Pride.
A rose peeped ever a garden wall,
And a miry peol lay just before;
80 the rose withdrew her gueenly head,
And, with a proud disdain, she said:
“1 oan gaze on that no more
But the sunshine, with ite hands of gold,
Drew the muddy drops up, one by one,
And, from the orystal arch of blue,
They fell to earth in grateful dew,
When the heat of day was done.
How sighed that rose for the balmy touch
Of a single dewdrop on her cheek !
When the water of that slighted pool
Descended soft, and bright, and cool,
Oh, her pride grew very meek !
~ Feorge Cooper, in Golden Days.
Over and Over Again,
Over and over again,
No matter which way I turn,
I always find in the book of lite
Some lesson I have to learn,
{ must take my turn at the mill;
I must grind out the golden grain;
I must work at my task with a resolute w ui!
Over and over again.
We cannot measure the head
Of even the tiniest flower,
Nor check the flow of the golden sands
That ran through a single hour;
But the morning dews must fall,
And the sun and the summer rain
Must do their part and perform it ull
Over and over again.
Over and over again
The brook through the meadow flows;
All over and over again
The ponderous mill-wheel goes;
Once doing will not suffive,
Though doing be not in vain;
And a blessing failing us once or twice
May come, it wo try again.
The path that has ones been trod
Is never so rough for the feet;
And the lesson we onoe bave learned
Is never so bard to repeat.
Taough sorrowful tears must tall.
And the heart toits depths be riven
With stam and tempest, we need them
To render us meet for heaven.
aid
WS ———————————————————
SAIDEE.
“ Saidee.”
“At your service, Sir Wilfred.” From
the gay worsteds she was sorting, she
looked up with a mischievous expres.
sion befitting her words, yet under ving
it a goodly measure of the rare tender-
ness that only a woman's face can wear.
Hers seemed a strange face for a lover
emphaticaily.
“1 am in nomood for jesting, Saidee,’
he continued, glumly, ‘“‘nor probably
will you be when I tell you that what
we have so long debated must be de-
cided between us now.”
The sunny smile died from her coun-
tenance; the rare tenderness seemed but
the rarer for its gravity.
“1am sorry. Wilfred,” she answered
softly; “I so hoped you would see its
impossibility and agree with me.”
»
some face.
he arose, and, crossing over to where
she} sat, took her hapds in his, and
gazed down into her brown eyes long
and steadily.
he asked, finally.
“Do 1 care for you, Wilfred?” she
murmured, reproachfully, yet with the
rapture of his touch reflected in her
face—** do I care for you? Oh, how can
you ask me that, when you know that
there is only you—only you in the whole
wide world for me™
His hands fell; he turned away from
her in atiently, with a bitter smile.
{
you certainly have a strange way of
they do not weigh at all with me. If
you would have me believe you, come
and promise to obey me as
shouid the man she la
€ exter his arms toward her as
he spoke: was a look on his face
she conld mistake. She knew it
wou jt last time, but still she
took no step forward; she simply stood
tervified, appealingly gazing up at him.
“* Wilfred—"
He was frowning again, now deeper
than before.
“I know what you would say, Sai-
dee,” he interrupted, “and it is only a
waste of words. As I said before, your
is have no weight with me; it is
rh for me that you are ready to
have me go away alone.
Ishail go to-morrow, we may as well
say good-bye.”
She had not taken her eyes from his
face, and he sill looked back at her
steadily, relentlessly. At his last word
she shivered, a death-like pallor spread
loves.”
if
i
brosenly:
“ Wilfred—"
He ad
bent forward with conscious eagerness
for hier words. His own were honest,
but he felt certain of their effect: he did
he would gain her to his will. She
woud sure:y not let him go: she was
about to yield to him, to say that there
could be no good-bye between them:
that, sooner than this, she would abjure
ail and follow him. And so he bent for-
ward for the answer, eagerly, with a
certain hope. on
“Wilfred. if you so will, you must
£0, but 1 can never say good-bye to
jou.
That was what she ssid, brokenly,
tenderly, yet with the gentle firmness
that had so startled him just pow.
* If you so will, you must go.”
They were little words, but he did not
mistake them; the fullest judicial sen-
tence never weighed more heavily. A
moment he stood regarding her, shaking
with pain and disappointment: a mo-
ment passion swayed him, a fleeting,
wavering impulse, but he quickly
crushed them down.
“1 do so will, Saidee” he replied,
with scornful emphasis; ** and since you
object to rood-bye, let us make
afternoon.”
This was their parting; so he left her,
striding out and past the window by
which she sat.
As they died away she started up as if
to follow him, her lips parted with a
passonate cry; but as suddenly his cut.
ting words floated back to her it sank
into oa moan.
*“ And this is the end of it all,” she
murmured; “when he knows how 1
love him, when Le knows I would die
for him. Oh, Wilfred! my love, my
dearest, how could you leave me so!”
It was not strange that that other time
should rise vividly before her; that day,
six months ago, when, in this very room,
in the first blissful realizac'on of their
matual passion, he had fallen on his
knees before her, and solemnly affirmed
that, come what would, no power on
garth should ever separzte him from
er.
“If ever a woman was sure of a man,
Saidee, you are sure of me!”
What music the words were, though
neither of them could foresee the future
and the sore test that awaited them.
All seemed bright ahead ; they were to
be married in six months’ time, and she
was to go away with him to Brazil,
where he had secured a government
appointment.
here seemed no need of the passion-
ate protestations, the solemn oath of
this fond lover: their truth was to be
tried. In the fifth month of their en-
gagement, Aunt Ruth—of whom Saidee
was the especial pet and protege —was
thrown from her carriage and received
injuries which, though it was not be-
lieved they would prove fatal, left her
in a very critical and apprehensive state.
True, the wedding-day was named
and Wilfred must go; true, there were
loving hearts beside Saidee to care for
poor Aunt Ruth, but it seemed to her
tender nature most a criige to leave
her, at least, until danger was positively
ast. And when, one morning, the old
andy drew down the fair face to hers,
and whispered, imploringly, ** You will
not leave me, pet, while there is a doubt
of my getting well?” she promised un-
besitatingly that she would not.
Perhaps if she had known Wilfred
Hare better,she could not have promised
VOLUME XIII.
so readily. But she knew
the tender lover, the man who had
sworn that, come what would, po power
on earth should ever se
her, It eounld easily settled,
thought; he, as she, would feel ver yv sad
and disappointed, but he, as she, must
see the impossibility of her going now.
be she
Aunt Ruth was decided out of danger,
shie would go to him,
All this in full trust and faith she con.
fided to Wilfred Hare. She was ill pres
pared for the reception her words met,
the imperious workings of this man's
will. What right had she, without con-
sulting him even, to make a promise to
any one that conflicted with her own to
him? His love gave him the right to
command her; il she
wonid obey. She must marry him and
and away with him, their
present re lations must cease
In vain ste pleaded her promise, her
tender affection for Ruth: he would
}
S0
she troubled, vet hopeful, thinking that
finally he must yield, neither believing
that separation was possible when the
esting time should come.
Saidee strove to smile : she took up
and continued sorting
| them, as il thus to begin disciplining
i hersell for the burdens of her new life.
i It could not be otherwise, she thought —
i she could not break her promise to Aunt
| Ruth, she could not leave hernow. And
[as Wilfred willed must submit
50 gis
hy
i TT OWOorsteds
she
Hditor and
>
hand which still held
y Mar X. :
Wilired
she said, * did
was married?
you
Did you
"
iy
addi
She could say no
had broke.
tle had endured much, he could not
endure the look now on her fac
a sudden, uncontrollable impulse, he
threw hjs arms around her and drew
her to his breas.,.
* Uh, Saidee! forgive me, forgive me,
but 1 cannot see you so!"
Lis not, striving vainly to loose his arms.
$y
away!" a voice
‘1 have only got
0 send me
to him,
not
up
me very much.”
Was this a delusion, or was she mook-
ing him in her despair?
Y Saidee,” he murmured, bewilder
could marry me?"
He was all she had.
ture tw crave a prop;
Hers was a na-
seemed to her
it
.
her,
“1 loved Wilfred,” she
brokenly. ‘But I have lost love, and
I must have love or my heart will break
{ almost immediately in a realization tha
{ was born from it.
i “1am sogliad,” she said, softly, “that
{ I am not one of those who think a per.
i tect object is necessary for loving; i do
not think a perfect object is a test of love.
{ { am not biind; Wilfred 18 very tyran.
3 Saidee m
soul, he drew her gently, almost rever-
entially, closer to his madly-beating
$0 never has he been so dear to me.”
This realization awoke a tender re-
i sQive.
**1 can never let him go away so; 1
must ever be to me."
{ From this came the tender note that
| found its way next morning to Wilfred
{ Hare:
i “I cannot let you go away, dear,
| without one little word, I know you
{ are angry with me, and | am very, very
i unhappy. for never, since our engage-
{ ment, have I loved you as to-day. My
| little word is that I must always, always
{ love you, and that I will never marry
any man but Wilfred Hare. Perhaps
i
i give me, and then you will be glad 10
think of this.”
{| Very sadly she dropped the tender
{ little note in the mail-box, very drearily
i she went back the familiar road to Ler
| home.
| It seemed but yesterday that she had
| walked here with Wilfred, so happy
{and confident. How sad and dark the
road seemed now !
and he is
For she never repulses him,
nd
ana
And so he married her,
content.
his love seems always sweetdo her,
sometimes, of her own
and, twining her arms about his neck,
kisses him tenderly.
Why Yoeuug Children Read Trash,
Mr. Charles Dudley Warner discuss.
ing the question of children's reading,
We boast, he says, about the circu.
intion of our newspapers, The best of
them are daily marvels of news, of in-
formation, of miscellaneous reading, of
entertainment of all sorts.
days. Considering the capital in brains,
inc ustry and money put into every Lume.
| walking ahesd, who suddenly turned
{and paused, as if awaiting her. She
| started as she drew closer and perceived
{ him, her first impulse was to flee; she
i shrank from the sad face that she felt
i now was so like hers.
| But it was too late. He had retraced
| walking at her side.
Pr A Saidee,” he said, softly, * there are
i not" many days now. I
away from you.”
He made noeffort to cloak his tender-
i ness, either in word or look. He had
{ loved her from the happy time when, as
{ children, they h.d walked this road
| together ; she knew it, and it had onge
i been the great sorrow of her life that
she could not return this love.
Despite the sting of his words, there
swoke in her heart a pity for him, such
| as she had never known before: a wild,
regretful longing that she could not
have loved him; a sudden, strange
| realization that she had wasted her
| affection, that this man’s stanch, loyal
{ heart was worth an hundred such as
Wilfred Hare's.
This last she battled ‘quickly down,
‘not so the pity or the
j
| what she did, she placea her hand on
| his arm, and answered, gently:
“There will be many, many days tor
us to walk together, Mark!”
| He could but have a presentiment of
of amy civilisation: And yet the most
wonderful thing about them tomeisthe
smallness ol their circulation compared
to the population. Takesu h a center
as New York, with a compact popula-
tion of nearly two millions, and radia.
ing lines of quick distribution that en-
abi the newspapers within a few hours
to reach millions more, and set against
this the actual circulation of the three
or four commanaing journals. It isa
mere bagatelle.
Still there are many newspapers,
and a large proportion of the population
sees one every Jay—that is, of the city
population; but the number of people
who master the contents of a dally news.
paper is not large, Readers pick out of
them the items of business or amuse
ments or politics that interests them.
And it is hardly fair to eredit our people
gisnce at the daily newspapers, or be.
cause in the country they are in the
habit of spreading the excellent weeklies
over their faces to keep the flies from
I believe
that the majority of business men read a
the majority of young
read littie—they do not give their even
g
up a book uniess it becomes the talk of
society. People who spend a great deal
of money on dress, on dinner, on amuse
ments, would think it extravagant to
buy a book, and if one is commended to
them they will wait till they can borrow
i They do
book. i
He concludes that “one of the reasons
why the young who read at all read
i tone.
i “What do you say, Saidee?” he
| asked, with pity for her, and a joy he
{ could not repress mingling oddly in his
| look and tone. +
| Mark—that is, not yet awhile. Wilfred
{ is angry with me; but I must not tell
| you—1 do not know why I so forget my-
i self.
Aunt Ruth for the present— that is all,
Mark.
she felt & very traitress thus openly to
blame Wilfred Hare.
her—how plain she was making this.
But he could not see. He walked on
beside her silently, little dreaming he
was aught to her to-day beyond what
he had been before. Never had life
seemed so dreary to Mark Vale—not
even that black morning when he
learned she was to marry Wilfred Hare.
Then his unselfish soul found solace in
| the thought that she was happy; now
| he stood in presence of her misery—he,
{ who, had he the power, would not have
| permitted the winds to blow roughly on
| her—and could not save her its least
pang.
{ than she; it wouid have been easier,
| perhaps, to resign her to any other man.
t was not strange, that in this hour,
{ realizing his own loyalty and tender-
ness, he should rail at justice and the
| veriest of myths.
| The days passed slowly, drearily. to
| Saidee; with each, her love for Wilfred
| Hare growing deeper, her grief sharper
| more unendurable.
* Come what will, no power on earth
shall separate me from you!”
Morn, noon and night these words
came back to her, and with them a hope
to feed upon. Surely all would be right,
she thought. He cou d not give her up;
he was only angry with her; he wonld
come to understand and forgive her, and
then all would be well again.
These were oot days, till, one
morning, the news was Doubs to Saidee
that Aunt Ruth could not live; that,
contrary to expectation, the peculiar
troubles that had resuited from her in-
juries were developing fatally. Her
vg heart smote her, for often, often,
this later time, she had regretted her
romise; in her anguish, wished she
iad broken it. A while remorse ban-
ished all else from her thoughts; but
love is a mighty king, and pour Aunt
Ruth had not been long under the sod
ere it regained the mastery.
He would surely write, now that Aunt
Ruth was dead; he would surely under-
stand.
So she was musing one twilight, when
there came a knock at the door, and a
letter was handed into her. At thesight
of the familiar writing £he could notre-
press a rapturous cry, despite the pres-
ence of the new servant, who knew
nothing of Wilfred Hare; her trembling
fingers could scarcely break the seal.
And when she did—
Only a wedding-card, the little note
she had written him, and the line:
“It is but right I should restore to
you your pledge.”
Wilfred Hare had proven himself.
She read it, she broke into a fit of
hysterical laughter, and then, not
knowing what she did, she dropped it,
and went down and out over the lawn,
far into the maple-grove. Looking
ahead dreamily, she saw Mark Vale
coming toward her. He had heard of
this: he was coming vaguely, with only
the thought that he must comfort her.
habit of reading or they also read trash.
In such households as I have deseribed,
inlest story-book or the picture-paper.
In a lower strata of society, where the
mother has neither time nor inclination
to read anything, and the father pores
this country follow their elders. And I
suspect that the vast majority of people
mre little for reading, except as it fur-
nishes them a smattering of news or
gives them a temporary excitement.”
en
Life Among the Central Park Animals,
Mr. William A. Conklin, director of
the Central Park menagerie, in his an-
nual report gives much interesting in-
formation. There were 1,206 animals
in the park during the year. Of these
402 were birds, 242 mammals and twen-
The births were as
Eight lions (two littersof four
one Cape buffalo, one Wapiti deer, one
Virginia deer, one Mexican deer, one
white swans, four black swans, eight
pea fowls, five white turkeys, twenty
Guinea fowls.
The mortuary record is as follows:
One leopard, one prairie wolf, one sea-
lion, one tapir, one vicuna. one éamel,
The animals consume 193,830 pounds
of hay, 8,936 pounds of straw, 541 bush-
els of oats, 466 bushels of corn, 136 bags
of bran, thirteen bushels of seed, 77,380
pounds of meat, 25,782 pounds of bread,
7,493 pounds of fish, 3,116 quarts of milk
and ten barrels of crackers. A large
proportion of the above provision was fur-
nished by the owners of the animals. The
maintenance of the animals cost the city
nearly $11,000. Repairs, ete., made the
total expenditure $14,902.90,
The most valuable animals on exhibi-
tion, according to the report, were two
black leopards, four polar bears, one
two-horned rhinoceros, a sea-lion and
cub. The mother sen-lion was the one
that died. The cub was disconsolate,
and refused food, but after tom-cod and
smelts had been foreed down its throat
for a time it took to a regular diet and
survived.
Among the fish in the Central Park
lakes are catfish, white perch, yellow
perch, goldfish, sunfish, black bass,
suckers and eels.
Thirty gray squirrels and fifty quail
get free in the park have increased and
multiplied wonderfully, and their pres-
ence has drawn great numbers of hawks,
of which many have been shot,
The extermination of eats and dogs
does not come in Director Conklin’s pro-
vince. Superintendent Dawson, who
has charge of this work, reports the
killing of nearly 800 cats and 130 dogs
in the past year, besides many moles
and a few muskrats.—New York Sun.
A new steam street car, which has
met with success in New Yogk, has
been tested on grades of 345 feet to the
mile and on curves of thirty-three feey
radius. It has readily drawn up all
grades and around all curves one, two
and even three ears, itself being full of
passengers, and under ordinary con-
ditions it can be made to do the work
of two, three or ‘even four teams of
horses. It makes twenty miles an hour.
wn
ietor.
A NouthfAmerican Curiosity,
A note was received at the New York
World office recently, reading “Come
{and see n remarkable curiosity at the
| Aquarium.” The reporter who an
| straw and was just about to put his feet
| down into what appeared to Be a bundle
of old hay when the proprietor
iserved: “That's the curiosity-—don't
{step on It.” The hay began tu move
{ with much deliberation, and there was
| went to the rear to serve a tail
“That animal" sald is
Charles Relohe, ** is an ant-bear,”
| bear rose on ita legs,
| wonderfully elongated
head,
ns
The
showing a
and narrow
coarse hair, which
half-way
on the tail
between the filaments of
{ hemvy plume and the sticks of a
fan, The tail is used by the bear with
| commendable ingenuity as a blanket,
{to entirely cover the body. Besides
{the animal, Hunters not accustomed
to the forests of Brazil which the ant.
bear inhabits step on it without know.
ing that it is a curiosity. The
brown washed with grav on the head
{and face, and interspersed, with
{ white hairs on the head and hinder
limbs. The throat is very black, and a
| ong, triangular, black mark crosses the
{animal from the throat, passing ob-
liquely over the shoulders. Measur-
{ing from the tip of the snout to the
{end of the tail, the bear is just a trifle
more shan six feet in length. The head
alone is one and one-half and the tail
{two feet long, The bear has four toes
on the fore-t2et and five on the hinder
feet. The claws on the fore-feet are
in walking. They are used as a means
| of defense agninst stronger snimals, U
they once are implanted in the flesh of a
| human be ing, the wound is apt lo prove
| fatal. They apt not to come
f out, so that the dving max can kill the
bear if be desires to. The bear has
{ found that the safest way is to wind its
spake-like head around the body of its
{foe. Its hug is particularly powerful.
The bear turned its claws inward upon
| a thick, rough palm, and walked on the
jouter edge of the forefeet in a
inzy, awkward manner to a box two
{feet away. Thé only indication of
{ intelligence it displayed was in sorap-
{ Ing away the straw for a bed. It can-
| not walk long. The bear came from
| Para by the schooner Thomas Williams.
aie HAS
| ing offer for the last ten Jour to all the
eaptaing sailing from New York to
Brazil to pay a good sum for a live ant.
bear, and this animal is the only one
i ever brought to the United States,
| Captain Edwards secured it while it
| was siceping, which it is very capable
int, Mr. Reiche is negotiating to sell it
| to the German Zoological garden com.
pany in Berlin for $3.500. He says that
no zoological garden in the world pos-
sosses a live ant-bear. The London
arden could keep one for only a week,
t died in the garden.
Mr. Reiohe feeds the bear with ex-
| tremely finely-scraped beef mixed with
| ergs and sugar. Every schoolboy, par.
| ticularly if he has read Mayne Reid with
of the ant-bear sweeping vp a thousand
| live ant#'with a tongue nearly two feot
{ long,
| with saliva, is a most effectiveant trap
{ Mr. Reiche fed the bear while the
World man was present. At first it did
not take kindly to the ehange of diet
{ and a basin of ant eggs sonked in luke
i warm water was brought.
eggs much the same as dogs eat.
| the tipof its long tongue on the plate
{ and returned it to its mouth without
| partaking of the food. The bear then
stood upon her feet, und leaning its head
down vertically spread its tongue over
the straw and made a shrill noise like a
tin whistle and hobbled back to its bed.
a 555 -
Discussion of Dress Reform.
“There is a crying demand for dress
marked the sad passenger, pensively
contezoplating the fruitless expense of
vigor 0 the part of the tat passenger,
who wa balancing himself in the aisle
of the ¢ r, and making desperate efforts
to reach up far enough under his vest
to catch the vagrant end of a discon.
i nected suspender. * Providence, it is
| very plain," the sad passenger went on,
| “never intended man to dress in the
| present style, or else it would have given
him an arm iu the middle of his back.
with an elbow that would work in three
directions, with which to fish after his
| suspenders, If the tailors are right,
i nature is wrong, and didn't finish the
man to suit his clothes, Reform
necessary.”
“Yes,” said the tall, thin passenger
**it is, and the fault is within ourselves
Trousers, in their present style, are bar.
barous. Nature never intended that
before it had been worn amonth. [am
in favor of the classic drapery and the
graceful toga of theolden times. What's
the matter,” he digressed in the direc-
tion of the fat passenger, * button
fetch loose?”
of rwrath in it, was all that came from
the struggling figure in the aisle.
“But a toga, or the long, graceful
| drapery of the Greeks,” said the cross
passenger, * would be mighty unhandy
if you was on the wrong side of the or-
chard fence and a dog was after yod.
You'll have to take off your coat.” he
called to the fat passenger.
| Something like a smothered groan
{ was heard, and the sad passenger said :
“The tights of the Italian courtiers
would be an improvement on the toga.
They wouldn't bag at the knees, and
they are graceful"
“ Especially on a man with erooked
Joga," said the man on the wood-Lox:
“bow-legged man get into them, and
people would think it was a pair of
parentheses with clothes on. You can
reach further with the other arm,” he
shouted.
A muffled roar broke from the strug
gling figure, and the man with the sam-
ple cases said :
“These stiff hats are nuisances, too.
The great demand of the hour is a hat
that a man can go to sleep in, and still
have it look dressy when he wakes.
You'll never catch it if you don’t unbut-
on your vest,” he added.
The fat passenger made a frenzied
reach and gave a spiteful grunt, and the
earnest expression on his face seemed to
indieate that he had caught something,
“Yes,” said the man on the wood-
box, *“and a shirt without buttons
would be a mighty convenient thing.
You'll fall down ina fit if you hold your
breath much longer,” he said, in tones
of alarm.
“You'll find one in my valise,” said
the old married man. “1 prefer ‘em
with the buttons on, myself. Have you
got itp”
For the fat passenger certainly had
something. Whatever it was, he held
it with the grip of sin and tugged at it
with furious gasps. His face was pure
ple, his mouth was open, Lis eyes were
starting from their sockets, We were
uneasy about him. Suddenly something
gave way underneath his chin; there
was a ripping sound, a deep gasp of re-
lief, a flash of color, and the fat passen-
ger, flushed, panting, triumphant, stood
10lding his blue neck-tie in his hands.
“There's your suspender if that is
what you've been reaching for,” said
the passenger with a sandy goatee,
“down on the floor.”
There was a sound as of silence in the
car, but it didn’t last long, and by the
time it died away all the passengers
were in the smoking car.-- Burlington
Hawkeye.
0O., PA,
Mennonites in Manitoba,
| British side of the boundary line, there
{is a large settlement of Russinn Men
| nonites About 7,000 have come to
| reserved 500,000 acres for their settle.
{ments, It was a besutitul morning
when we set out on a * prairie yacht,"
{ behind a pair of gquick-stepping horses,
| to visit the Mennonite reserve Our
road lay along the north bank of the
Pembina river, skirting the edge of the
{ timber, and occasionally cutting across
a point of woods which ran out into
{the open prairie. We passed many
{ thrifty looking farms, where the men
were still working at the remnant of
the harvest. At SBmuggler's point there
WAS a (Og tavern, and we stopped for a
littie dinner. The Indic] Was a
| frontiersman who had tried life in many
territories. We asked him whether the
i Mennonites were good settlers, and how
fie liked them.
“Well,” he said, “they're quiet
| enough; and some on ‘em lives pretty
white; but they ain't no good to the
{ country. They live on black bread and
i melons, and raise their own tobacker:
| and when a crowd on ‘em comes in here
to drink, each man steps up and drinks,
| and pays for his own liguor.”
Such conduct ns this, of cours? is
whieh
true
American sociely,
“treating” as the
friendly intercourse,
A few miles further on we found the
farm village of Blumenort. It is not
{the largest of the villages on this re
| serve, butit will serve as a type of the
rest. The high-road was simply a well.
worn wason track over the bare plain,
An irregular line of a dozen low thatched
houses on each side of the road ana a
steam sawmill made up the village.
{ The farms radiate from this center.
| Every man cultivates his own land,
and the four-and- twenty families have
the advantage of living elose together,
and making common front against the
hardship and joneliness of frontier life.
Each village has its head -man, or schuls
—its schoolmaster—who teaches in
German; and if the village is too small
for a ohurch, the pfarrer comes over
from some arger town to preach at
stated times,
We sat on the steps of the mill, talk.
recognizes
medium
ing a watermelon, which was passed
around from man to man for each to
cut off a slice with his pocket-knife.
| The Mennonite German is a barbarous
| dialect; it has not been improved by
ninety years’ scjourn in Russia But it
servpd as a medium of communiostion,
They told us that their village had been
unfortunate; that they had been forced
to move twice on account of the wetness
of the iand., The present situation
seemed to be better They like the
country better than Russia
the men, who had not yet taken up lus
aliotment of land, compinined greatly
that under the new law, made this sum.
wer, he could get only eighty acres of
homestead.
Ameriea (1. ¢., the United States), where
he could get one hundred and sixty
acres. ** But how about the oath of al-
legiance® we asked. He shrugged his
shoulders and grinned, from which we
concleded that he must be a Buttoner of
the looser stamp.
The men expressed some anxiety to
| know if Sitting Bull were coming to
| make war in Manitoba They had
{thousand braves to altack Emerson.
| he was many hundred miles to the west
{of them.
On the other side of the round | saw a
slay threshing floor between some wheat
stacks, and an old man driving a team
of horses over it to tread out the grain.
he method was old-fashioned enough
to be quite a novelty. 1 went over wo
watch it, and thus chanced to make the
stacks and the horses,
from Russia within a year, and was just
{ beginning to make s home for himself,
| This was his first crop, and he thought
| it would average over twenty bushels to
| the sere. Three or four barefooted girls,
| main as the horses trod it om, and win-
rowing it.
{and 1 called Gad over to make a sketch
fof it But something in his dark and
i rolling eye, or some natural timidity,
| behind the stacks, from which they
| made rapid sallies to gather up a little
{ wheat in their aprons, Meanwhile the
{ He was particularly anxious to know
the value of Russian money in New
{from his old home,
| are, almost without exception. well-to-
| do people. What is the mysterious con-
| nection tetween the doctrine of non-
| resistance and worldly prosperity?
| Why do they always go together? «
| to go home with him ana see his house,
the threshing-floor. It was built of
| with straw. , The chimney was a square
{ hole in the roof. The inside of the
| house was rough, but comfortable, or
| at least it might be made so. The floor
{| was made of clay. Peters was particu-
shell, as it stood, from another man, and
he pointed out with admirable pride
how he proposed to wall off a gast-
zimmer here and a speisezimmeor there.
The “entral point of the establishment
was the great oven, which answered at
once for purposes of cooking the food
and warming the rooms. All improve.
ments in the place the old man intended
to make with his own hands at hi
work-bench, which occupied one side of
the living-room.
As we sat there in that rude room
talking with the old Russian, pufling
away quietly at a pipe of the peace.
making Indian weed, we seemed to have
entered quite into the circle of his do-
mestice lite. In one corner of the room
sat the old Hansfrau combing herscanty
locks. The eldest daughter was very
busy with some household work, while
the little grandchild played on the floor
beside the work-bench, In the middle
of the room was the dinner-tabie; pres-
ently three or four girls came in from
their work, and we were cordially asked
to sit down with them to their Vesper
brod of black bread, melons and coffee.
- Harper's Magazine.
A Bad Day for Alligators.
The Orlando (Fia.) Reporter says:
Monday proved a field day with the alli.
gators, They came out in large num-
bers to bask in the warm sunlight after
the rain. Fatal recreation! everybody
on board went to shooting them. Even
the scullion would leave his dishpan to
take a shot. And it seemed hard to miss
them. The champion slayer was an old
hunter from the Granite State. When-
ever he raised his rifle death was in the
air, and is sharp report was the erack
of doom for some cousin of the croco-
dile. The ’gator-slayer expended his
last cartridge in the evening; but not
until he had scored his sixty-fifth alliga-
tor. Their vitality is remarkable. |
chopped off the head of one a few min-
utes after he had been shot. Several
minutes afver the head was entirely sev.
ered from the body, I thrust an oar at
it. The jaws opened and snapped to
again, like a huge steel-trap, driving the
teeth three-fourths of an inch into the
hard oak and splitting the oar handle,
“ven twenty minutes later that "gator.
head would not have been a safe toy for
children.
—————
Taken altogether the beauties of art
and nature donot begin to interest the
inquisitive female so much as the view
She gets through a keyhole.— Fulton
MAY 6
y
How Fostal Cards are Made,
Passing the long, one-story, brick
{ buliding known as the Postal Card
| factory, on Race street, Holyoke, Mass, ,
{ one would not be apt to think an article
was there exclusively manufactured for
| the entire country, but such is the case.
The myriad little postal cards that lon
age beonmie almost a necessity, are all
| made there, and thence shipped over
Uncle Sam's domain,
The card board from which the cards
| are made is manufactured by the Pare
sons Paper company, of Holyoke, and
tram thelr mill transferred to the postal
fnctory. The transter is made upon
|
i ked, ne
way the great expense it would be to
transfer the sheets in nailed boxes, A
truck load will hold about 3.000 sheets
of the card board. The sheets are ex-
{actly large enough to cut into four
| strips, each strip making ten oards,
[ Thus a sheet will make forty postal
{ oards, and the account of manufacture
is ensily kept with precision,
At the postal factory the sheets, re.
ceived plain from the mill, are first
| passed through the printing presses,
As each sheet comes off the press it
bears forty cards stamped upon it, and
{ after drying the sheet is ready for the
outers, one of which cuts the sheet into
four strips, and the other cuts each of
| the four strips into ten cards. About
eight truck loads of the card slieets are
| used dally on two printing presses, run-
ning ten hours, and making 950,000 cards
{as a day's work. The sheets turned off
stripping machine, and
three cross-cutters, cutting out the
cards. Each cross-ontter is tended by
| one girl to feed it, and three girls who
take the cards from the pans in which
| they are deposited and make them up
into packages of twenty-five cards each.
When twenty-five strips have been
passed through the ecross.cutter,
| course each of the ten receiving pans con-
tains twenty-five cards, and tue cylinder
about which they ace arranged is turned
pans to be filled, while the packers con.
tinue to bind up the packages. The
cutting machines sometimes get a little
ahead of the printing presses, and about
| two evenings a week ti® latter are run,
increasing the production as desired,
Alter being made up into packages of
| into boxes of twenty packages, or 500
cards each, and these are again made up
into still larger boxes as wanted. The
factory generally has on hand at the be.
ginning of a quarter about eighteen mil
Of course New York is the largest con-
sumer of all the postoffices in the coun-
try, and that city takes about a million
cards « very ten days. The two-cent in-
ternational postal ecard has not yet met
with the large demand anticipated for
it, but it may yet come. When itis
relatives in Ireland, England, France,
Germany and other lands, that for two
| cents they can write to the friend or rel-
ative, it would seem that then the two-
The boxes into which less than 2,000
ecards are put, are of pasteboard, and
are made by the Chicopee Foiding Box
company, ol Springfield. hie boxes
for iarger amounts of cards are of wood,
are sawed out at Burlington. Vi., and
put together at Holyoke. The cards
ERMS:
TIMELY TOPICS,
A Chicago engineer proposes to get
{ rid of the sewerage and the river ery
| damming up the river, pumping it out
{ and using the bottom for the railroads
{ which come into the city, A lwrge
| sewer should be laid under the bed of
{ the river, extending out into the lake, a
i current being kept up by pumps at the
{ mouth of the river, Then it is proposed
{to fill in a large space of the lake in
! front and build & sea wall further out
{ which would give all the water front
{ needed. The project is a large one and
{ appeals to the imagination,
New England eapital is to build & rail.
{ rond further ** Dowy, East" than Boston
{i5. The road starts from Csiro. in
Feypt, crossing the Suez canal st Port
Said, its northern terminus, and run-
ning north through Palestine, a little
back from the Mediterranean const
until Megiddo is reached, beyond the
Carmel range. Crossing the famous
plain of Esdraelon, the line debouches
to the western shore of Lake Gennesaret,
north of which the Jordan is crossed
and the mountains separating the Jor-
dan valley from Damascus, alter which
it continues on across the Euplirates to
Mosul, on the Tigris, where it is to ter-
minate on a proposed railroad from Dia-
bekir and the Black sea. Several
branches are contemplated, ‘neiuding
one easterly from Ramieh to Jerusalem,
where a depot has been located near the
Damascus gates and another from the
same point westerly to Joppa.
Judge Daly, of New York, in his re.
| cent annual ad dress before the American
| Geographical society, said that fresh
| at Nineveh have revealed the fact that
| the ancient Assyrians were acquainted
| with the existence of spots on the sun,
| which they could only have known by
| the aid of telescopes. These, it is sup-
| posed, they possessed . Mr, Layard found
| & crystalline lens in the rans of Nineveh.
{| The Assyrian cyclopedia, imprinted on
bricks, was an exhaustive work, The
| inseriptions on these bricks, on being
| deciphered, disclosed that houses on |
lands were sold, leased and mortgaged,
that money was loaned at interest, and
that the market gardeners, to use sn
American phrase, ** worked on shares ;”
that the farmer, when plowing with his
oxen, beguiled his labor with short and
homely songs, two of which have been
found—thus connecting this very re.
mote civilization of 2000 B. C. with the
{| usuages of to-day.
The latest sect in England is that of
the Danielites. It had its rise in 1876,
and its founder was T. W. Richardson,
a student of medicine and a vegetarian,
The organization has a form of initia-
| tion, degrees, badges, scarfs, and all the
| symbols of a secret society. The per-
{son who desires to become a member
| takes a solemn vow to abstain entirely
from fish, flesh, and fowl, from spiritu-
ous and malt liquors, from spaff and to-
{ bacco, When this promise has been
{taken and a solemn pledge of secrecy
| given, the candidate is ushered into the
| ** garden,” which is the Danielite name
| for lodge. The head of each garden is
| called the chief gardener. The sect has
| no theological system. A member may
| believe what be chooses so long as he
| affirms the existence of a Supreme Be-
| ing and maintains a vegetable diet. The
| initiation fee is two shillings. It is said
| that the order has man ER erenis. and
| is spreading in England.
taken, when orders are to be filled, to
room wheneoe they are shipped
either in pouches or boxes. By a per-
fected system of registry a receipt is
given and taken for every package
taken and disbursed by a government
employee, - Holyoke { Mass.) Herald.
IIS 00
Food for Children,
It is probably true that in this coun
try more children are killed or made
| weakly for life by improper food, or
{over or under feeding, than by any
| other cause, and this is the more un-
{ pardonable heoause the kinds of food
which, for childreu, are the most whole-
| some and nourishing, are usually cheap
and easily to be had and prepared,
| There are very few people in the United
States so poor that they cannot get for
their children, not only the right kind
of food, but also plenty of it, so that
here ngain we can only fall back upon
the excuse, if we dare to call it such, of
our own ignorance and thoughtlessnesa
In almost every household the chi
{dren habitually get sweet cakes and
pies, hot breads, preserves, pickles, ete.,
which cost twice as muoch, both in
money and in the labor of preparation,
as would the plain, digestible food
which alone is suitable for growing
children; and vet it seems almost im.
| giving these things to their children
| they are not only wasting time and
money, but are also directly injuring
| their "helpless little ones. It is cer-
ainly a very fortunate thing that na.
| ture provides for a baby at its entrance
into life food which is all sufficient for
| its needs, for otherwise it seems as if
{ the ingenuity of ignorantiparents would
{ by this time have extinguished the
{ human race. Even as it is, some
| mothers insist on giving babies all sorts
of food, sometimes going so farasto be-
{ of anything that they themselves ean
{eat will not hurt the baby. A woman
{ might as well say that the baby's little
{ hands can do the work of her hands, as
| that its little stomach tan do the work
{ of her stomach; and the result of such
treatment is that the baby pines, falls
sick, is drugged with medicine. and in
nine cases out of ten, dies, the victim of
its mother's ignorance.
A child which is completely weaned
at twelve months should, from that time
until it is eighteen months old, be fed
four times a day upon milk, simple pre-
parations of the different grains, boiled
or baked potatoes mashed fine, beef tea,
erackers and bread. From eighteen
months, when children are healthy, a
reater variety of food may be given,
yut the same care should be taken in re-
gard to the regularity of their meals (for
a habit of cating at odd times is harmful
at any age) and that they get nothing
which is not plain and wholesome.
Sweet cakes, pastry, hot breads, greasy
or highly seasoned food of any kind
should be strictly forbidden, while al-
most any meat (except pork), fish, rice,
oatmeal, cornmeal, almost all kinds of
fruit, and all easily digested vegetables,
such as potatoes, tomatoes, spinach,
ete., may be given, well cooked and in
proper quantities, the heaviest meal be-
ing taken in the middle of the day, and
the condition of the bowels being always
carefully watched.
Now any woman with common sens
and fairly good health can do all this
without much trouble, and in the end
will find that it is the easiest way to
bring up her children, fo* this sort of
care will keep them well and strong,
saving all the expense and anxiety of the
frequent ilinesses which are usually the
lot of children who are permitted to eat
all sorts of things at all sorts of times.
As, for example, in teething, when
babies which a: e properly fed and cared
for suffer very little, while badly man
aged children are almost always in pain
and frequently have fits, convulsions,
those choleric attacks which are so com-
mon a cause of death, especially in cities.
You cannot make good bread out of bad
flour, you cannot grow a strong plant
from an unripe seed, you cannot build a
sea-worthy boat out of decayed timber;
how then can you expect your children
to be healthy unless you give them in
their food the material from which to
make healthy bone and muscle, nerve
and flesh ?— Hampton Tract.
The key to every man is his thought;
but there are n great many keyless men
in the world.
A man who passed through many
i stirring and dangerous scenes was re.
{ cently kitled in a most prosaic manner
| on the Philadelphia and Baltimore rail
trond. This was Professor Louis Binel,
ia French teacher of languages and a
| lectarer on French literature, He was
{ about fifty-eight years of age and was a
| native of Normandy, where his brothers
{ yet reside. During the Crimean war he
| was the correspondent of the Journal des
Debais, of Paris. He was selected as
{one of the commission which accom.
{ panied theill-fated Emperor Maximilian
{ to Mexion, and acted as his direct legal
| adviser upon the provision of the code
{ Napoleon, in which he was deep!
{ versed. After the execution of Maxi-
{ milian, Miramon and Mejia, Professor
{ Binel came lo the United States. He
| sacrificed a large estate bv his devotion
| to the imperial cause, and he was almost
| penniless in he reached this country.
| Ne Philadelphia he soon found acquaint-
| ances who assisted him in forming
{ valuable property in Germantown.
OP
i
i Electricity in Flour Making.
In olden times it was * nothing like
leather.” Now it seems to be nothing
like electricity. Electricity is rapidly
~it does everything rapidly—becoming
i a most nseful servant. The latest thing
it has been asked to do is to prepare our
bread for us. In most colleges there is
an experiment done before the stu-
dents to show one of the manifesta.
tions of electricity. A oouple of
books are laid on the table a foot or
so apart. They are to support a pane of
glass two or three inches from the table.
On the table, under the glass, is
sprinkled some bran. The glass is
heated, and on being rubbed vigor-
ously on the upper side with a piece of
flannel the bran dances up and down on
the table, the lighter particles adhering
to the electrified glass. Perhaps it was
this experiment that induced a Yale
junior te think of making electricity do
the work of middlings purifier in a flour
mill. Instead of the bran being sep-
arated from the middiings and fine flour
by an air blast, electricity is employed.
The bolting cloth is of wire, snd over it
are several hard rubber cylinders which
revolveslowly. As they revolve they
rub against pieces of sheepskin and gen-
erate electricity, The bolting cloth
has a vibratory motion which causes the
bran to work to the top of the mass of
ground wheat as it flows over the cloth.
The rubber réllers attract the bran.
When a sufficient quantity of the bran
has been attracted it falls off the rollers
into receiving troughs. and is carried
away. The bolted flours pours out
from another part of the machine, and
the “ tailings" opporite. Under the
new process there is no dust raised, and
when the terrific explosion of milling
dust at the Washburn mills, in Minne.
apolis, a few months ago, is remem-
bered, this will be seen tO be no small
advantage. The invention is now being
applied to a Minnesota mill.— Detroit
Free Press.
IOI 555555055.
The Hobby-Horse Regiment.
When the thirty years’ war was fin-
ally brought to a termination by the
treaty of peace of Westphalia, which
was concluded at Nuremberg in 1560,
the authorities of that place ordered in
commemoration public rejoicings of
various kinds—banquets, balls, fire-
works, ete. But among all these public
diversions, none was more distinguished
for singularity and originality, and per-
haps childish simplicity, than the pro-
cession of lads and boys on sticks or
hobby-horses. Thus mounted they rode,
regularly divided into companies,
through the streets, and halted before
the hotel of the Red Horse, where was
staying the imperial commissioner, Due
d' Amali.
The duke was so pleased with the
novel cavalcade that he requested a rep-
etition of the same procession at an enriy
day of the following week, which they
performed in much larger numbers. On
arriving before his hotel, the duke dis-
tributed amongst them small square sil-
ver menals, which he had in the inter.
val caused to be struck. The coin rep-
resented on the obverse a hoy on a
hobby-horse with whip in hand, and the
year 1560 was inscribed in - center,
while the reverse represented the dou-
ble eagle and armorial bearings of Aus-
tria, with the inscription, **Vivat Fer.
dinandus IIL, Rom. Imp. vivat!"—
Harper's Young People.
NUMBER 18.
wo DBAS af
Woman as a Census-Taker,
In many parts of the country women
will be appointed as census enumers-
tors, with the probable result semething
like this:
Neatly dressed woman of an
age, with big book under her arm and
in hand, rings the door-bell. Young
ady appears at the door.
Census enumerator—""Good morning.
Lovely morning. I'm taking the cen-
sus, You were born-"
Young lady—" Yes'm.”
Census enumerator —* Your name,
please. What a pretty dust-cnp jou
ve on, Can 1 get the pattern? It's
just like the one the lady in the next
bouse has, Let's see, your name?”
“1 haven't the pattern. Don't you
t awful tired walking round taking
eS earisome, but 1 pick
“Oh, yes, it's we
up a rat deal of information. w
nice your dinner smellscooking, Plum
pudding #"
“In Maine. No, I haven't plum
pudding to-day, I'm looking for a new
recipe~"
“I've got one that I took down from
a indy's cook-book across the way. Are
you married #”
“No. Want an invitation to the
wedding, don't yop? It will be a long
time before you get it. You ean
your plum ding recipe, thank you.
“{sh'd think "twould be some time.
Have ol gil Oh, + of course; | for-
got, 8 hall carpet is just the patiern
of Aunt Prudy's. She's had it more
than twenty years. How many are they
in the family ®
“1f this hall eo t don’t suit you you
can get off from itand go about your
censusing .
“Well, you're an impudent jade, any-
‘how. You haven't told me when you
were born, or what's your name, or
when you expect to get married, and
there's ten dollars fine for not answer.
ing census-takers' questions, and it I
was you | wouldn't be seen at the door
in such a slouchy morning dress, so
there.”
“Oh, you hateful thing. You ean
just go away. I'll pay ten dollars to get
rid of you, and smile doing it. It'snone
of your busin-ss, nor the census either,
No, it isn't. ) ou pet HA your ern
and your pium pudd and your
guoy. 'mphdent questions to yourself—
“Good morning. I must be getting
on. I haven't done but three families
all the forenoon,” and an energetic bang
of the door just missed catching a foot
of her trailing dress skirts.—New Haven
Register,
—
Nothing Wasted,
There is a beet-packing company at
Rockport, Arkansas county, Texas,
owned and run by Boston men, who
market the products in the New En
land States, Europe and the Engl
navy. The factory kills an av of
31,500 grass-fed beeves a year, and finds
a ready market for them. Every
of the beef is utilized, even to the tuft of
tails, which are all sold,
it is thought, tor the purpose ot making
indies’ frizzes. The blood flows into
tanks, and is dressed, and sold attwo
eints a pound, for the manufacture of
mtd deial fertilizers. The lean is
boiled and canned in two pound x
The hides are salted and sold green
The fatty matter is all extracted, and
gous to make tallow. The bones areal}
iled to a pulp to extract the ary mate
ter which goes to a tallow, and the a
bone, TAIT phosphate of lime, is so
for fertilizing at one cent a pound. The
water in which the meat is boiled, is
boiled down and e rated to a thick
paste, which is canned and sold as ** exe
tract of beef,” in fifty pound cans. The
feet are cut off at the knee, and from the
hoof “ neat's-foot™ oil is extracted.
The horny part of the foot, the shin
bone and the knuckle bones of the foot,
are extracted and sold in the East for
the manufacture of Yankee ivory.
horns are piled up until the peth be-
comes loose, and then this is added to
the fertilizers, and the bones sold for
manufacture. Every atom of the ani.
mal is used.
What It Costs Us for Smoke.
The New York correspondent of the
Troy Times says: The amount spent in
smoking by some of our citizens is sur-
prising. New York pays more for cigars
than for bread, and this is easily seen
when individual ci bills run up to
per annum. 1 know one man who
come of $12,000 a year, and who gave
among the reasons that it cost him $10
per week for cigars. If all his expenses
were at such a rate there could be little
chance at atommulation. Zhe are
many smokers who average cigars
a week. Thesa are the men who build
up such fortunes as the Gilseys and
others have made. Peter Gilsey landed
in this city a poor emi rant. He wasa
piano er, but opened a cigar shop in
the Bowery, which his wife tended
while he wrought at his trade. From
this humble beginning Gilsey became
one of the most extensive dealers in the
city. He had at one time pearly a
dozen cigar shops, and he left an estate
worth $2,000,000. The Gilsey house is
one of his creations, and the splendid
establishment known as the Gilsvy
building, corner of Broadway and Cort-
landt street, is another. The first
Broadway cigar store tha! reached dis
tinction was John Anderson's’ The
unfortunate Mary Rogers, better known
8s “the pretty cigar girl,” was in his
service, and her tragic end will always
be oue of the mysteries of New York
orime.
Words of Wisdom.
It is with nations as with individuals
-those who know the least of others
think the highest of themselves; for the
whoie family of prideand ignorance are
incestuous, and mutually beget each
other,
It is perfectly delightful, the philoso-
phy with which we reconcile ourselves
to the misfortunes of our neighbors.
That another should be hungry, after
we have dined, is a consideration that
distresses nobody.
The greatest loss of time is delay and
expectation, which depends upon the
future. We let go the present, which
we have in our power, and look forward
to that ,which depends upon chances,
and so quit a certainty for an uncer-
tainty.
The every-day cares and duties which
men call drudgery are the weights and
counterpoises of the clock of time, giv-
ing its enduron a true vibration, and
its hands a regular motion, and when
they cease to hiaug upon the wheels the
pendulum no longer swings, the hands
no longer move, the clock stands still.
Knowledge is not ability, cram is not
power, least of all in education. A man
may he able to count accurately every
ard of distance to the stars and yet
be most imperfectly educated; he may
be able to reckon up all the kings that
ever reigned, and yet be none the wiser
or the more efficient for his learning,
At the Dark Hollow stone
near Bedford, O., one of the
stones ever blasted in America was
“lifted” a short time age. The stone
is forty or fifty feet square and about
thirty feet thick and it required 185
slip wedges to make a successful blast,
When cut up into pieces it will make
nearly 300 car loads of building stone.
Immense blocks of stone are fri quently
taken out of the quarrics here which
carry,
argest
temple mere pebbles in comparison.
Its weight was estimated to be 6,000,000
pounds,
The newest sieeves are opea a little at
the wrist.
Cold Hands,
Cold hands, cold heart, and if the heart be
eo,
Cold love will chinnge and shortly pass
AWAY.
Cold hands, cold heart, the lite and all things
Cold heart, cold love, the love an isles,
What hope ean be that such love will stay?
Cold hands, warm heart they say, we hope
the best !
Warm heart, warm love, give those and keep
the rest,
Warm heart, warm love will never pass
awRy,
Cold bands, cold heart, darling if ihine be
such,
Cold heart, oold love, will slay love with
toach,
And love, ones slain, no second life regains.
Cold hands, eold heart, and is it se with
thee!
Cold heart, sold love, thea, darling, pity me
And let me go while yet some life remains.
w= Irish Times.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
A dead langusge—Cold tongue.
A report that can’t be contradicted—
The report of a gun.
What is better than a promising young
man? A paying one.
Cane handles with watches in the
knob are the latest,
She who Mrs. 10 change trom Mise
Has Mr. ehance of married bliss.
Making light oh troubles—Buming
up your
The Marathan Independent says that
the letters to bewarcof are x 5, ¥
Dumb-belle exercises— Talking with
a deaf and dumb girl. —8alem Sunbeam.
Hens are not ¢ , and yet
ome
A little iss ng.
Zs applies especially to violin play-
Eleven million pounds of tes ws im-
ported into this country oo China in
An orang
of age
ounces.
11 doesn't take a plate of soup
cool, unless you want to eat it.—
Sunbeam.
Hawking Las®of Inte yours been re-
vived in jsnd, and finds sx few en-
"The silk manufactories of Paterson,
N. J., number eighty, and give employ-
ment to 15,000 persons.
It doesn’t follow because things come
under our notice that they are beneath
our notice, — New York News,
When we say that a painting is hor-
ribly executed. do we mesn that it is
bud ly hung ?— Walerioo Observer
The man or woman who never growls
about the weather is greater itm he
who taketh two cities —- Wheeling
What is the difference between a sue.
cessful lover and his »ival? The suo.
cessful lover kisses his miss, and the
other misses his kiss,
Amerios i from Europe
year 29.642 gallons of wine, an in~
crease over the im ation of 1878 of
nearly 15,000,000 gailons.
) Gazelle clisims
fo
inst
* State
length and two feet thick,
It is not until the flower bas failen off
that the fruit s to ripen. So in
life, it i= when the romance is
thst the practical usefulness begins,
5 make
it my equal” “I vould Lb. ff to
bh mY Dali out," was the reply of
e
¥rom received by the Col-
orado ar is be that there
will be more fruit trees planted this
year in that State than in any five
previous vears.
Christ churth, of Boston, erected in
1723, is older than any other church edi-
fice in that city. Its Bible and several
yer books were presents from King
Deorge IL in 1733.
“Innocent” asks a weekly story-pa-
iper * How to shine in European si-
ciety,” and the Norristown Heruld says
it's easy enough. Purchase a box of
biacking and a brush, and *
same as you would in American society.
“ Adolphus:" You ssk us what the
difference is between a child of royal
birth and a young lamb. Really, now,
we couldn't say. unless it is because one
tn er 1th bt. Dis
. Is that it, phy
splendid re :
California contains about HO.000 GH
acres of land, of which about 43,000,000
i acres are unsurveyed, The San Fran-
cisco Bulletin save that there is pot
much exceeding 4.000 000 acres under
| cultivation, although something more
than 6.000000 serves are inclosed with
| fences, and that there are in the State
| 5,000,000 or 6.000.000 acres, more or less,
| which can be boug':t from $1.25 an acre
‘up to $7.
In Spain, » an of wide sympathies
‘is generally calied “a man with two
! hearts.” But it by no means follows that
| & man With two he isa wan of wide
8 Rpath sh peasant, living
ia e vicinit of Madrid in a peuy
quarrel, kill
German
lo
an aged woman, nud
| would have murdered her dsuchir,
| also, not the Iatter sucoredet in
| making her escape. Thinking hiuself
| robbed of a great pleasure by the virl's
! . he revenged himself by ieveat-
| edly stabbing the corpse of the Bother.
{ Singuiarly enough, remorse preyed so
quick: upon his mind that he immedi-
{ately han . But the rope
h he would, in all probability,
‘have survived his attemnt at suicide
had he had not broken bis skull in the
‘fall. On a post mortem examination
' the man was found to have two hearts
| jnstead of one. both being of lar
‘size and presenting no pecuiiarity of any
i A Storysf Brick Pomeroy.
{ There is a rumor in circulation to the
| effect that Brick Pomercy has made a
: Jucky hit and secured ut $100,000,
and those who tell the story claim they
t it from good authority. Tle story
Dery or agi. Last summer, readers
of his Pemocrat will remember, there
was published in that paper an article
from the pen of Pomeroy, reciting
the terrible sufferings of an Animosa
1.) man, who, though wealthy. bad
turned out of doors by his family,
to whom he had deeded his prop-
erty on condition that they would sup-
port him in his old age. According
to the article the ungrateful fam-
ily, by false swearing, caused the old
man to be incarcerated in an asylum for
the insane, and then proceeded to enjoy
themselves upon his savings. This is
where Pomeroy’s tale ends, and where
Dame Rumor takes it up. Itis said that
! on his recent visit to Colorado Pomeroy
| gave attertion to the case and succeeded
not only in getting the poor old wan out
of the asylum but in putting him ngain
possession of his property. lItisthen
said that in bis gratitude the old man
| has deeded his property over to Pomc
roy upon the same conditions as it was
first given to his family. It is a fact
that Pomeroy has a remarkable faculty
of satisfying ignorant vpecople of his
greatness and it is not improbable that
Suis yarn may be true.— La Crosse Repub-
Ye.
i
i
i
Progress of Christianity.
A high authority, Sharon Turner,
hus prepared the following stutement ot
(the progress of Christianity. At ‘he
| close of each century the number of be-
: lievers is given:
: Abort.
LIRR wi 5 nine sus anima inne. SEOO00
SBOEDIM: 15 + «ass xn + + eurin sis DDRCOD
EPRI. oc ones ann as snenan 5,000,000
FROUEER. «oo + asenirsenrasen- 10.000,000
WEIRD osc fannie cn rai 15,000 000
eDIXB wars s ns 2300 0 gins svn nanan SNH000,000
Seventh ............. si... 24,000,000
LEARRER «vx + one nesses nee ns sss 230,000 000
CITED ovens arse nsse nase san AOR0M00N
LTORER +s ae 00s nx 52 4x8 = sa nine: SNBRANN
{ Eleventh.................... 70,000 000
: . + 80,000 006
IF 100,000 000
| t cena. 125.6000 16D
| Seventeenth. ............... 155.000 000
Eighteenth ..................200.000 000
Nineteenth..................400 CGO (WO