Lilies.
In the baby’s tiny fist,
Tightly held and softly kissed,
The Lilies,
In the maiden’s golden hair,
Breathing perfume on the air,
The Lilies,
In the snowy bridal wreath,
Shading happy face beneath,
The Lilies,
In the chambers of the dead,
Crown with grace the lifeless head,
The Lilies,
« Mamie Alice Smith,
“The ternal Goodness.”
“Oh, frie: ds, with whom my feet havo trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God,
And love of men I bear.
H] trace your lines of argumen’,
Your logic, linked and strong,
I weigh as one who dreads dissend,
And fears a doubt as wrong.
“Bat still my homan hands are weak
To hold your iron creda ;
Against the words ye bid me apaak
My heart within me pleads,
“Who fathoms the Eternal Thought
Who talks of scheme or plan?
The Lord is God! He neadeth not
The poor device of man
“7 walk wi h bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod,
I dare not fix with mete and bounl
The love and power of God,
“Ye praise his justice; even such
His pitying love I deom;
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
The robe that hath no seam.
* Ye soe the curse which overbrouds
A world of pain and loss;
I hear our Lords bestitudes
And prayer upon the cross
* Mare than your sohool-men teach, withi
Myself, alas, I know!
Too dark yo cannot paint the sin,
Too small the merit show,
“1 dow my forehead in the dusk,
I veil mine eves for shams,
And urge, with trembling self-disiras},
A prayer without a claim,
#1 sce the wrong that round me lies,
1 feel the guilt within;
I hear with groan the travail ories,
The world confess its sin,
“Yat in the maddening maze of things,
And wssed by storm and flood,
To one fixed stake my spirit clings;
I know that God is good!
“ Not mine to look when cherubim
And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good in Him
Which evil is in me.
* The wrong that pains my sonl below,
1 dare not throne wbove ;
I know not of this hate—I bnow
His goodness and His love!
81 dimly guess from bisssings known,
Of greater out of sight ;
And with the chastening Pealmist own
His judgments, too, are right,
“1 long for household voices gona,
For vanished smiles I long,
But God bad led my dear onea on,
And he can do no wrong.
“1 know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured a'one that life and death
His mercy underlies.
“And if my heart and flash are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The braised reed He will not break,
Bat strengthen and sustain.
“No offering of my own I hive,
No works by faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead and love for love.
* And 80, beside the Silent Sea,
I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to mo
On ocean or on shore, 4
% I know not where His islands lil
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.
“Oh, brothers; if my faith is vain,
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way.
“ And Thou, oh Lord! by whom are goen
Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
My human heart on Thee.”
—J. 7. Whiltier,
ICLISE.
nn.
5
She stood among the summer mead-
ows, dreamily watching the clouds float
toward the far hills. Her bright hair
fell loosely over her shoulders and
canght the glinting sunbeams in its
meshes, Her hands were carelessly
folded, and round ker waist she had
bound a wreath of flowers. Anon a
butterfly would light at her feet, then
rise and clumsily flutter off to a safer
distance. She heard the hushed sigh
of the wind through the clover; and
from afar there came the bleating of
sheep. Boon it grew nearer, and sat the
head of the flock strode their master,
his towering form sharp-cut against the
glowing sky.
He beckoned her away; but she
stood there, idly wondering.
Again he beckoned her.
“] am not afraid of your sheep,”
she said; “you may lesd them past
me.”
“Not that,” he answered ; “but they
fear you.”
#] would not harm them,” she re
plied, and walked slowly toward the
flock.
But they stared at her timidly,
when she spoke to them they fled. and
“ Why do they fear me ?” she ask ed.
¢* Becanse they do not know yon.”
I should like to know them,” she
said, lifting her dark blue eyes till she
met his gaze.
“Then come to-morrow to yonder
hillside.”
He drewa flute from his pocket, fitted
the pieces together, and strode past her.
Then putting it to his lips he played a
weird, sad melody, till the sheep hud-
dled around him, when he led them
away.
On the morrow Victor, the shepherd,
sat beneath the birches, waiting. At
his side a streamlet babbled, singing its
way through mossed banks dowa to the
flowery valley, He was reading; but
now and then he would lift his eyes
from the page and look away toward
the hills with a sad, gloomy longing in
his face. Presently the sound of ap-
proaching footsteps fell upon his ear.
The branches parted, and Llise stood
before him, G
Ah, is it you ?” he exclaimed.
Yes,” answered she, langhing, ‘it
is I, Elise; and who may you be, Mister
Bhepherd ?”
« Victor Da Montfort,” he replied,
while a hot flush overspread his face.
“Da Montfort ?” she asked, in aston-
ishment.
“i Yes. That was my father’s name.”
She would have asked him more, but
his stern look frightened her, and she
was silent,
“ And you would know my shesp ?” he
questioned.
« Yes!’ answered she, timidly.
He took his little flute and played
softly, till Elise almost fancied that he
had eanght the liquid notes from the
brooklet at his side and turned them
into music,
Slowly the sheep approached, but,
seeing Llise, remained stationary at a
short distance. Then one bolder than
the rest came forward, and Victor called
it by name. But when Elise put forth
her hand to touch its head itturned and
fled.
VOLUME XV.
Tt fears you still,” said Viotor; ** you
must come again to-morrow |”
Elise noticed the book which he had
laid aside on her approach, It was a
vopy of Homer. And as she sat there
on the rock beside him, while the soft
wind whispered in the leaves overhead,
he told her the story of ‘‘ Achilles’
Wrath ® aod the * woes unnumbered”
that sprang from it, till his strong frame
quivered with excitement and his dark
eyes kindled fiercely.
Elise sat listening and wondering,
crushing with her dainty foot a violet
that bloomed close up against the stone
on which she was sitting. .
She wondered at the stories that he
{ told her, and at the flerce eloquence of
| the words in which he clothed them.
| She wondered how he, a simple shep-
| herd, had come to know so much; and,
| last of all, she wondered why he did not
| praise her beauty, as the young men in
| the great city were wont to do.
But when he had finished he caught
| sight of the trampled flower at her feet,
i and oried:
© Ah! You have crushed it!"
“Itis only a violet,” she answered,
| with a laugh.
{ “Only a violet!” he muttered, flercaly,
| as she sped down the hillside. ** Only
{a violet, and what am I?
{ He took his flate and sounded a
| sharp, shrill strain that echoed wildly
{ among the glens and copses, But as
| tha sheep gathered round him and
rubbed their heads against his knees,
| the musio sank into a subdued, plain-
tive tone, and the shepherd, snatching
| his book, led his flock rapidly home-
| ward.
The months of the summer rolled
| peucefully onward. The green flelds
{ mellowed into gold, und the reapers
garnered the heavy grain. The days
grew shorter, and at night white fogs
| hung over the valley.
| Every day the shepherd tended his
{ Tock upon the hillside, and every day
| Blise—the laughing, wayward Elise—
| came to him to read to her, or tell her
{ the strange stories he had learned,
! And Elise, too, changed with the
changing months, This strange, strong
{ man had thrown a subtle spell about
adr.
| She pondered over his words and dwelt
| upon, his thoughts till she taught their
| fiery energy, and hungered to hear him
| speak them again.
{ She did not laugh so often now, and
when the dusk came she did not care to
romp with the villagegirls on the green,
| but would steal away to her chamberand
sit at her open casement, watching the
{ stars and the moonlit bills, whilea sense
nameless longing filled her sonl,
| She dil not ask herself what these
things meant, but, without a question,
yielded to the current that was closing
round her, letting it bear her whither it
might,
One day they had been reading Henei
together, and the sad spirit of the
poems kept them silent after the book
{ had been laid aside. Elise spoke at
| last,
| “Imust leave yon soon, Victor.”
| «Leave me!” he cried, starting to his
{ foet, with a flushed face and a flerce,
| passionate look in his eyes.
| Then he grew pale, and sat down
again in silence,
i “Yes,” she said, with a light, forced
{ langh. ‘* You silly Victor, I must leave
you! My father is coming here to-
morrow, and I am to go back with him
to the city.”
jut he answered her nothing.
All through the afternoon the heavy
clonds had been looming up against the
West. Now they had spread themselves
over the sky in thick masses, and the
air was hushed into an ominous silence.
As Elise spoke a heavy wind rushed
through the pines on the hilltop, and
the rumble of distant thunder fell upon
her ears.
“I must hasten home,” she said, “be-
fore the storm comes.”
“No,” answered he, pointing to an
eddy in the brooklet, where the hesvy
drops were already plashing, “the
storm is here now. See, the sheep
have sought shelter, and you must stay
in yonder hill hut with me till it
passes.”
Elise looked up at the angry sky and
trembled. Above her towered a mass-
ive rock crowned with a single pine
that pointed weirdly toward the frown-
ing heavens.
The willows shivered on the banks;
the brook leaped over the rocks with
a harsh, hissing sound.
Suddenly the air was filled with a
sheet of blue flame that shot out forked
tongues in every d¥rection. Thare was
a terrific crash. The earth shook and
the pine above them was eplintered to
its roots.
Elise cast upon” Victor a look of
speechless terror. Then she stretched
out her hands toward him, and fal-
tered, “Oh, Victor, save me!” and tot-
tered and was falling to the earth; but
with a glad ery he caught her in his
arms, kissed her passionately and
rushed with her to the hut.
Then she opened her eyes.
“Is it youn, Vietor 7”
“Yes, my darling I” he answered, al-
most flercely.
Then she wound her arms about his
neck, and clinging to him convulsively
burst ino tears.
And Victor sat there holding his
priceless burden, while the wild storm
raged over the valley, and the frightened
sheep huddled closer together under
the sheds,
§ Of
11.
When Victor met the father of Elise
the story of bis love, the latter stared
at him in mute astonishment.
“What!” he exclaimed, at last. “You
have-dared to love my Elise?”
“Yes,” answered the shepherd, with
great, unconscions dignity.
“You low-born villain!” ghrieked the
old man. ‘Leave me at once, and
never again let my eyes rest on your
cursed face!”
And Vietor left him —left him with-
out speaking a word, and with a dull,
heavy pain crushing his sonl into sense-
lessness.
But the nightsmiled peacefully down
upon him as he walked along, and be-
hind him the lights of the mansion
glimmered through the gloom.
Was that her form among the trees?
His heart "gave a wild leap, and then
stood still in his breast.
“ Victor!” she whispered.
“Oh, my darling!” he groaned, tak-
ing her cold hands in his,
Then he told her all —told her of the
glad light which she had shed upon his
desolate life ; told her of the wide gulf
that must forever yawn between them
now ; told her of the coming years, with
their rounds of hopeless, heartless work,
and that she, Elise—his own Elise—
must be his own no longer.
And Elise listened timidly to this
great, passionate man as he laid bare to
her the struggles and the weakness of
his heart ; but when he had finished
she said, softly :
B “You must hope, Victor, you must
ope.”
“What!” he exclaimed, helplessly, as
some stunned child trying to recall its
consciousness.
She looked at him long and tear—
fully. Then, throwing her arms about
him, she sobbed :
and hope for me.”
There are times in the lives of men
when even the strongest feel weak-
times when a gentle, timid woman may
become a tower of strength, and with
her faithful, trusting love
Gods sweetest oconsolations to the
erushed and bleeding spirit.
Elise made Viator
Ouoe he had looked upon her as a frivo-
lous girl; she had grown to be a woman
and sanctified his whole li‘e.
murmured, at length.
and in a moment he was gone.
elastic step.
soul.
pame and a fortune for his Elise.
A week later and
embarked for strange lands.
of Africa. There fortunes were rapidly
made, if one could but stand the ecli-
mate. But Victor was stro
ness threw their pall upon his hopes,
eign land?
toiled with unflinching vigor, strug-
he might claim Elise for his bride.
The laboring seasons toiled along in
their monotonous course. The suns of
summer parched the ground, and the
winter's rains cove it again with
flowers.
town and many perished.
strange lands glided slowly into the
streets.
Bat Vietor worked, scarcely heeding
the changes that were going on around
him. His face became bronzed, and
the firm lines deepened themselves in
his brow and around his mouth,
spoke but little, and the men who met
he
cared for little else.
notes and
crept into his heart and shone from his
dark eyes.
voyage?” asked a landsman.
another.
But the captain laughed,
things, lads, when the storm comes!"
heeded her not.
sight of home—a blue, misty ridge on
the far horizon—and they said that he
should soon see the summits of his
native hills,
thoughts to occupy his mind.
He fell into a pleasant reverie,
be aware of their presence.
thinking of Elise. Was she still the
same trustful Elise, and was she still
waiting for him? He felt blissfully
certain that she was, and his face lit up
with smiles. His pet monkey leapt
upon the bulwarks, and startled him
with a dismal ery.
“Bs still, you brute!”
savagely.
Then his eye fell uvon the sailors,
who were gathered around the boats.
“What is the matter?" he asked, ap-
proaching them.
he said,
way, and shouted to the captain :
five minutes |”
“ Lower away 7’ cried the captain.
The boats fell into the water,
“In with you, lads, quick! for your
lives! In with you, sir!” said he, ad-
dressing Victor, who was staring help-
lessly at the sailors,
He obeyed mechanically, but a sud.
den thought flashed across his mind—a
maddening thought, full of untold hor-
ror.
** Where is my chest ?" he cried.
‘No time for your chest!” shrieked
the captain, shoving him downward.
“See, she is settling already !”
“Oh, heaven!” lio groaned; and they
dragged him into tho boat.
In a moment they were off.
“There she goes!” said the captain,
tonching him and pointing to the sink-
ing ship.
The monkey was sitting upon the
bulwarke, grirning at the receding
boats. But as the waves floated over
the deck she rushed to the masthead,
shrieking—a shriek that floated over
the waters like the wail of a lost spirit
and made the stout hearts of the sailors
quake with fear. Then she sunk into
tne hollow, gurgling sea, never to rise.
Victor buried his face in his hands.
His joy, his hope, all the brightness of
his life was gone, and the pitiless fu-
ture closed around him with relentless
power,
At night he found himself in the
streels of a strange city. Aimlessly he
walked through the busy thorough-
fares, seeking rest and finding none.
His brain throbbed wildly, and at his
heart the insatiate pain was gnawing.
He pressed his hands to his forehead
and peered into the faces of the crowd.
They stared at him coldly and passed
on. He was a stranger, and they cared
not for him,
It was after midnight, The hum of
traffic had ceased, and the streets were
silent. The click of the watchman's
footsteps on the pavement or a snatch
of ribald song shouted by some noisy
reveler out into the sweet night were
the only sounds that disturbed the
tranquil air.
Suddenly there was a ory of ‘‘ Fire!”
—a dreadful, shuddering ery, that
throbbed and rang through the startled
air, till the faces of sleepers grew pale,
and they awoke trembling. It was
caught up by watchmen on the corners
and echoed by watchers on the house-
tops. It called forth the life of the city.
Out poured the crowd from gloomy
marble mansions, from gaudy saloons,
from foul basements and reeking alleys.
The flames grew fiercer at every mo-
ment, with a roaras of an increasing
tempest. Dense masses of fiery smoke
rolled npward and spread themselves
above the doomed building. The crowd
was suddenly hushed into silence. At
an upper window they caught sight of
a blanched, terror-stricken face, and
through the roar of the flames they
heard a voice of plaintive pleading.
They called for ladders, but they
|
called in vain. They stood upon each
other's shoulders, and sought to reach |
her, but fell down baflled. They tried |
bolted, i
“ Make way!” oried the crowd, as a |
gigantio form rushed up the marble |
stops, He flung his massive strength |
against the doors and they cracked, |
snapped, but refused w open. Once |
The crowd cheered, and the tears |
rolled down many a hardened face. The
thiok smoke rushed through the open |
doorway and hid him from their sight. |
But he found her at last, wrapped her |
in his heavy coat, and staggered back |
through the flames. He could not see,
fire burned the garments from his arms
he rushed downward, They saw him |
at last, and sent up a wild hurrah, But
he did not hear it. They took the bur.
| and fell to the earth.
his face. It was Victor, He had risked
his life for one he knew not,
| bore him away.
When he awoke to consciousness it
was bright morning. The sunlight
| streamed into the room in which he lay,
| garden without,
| the ceiling above him and wondered
1@ wished that he had perished in the
| and who was it that he had rescued?
He looked around the room. The walls
| bad stood a vase of flowers.
A canary was singing in a gilded cage.
He tried to remember,
| steadily at her,
That shapely head, with its rippling
golden hair—surely it could belong to
none other than Elise |
eyes and looked again,
exhausted.
| pered ** Elise I"
With a great, glad sob, she eried :
“ Oh, Victor, do you know me ?"
faintly.
She pressed her lips to his and broke
The sweet, passionate
| into sobbing.
ve her relief at last, and
| tears of joy
she answered :
“Yes, Victor, it is your own Elise."
He lay for a long time silent,
“I am very weak, Elise,”
* You have been ill for a long time,
dear, but you will get better now.”
He felt that he should get well, but a
sudden theught crossed his mind.
“ Where is your father, my darling ?"
| he asked.
! the dear, scarred hand that meant so
| much to her—and the tears gathered in
| her eves as sho answered:
“He is dead, Victor; snd I should
died, too, if you had not come to save
me!”
“Did I save you, Elise?" he mut-
| tered, dreamily.
He closed his eves.
| pet. From afar there came the hum of
| the great, noisy city.
the window heard it, and trilled his
| gladdest song. And Elise sat there
| holding her Victor's hand, while her
heart was filled with sweetest music.
A Cattle Raach,
Many pens have essayed the task of
in the far
total and radical misapprehension of the
subject, corrected only when he himself
crossed the plains and saw with his own
eves. The idea is a difficult one for the
Eastern mind to fully grasp. It is
required that all preconceived notions
{ lated stock farm must be abandoned and
a totally new set substituted. Fences,
| green pastures, stables, the whistling
| meadow when the sun is casting long
shadows, the stone mansion embowered
in stately trees upon the overlooking
hill—this picture of rural beauty that
out our land must be laid aside and
Western cattle ranch. He who would
successfully follow the business of cattle.
raising npon the plains must keep ever
on the frontier, pushing farther on into
the wilderness as civilization follows in
his wake. If he is pressed too closely,
he must strike into a new country *‘to
find a range,” His judgment must be
exercised with regard to several partic.
ulars. The country he selects must be
| with here and there patches of grease
wood, white sage or other browse to
| serve as food in case the grass is covered
| by a fall of snow. He must further
assure himself as to the perennial
character of the stream or water-holes
upon the range, upon which the cattle
are to depend for one essential element.
And, lastly, he should also see to it that
the country affords good shelter from
the winter winds and storms, secured
by clumps of trees, bluffs or other
features of a broken country. With
feed, water and shelter assured, he feels
that a suitable range has been found,
and returns to drive thither his herd.
Into a heavy freight wagon is loaded
the whole ranch equipment, including
tent, bedding, cooking utensils, and
provisions to last perhaps a year. The
mounted herders drive the cattle with
many a whoop and halloo, and the
procession strikes out for the new
country. Over the rolling plain, making
a wagon road as they go, fording un-
known streams, finding a way across
deep ravines, often suffering for water,
and making many a dry camp, riding
all day long under ths scorching sun,
with alkali dust, stirred up by ten
thousand hoofs, blown into mouth and
nostrils, riding all night long around
the prostrate herd, and sometimes gal-
loping away in the darkness to check,
if possible, the wild stampede—thus for
months, it may be, the procession moves
on until the selected rguge is reached.
Here the cattle are turned loose to
explore thair new home, to eat, drink,
wander and rest at will, to forget the
hardships of the long drive and to
grow fat upon the nutritious grass,
Meantime the site for the ranch-hounse
is selected, a few trees are felled and
logs cut, and a low, dirt-roofed log
cabin is quickly thrown together.
Several small fenced inclosures, or
corrals, and a branding chute are soon
completed, and the ranch may be
considered as establishod, No title to
the land is secured ; none is desired.
The sovereign American citizen simply
takes possession, fully persuaded that
it is his privilege to dedicate to useful
purposes the waste places of our great
country.— Lippincott,
FOR THELADIES,
Avabh Women,
women dye their hair a dull red color
and frizzle and pull it down over their
faces,
ugly than an old Arab woman; but
teen to sixteen years of age, and who
They have beautiful forms, small feet
small rosy lips, white teeth snd very
smooth, good complexion. They wear
their hair plaited and thrown back to
hang down over their shoulders and
They soon fade, however, and
become as ugly as they were before
beautiful. In towns the women cover
their faces when on the street in the
night of men, but they like to have
| Christians see them, and will uncover
| their faces if no Mussulman is looking.
| Grenadine Dresses,
Two kinds of grenadine are combined
in stylish black dresses, and the newest
trimming for these is French lace in
{ thread patterns, though the Bpanish
| lace is used when the grenadine is bro-
caded in Spanish lace designs to repre-
| sent detached roses, great peoaies, fruit,
leaves, eto. Another trimming for gre.
| nadines is sealskin fringe of chenille in
| vary much smaller and finer sleek
strands than that used during the win-
| ter, but massed together to reseiable
Batin-striped armure grena-
dine is much used in combination gren-
| adine dresses for plaitings edged
| with French lace to form flounces,
and also on the aspron front
lof deep round overskirts, The
| a rache.
| stripes are used to form three or four
soft puffs that cover the lower skirt as
far as the flounces at the foot; the
| basque and deep apron over-skirt are of
| brocaded grenadine, and the striped
| plaiting trims this apron. Plain sewing-
| while the skirt has its satin surah
dine, with all its lower edges hidden,
| lower part left open, and trimmed
up each side with Spanish lace
frills.
{ the foot, and a lace flounce coming out
| grenadine falls on the satin. Another
fancy is what seems to be a princesse
dress of black armure grenadine with
a panier sash and long black diapery of
| striped grenadine. This sash is sewed
| great loops of a bow in the back, which
| fall over striped drapery that is attached
| to the back widths of a plaited armure
| greuadine skirt, Bias bands of satin
| three inches wide, or straight bands of
| stripes, or else smooth rows of lace or
embroidery put on the skirt before it is
| plaited, are the most effective trim
mings for plaited skirts of plain grena-
dine,
Fashion Notes.
Little girls wear white neckties,
Colored grenadines will
again.
be wora
{ them.
Colored silk rivals satin for bride's
| dresses,
| tian red.
Panier draperies modernize last year's
dresses.
| triennes,
|
| by ladies,
Kate Greenaway dresses for girls are
very quaint.
| black slippers,
| Flowers are superseding feathers on
| spring bonnets.
{| White wool
| wathetic styles.
| Black stockings are now more stylish
| than colored ones,
{ The christening robes of babies of
| fashion this spring are of pale pink silk,
dresses are made in
| ciennes.
| Ivery white Breton and Moresque
| laces are combined with the beavy ecru
| ficelle or Medici laces in forming neck
| lingerie,
Garden or tea aprons of satin are
{ much vorn in London. The favorite
pattern for this use is the Kate Green-
away border or group.
in the hair, on the shoes, and fastening
the bows and draperiss,
The long plain skirt of some rich,
at the bottom, worn with a panier bo-
dice, gains ground every day.
Sumatra straw is a new braid which
is of a soft shade of beige or buff,
new fiber is quite as popular as Manila
or Belgian straw,
All dressy todices for young ladies
are laced nt the back; they open in a
square or heartshape in front, and are
usually bordered with lace, embroidery
or beaded applique bands.
Four different materials, harmonizin
in color and effect, are sometimes usec
upon new French wraps, Two mate-
rials at least are used, and few outside
garments are exhibited which are made
wholly of one fabric.
Raw silk in Roman plaided designs
showing artistic combinations of color
are much used for children’s and young
misses’ spring costumes, Some of the
handsomest of those are made up in
conjunction with dark myrtle green
velvet.
Stylish traveling costumes are exhib-
ited, made of Vigogne of a dark
almond color, a neutral shade of beige,
or pale silver gray, with waistcoat,
pelerino enfls, and bias band for the
tunio, made of plush of a contrasting
olor.
Summer silks of light texture are
now shown with groundworks of olive,
claret, moss green, marine bire and
golden brown, with handsom«Jy exe-
ented designs of birds and uowers
printed in natural colors upon their
surface.
The Pope as a Farmer.
How many people are there, asks
Land, who know that the pope is a
farmer? Such is the fact, however,
and there is reason to believe that he
makes a very good thing of it. Leo
XIII. is, however, neither a grower of
cereals nor a raiser of stock, but a
breeder'of fish. The lagoons of Comae-
ohio are thus turned to profitable use.
Eels ure the staple food, and several
tous of cooked eels are sent from the
lagoons every Lent. The fish come up
in immense schools from the Adriatic,
and are fed in the lagoons on other fish
provided for them, until they are nicely
fattened, when they are killed and
cooked in a vast kitchen.
SUNDAY READING,
Abldeth Forever,
When the great traveler, Daron Hum.
boldt, was journeying in South America,
in the air, which seamed like a hush
Bat that was followed
by a fearful convulsion of the earth,
which made all hearts quake, And Ham.
his soul was as great as that in the world
without. All his old views of the safety
of the earth were destroyed in a mo-
ment. Bhould he fly to the hills for
help? The mountains were reeling
like drunken men. The honses were |
no refuge, for they were crumbling and |
falling, and the trees were overthrown, |
Then his thoughts turned to the sea ; |
but lo! it had fled. Bhips which just |
before were floating securely on its sur- |
face, were now left rocking in the sands,
Being thus at his wit's end, he tells us
he *‘looked up, and observed that the
heavens alone were calmand unshaken.”
How grateful to the fearful and
trembling heart it is to know that
“through the mountains be removed |
and carried into the midst of the sea,”
moved. These are some of the things
which cannot be shaken: “Even from
everlasting to everlasting Thou art
God.” “Thy kingdom is an everlast.
ing kingdom." “The mercy of the
Lord is from everlasting to everlasting.
~The Watchword,
Religlous News and Notes.
The Baptists have a total member
ship of 2,386,022 in the United States.
erected, has been totally destroyed by
fire,
St.
Paul's Evangelical
has been destroyed by fire,
The American Baptist Missionary
The London City mission employs
visits last year, and induced 5,740 per-
bons to attend worship,
aries,
The overture giving
in
The econ-
Itis a curious fact
forty-eight Presbytories
new Carvadian
Catholics in
According to the
the Roman tho
and the Methodists 4 008 In the
In the
In Manitoba the Catholics oc
A _a._.n._o
Fight for Life With a Bear,
A recent issue of the Troy (N. Y.)
IR. Derby, of Saranac
exploit Fridayafternoon. While driving
irom the Prospect house to Blooming.
Derby saw an infmiated bear
ranches of the tree. With genuine
creep unobserved by the bear to within
a short range, when he opened fire upon
the brute. The first fire took effeot in
the shoulder, and was quickly followed
bya second which lodged in the bear's
head.
The only effect of these was to distract
the attention and increase the fury of
the bear, who abandoned the siege of
Maloney and directed his attention to
Mr. Derby. He charged furiously upon
that gentleman, who coolly discharged
two more shots with wonderful preci:
sion at the head of the approaching
brute, and turning, beat a hasty retroat
in the direction of the road. The
who turns the scales at 230 pounds. Not
a moment was to be lost. The quick
eye of Mr. Derby discovered a tree near
by. Bpringing into its lower branch-
es, he reached a point of safety
half dead from exhaustion. The
bear, bleeding profusely from many
wounds, was undaunted and aggres-
sive, and did not leavo his enemy long
tc arrange a new campaign, but began
the ascent of tho troo. Mr. Derby
drew a sheath knife, and with that in
his teeth prepared for a desperate en-
vounter, Discharging tho three remain-
ing shots of hia revolver at the head of
the bear, ho seized the knife, and hold-
ing by a limb with his left hand, stinck
desperately at the fore foet of the
climber, nearly severing one claw, and
cutting enormous gashes in the animal's
shoulders and Wd iy
While struggling for his life the limb
by which Mr. Derby was holding broke
and he was precipitated to the ground
ton foot, sustaining severe bruises and a
badly sprained shonlder. In his eager-
ness to reach his foe the baar tumbled
from the tree also and rushed at Mr.
Derby, who had recovered his feet, and,
unable to retreat, was awaiting the at-
tack, his sheath knife in band. The
‘bear arose on his haanches, and by a
dexterous thrust Mr, Dorby’s knife was
driven straight through his heart and
the animal succumbed. Mr. Derby
suffered severe scratches and loss of
considerable blood. His clothing was
literally into strings by the claws of
the bear,
The French census shows that, though
the rural population is declining, yet
more than one half the total population
still depends on agriculture as a means
of living. There are 18,513,525 indi-
viduals, comprising 5,970,171 heads of
familioa—and the rest dependents—en.
gaged in agriculture,
a —— II evs ao wv
A butterfly hunter in Florida gets an
average of five cents apiece for his cap-
tures, though some rare specimens
bring much more. One very rare speci-
men sells as high as $10 per pair,
Tp
— —————
THE ICE-BOUND JEANNETTE,
Lieutenant Danenbhower's Acesant of ihe
VYessel's Destruction.
Lieutenant Denenhower, in his re.
vital of the Jeannette's Arctic vovagze,
gives the following account of how the
doomed vessel finally went to the bo!
tom after a long imprisonment in the
ice;
The Jeannette was finally released
from her joy fetters after an imprison
ment of twenty-one months—that is
almost the entire duration of our voy-
age—and during which time we had
been drifting with the pack. The im-
portant point of this drift is that we
traversed an immense area of ocean, at
and it can now safely be said that land
does not exist in that area. Of course
the depth and the character of the ocean
bed and the drift were also determined,
as well as the animal life that exists in
this part of the world; also the charac.
ter of the ocean water and many
other facts of interest which were
finished with the discov of
the two new islands, At this Dorat we
had a fooling of pleasure and pride that
our voyage bad not been entirely in
vain, sud we felt sure that we conld edd
considerable to the knowledge of this
have got out safely without loss of life
the voyage would have been a grand
success, Captain De Long, in my
opinion, entered the ice boldly and de-
liberately, with the intention of trying
the most hazardous route to the pole
that has ever been contemplated. When
spoken to on the subject within a few
days after we found ourselves impris-
oned, I stated that to be my opinion,
daring and magnificent venture on
record.
To return to the Jeannette, She
was floating idly, but, of course, could
gides by almost itless masses of ice
pool in which she conld bathe sides.
he starboard half of her old eradle re
and quarter to await her chance to
escape. The rudder had been previ-
ously shipped and the screw propeller
had been found to be un 80
at
to the southsast of us
I will now describe the supreme
and final moments in the life of the
d one hour on deck,
v, for exercise, the last
relapse of my left eye having taken
Isce a month previous. I went on
Be at 1 o'clock in the afternoon and
wind regions of the Pacific. A large
party
guille
mots if possibla. My hour was up
to move toward us, and I was fas
cinated by the dangers of the situation.
The captain was on deck and imme.
diately hoisted the hunters’ recall,
which was a big black cylinder at the
main truck. They to come in
one by one, and the last ones were Bart-
lett and Anequin, who were jdragging a
seal with them. At the time of their
arrival the ice was in contact with the
port side of the ship, and she was heel-
ing about twelve degrees io starboard
with her port bilges heavily pressed
The two hunters approached on the
port side, passed their guns to me and
came up by a pes end that I bad
thrown to them. The pressure on the
ship was terrible, and we knew that she
must either lift and be thrown up bod-
ily upon the ice or be crushed. Daring
the whole cruise provisions, tents and
boats with sleds were kept ready for
immediate use, and at this time every
step was taken for the impending catas-
trophe.
One watch went to supper at 5.30,
and the officers had bread snd tea in
the cabin at 6. I was on the sick list,
with eyes bandaged, but told the doc-
tor that I could get the charts and in-
struments together and be of assistance.
He said he would ask the captain. Each
officer kept his knapsack in his room
and most of us thought it was time to
have them on deck; but we would not
make the move until ordered for fear of
attracting the attention of the crew,
who were at work on provisions and
boats, While I was taking tea I saw
Dunbar bring his knapsack up and put
it in the cabin, Feeling that the moment
had arrived 1 went for mine, and at the
head of the ladder on my return the
doctor said to me: ‘Dan, the order
is to get knapsacks.” It seems that
he had stepped below and found
water in the wardroom, which
he reported to the captain, aud
the order was then given to abandon
the ship. The national ensign was
Long was on the bridge directing the
work, Lieutenant Chipp was confined
to hia bed. I threw my knapsack over
the starboard rail and returned for
clothes, but on stepping iato water when
half way down the wardrobe ladder I
realized that the ship was filling
rapidly. The doctor and I then carried
Chipp's belongings out, and I was told
to tuke charge of the medical stores,
especially the liquor. The ship in this
condition was like a broken basket, and
only kept from sinking by the pressure
of the ice, which at any moment might
relax and let her go to the bottom,
The crew worked well, and Edward
Staar, seaman, especially distinguished
himself, He was doing duty at the
time as paymaster's yeoman or “Jack of
the Dust.” The order was given to get
up more Remington ammunition, and
he went into the magazine
when the ship was filling rapidly
and succeeded in getiing two cases
out. This man was in Lieutenant
Chipp's boat afterward. We always
thought him a Russian, but he spoke
English very well and never would
speak of his nationality; but during his
dreams he talked in a language that was
neither English, French, German, Swe-
dish, Spanish nor Italian, and most of
the men thought it was Russian. He
was an excellent man and a giant in
strength. The captain thought a great
deal of him, for he served him faithful-
ly in every responsible position.
When the order was given to aban-
don the ship her hold was full of water,
and as she was heeling twenty-three
degrees to starboard at the time the
water was on the lower side of the spar
deck, and I hope that our friend, the
London Standard, will not now think
that we deserted her and left her adrift
in the Arctic, as was stated in one of
the issmes of that paper. We had a
large quantity of provisions on the ice
about a hundred yards from the ship,
but Mr. Danbar, who was alive to the
occasion, advised the shifting of these
to an adjacent and more favorable floe
piece. It took us till 11 r. a. to effect
the removal. We also had three boats
—namely, the first cutter, second ont-
ter and the whaleboat. As soon as Dr.
Ambler had looked out for Chipp he
relieved me at my post and 1 went to
wp
pr SARE
——r
_- —
heen detailed previously to eom
The order was given to camp snd get
coffee, so we pitched our tent abreast of
the whale and I set about fitting
ont for the retreat,
over to the shi
her and found the os
Colas fie looking at her under-water
port side I a
body, which was hove well out of
water, I observed that the 's side
between the foremast and
had been buckled in by the re,
and that the second w was
hanging st the davits, also that the
steam cutter was lying on the ice near
by. Coles and Bweetman
captain if we could lower the second
whaleboat, and the esptain ssid ** No.
fi three boats, howeve, were consid-
ered en and while
the ice a
to be the favorite with all
blanket in which he and
were lying; the weight of the
the ends ing the middle
falling through. The order
diately given to shift to another floes
piece w. Mr. Dunbar selected for
us, This was sbout three hundred
§
{
sk
E
18808
1
5
thi
i
3
;
:
£
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3
nette, which for many
dured the embrace of
ster. The Jeannette sank
o'clock of the morning of
Jane 13,
eo ee
the anniversary ak i
were detained there four days in mak.
ing preparations, and on the doctor's
recommendation awaiting the improve.
ment of about a quarter of our pati,
who were debilitated by sto dis-
orders supposed to be tin poisoning
from tomato cans.
g
i
X
i
——
Accounting for the Sea Serpent,
Bir Charles Lyell made some inter
esting siiefabts to trace the sea ser
Ee
| by u wings appearsnoe
| porpoises in line in a heavy sea—the
| effect upon the eye of their continued
| rise and fall, He dwelt upon the mo-
tions of a large shark observed puing
| through Torres strait at a high rate o
| speed, the dorsal and caudal fins, with
| the swell, being reproduced so quickly
| and repeatedly on the retina as to give
the impression of a series of hk
The elevated head in the air, so
quently noticed, he explained by opti-
cal illnsion, or that the animal was a
seal, or one of the monster
| thirty feet long, that might have stra
| from the north or south. The
| shark, or hockmar, of Norway, Ww
attains a length of from Shinty So Shi
Ty bs ecmeaRent vn
y
this belief was strengthened by an
enormous one that was cast ashore on
the Orkney islands. The flesh was
partly destro and the enormous
{ dorsal fri into fragments. The
shark was described as a sea
the jagged dorsal as hair, and a most
remarkable story concocted, which still
holds its 9% 38 Mo ola a Tie
idea suy © Koch sea serpen
which was made of fossil whale verte-
| bree from Georgia, arranged in s row,
| and exhibited to the Bostonians as the
| “sea ser pant.” Tape fishesol the genera
Gymnetras and Regalicns have been
| found thirty sad sixty feet 1 aoocord-
ling to Lord Norbury, and it been
| soggested that they may have been
| taken for the sea serpent; but, though
long, they are remarkably slender, and
not snail-like, and have a lateral motion
that could not be contorted to corre-
spond with any of the accounts given.—
Lippincott.
A St, Petersburg Incident.
A St. Petersburg correspondent tells
this story: As I was saunter. along
the Catharine canal the other with
one of the late caar's Sia dowcatnpa, I
witnessed a spectacle wholly n for
me. A poor devil of a mioulik=_olé,
bearded and haggard, dressed in adirty
starlet shiti=shud sto] Scjare Si
cua ere u o Ww.
il IL de as he stop he
knelt down and bent his to the
ground three times, Then he advanced
to the threshold of the little gothio
edifice, where fifty candles are always
kept burning, snd lifting up the hem’
of his red shirt he Fiumageld in
his pocket Jong and mlly,
and at last rew from
pocket a tiny little piece of silver coin
—all that the usurers had left him, and
dropped it into the silver money box
placed there for the maintenance of the
commemorative chapel. Immediately
the two military sentinels on guard at
either side of the entrance, presented
arms. The moujik prostrated him-
sell three times again, and went his
way. All Russia was painted in that
simple trait of character. Volumes upon
volumes of travels in the land of Peter
the Great, however anxiously perused
with a view to self-instruction, could
not have taught me as much about it.
A silver dollar with a bit of coneave
mirror set in one side is by gumblars
called a ‘‘shiner.,” By laying it among
his pile of coin and dealing over it the
operator can know what every player
holds for that deal, the cards being re-
flected in miniature. A member of the
Mining club of Leadville has been
caught using a *“‘shiner.” By means of
it he won $2,600 in a night at poker,
A hungry rat devoured fifteen canary
birds in Cleveland, Ohio, in one night
recently, and in consequence grew so | AB
corpulent that he couldn’t escape from
the cage. That rat was killed with
much promptness.