAA 00
the incalculable extent of these water-
ways and their interconnections and yet
barely begun to be developed.
THE GREAT PARANA.
Take the Parana, the main stream of
the Southern sub-division, which re-
ents from the Brazilian State of Minas-
Geraes, where they rise among the
sources of the San Francisco. Its
waters are navigable by large steamers
away up to the falls of Guayra, on the
western border of the State of Parana,
and above these by smaller ones for
about 800 miles. This river receives the
waters of the Paraguay, whose sources
are in the centre of the State of Matto
Gresso, near those of the Rio Tapajos, a
mighty affluent of the Amazon. Lower
down, the Paraguay is navigable by
steamers from Montevideo for over 2000
miles; and this 1s the route taken by
troops and passengers from Rio de Jan-
erio to Cuyaba, capital of the important
State of Matto Grosso, which is situated
on one of the affluents of the Paraguay.
THE FATHER OF WATERS.
And what shall we say of the Ama-
zon—the true “Father of Waters’’—the
most wonderful river in the world ? The
statement of a few plain facts is suffi-
cient to give free rein to the imagina-
tion, and on this subject imagination
cannot carry one beyond the. truth.
With its tangled network of tributaries
and channels,creek and ignaripes, which
penetrate every country of South Ameri-
ca except Chile and Patagonia, and has
been likened by some travelers to a vast
archipel ago, by others dubbed the © Med-
diterranean of the Western Hemis-
phere,” and described by Joaquin Miller
as “Dark and dreadful ; wide, like an
ocean—much like a river, but more like
a sea.” With its affluents it furnishes
fully 50,000 miles of navigable water,
more than half of which is available for
steamers. Its eight principal tributaries
are each over a oy miles long,
and upward of 350 other branches unite
to form its main stream.
ON A COLOSSAL SCALE.
The largest ship that ever was built
could sail from the ocean into its mouth
and straight up the river for 1500 miles ;
while for many hundreds of miles along
its lower course are innumerable lateral
canals, called igaripes (literally canoe
paths), which boats may travel without
ever entering the main stream—like
the bayous of the lower Mississippi du-
plicated on a collossal scale. The Ama-
zon basin is more than three times as
large as that of the Mississippi, includ-
ing a vast untrodden forest, fitteen hun-
dred miles long by a thousand miles
broad, whose edges only have been ex-
plored by a few adventurous rubber-
hunters and seekers after valuable
woods. The river at its mouth is 180
miles from shore to shore, and ;320 feet
deep ; at Sentaren, the most important
interior city of Brazil, it is ten miles
wide, and away off on the Brazilian
frontier, 2300 miles above its mouth, it
i 18 still 70 feet deep and a mile across.
i Thirty million cubic feet of water flow
j out of the Amazon in every sixty sec-
{ onds. Itsordinary current is four miles
i an hour, and its tide is perceptible five
i hundred miles from tne shore.
FALL FLOODS,
Most of the tributaries being subject
to a constant succession of freshets, the
main stream never runs low ; and as
most of the affluents are in the southern
hemisphere, the river has its greatest
flood when the sun is south of the equa-
tor. Its gradual rise begins in Septem-
ber, increasing about a foot in twenty-
four hours. The difference between its
highest and lowest levels is seventy
feet, and at flood-time enormous acres
are covered with water, vast forests
being submerged, so that the tops of tall
trees, sticking up out of the water, look
like bushes floating on an inland sea.
The greatest danger of Amazonian
navigation is encountered at this time of
year, when it is impossible to keep in
the regular channels, by missing the
course and getting lost in the unknown
forests.
STEAMERS OF THE AMAZON.
Though the world’s greatest river
was discovered more than three cen-
turies and a half ago, it is only about 40
years since steam navigation began on
the Amazon, and barely 25 years since
Brazil declared the river opened to the
ships of all nations. Yet, now-a-days
steamers regularly make the following
“magnificent distances :” From Para
to Manaos, straight up the Amuzon 1100
miles ; Manaos to Iquitos, by river
Solimoes, 1850 miles; Manaos to Santa
Isabel, by the Rio Negro, 470 miles ;
from Manaos to Hyutanshan, by the
Rio Purus, 1080 miles ; Manaos to Sao
Antonis, by the Madeira river, 470
miles ; Para to Bayao, by the Rio
Tocantins, 156 miles ; Leopoldina to
Santa Maria, 5¥0 miles ; making a total
of 5,196 miles of stream navigation on
the Amazon and its southern sffluents
alone, without referring to the naviga-
tion of the branches of the above named
rivers, which would increase the amount
of some 38000 miles, nor to the other
great rivers of Brazil. There are 53
cities in Brazil which have a popula-
tion of 5000 and upwards; 81 which
have a population of over 10,000 ; 14 of
over 20,000; 7 of over 40,000; Para
has about 60,000; Sao Paulo, 70,000 ;
Permembuco, 150,000 ; Bahia, 180,000
and Riode Janeiro, 407,000.
BRAZILIAN RAILWAYS.
When the Empire came toits sudden
end in 1890 there were 72 railroad lines
in Brazil, with an aggregate capital of
$4,000,000 and about 9000 miles in
operation and under construction. Of
course nothing has been done sinca that
day toward railroad building or any
other improvements, the people being
too busy first in celebrating the prema-
ture birth of the Republic and after.
wards in fighting for or against it. The
central and most important trunk rail-
way of Brazil, and one of the earliest
constructed —that formerly named by
the Don Pedro Segundo. but now call-
ed the Nutional Railway--starts trom
the city of Rio de Janeiro, across the
Serra do Mar through numerous tun-
nels and cuts, and divides into two
main branches, one traversing Minas-
Geraes, and the other entering Sao
Paulo, where it connects with a line
which will admit passage from the other
by boats, by cutting short channels, in |
many cases without the necessity of |
from the capital of the latter. State.
Railway construction has found its
most rapid development in the State of
hours.” declared my | locks between the head-waters. Mere | Sao Paulo, and there the traffic has
aunt rising also. “Isuppose you'll be ' words can convey but a faint idea of proved most profitable to the lines.
possibilities of navigation that have yet '
ceives the waters of its northern afflu-
RAILWAY EARNINGS.
The expenses of the National Railway
which is owned and operated by
the General Government, have nev-
er been less than 50 per cent. of its
earnings ; while the expenses of the
railroad from Santos to Jundiaby, in
Sao Paulo, which belongs to an Eng-
lish company, average 87 per cent.
The Paulesta railway, which 1s a pro-
longation of the last named, and runs.
through the heart of the Sao Paulo eof-
fee district, from Jundiaby to Campin
as, belongs to a syadicate of wealthy
Brazilians and makes an annual reiurn
of about 9 per cent,. on its capital of
$11,000,000. Tue Mogyana railroad in
the same State, which connects with the
preceding and is designed to penetrate
to the interior, has about 350 miles al-
ready in operation. The Leopoldina
Railway, in the three States of Rio de
Janeiro, Minas-Geraes, and Espirito
Santo, has an extent of 800 miles of
capital of $26,000,000, and a portion of
the line has a guaranty of 7 per cent,
from the State of Minas-Geraes.
THE AMAZON VALLEY ROAD.
The first and only steam railway in
existence and operated in the great
Amazon valley is the Bragance, and its
history presents a rather discouraging
financial showing, for the reason that it
is yet nowhere near completed and the
part constructed is being run at an ac-
tual loss for the purpose of developing
agricultural and other enterprises along
its route, rather than to meet any pres-
ent great demand for railway communi.
cation by the territory now reached.
Its final purpose 1s to reach Braganca
on the seacoast, 202 kilometers east of
Para, and there to join a projected rail~
way from Braganca to Maranhao—the
two roads at some future day to form
the part of a continuaus coast line from
Para to Rio de Janerio. Braganca has
no harbor of account, but bounds in
agricultural products. About 75 kilo-
meters of the railway are now in opera-
tion, after a fashion.
That is, four trains leave Para at 4
oclock on the afternoon of Tuesday,
Thursday, Saturday and Sunday ; each
returning the following morning. Be-
sides these an excursion train leaves Para
at 6.30 a. m. on Sunday, and three
freight trains during the week leave
Para on the mornings'of Monday, Wed-
nesday and Friday. The freight con-
gists mainly of building stone, sand lum-
ber, timber and firewood. The regular
trains are composed of one first-class
passenger car, and one car for baggage
and express matter.
PHILADELPHIA-BUILT LOCOMOTIVES.
Passenger cars from the United States
have now almost displaced the old-fash-
ioned English compartment-cars on the
Brazilian railroads, and our American
locomotives are preferred to all others,
as they are the only ones adapted to the
sharp grades and curves that character-
ize the railways in the mountainous dis-
tricts. On the steep grades of the Leo-
poldina railway the Baldwin’ locomo-
tive, of a peculiar construction, has re-
cently taken the place of the English
“Fell ;”” and the same company has far~
nished some powerful locomotives of the
cog-wheel sort to the Gram-Para rail-
road, for the fifteen per cent. inclines.
where the ‘“Riggenbach’’ machines were
formerly used.— Fannie B. Ward.
Asparagus Culture.
A gardener in the Philadelphia Farm.
Journal gays :
I set my asparagus plants shallow be
cause I wanted early “grass.” For this
reason I have to cultivate shallow over
the rows to avoid injuring the crowns.
A neighbor's patch was nearly ruined
by a careless helper who ran the culti-
vator® with the common hooked teeth a
little too deep. I stir the soil as early as
possible and broadcast two or three
pounds of nitrate of soda per square rod
of five pounds of a good complete ferti-
lizer. Ido not mean to say in the
above that the nitrate of soda is equiva-
lent to the complete fertilizer, but I use
bone dust and muriate of potash freely
on the farm and in the garden, and
where these are so used nitrogen is about
the only fertilizer required in the early
spring by such a crop as asparagus.
———
‘Why There are No Color ed Coxeys.
VELAsco, Tex.,—The following con-
versation between a young negro and
an old one was overheard yesterday :
“Look yer, Ung Jackson, I don’t
hear um r2ad nuthin’ ’bout no culled
genermen in Coxey’s army. Dat sorter
prise me.”
“Yas,” replied the elder with great
dignity, “an’ I’se sprised at yo’ ignunce,
too! You specter see er nigger in are’
gang whar vittles is scarce? He ain’
gwine be dar ’cep’n’ he bin tied han’ an’
foot an’ sumbody stanin’ ober ’im wid
er shotgun.”
Another Knockout.
WasHINGTON, April 28. — Judge
Bradley to-day overruled the motion of
counsel for Representative W. C. P.
Breckinridge for a new trial of the cele-
brated Breckinridge-Pollard breach of
promise suit. . Bond was fixed at $100
for an appeal which Breckinridge’s
counsel gave notice would be taken te
the Court of Appeals of the District of
of Columbia.
Matched.
“Do you wear eye-glasses because you
think vou look better with them ?"’
asked Miss Pert.
“I wear them because I know I look
better with them,” answered the short-
sighted man sadly.
——Banks. “That real estate man
who has an office across the street has
just made a sale.”
Rivers. “How do you know ?”’
“How do I know? Haven't you seen
him smoking a cob pipe every day for
the last six weeks ?”
“I think I have.”
“Well, can’t you see he’s smoking a
cigar ?”’
TATE
Advice,
Let Coxey
Drink Moxie
To strengthen his nerves.
And then we
Can surely
Get on to his curves.
— Minneapolis Journal.