THUECITY OF SOMEWHERE,
In tho beautifnl City of Somewhere
Men never fade nor grow old,
Beauty is beauty forever,
Hearts never fa 1 or grow cold,
K ind words only are spoken —
Soothing, aud soft, and low
As the wind sighing over Molian harps,
W herever the light winds blow
Qver the City of Somewhere,
Qver the magle sea,
Bear on, Life-bark, o'er the perfumed tide,
Win that Rainbow land for me.
In the beautiful City of Somewhere
Bong-birds are pluming their wings,
And the turq oise-tinted atmosphere
To its deepest concave rings;
And on its way to the deep-bass Sea
The tenor River sings.
No touch of olden Master,
No solemn and saintly choir,
With hymn from dim cathedral aisle
Could rapture like this inspire.
© golden boat and silver sea,
And sails of satiny sheen,
O milk white sails and ivory oars,
Ye will bear me well, 1 ween!
Our odorous masts are of sandal wood,
And up at the peak they hold
A pennant bearing the City's sign,—
An anchor, browdered in gold
C—O ——
AN ALLEGHENY GYPSY.
I recognized her at once, It is true
that I had only a glance at her face,
but that glance was enongh to con-
vince me that she was the original of
the picture Tom Grabam had shown to
me,
1 had taken refuge from the shower
under a cattle shed, and, seated therein
on an old milking stool, I watched the
swaying of the gray portiere which the
strands of rain wove for the doorless
doorway. With the water
through the decaying roof and the gen-
eral dsmpness of wy condition forcing
itself on my attention, I began to won-
der why [ was there. That morning I
had been on the east-bound *‘express’
my mind than of Saratoga or Newport;
but when the train flashed into the
little station the place looked 80 €0Oi
and inviting, and offered such a con-
trast to the fierce heat I expected to
{
When we were woll past
bend in the road, and
moment when I saw the last of the flnt-
I tarved but
saw no one, and went on. Again I
made me turn
i
i
the hotel that there was a gypsy camp
Saveral persons
met two queer-looking meu on horse-
back, with huge saddle bags, that were
It made a flutter
lingered after tea to talk it over,
result of the discussion, those
As a
Indic A
and drive atone became quite cautious,
Tiond moemmas forbade their davghters
to driv: in the direction of the camp.
The only lady who seemed utterly reck-
Again.
After I had taken breakfast I strolied
down the shaded road that leads to O ik-
land, whioh at first almost solitary, soon
horses, carriages, and brightly dressed
ladies,
of the numerous dog carts, buckhoards,
and phastons with the hope of discov
I was disappointed, and walked on over
the smooth road, unheeding the dis
tance, until the sight of a church spire
and other evidences of a settlement
showed me that I was near Oakland, 1
went on into the village. found a friend
at the hotel with whom I dimed, and
was returning to Deer Park when
shower fell from the clouds that com-
pletely drenched the mountains and re-
viyed them from the drowsy unconsecious-
ness of an Angust midday, The ran
ceased ns suddenly as it came, The sun
came out with a small kerchief of cloud
over ona eye and a light breezs rastled
the newly varnished leaves, The fringe
foot-paths at the roadside twinkled with
innpnmerable rain drops, and muddy
below,
I had just left the cow-shed and re
sumed my walk when there came dash
ing down the road a small equipage,
consisting of a brown pony and a yellow
dog-cart. In the cart were two yonng
ladies in summer clothing, their face
of foamy lace, There
ferns showing under the seat, and the
brow of the conquering pony was
wreathed with oak.
the downward and level road, came to
an abrupt stop at the foot of a hill not
his burden upward and onward, he
whip, the paraso! lace ceased to chafe
its silken island,
s)ght until even the red tassel of the
gheuy horizon,
posed to guide the wilful pony was nn-
doabtedly Ksleanor Sawyer; and Eleanor
Bawyer was the young woman to whom
Tom Graham had devoted himself, in
spirit, so unsuccessfully, for over two
that Tom had not been allowed a nearer
devotion, It was a mystery to every
one why old Mr, Sawyer was so uncom:
promising in his opposition to Tom
Graham, for he was a young man ©
good family and good habits, with a
growing reputation and income, Certain
it was, however, that il that young
person had presented himself at Deer
Park Mr, SBawyer would either have
restricted his daughter's freedom to the
second story verandah, where he kept
his own gouty foot bolstered up on a
chair, or have whisked her off to some
other resort at the first appearance ol
the adversary.
1 recalled these things which Tom
had told me as I climbed the hall behind
which the dog-cart had set, and to my
surprise saw that the brown pony had
come to a standstill aud Mias
Sawyer seemed to be remonstrating
with her companion, who, evidently in
a state of great perturbation, was
glancing anxiously toward s tent at the
foot of the hill. It had been pitched
since my morning walk to Oakland, and
there was an undeniable gypsyith air
about the evcampment that bad prob-
ably frightened the more timid of the
young ladies in the omrt, I
them and went on down the hill and
soon discovered that they were follow.
ing me and were subduing with difficulty
the brown pony to a slow pace.
In front of the tent lay a swarthy man
watching a fire that had just been
kindled under a black keitle, He was
a repulsive being, and I could not won-
der at the timidity cf the young
Behind the tent gleamed the white sun
bonnet of a traveler's wagon, and one
or two mules were tethered near by. 1
eyed the man sharply, but he no
urual drive
spite O
pexiont
in the nsnal direction in
mysterious camps or dark com-
d men
I may as well say hore that after my
first day at Deer Park I hd been mneh
with the Sawyers’; 1 had discovered
that Mr. Sawyer and my father were
I-time friends and elassmates; and
the old gentleman hal recived me very
cordially for my father's sake, and bade
ms kesp an eve on his danghter and his
as
In the case of the latter this be- |
came an easy and most willing privilege, |
but with Eleanor Sawyer it was a difler- |
hat young lady develeped
a will power that amounted to obstin-
I well remember the last time I
1
shall not attempt to deserine her as she |
appeared to me that atternoon; but the |
glenm in her gray eye and the fresh
get, I remember thinking that Tom
(Graham was a lucky man to possess the |
heart of all that beauty and freshness, |
While thus thinking, 1 wa'ched the
flatter of her blue veil until sho disap- |
around the corner of the east |
aannsx of the hotel and then 1 sighed.
Dd the spirit of prophecy possess mv |
nl? Did my mental vision penetrate
the future and perceive that I was not
o see ber again? It may be so, for 1 |
sighed and toroed to the gentle Alice to
iispel the cloud that for the moment |
had obzeared her loveliness, AL my
4
on the green uplanas in front of the
hotel, whera all day long the shadows
of the yeung trees wind around their
bases like phantom dials, She seemad
to prefer silence, so I said nothing, but
esausd back in my chair, walching the
blae smoke that rose from behind a hill |
to the southward. Yesaterdsy she and I
had gone over the hill to investigate the |
orimal cause of s0 much smokiness, and |
ifter discovering a little saw. mill that |
was eating its way Shrough the grand
[ st, we were content to ride back on |
oad of lumber that came down the
wooden tramway to the raudroad,
For days we Lad been plan-
ping to watch asunset from theObserva-
tory which is perched
hill, At its height the loftiest peaks of
the Alleghenies the horizon as
ar as the eve I proposed and
Alice disposed; so we elimbed the hill
aud the little stairway to the Observa
Ors
4
ma
in
several
n a neighboring
uoteh
CAN see,
the kpife-work of the summer boarder
who usually sncoeeds in oarving his
name in something more permanent
we watched the alternoon express as it |
glided into the station in a clond of
steam: we watched it pull ont again,
neard it whistle for Mountain |
Lake, three miles further down the |
road,
By this time the sun had dropped
until it seemed impaled on the dimmest |
peak if the distance, Ib a mowent the |
whole west flushed crimson
mountain peak was radiant,
Every |
The little |
Very grada- |
The northern and |
agezinst the glowing sky.
ally the color faded,
The dim peaks |
A chill wiad swept |
across the mountains, Oar clothing !
was already damp #ith the dew, so we |
Alieghenies,
That evening there was great excite.
ment in the hotel. Before tea time it
became generally known that Eleanor
Sawyer bad driven ont alone on the
Oakland road and had not returned. A
telegram seni to her friends st the Oak- |
land Hotel brought the ansver that she |
had not been there that day. Eleanor's
poor father was almost wid, He had
known but tittle of the gypsy camp, and
when the ladies poured into his horri
fiad ears the aoccoun: of the repulsive |
black man, the myserions men with
plunder on their horses, his very blood
ran cold. Men were at once despatehed
duwn the road to enter the camp snd
discover the truth, They returned with
the information that the camp was
broken up, the wagons gone, The worst
suspicions were confirmel, Eleanor had
been abdnoted by the gyjsies ant prob.
ably hidden in the mounhin {astnesses
with the view of obtaining a ransom.
The distracted father did nd know what
sourse to pursue, To send jut parties
that night without any kiowledge of
the route of the abductors wis imprac
ticable; and the helpless old rentleman
in spirit. Excitenent ran
igh, The ~room was deserted, and
groups of eo were in tas office
disoussing probable features of the
note entered the office, and as he ap -
prosched the desk there was a sudden
stillness in the room.
“For Mr, Bawyer,” he said, in a low
voioe,
|
gave the old gentleman the note,
“Oh, dear Mr. Suwyer do tell ue, is
it from Flasnor?” chorused the ladies,
Mr. Sawyer glanced at the address.
| It was his daughter's writing; but,
i with tle sense of relief whioh it gave,
| camo a strange reluctance to open
the note in the presence of such an als
| dience,
“Yes, ladies, it is from my daugh-
lingered,
“Oh, is sho safe; where is she?”
| came from one or two of the more ven-
| taresome,
| The old gentleman saw it was of no
| nse to try to evade them. Hae opened
the letter, and, ater glancing at its con-
1
“You may read it, madame,” ne said,
She tonk it and read aloud as follows:
Dear Para: The
its members, I suppose my dear Tom
never thought when he joined the geo
logioal survey (in order to be near me
in the mountains) that the party would
be taken for gypsies.
vant, whom
from the plans, caused that impression,
and the imagination of the ladies sup-
plied the rest,
Dear papa, Tom and I were married
you tha pony and this note.
In the
meantime do not harden your heart
agaiust your affectionate danghter
Evgavon.
There was silence as the reader con
cluded, aud without a word the crowd
cougenial atmosphere of the parlors,
That evening, just before 11 o'clock,
as I was smoking a good night eigar on
the piazza, I was joined by Alice Wol-
verton,
“Did you know of this?” she de-
mangded severly as we reached a seciud-
ed part of the porch.
“Know of what?” I asked, evasively.
“0! Eleanor's planus, That she was
going away?” anxi sly,
“With an Allegheny gypsy?
ves, | knew."
“Oh, shameful |” she cried, starting
away, bat I caught har had.
“What is shameful?” I asked,
she not right to go?’
*‘Not in that wey, no,’
“Isn't 1t right for a woman to go with
the man who loves her?” §
“No, it is not,
tho parlor; it 1s chilly here.”
‘““But yon cannot go with me,
wouldn't be right.”
“Why not?” in surprise.
“Because I love yon.”
“Oh!” Bashing,
“Good night,”
it
Well,
“Was
’
it
“Good night.”
I answered, and we
said again a hall hour after.
ward,
- -
Peregrination Pigeon.
Peter Cartwright was the
well known Method st pronee
sort of peregrioation pigeon, who
wer the hilig and swamps up b
tolic wing He
strong as be was brave
Pp
meetin
set of r
name of a
fle war a
flew
& 808
feared nothing, and wha
A
into rot
i tot
as ceria
2
ighs who haa
Major f.. who was a pr
though a grest
fimesesf with the roughs,
fiying into a desperate mage, sad
thought Cartwright would fight him
he won'd challenge him.
“Major, if you challenge me [ will ac
cept it,” answered the preacher
“Well, sir, | dare you 10 mortal com-
bat.”
“AL right, mr, I'll fight you. And, sir,
according to the laws of honor 1 suppose it
1» my right to choose the weapons with
which we are to fight.”
‘Wertainly.” the Major rephed,
“Well, then, we will step over here
jot and get a eouple of corn.
think I can finsh you with
y vy?
ae RO.
ihle with a
Teak
Rn
trie
the service,
nent citizen,
ident: fad
HEenner
8a
1
The Major waxed hotter. He clenched
if
I thought 1 conld whip you | would smite
you in a minute,”
“Yea, ves, Major,” the militan minis
ter asserted; ‘‘but, thazk God, you can?
whip me; only don't you attempt to
strike me, for if you do, and the devil gets
ping you ever had in your life.”
ended it.
Another bully attempted to whip the
Rev. Cartwright, who answered:
never like to live in the dread.
reslly intend to whip me, come and do ut
now.”
The bully oontinued bis curses and
threats, and th: minister jumped off bw
horse, and going up to hum, said:
That
ened, or I will put you in the river and
baptize you in the name of the devil, for
surely you belong to ham.”
The bully repented, and afterwards
became one of the preacher's best friends,
Charm of Flowers
Flowers seem intended for she solace
of ordinary humanity. Children love
them; quiet tender, contented, ordinary
them gathered. They are the cottager’s
treasure, and in the crowded town
mark, as with a little broken fragment
of rainbow, the windows of the workers
in whose hearts rest the covenant of
peace. Passionate or religious minds
contemplate them with fond, feverish
intensity; the affection 1s seen severely
calm in the works of many old religions
painters, and mixed with more open
and true country sentiment in those of
our own pre-Haphelites. To the child
and the girl, the peasant and the man.
ufactaring operative, to the grisette
and the nun, the lover and monk, they
are precious always; but to the men of
supreme power and thoughtfulness,
precious only at times; symbolically and
pathetically often to the posts, but
rarely for their own sakes. They fall
forgotten from the great workman's
and soldier's hands, Such men will
take, in thankfulness crowns of leaves
or crowns of thorns--not crowns of
The alerk handed the note to boy,
flowers,
The Nine-PViate Stove,
i TI -
| of the forest,
it required as much attention ag a locomo-
| tive nowadays when out on the road, and
| the tidy housewife was just as careful in
up a8 the engine man and fireman do their
{ darling ron horse. Sometimes 1t Was
| determine whether the persons congregated
around the stove were trying to keep it
WATT OF Vioe Versa.
But this pioneer of the stove geperation
was a very primitive article of domestic
comfort, It had no side doors, por was
furnace chamber. It was propped with a
sone or & brick which served a two-fold
purpose, as it also regulated the draft io
the smaller opening in the door. Iron was
| dear in those days, and there was no iron
poker to stir up the smouldering embers
or shovel to empty the chamber of the
nshies when filled.
| board as a shovel
grandfathers were happy even with these
| original appliances for arousing the
refuse.
While crowded around the
stove in order to keep warm, it would in-
| deed be passing
| brain of man would not be stirred up to
| considered aa apology for a stove.
snd hinges for the sides of the stoves fol-
lowed. as well as hinges for the door closing
| for the small vent.
By the first improveinent the part above
| the furnace and the apartment for carrying
off the smoke was couverted into an oven,
{in which ex silent bread and cakes could
i ne baked, and roasts and fries of all kinds
turned cut. The top plate of the slove
was used as a griddle, and from it buck
wheat, corn and flannel oakes wee turmed
off by the dozen, In fact, those old 1m
proved nine-plates did a vast amount of
| good culinary work, until they were sup
| nlanted by the renowned “Hathaway Cook
| Stove,” which wes exocedingly popular and
had an immense sale, but was no less a
| voracious devastator of the wood pile, and
{ the terror of the man who provided il
| with sticks cut exactly to fit its fiery tur
nace.
plate until it was as amoothly cast, and as
nicely ornamented with vines and flowers
{ and designs, ss any of our popular parior
ol stoves are, or the kitchen cook stove
But coal as a fuel became chesper snd
wood dearer, hence these old fashioned
stoves had to give way to the coal-burner,
hath by ressod of economy, heat and fue,
already prepared without the aid of the
axe, the maul and Rude
as these old nine pistes were they served
a good and useful purpose in their day,
but whey oou'd not iss’ always, 10 view of
the changed circumstances of both nature
and people. Thev bad to give way to
something better, at least for cities, towns
and villages, thoug in some remole pars
it the State, where wood Is yet plenty, one
of these ancien' stove jandmarks is mon.
reh of the wood pile and the yet unfelled
| forest.
the iron wedge.
———— :
Seraping off Barnacies,
ne and ses them
i em scrape barnacles
f from the bottom
fleamet
Mail
F rant
hink
Lens
3
{d an empl
Company to a
S00 TRORn
+
it
ga Ye OG
of expense in the
steamers. ned
operation that 4
through after
the Pacific,
little creatures
trouble are thicker fnd their
growth more mapidly ‘in Pacific waters
than thev do in the Atlantic.”
The reporter and his informant were
in the vicinity of Hunter's Point Dry
Dock, and on entering the yard the
City of New York was seen high and
: dry on the supports, and a large number
{of men, each with a tnangularshaped
i scraper of bard metal in hand, were
| working on her.
handles attached to the
were ground on each of their three
edges. The sound of the !
resembles that produced by
{ trowels in spreading mortar,
| much louder,
contr
oY
1 OSS
5 ¢
$84
ALialn
though
and there was also a
nacles clung with greater
than their neighbors, It was a whole-
| saleslaughter of these parasitic animals,
| which In some spots incrusted the
bottom of the ship to the depth of an
inch and a half to two inches,
' “They're only small clingers, these
| barnacles,” sad the Pacific Mail man,
“but like fleas on a nervous individual
they are very much in the way, though
| they are little."’
| ‘“T'o what extent do they damage the
| bottom of an iron ship?’ asked the re-
porter,
“It isn’t for the damage to the ship
so much as the way they impede its
i
| was the reply.
| “How much time each day ot sail-
{ ing would this steamer lose by bavinga
coating of barnacles on her bottom?”
“From fifteen to twenty-five miles.”
en bottomed vessels than on iron?”
“Yes; but they are not so thick on
chief objects in having a vessel co
bottomed. The barnacles do not like
te poisonous nature of the enpper and
do not begin to cling to it until it has
been partially neutralized by the action
of the salt water. Iron ships cannot,
of course, have copper bottoms, as the
| expense would be too great In making
| a solid bottom of copper and there is no
satisfactory way of atlaching the sheet.
ing. To partially obviate the tendency
of barnacies to collect on iron vessels a
strong solution of verdigris 18 now
mixed with other ingredients and used
on the bottom below the red waterline,
and for this reason all the lower out.
mde surface of the steamers of this
company now have a green color, such
as you now see they are putting on the
under side of the New YX ork’s stem.”
The reporter watched the process of
scraping and observed that as fast as a
large section of the barnacle-covered
rR SOFAS HAO ———
| rust was mada
wis washed
men,
ors with pots of
from furnaces along the side
Over each of these furnaces wis a tank
[filled with green lignid that babbled
visible nndernenth
clean by another set
sghin's
one could not but consider poisonous
| from the nature of the compound
{ whence 1t fssued,
“How long does it take for a gang of
| workmen like this to remove the he rna-
cles from a ship?’ asked the reporter.
| **About two days, Sometimes they
| pnt on a8 many men as can work eon-
| veniently on a vessel's bottom. You
see the ea is to save expense It
costs a vessel from $500 to $1.000 a day
dock, and the men who do the work on
this steamer are furnished by the Mail
the job as fast as possible, t would
the company as much doc
each dav if only two men were employ.
ed in cleaning a bottom as it would if
| there were 100 at work.”
“Does the mixture that they
are now applying act
cnst kage
green
| cles?”
“Only in 4 measure,
he iron and form
where the little
Trey spread
1
i
solve it and eat into
rongh rusty places,
| elingers gather and grow,
| very fast and to a considerable depth
when a vessel is lving still for an ex-
| tended period, but when on the trip to
| China and returning a vast number will
hottom.
| how they 80
| vessel is in motion.”
““Are there no other and
means for preventing thelr presence?’
“There may be,”
they have not yet been discovered.
thousand different preparations have
been tried, but none of them are of
much account, if we except Lhe verdi-
gris compounti, and that
satisfactory. A fortune awaits
lucky man who can discover a compara.
tively inexpensive and at the same time
durable mixture, which, when applied
to a ship's bottom, will render
distasteful a place of re
barnaclies they
| infest it.
enllect easily when a
A
it 80
© LO these
en 1
$1 +
Lil
Will no longer
HKuee Breeches.
The old
reeches are mak
y come into f
11 not be a kneesy
a man not really in
. 10 wear them.
ly pre
betier
of
b ng
£4 ashior
1
iW matter
needy
Withon
ined by
© e
SLANCeS
legs, nic
man had
WeAr trousers
RT Be
pot
be sa
rnost
¥
sufficiency
the
iNous
encasei in masculine
ntaloons of |
wearers look
eves of ti
eral propor
alike—a
general bachelor,
well as a mental comfort to the poss
| SOT every variety of limbs
embrace every variety of
formity; AVETrage
being of inexhaustible,
rey Probably
| one really fine pair of
carrying a ma Y
ders
who
ie
\
of
the
1isiveness
legs employed in
's stomach and shonl-
men
them-
s about |
WRIK 1D
the proud
tie] vies
Knee bi
ed and
thia ht
to even 1 Casual «
the mo LselIver
A AN 55 A
Mental with anual Trauning.
Manual exercises,
{ same Lune in
highly attractive to healthy Doys.
you doubt this, gointo &
manaal training-school and
yourselves, Go, for instance,
forging-shop, where metals are
through the agency of heat,
which are at the
ellectual exercises,
the
see for
into our
wrought
A score
aproned, with many a drop of honest
sweat and bther trade-marks of toll,
stand up to their anvil with an un-
much they enjoy thelr work. What
| are they doing?
and hands, They are studying defini-
“iron,”
'
“steel,’’ “welding,” “temper
“upsetting,’’ “cuuling,”
And, in the shop whore meials are
ing.
| better name, we call our machine-shop),
i
i vestigation.
ly conducted, both mental and
manual. Every tool used and every
| process followed has its history, its
| genesis and its evolution.
Vega is now the brightest of the visible
! fixed stars and will be found nearly over
| head in ine evening. This 1s one of the
| stars whose distance from the earth has
been the subject of long continued and
| elaborate calculations conducted by the
| Washington astronomera within the past
two or three years. lis parallax is ahout
one quarter of a second, a point as difficult
to measure as the d ameter of a quarter of
| a dollar a dozen wiles away. The oom.
| puted distances of fixed stars are generally
{ stated in the number of years it would
require for light from them 10 travel
through space at the same rate of speed
that it passes through our solar system,
about 182,000 miles per second. Al this
rate 1t would take light trom Vega some 16
years to reach the earth. Bo fur us we are
aware, however, there is nothing known
about the speed of light outside of our
own system, aod it may be possible that it
fishes instantaneously or nearly 80 over
the billions of miles which separate one
solar system from another, If we are
forced to measure with our own solar sys-
tem yaristick the vast distances which
intervene between our sun and the mil 1008
of other suns which the telescope reveals,
wé are driven 10 the conclusion thai, in
lvoking at some of (he remotest stars which
powerful instruments render visible, we
are beholding them, not as they sppear
now, but as they appeared centuries ago,
and that they may be blotted from the
sky hundreds of years before thev crase to
shine for ue; a conclusion which appears
unprobable, if aot incredible.
18
AIA
Vega.
»
i
Mujkittle's toy Asin,
When Mrs, Mul qittle went the
sewing society the other day she agreed,
| after uci persnasion, that the young-
| ster might accompany her The sight
of 86 many ladies, all sitting in a
room, on making something
| greatly interested the boy, and for a
| time he walked aronnd without address-
ing the benevolent women, whose fin-
{
to
intent
gers flew for the benefit of the heathen,
| Finally he approached an old lady who
was busy with a press board and asked:
| “Whose coat is that?”
| “This is for some poor little heathen
boy,” replied the old lady, tapping the
hot “goose’ with a damped finger, and
| procesing Lo press a real,
| “Where does he live?”
“Away over the ocean.”
“Did you ever see him?"
“Oh, no.”
“Then h
will fi
“1f it don’t fit one it will fit
er
ow do
youg know the coat
m?"
“Haven't the heathens got
thes? '
“No. They ar
“Haven't
mothers?’
sey
s poor and
¥
got any
needy,’
fathers or
en,’
Nell, why don’t they buy clothes
: +9
}
1€ Ch
12
for ‘
**They |
sides they
t of a nakex
1
1
{
dren?
t any* money, and
Jothes these] ve
bee
avell
nee
“Sor 1 ramily, ain’t it?”
him a moment, €x-
Hooose’’ fora hot on
She looked at
changed
and replied
“Yes, all need
things, They have never had any.
“Then how do you know the want
| "em now?"’
thie Cool 2,
they clothes, poor
YW?
SBecauss
“W hat
there?”
“He?
“is hb healh
“What de
rascair’
“His clot}
*
that standin’ over
o
»
tla
i Lig
¥ Worn out.
Lis coat?"
Kinesss, that's wi ev 7
ew up that bol
i x
© 11
r the heathens?”
asked LU the young
Bay.
“wy ax
“AL
20 On
| yourself,"
{ “Then give me the shirt.”
“Move on, 1 tell you."
He went back to where Lhe
| man was handliog the “‘goose.”’
“Run along, little man, for 1 don™
| want you around here.”
“W hen are you going to make your
| boy some ciothes?”
“None of your business.”
“Jt ain’t yours either, is it?"
“Hush your mouth,”
“] couldn't hu: h anything else could
1p
“There, you little imp. You've made
| me burn my finger on the goose,”
“How did I make you?"
“Great Car, boy. go away from
here. Whose brat 1s this!” arising and
pointing te the boy.
“Willie,” callea Mrs Mulkittie,
| “opme away,” advancing. “1 thank
| youu, Mrs, Spillers, that he's no more of
a brat than yom son.”
“My son never goes around bother-
ing people,” replied Mrs spiliers.
“1 don’t allow Willie to bother peo-
ple either, but some people are easily
bothered,”
“Yes, and some mothers don’t know
how to take care of their children.”
“And,” said Mrs Mulkittie with
emphasis, ‘some mothers allow their
| children to go almost naked while they
gad about. That's what they do,”
and the indignant lady tossed her head.
Mrs, Spillers flew into a rage. She
shook her fist in Mrs, Mulkittie's face,
and just then the inquisitive youngster
and Mrs, Spillers’s boy made a break at
each other, grappled and rolied ort the
floor. Then the two mothers began 10
swing corners. Altogether, the affair
was one of the most enjoyable events
of the season, as the young ‘‘journal-
jst’? says in speaking of a strawberry
festival. The sewing society adjourned
sine die, and it is feared there will be
a decided falling off wn the heatben’s
ib 1
the heathen’s?”
You are heathen
Away. a
old wo-
Maid of the Mist,
A steamboat. is being ouilt on Niaga-
ra river below the falls, and next season
will carry passengers up almost to the
falling water. It will be named “Maid
of the Mist,” after the famous boat
which run down the river through the
when the sheriff (ried to seize it
and came out safely.
Men searching for lnek to givethema
ride only scare up horses for enterprise
to saddle