MY WASTED YOUTH,
Let me alone !
1 am weeping my wasted youth.
1 am weeping the starlight nights that I did
not see,
And the starlike eyes that never lit up for
me,
The moons that on rippling waters have
glanced and shone,
And the tender faces I have not looked upon.
Let me alone!
Let me alone !
I am weeping my wasted youth.
1 am weeping the merry dances I could not
tread,
And the tears of happiness that I did not
shed,
The feverish joy, and dumb, delicious pain,
And the loss, lost moments that will not
come a gain.
I am weeping my wasted youth.
Let me alone !
Let me alone!
I am weeping my wasted youth.
I am praying for those who have seen their
youth go by
half its sweets untasted,
. as I,
That God—for as much as He left the first
bright page
With unknown
I am weeping my wasted youth.
_— A ———
THE PEARL DIVERS,
Sir John Lakin. He had come
i
engaged in the pearl fishery. He was |
quite wealthy then, and in this he had |
an advantage over many of those who |
were engaged in the same business,
He could command the services of the |
best divers, and he could buy up pearls |
of those who needed the money. And]
though he had now amassed a fortune, |
yet he was still in the business. Money
was his god, and he worshipped it de-
voutly. The baronet’s wife was dead,
and the only member of the family who
was of his own blood was his daughter,
an only child. Her name was Bella.
Bella Lakin was nineteen years of |
age, and was as handsome as her father |
was avaricious. She did not possess |
that classic beauty which serves sculp-
tors as ideals of goddesses—but it, was a |
beauty peculiarly her own, It was a |
beauty of goodness—a beauty that could |
not have had any life without a warm, |
noble heart to enliven and soften it. |
she was short in stature, round and full |
in frame, with ruddy cheeks and spark- |
ling blue eyes. When she spoke she |
seemed ready to laugh, for a warm |
smile was always playing about her lips, |
and winking in her eyes when her soul
was at ease, i
One calm, moonlight night, when the |
fresh sea breeze drove away the heat
that had been so burdensome all the
day, and the air was filled with the per-
fame of oriental spices, Bella walked In |
her father’s garden. But she was not
alone. By her side walked a youth who |
had known her long. His name was |
Allan Wilton. He was an Englishman,
born in Calcutta, of poor parents, his
father having been a lieutenant in the
army. Allan came to Ceylon when only |
fourteen years of age, and had been |
engaged as a common pearl diver ever
since—being now four and twenty.
From his father he had imherited a |
goble foul, quickness of intelligence
and a fine sense of honor. He loved
knowledge, and, with Bella's assistance |
he had had as many books as he wished |
to read and study. He had been with
the baronet now six years, and during
that time he had brought more
pearls for his employer than any other
two men, if we except one native who |
been dead now over a year; He wasa |
noble-looking youth, carrying national
pride in his soul, and modesty and good-
ness in his soul and face both.
‘Bella,’ he said, as they reached the |
extremity of the garden and sat down
beneath a talipot tree, ‘I hardly think I
shall spend another season in Ceylon.’ !
‘What uttered the maiden, gazing up |
“urfs her companions’ face, as the smile |
died away from her own. ‘Not live in |
Ceylon? Do you mean io leave us?’
*Yes—I must go.’
‘No, no, Allan—you do not mean so.
‘1 fear 1 must, Bella.’
“But wherefore? Oh, if you go what
shall J do?
+Y ou will find plenty to do.’
‘Ay to sit and cry because I am so |
lonesome. You will not go, Allan— |
you will not. Tell me you will not.’
‘Ah, Bella, you know not what you |
say. I must not stay.’
‘But why not?’
‘Why the reason should be plain,’ |
replied the youth with some hesitation, |
but I can speak as plainly as you wish, |
I surely will not hide anything from
you; though I would rather you should |
gain the knowledge from your own un- |
derstanding.’
uf
o
Tell me—tell me all.’
Allan Wilton gazed some moments |
into the fair girls face, and then said,
with some tremulousness in his tone:
‘Pardon me, then, for the speech I
now make, You know how long I have |
known you. You know I came here a
poor boy, when you were a laughing, |
joyous girl—-'
‘And am I not the same now?’
‘You may be in that single respect;
but, alas! no longer a mate for me. O, |
I must speak plainly now! Bella, these
years I have passed near you have been |
happy ones, for amid all my toil the
light of your smiles has cheered me on.
But I am a boy no longer, nor even a
youth, as we use the term distinet from
manhood. I am a man now, and you
have grown a woman, Even now I
shall never efface your image from my
heart, nor would I it I could. Butif I
remain longer I shall only become more
firmly bound by those ties which must
break the heart in rending. O, Bella—
good, noble girl—you must see it now,
t should be wicked for me to stay.
Plainly, now, I tell you-—it can do no
harm--I love you too well to stay
longer. Now you have the truth,’
he fair girl withdrew her hand from
the youth's loosened g , aud bowed
her head. She remain thus some
moments, Finally she looked up, and
the moonbeams were reflected from the
pearly tears that had collected in her
eyes, and now stood trembling upon the
lashes,
‘Allan,’ she agitated
and if I
in a low,
tone, ‘I do
you,
have never before thought of this as
you now present it, it is because I have
been so happy in your company that 1
have not looked much te the future.
For joy, I have only looked to your
coming, from hour to hour, and from
day to day. But do not leave me now
—Oh, do not! I should die if you were
gonel’
With these words, spoken at the close
in quiek, spasmodic tones, she placed
her hand upon Allan’s arm, and pillow-
ed her head upon his bosom.
‘But,’ said Allan, trying to be calm,
‘why should 1 stay, when it could only
end in misery to us both? Oh, you
should know that to live thus we should
be unhappy unless we could be united
forever—and that cannot be.’
‘Why may it not be?’ murmured the
maiden, without looking up.
‘How, Bella? Would you consent?’
‘Oh, with all my heart, and all my
soull’
And as the fair girl [thus spoke she
clung more closely to the noble youth.
For a moment Allan forgot all else
16 would not decelve himself,
wish I had never known the thing you
consent to this—‘never!’
‘He may—he may,’ cried Bella learn-
estly. He loves me, and I donot think
ne would see me miserable. He has
money enough, and—"’
‘Hold, Bella, I can have as much
money as we should ever want, 1 pos-
sess a secret that is worth more than I
shoukl dare to estimate,
new pearl bank which no man save
myself has yet seen. But your father
Yet Bella was hopeful. Bhe made
‘Are you crazy, my child? Sir John
Lakin oried, as his daughter confessed |
‘Mar- |
you wedded to one of my native slaves,’
‘But Allan is good, father, and he is |
hand of any woman in |
the country. He loves me and I love
iim.’
‘Nonsense, Bella. I have a husband
all ready for you! One who ean provide
for you.’
‘ Perhaps you mean Condor Sudham,’
the girl said.
‘Av—I do mean him.’
‘Do you mean to tell me that I must
be the wife of that man?’ asked Bella,
speaking more with astonishment than
‘It is all settled, my child.’
Bella gazed into her father’s face in
speechless surprise; and no wonder.
This Condor Sudham was a scion of a
Dutch family that once had a title, He
was born on the island, and was now
over forty years of age. Ie was a
member of the legislative council, and
a merchant, and was one of the most
wealthy men In the country. He was
a short dumpy, coarse, dark-featured
man, well enough as a f the
member of
government, but never made for an
readyto hismoney, and wife and children
would only find a secondary place in his
heart,
And such was the man the baronet
would have his « :
had seen Bella often
she would make a {ine
estate. He would tal
ing her, and having her:
But
ent opinions on the subje
th ht you were earnest,
of 1 i
father, 1 d know exactly what to
say.’
‘Ah, and what would it be, my chi
‘I never can be that man’s wife,’
‘Very well. You will have a father’s
authority to contend with, then. Be
assured you shall marry him, for so 1
have promised,’
But the baronet found himself with
more work on his hands than he had
Bella grew sad and mel:
ta hia tha mH
lie, Wie In
differ
ae
SLOWS
1d?
upon him that his child was beginning
to lose all love for him. looked
She
smiled no more in
He could not help noti-
cing this, and he wished to overcomes
it; but yet he thought not of granting |
erush her and she
He looked upon the poor pearl-driver as
He haa
heart. Ile knew of only two powers of |
nature—two moral and social execu-
One day he and |
Sudham sat in couneil.
‘Upon my soul,’ said the Dutch scion,
‘I must have her for my wife, for 1
*And 80 she shall be, the baronet re- |
She is crazy now with this |
peari-diver.’
‘Why not send him off?’
‘Because 1 fear Bella would go with
‘But shut her up.’
*Yes—I know. But then she would
‘Then look,’ cried Sudham, energeti-
cally, for a very happy thought had
*Why not get him to dive
for the great pearl which is sunken close
by the Bangale Rocks?’
‘But would he do it?’ returned the
baronet, catching at the idea.
‘Make him do it,’ suggested the mer-
‘Promise him the hand of Bella
if he succeeds,’
‘And suppose he does succeed?’
‘He cannot. Among these rocks
there 18 a current running so swift and
furious that po mortal can withstand it.
Over twenty of the best native divers
have lost their lives in pursuit of that
pearl. I have seen logs of wood sunk
near these rocks, with something at
tached to them to sink them, ina
few moments the surface of the water
would be covered with splinters. I tell
you if he dives there he comes not up
alive.’
‘Very well,’ returned Lakin, after
gome thought; ‘if you say so, so be it.’
‘I do say 80, and let it be done as soon
as you please,
And so it was settled,
This pear] after which Allan was to
had been taken some years before on a
bank not far from the rocks, Three
divers were out, and all three of them
were under water together, when an
oyster of extraordinary size was seen.
It was brought up and opened, and
within was found a pearl as large as a
robin’s egg. As the boat was nearing
the shore a dispute arose among the
divers as to who should receive pay for
the pearl. From words they passed to
blows, and in the struggle the oyster
was lost overboard, It sank near the
rocks, and ns the oyster was dead, it
could not have moved away by any vo-
lition of its own.
| ‘No, no, nol’ cried Bella, after Allan
{ had informed her of the ordeal her
| father had given him to pass. ‘You
| shall not do this. Oh, all who have
tried it have died?
‘But it must be so,’ returned the
| bas given me his solemn word, in pres-
| ence of the conneillor, Sudham, that if
your hand. If I die so let it be; but I
| feel that I shall not. Last night 1 had
the most pleasant and promising dreams,
{ and I have not a single fear in the pros-
pect. Think: If I succeed—you are
{ mine forevermore. Oh, we will not
| look beyond this! ‘And listen: I think I
| hold a secret that none of the divers
| have fairly considered. They
!of the tide, thinking that the water
| that the most quiet time at the bottom
is after the tide has begun to come in.
to gain it?
A vast crowd were collected about
The story of thestrange trial which was
to coms off had become known among
y
it.
witness The chief magistrate was
there
er, and she was pale and trembling.
The hour had come
the clear
nol yet present,
Nearly half an hoar
imagine that he would not come. But
One of them was Allan Wilton,
stood in bow of the boat, and his bear-
ing was firm and sure. He was dressed
a simple skirt of silk about his loins
which reached half way to his knees,
At length the boat stopped, and there
was a hushed stiliness upon the shore,
The water was in wild commotion, and
the surges lashed madly among the
rocks
*Oh, he shall not dive! gasped Della,
clasping her hands in agony. Dut her
father bade her be still,
Four stout oarsmen rowed the boat
to the spot where the youth wished to
stop, and there they held it. He did
not reach where the
hissed and boiled, but
distance from it. A few moments
light bark trembled close by the mighty
caldron, and then the yo xl upon
the bow, He cast one glances upon the
fair that now leaned the
baronet for support and then
his hands above his head and prepared
to dive. There was a low murmer upon
the piace
fa
the
a
NAR BRAN
4 EY
10110 upon
5 } 1 |
il he closed
ul
storm, and every eye was eagerly fixed
upon the noble In a
more. the diver left the bow of the boat,
his body vibrated an instant in the air,
form.
closed over it.
Bella Lakin stood with bands firmly
clasped, her eyes fixed with a wild, va-
cant stare upon the spot where the
youth® had gone down, while every
musele and nerve in her frame seemed
fixed as marble.
The minutes
three—and UU
vie
passe —one—{ Wo
upon her bosom. The color now left
spread her countenance,
But look! There comes a shadow
upon the sarface of the water—the ele-
It is the pearl-diver! He shakes his
head smartly, and then strikes quickly
out, with one hand firmly closed. But
he goes not toward the boat, Ie turns
his head to the shore, and his strokes
Bella started eagerly forward, and
Her lips moved,
and an earnest of thanksgiving went up
to God!
‘Sir John,’ he said, ‘your long-sought
prize is gained, and 80 is mine. Here
is the pearl!"
Ie extended his hand as he spoke,
and in it was one shell of the hnge oys-
ter. A filmy, muscular substance still
adhered to the shell, and in the midst
of it was the massive pearl!
‘It is not the onel’ uttered Condor
Sudham,
‘No-it cannot bel’ responded the
baronet.
‘Let me see!’ shouted an old diver,
working his way through the crowd,
‘I am the one who first found it, and
I know it well for I not only opened the
shell and thus killed the oyster, but 1
measured the pearl, Hal ’tis the one—
the very one! and here is where I notch-
ed the shell in opening it. Gentlemen
this is the pearl!
‘Sir John,’ now spoke the chief mag-
jstrate who had stood close by the ba-
ronet, ‘you cannot retract. By my soul,
he must be a wretch indeed who could
snatch reward from such devoted love
and matchless daring.’
‘Ay, ay!’ shouted a hundred tongues.
‘It must be the pearl,’ the baronet
uttered. He looked up as he spoke,
and found that his child was already
clasped within her lover's embrace, and
that upon his bosom she was weeping
be requested to dive, was one which
in frantic joy. He dared say no more,
Condor oast one of ne
tense chagrin on the happy couple, and
then turned away,
Within a week Allan Wilton held
Bella to his bosom, and she was his for
life; and within the next week he gained
permission to fish for pearls during one
year in any place which was not yet let
out.
spoken to Bella, and thers he went at
work, People wondered at the vast
supply of pearls he gained, and great
effort was made to buy him off.
he maintained his exclusive right for
the season, and at the expiration of that
time stood second only to Bir John in
woalth among all the men of the coun
try. But this was only secondary in
his life-cup, That one prize, which he
| brightest jewel in his crown of life—
the *“*pearl of great price.”
Annoyances,
The arrows of much sarcasm are dis-
| charged at the bill collector. Burely,
| quite as much sympathy as the man on
whose spirits he throws a wet blanket,
| After climbing three flights of stairs,
| the collector enters the othce of the
| colonel,
« “What is it, young man?”
“I have a little bill here fron Nogins
& Company,” handing him a piece of
paper,
“Well,” taking the bill and looking
tat it, “I'll step in sometime during the
| week and pay it.”
‘““That’s what you said last month
colonel,”
“That'll do; I’m busy and don’t want
to be bothered,”
The collector enters a lawyer's office.
“I've pad this thing once, says the
lawyer,
“No, you said that you would pay it,
but you haven't done so yet."
“That'll do, sir. 1 transact my bu-
| siness with the firm and don’t need any
| assistance.”
“When shall I come again?”
“Never mind: I'l] settle the bill”
Then the collector calls on a very
| polite man.
“Come
seat.’
“Haven't time to set down,
a little bill here.”
“Yes, Well,
come around and settle it. The fact is,
I haven't any money at present, but if
you'll eall round to-morrow afternoon,
[711 probably be able to pay you. Good
morning.’ and, as the collector retires,
the polite gentleman muses,
YW Have an engagement
in the
The 4 man on
street and presents him a bill, The man
| frowns and says:
“I never pay bills on the street, If
you want to see me on business, why
don’t you come to u fice?”
Shortly afterwards
ters the office, ‘Here you are again.
Don't give a man any chance at all.”
“You said you transacted business in
your 55, 1"
“Never mind what 1
tell your employers of your
No for further
Ti I'm busy."
i COLIeCis
in, sir; Have a
come in.
I have
afternoon.
country.”
"
colieclor
ry
i
i
at An
stops
iV ©
the
“id
collector en-
a.
w said, 1 shall
impudence,
10 conversation.
1 do.
a 3
tL i
ils ann
iad
NO
with
e's life 18 not
:
ut VANCES,
--—
Artificial Fiowers.,
paratively re.
ture of
lowers has reached its present
yrtions, These beautiful pro-
duct skill are extensively
used for decorative purposes, ‘‘Cloth-
rs buy our flowers a good deal to deco-
to give away w
suits! said a prominent manufacturer:
“They are used in theatres for
scenic effects and by photographers for
backgrounds, We get up many funeral
designs, but heaviest business is
during the holiday season. Rosebuds,
pansies, forget-me-nots, calla
| heliotropes, smilax, rose leaves, ferns,
| ote. . are favorite wedding presents, and
{rat ¢ tiation
1008 01 BIS
i ¥
th
rate their s Ss and ith
‘id
Ai80
our
bridal trouseau. They likewise often
form the canopy under which the mar-
riage ceremony is performed.
corsage, and the use of natural flowers
for personal ornament is much lessened
in consequence, Hanging baskets, pols,
| vases and window bowls are growing
in popularity.
{ lin, satin and velvet; wax for plants,
stiffening.
say how many persons are employed in
There are
i
{ the business in this city.
{ some 150 establishments,
{ small, in the different branches of the
{ trade. The number of employees must
| amount to several thousand, the great
majority of whom are women and girls,
only the colorers and cutters being
| men. The girls put on the wires and
do the pressing.
workers in two years and skillful in
four or five years. It is a well paid
trade, and a girl who has become an
expert can earn twenty dollars a week.
Of those who attempt to learn the busi-
ness, about twenty per
fitted for it, and have to drop eut.”
Westminster Abbey,
Westminster Abbey remained un-
Confessor to Henry the IIL. This mo-
narch tore the entire edifice down and
replaced it with the ‘‘most lovely and
lovable thing in Christendom’ erected
at cost of half-a-million, During the
reign of the Edwards, improviments
were constantly being made and the
name was finished in the reign of Hen-
ry by the Lord Mayor of London, so
well and widely known, from the nur-
sery story of Dick “Whittington and
His Cat,” in time to allow the Te Deum
to be sung in it when the triumphant
processions swept through the Abbey
after the victory of Agincourt. Hen
ry VII built the chapel, which is known
by his name, and Abbott Ialip built a
portion of the western towers shortly
afterward, More than two centuries
afterwards Sir Christophers’s men com
pleted Islip’s work by finishing the
towers, The edifice is not yet complete,
as the square central tower req w
lofty spire to complete it.
Bhaving. By The Dial.
It is safe to say that nine out of ten
of the men one meets on the streets in
our cities shave, or rather are shaved.
They had been sitting on the promen-
| ade deck for more than an hour, when
| she suggested that they go down stairs
and look at the machinery. He agreed,
Indeed, one
must go into mathematics, to the tables
of permutations and combinations, to |
possible, Woman 1s accused of being
pearances and the frivolities of the mir-
it. The reason he escapes the charge is |
that he blandly sets down his decora-
And it is true that shaving is
very old custom, nor have we anything |
to say against it, except that it is un-
natural, and 18, and should be acknowl- |
voice.” This may be taken #8 the
grammatical phrase or as an acknowl.
edement of the voice of the barber they
have to endure. Each signification
true,
i8
§
that few understand their art. There
ix a financial blunder at the bottom of
1t that makes trouble all through. The
dogma that a shave 18 a shave is a mis-
take, One man with a stiff beard and
a full face will choose to have his |
whole expansive countenance clean |
shorn ; another will have only his up-
To each it is a **shave,’’ and
each is charged alike. One may re-
quire thirty minutes attention, the |
other ten minutes, The first will dull
a razor, the second not affect its edge.
To each it is ten cents. Now a bar-
ber’s working day we will assume, is |
ten hourslong. Ifhe is occupied three-
quarters of the time he must be busier
than usually appears, This gives him |
seven hours labor, and if he struck a
day of half-hour faces, his whole
receipts would be $1.40. If his luck |
gave hum ten minute cases he would |
take in $2.10. Even this would not |
pay were it not for the seductive side
the trade that brings in more
per hour than the fundamental indus-
Now, as the price and circum-
stances of shaving go, it is a constant |
hurry to finish a man, as shaving scarce.
ly pays at the best; and, if he i
one of the most absorbing subjects— |
full shave and stiff beard—it 18 a loss
to work upon him. To shave him care-
fully costs too much time and ti
of the razor. To skim over his face,
cutting off sections of beard and
there, and Jeaving cases of hair
along the deserts of the cheek, saves
the razor, but spoils the person who
the operation, and whe should
irely forgotten. The scale |
of prices ought to be regulated by what |
one gets, and barbers ought to have the |
courage to charge for what they do. |
This done a revolution in the art, would |
follow. Speed would uot be the great
alm. Attention could be given to the
removal of the beard, which in olden
times it was as important to remove as
the lather, and the man who went out
of the barber shop would leave satisfied,
instead of hoping 4 next time it
might be better, We recommend these
considerations to the "trade without
] for advice, Shaving Is & cus-
m of civilization; scalping is a token
of savagery; playing with soap bubbles |
3 a game of childhood. It is no
4 f luck which of thesn
patier ol
barber's
is
oe edge
here
odd
not be ent
al
opera- |
patron
luck wi
ns falls to the to- |
day.
os AAAI 5
A German Villiage Wedding.
The village church, where the wed-
ding e, is on the top of a little |
craggy hill. The church is very oid,
built of gray stone, with a square tower
and an odd-shaped belfry. The stony
path led through the graveyard to the |
church door. The chime of bells rang
out with a decorus joy. ‘‘Letall things
ba done decently and in order,’ they
seemed to ring: *‘not too fast; we are
staid people and take time for all |
things.” The interior of
was cold and severe looking, the walls |
white-washed, but the galleries painted |
pink and blue. The long, narrow |
windows seemed set in stone arches, so
thick was the wall
took plac
the minister preaches far |
Un one |
side of the altar hung a portrait of |
Luther: on the other of Melanchthon, |
The wedding took place at midday. |
First came a troop of little girls, each |
carrying in her hand tiny bunches of
jes, so that
braided ha'r (no hats) and dressesialmost |
demure as the little woman in the old- |
fashioned picture books, Next cams |
three bridesmaids walking together, |
lastly the groom and groomsmen. The |
All knelt in prayer. Then the |
on one side a white silk handkerchief, & |
sprig of rosemary and a lemon! I won-
dered to myself if the lemon was embia- |
matic of the sourness of married life, |
She then returned to the pew. I noti-
ced that there was on the other side of
the altar another white silk handker- |
chief, sprig of rosemary and a new |
Bible,
The cholr sang quite a long hymn.
The minister went up into the pulpit
and preached a sermon of about twenty
minutes, The choir sang another hymn,
A little boy placed a long, low stool
before the altar, The minister descend-
ed, and the bride joined the groom at
the altar, the bridesmaids and grooms
men remaining in the pews. At the
close of the ceremony the minister
sented the groom with the new Bible
The choir sang still another hymn,
Then the bride returned to her pew and
the groom to his and said their prayers,
after which the groom and groomsmen
left the church and were not joined by
the bride until they were quite out in
the churchyard, It seems the silk hand-
kerchicf, lemon and rosemary on one
side of the altar were for the minister.
On the other the gift was for the organ
ist.
“Young man have you any objection
I've allus been
He replied that he would be delighted
“This, I suppose you know,” began
ft 13]
“Y es—yes—came from the State of
The old woman stuck up her nose but
“That up there is the walking-beawm.”’
“Oh, is it? How nice! You wouldn’t
could walk, but of course it
oes!”
The old woman put on her spectacles
th
the girl
girl.
“That rod you see there,” continued
an eccen~
“How funny! But why shouldn't it
There are eccentric people, and
shouldn’t there Le eccentric rods?
I presume it cranky sometimes.
George.
“1 don’t believe
‘a
geLs
it!
muttered the
“And that is called a steam chest,
to
in there
It’s the
Yes,
“Oh! is it? I've always wanted
one, They put their steam
The old woman removed her specs
‘““That thing up there is called a
steam-dial,” said George.
“Oh, how nice! I’ve read of it some-
I see the
My! but who'd believe
team!
pointer 1s at 50,
we were carrying eighty tons of s
me—indeed, must. What's that
glass thing?”
“It’s a water indicator.”
“Oh, I see. It indicates that we are
on the water. How grateful we ought
to be to the geniuses of America for
these inventions!”
Here the o
with a “kumphl”
young man called:
“Madam, you are not interested?”
“100k a-here, young man!” X-
claimed as she wheeled around; *“*mab-
be you kin innercent
al, and mebbe she delights in It,
hes to stuffing old hens
hopped straw it won't go down!
I'm a walkin’-beam myself
g to walk.”
And away she sailed, carryin
pounds of steam by the dial
you
1 »
lady started to leave
of disgust, 1 the
fd
LU
3
1
she e
m p 1 oo
makea fool of that
young
ft Ww
{
+}
r}
igt
en it of 4
+8
HE iid
i
r
Odd
Pass
g forty-
mmsmss—— AI CI ——————
Brazilian CUsja.
*] have wondered,
who recently
“wh
"re
r
:
marked a gen-
sturned from
|
tieman u
visval Frid
tropical irae
+
h
1
¢
Brazil, y importers of
t the
delightfully co
Brazil in this
wild and is ct
The caju tree
of a tree, but
spreading and
¢
t
1 and refreshing caju of
city. The caju grows
itivated in that country.
} the dignity
are wide
larger than
brilliant
anches
= ol
hose of the 1
green color and oval sl
if they were
on the extremit
i, paie vellow 1
Varies He
¥
188 OF
in cls
“One variety of the
tl garden caju,
is as large, as a Bartlett
shaped something like it. Some
yellow, some deep
red, and other
ed cheeks,
more :
hat of any f{ ti
the
n appearance
ever saw, but it
of
18
an
than t
it is much more pro-
lific than the juiciest orange. It is the
custom of the Brazilians to suck a caju
before breakfast, but at any hour of the
day the juice 1s delightful. t is sweet
and delicious, slightly astringent, and
a wonderful allayer of thirst. The juice
of one caju is more grateful to a thirsty
person than a goblet of the purest
water,
“The wild caju which grows profuse-
ly in the forests, is small and acrid, and
18 gathered by the natives for wine
making. The wine made from it re.
sembles in taste an ordinary claret
sweetened with sugar, and is a popular
beverage among the poorer people. A
peculiarity of the caju is its seed, which
grows on the outside of the fruit, and
hangs from its Jarger extremity. The
seed is in size and appearance like a
large kidney bean. The kernel is sur-
rounded by a pulpy covering, which
secretes a powerful fluid acid. When-
ever this touches the flesh a painful
blister will form at once, similar to that
made by dropping burning particles of
a parlor match on the hand. By roast-
ing the kernals, however, this trouble-
some property of the seed is destroyed.
The roasted kernels of caju seeds are as
popular in some paris of Brazil as pea-
nuts are here, and taste very much like
them. In roasting the kernels great
care is exercised in preventing the smoke
that rises from them from touching any
part of the flesh, for whenever it touches
a most irritating inflammation is the im-
mediate result, If the smoke enters
the eyes it will destroy the sight. “The
caju has almost as many varieties as the
American pear, and it would certainly
become a popular fruit if introduced
here,’
1
Goddess of Uholjers,
There isat Calcutta a temple devoted
to tho goddess of cholera, and it con-
tains a curious idol. This consists
of a carcass with a vulture preying
upon it, and the bird supports the god-
dess, Oda Behee, who sits with her
hands folded. On the right is Munsha,
the goddess of serpents and near her
Shiva, the destroying principle; on the
left is Sheetola, the goddess of small.
pox and a disease which swept off a
million persons in Europe between 1860
and 1872; but the scientific yalue of
its decisions and the hygienic value of
its recommendations are at present
unknown quantities,
Joy is the greater side of mas.