THY MOTHER,
Lead thy mother tenderly
Down life’s steep decline
Once her arm was thy support,
Now she leans on thine,
See upon her loving face
Those deep lines of care;
Think-—it was her toil for thee
Left that record there.
Ne'er forget her tireless watch
Kept by day and night,
Taking from her step the grace,
From her eye the light;
Cherish well her faithful heart,
Which, thro’ weary years,
Echoed with its sympathy
All thy smiles and tears,
Thank God for thy mother's love;
Guard the priceless boon;
For the bitter parting hoar
Cometh all too soon.
When thy grateful tenderness
Loses power to save,
Earth will hold no dearer spot
Than thy mother’s grave,
A year before, the psce had been a
wild, unbroken prairie, with here and
there tracts of woodland. The people
had come with the advancing railroad,
and there was now a town, They called
there was no bay there, The nearest
stream of any sire was ten miles to
the eastwaad, and this was only navi-
gable for hight steamers at high stages
of the water, With that curious com-
pleteness of modern frontier life, the
town within ninety days of the time the
first rongh shanty was pat up had a post-
office, churches, school-house, stores
and saloons, The people had arrived,
settled down, laid out the city, and as-
sumed a certain state of eclivilizotion
within the space of three months.
Though coming from fourteen different
nations, total strangers to each other,
and hardly able to master the legal
language of their adopted country,
they seemed to imbibe at once with the
free air of the prairie that spirit of fra.
ternity, helpfulness and good nature
that charscterizes the Western Amaori-
can. With it all there was also the
deeper human nature that underlies all
tongues and nationalities.
in these raw, nnpainted houses lived
men and women, young children, young
men and maidens, Where these are
spring friendship, sweet domestic life,
hope, jealousy, patience, virtue, selfish-
ness and love. 1t was not all of life to
grub up the rough sod, to [ell the trees,
to plant, to build fences, to buy and
sell and make a home. When night
fell, and the lovers’ moon rose above
ragged woods, there were young men
and maidens, shining eyes under home-
ly hoods, and whisparings on the silent,
open prairie, where only the stars could
hear,
a new land, as it were in an eddy of the
mighty stream of immigration, was
Mina Landerfelt, Her father, evident-
ly released from Prussian military ser-
vice too late to be of any valne to him-
self, had taken a quarter section, and
with some help from the neighbors,
particularly the Americans, had reared
some kind of a house just at the edge
of the woods, Here with him lived
Mina, stout of heart aud strong of
limb, his daughter and more than
helpmeet, Wife and mother there was
none. She slept near Bingen on the
Rhine,
With the others came also Silas Hig-
gias, from Vermont, half farmer, half
sailor, a wanderer with neither home
nor friends, He, too, had run up a
yellow shanty, and lived alone, his own
housekeeper, man-of-all-work, gardener
and earpenter. There were whispers
through the place that he was in some
sense wanting, a witless creature, vision-
ary and anpractical. This Iast, in the
eyes of the Americans, was enough to
place him at once among the failures,
He had a few tools, chiefly an axe,
whieh he could wield with wonderful
skill, and his services were always in
request. He seemed a sby man, re
served, silent, and not social, This,
too, wns against him, tn the opinion of
the foreign elemezt, Moreover, he
saved his money, which in the eyes of
the saloonkeepers and patrons was a
serious fault,
He was, in truth, a man ignorant of
himself, His life from his youth up
hed been so rough, so marked by toil,
negleet and hardship, that he had grown
patiently dull, He had not yet waked
up to human life, He had been too
long struggling for food. Mina came—
and he lived. He was at the rough
shed that served as a railway station
when she and her father were set down
on the raw prairie, weary, frightened
and a little dazed at the strange place
and stranger people, He had even
spoken her about ber baggage, and
offered elf as house-builder—for
they mus ave a house. She under-
stood not a word, and yet she did un-
derstand, and blushed and smiled upon
him.
had been born of full stature in that
place. He was a thinker, an observer
and an inventor, If he toiled before,
now he worked. If they had thought
him stupid once, now they ealled him
insane,
her father's land adjoined his own, He
had often tried to speak to her, but it
had not been a happy conversation, and
yet it served to thrill him with some-
thing new, which he guessed at, but
could not name, Itseemed too good to
He could not tell her. He could only
show her, some day, by some grand
deed, and then she would kuow and
understand,
His new birth made him an observer,
and this is what he observed: the one
great danger thst overhung the town
was fire. If a forest fire should ever
get beyond control, nothing could save
the place, the farms, the houses, or
even the people. Flight would be
nearly impossible, Where could they
go from the fire that outran the wind?
here could they hide from a tempest
of flame? From ol he moved
on, impelled by a desire to do some-
thing, if need came, for Mina, to in-
vention, He would prepare for that
dreadful day-—the coming of fire, Not
with swift horses to run to the river;
that were idle, He wonld stay and fight
the fire, He would build an ark of
safety against the deluge of smoke aud
| flame.
ic hand, in search of something, He
goon found
town, and at once sold part of his land,
and with the proceeds bought what
goomed a worthless tract of land on the
banks of a little run. He smiled in a
was complete, The ignorant settler
had practically sold a mine—a mine of
alumina, most precious of metals, but
bank.
my brickyard.”
bank, He wanted the olay for another
was an afterthought. That was a little
notion that would keep,
prepare for the deluge. Already four
| weeks had passed without rain, The
| dust in the rough sireets was almost
unbearable, Three nights before he had
| seen a suspicious glare on the far south:
ern horizon, where the grass seemed to
meet the sky,
“The day o
round somewhere,
| afloat,”
The next day he hired a man aod
cart to team clay from his new mine to
| his land in the village. The man shov-
eled up wealth and did not know it,
and was content with two dollars a day
| for self and horse. As for Bilas, he
refused all offers of work, and staid at
home busy in one corner of his land,
judgment is Ic afin’
It's time the ark was
!
{
plenty to do at good wages.
aflair,
ever,
beer garden had
a lager
and dancing.
plenty of leisure and money. He
played the fiddle at tho saloon, and by
pointment,
“She'll have him,
dance, and she likes that,
Mebbe she likes that kind,”
The stranger's suit—for
seemed —appeared to prosper,
such
the little capital in the place to start a
small brickyard, and he had given up
his carpentry to become a manufacturer,
| ings,
| ground a stockade of stont posts, mak-
ling an enclosure almost thirty feet
square, with a narrow opening at one
side, which seemed to serve as a gate,
covered with laths, while bireh brush
| was woven in between the posts in a
rnde kind of basket work.
At nightfall the people gathered about
| the structure with curious questions as
{to its object. Was it house, pound,
{ corral, or what? To all of which he
means ark o' satety.” He seemed to
| work upon the thing with a sort of mad
| haste, eating his meals in the open air,
| scarcely sleeping at all, and toiling
| nineteen hours in one day. By the
| third day a heavy flat roof had been
| added, supported by rough posts sunk
{mm the ground, within the structure,
| One narrow opening had been left for
a door, and a square hole near the roof
seemed intended for a window. From
carpenter he turned plasterer, The dry
clay brought from his pit was tempered
with water, and with a big wooden
trowel he plastered over the entire
structure, without and with with a
| heavy coat of clay.
Now were the people convinced the
man was insane, Even Mina, who had
watched the work from her father's
house, was moved to a mixture of pity
it
ia,
toward so foolish a man, and doubt per-
haps of the people, and dimly wonder-
ing if it were not they who were
insane. Oace, in the night, she Lad
risen to wait on her father, who was
ailing, and had gone out in the dark to
draw some water, It seemed like the
approach of dawn, for there wax a rosy
glow in the sky. By its uncertain light
saw Silas toiling in frantic haste at
She stood watching
ale
his crazy scheme.
unobserved for
heard through
night the refrain of soma oid
a
the
moment, and
ALO
at
}
i
“0Ya, the Lord abides with him," she
said in German, and then she went into
the house, sure that he was not insane,
and with a vague dread of something,
she knew not what, It was strange the
sky was so red at that early hour,
Having covered the walls with clay
and spread the entire roof thick with
it, he built a roaring bonfire inside the
| stricture.
people said, He even piled brushwood
| against the walls of the structure and
sot fire to this rlso, so that the bmild-
ing without and within seemed des.
uned to entire destruction. Some
| of the people remounstrated with him,
sad said 18 was dangerous to build such
only kindling-wood. He pointed to
| two large tubs standing near, each filled
with water that was muddy with clay,
fle would watch the fire, It would do
no harm, Many idiera gathered near
to see the thing burn down, but to their
| surprise it remained intact, By night
the fire burned ont, and the next day
a dull brick red.
The work was complete, and Silas sat
faced Yankee, called at the open door,
“Been lookin’ at that ark o' yours,
| Qur'us concern, but 1 guess she'll do.
| Goin’ wo charge much for storage o
| papers and valuables?”
“You've struck my notion of thing,
| neighbor—only valuables
| Bents will be high, and if wuss
| comes to wuss, cargo will be liable to be
| thrown overboard to save hfe, Under.
| stand?”
“No, Storage and insurance
| storage and insurance. Didn't like the
looks o' things last night, There's
{ smoke in the air ncw, Got some
| fire,”
“The kara was not built for cargo;
| it's for passengers, I'll take your staff,
if trouble comes, but it will cost you
ten dollars a day for every square foot
of space, and if I must throw it out to
save life, out it will ge."
“Folks will never look themselves in
that oven, It's only fit for papers and
the like.”
“Mebbe not. We'll see when it
comes,”
In one day the opinion of the town
changed from one extreme to another,
They had called Bilas Higgins a orazy
fool. Now he was the wisest and clear.
ly the richest man on the section. He
owned a olay bank and a safe deposit
—4two banks of unknown eapacity for
wealth,
Nothing happened for three weeks,
and the brick hut would have been for
gotten had not its black und red walls
been in plain sight of the main street.
There were new arrivals every day, new
pa
|
them, They were walking arm in arm
along the dusky road toward the town
when he overtook them, There was,
low in the north, a faint glare in the
sky, and as he passed Mina stopped and
in rather wild English asked him what
it meant,
“it's the day o' judgment, And,
Miss Mina, if wnss comes to wuss,
don't try to ran. It will outrun the
fastest horse, Don't run, but come to
"”
me,
stood better than Mina, lasoghed, and
said to her in German: “The wind is
the wrong way. There is no danger;
and if there were, I would take care of
you."
“The day had been hot and sultry,
with a fitful breeze and yellow sky.
The alr seemed pungent and fall
strange odors.
changed suddenly, and blew hot and
dry from the northweet, Silas prepared
his evening meal with his own hands,
as waa his custom, and sat down listless,
with no appetite, snd heavy with disap-
pointment, and filled with a vague dread
of something he could ot define. Just
as he sat down there came a hurried
knock at the door. He took a lamp,
and opened the door, There was no
It was as light as day,
1 he the road a team, with
two men unloading a huge trunk. By
the door stood the Eastern man,
“Hore it is. Measure it yourself,
Me and my pards are going to run for
the river, If we never get back, bust
open the trunk and take your pay out «'
what ye find."
The two men took the trunk and ran
with it to the kara, and then as quickly
ran back to their team. Just then a
four-horse wagon loaded with men, wo-
men and children was driven at fraatic
speed past the house. There were
shouts and cries in the air. Above all
rose a deep, sullen roar—a something
advancing through the forest behind
the town, The road was filled with
cattle as by magio, bellowing and toss-
their rns, He heard a child
scream by the gale, and ran bage-headed
al ii meant. A child
1, trampled upon ti
took it
sad ran for the
Che deluge
ready. He
hauled the
of
"
ing h
cl lay by
'Y ihe
up fea
brick hut,
The ark was
laid the child down inst
trouk within, and with won.
derful skill took up a kind of
shutter coated with clay and jamme
the window, wher
to fit igh
had come.
Tron
£ + cvs did
’ it Bene
hen plunging his hs
a tub that stood ready by the window,
he took up wet clay and plastered it
over the crack round the shutter,
Before it was half done adozen frantic
men and women were at the door, some
with bundles, some with children in
their arms,
“Help me!” cried Silas, “Rig up the
1
i: &
3
*
Pp all
Ready hands seemed to eateh
hint, and in a moment the door was hung
and ready to close,
“Don’t be scart, Koep outside as
Just
watch the thang half a minute.”
I'hen he was gone, How he reached
the Landerfelts’ he never knew. Mina
stood by the door stupefied with horror,
They had no horse, Whither ecounid
they fly before such a sea of fire? Her
helpless, and lay upon the bed and
moaned, Mina met him at the door,
Not a word was said, and Silas paused
just for a moment irresolute,
save both?
“Mein fader,”
“Yes, I'll carry
walk.”
She did not understand, She did not
see how he could save them, and sup
posed he had come perhaps to die with
them,
‘No, no! Go-—you go-run--run!”
It was all she could say in Eoglish,
though she talked volubly in German.
He entered the house and took the sick
man on his back, and then together
him, it you ean
with the red wonder all about
Half the town was on fire, All
the sky was an oven, the woods were
a furnace, It's hot breath was in their
faces,
On reashing the kara they found it
tightly closed, The people had sel-
id gone inside and left them to their
ate,
“Open the door!
1 will tear it down!”
The heat was intolerable, the smoke
blinding. He laid his burden on the
ground and looked at Mina,
“Mina, 1 built that for you, agin this
day. These wretches have stole it; but
t shall die with ns, I'll ron it in
half a minute, Anyway, 1 oan die with
you, and that's something. Open
the door, or [ break the hull thing to
pieces!”
There was a movement inside as if
some humanity was struggling with
brutal selfishness, Then the door was
opened slightly,
“The man done this deserves to
be killed, and I'll do it. Open the door,
or I'll destroy ye altogether,”
It seemed almost too late, The door
was pried open, and Mina crept in, and
Shalt het § , HOW quite wi
“Wait a bit now tll I fix it all snug,”
Open the door, or
R—
-
to make doubly sure,
“Mein Gott! Look at him!”
him. Bhe had crept ont again, and
stood pointing toward the street,
There, reeling
was a man with a violin case under his
arm, He seemed to be lost and blinded
in a sea of fire,
“Let him die, It istoolate. He never
will get here,”
“Mein Gott! mein Gott!
ered.”
again, His feet were shod with clay,
“(ive me your shawl,”
He took it from her and wrapped it
round his head, splashing the wet clay
over it and upon his body.
“Mina, I love you, Good-by.”
She broke away and stood gazing iuto
the flery furnace with her arm before
her face to keep away the heat, It was
all the work of a moment, The crea
ture fell twice, but was somehow
dragged along over the smouldering
grass past the blazing fence, not one
second too soon,
The door, damaged by the attempis
to close it, seemed about to fall, but
Silas stood ready, and at every tiny
puff of smoke that entered he aimed a
of the fire, The heat within
the place was fearful, yet none com-
plained, It was, indeed, an ark of
They heard the deluge go past
Not a word was said during the whole
two hours they were prisoners in the
hut, At last Bilas gpoke and said:
“We kin just thank the Lord for His
1 guess it's "bout over,”
He tore down the door, and they all
came forth, a sorry company in a desert
of ashes, brilliantly lighted by the
burning town; not a house or a fence
standing; absolute poverty for all;
nothing saved but hfe, The fire had
burned close up to the kara on every
left it unscathed. They all
filed slowly out, the man with the violin
case being close behind Silas, He had
elung to it through all,
“‘Hotter cali the poll and see who's
saved,” said Silas, ‘Come ont, all of
ye, and give yer names, Are all of Ye
here?"
**No, sir,’
a wretchea
said one man. “There's
Datechman hiding there
He was the first to get in. It was
he who suggested to close the door and
shut you and the gal and the old man
out.”
“Call the skunk out.”
I'he situation was too terrible for
choice of words, Two men dragged
the creature out, and he stood cowering
before them all. It was the violinist,
“Oh!” cried Mina; ‘it were a mis-
take, He-—who was ho—the man saved
with the violin?”
The creature with
spoke for himself,
fiddle at the garden,
“Never seen this gal before, did ve,
mister?”
The
head
Fhis gal kinder begged for yer life,
shed ye thinking -—wa'al
v ii ] 1 at 5 5
you Miak that Duteh-
itl
shill.
the
He
violin
Was
CRO
second
man looked at Mina shook
, Bud
11s
iui
ia,
Was
Silas them all,
“Mix ' paid belore
‘there be times when it don’t
2 :
kinder difference
make no
what company
nd. 1 built this ark for you against
the day o' judgment. It has come. 1
love ye, and ye must jedge between us
~that--that thing and me.”
She took his arm, and he winced,
“Don’t! It's burnt pretty bad, Never
mind, It's all right. I always knew
loved me.”
ms si A
The FEugquette of Cards.
iw
Visiting cards play so large a part io the
of our cities that it 1s well to
understand their use,
but it is at least better to turn them nightly.
A young girl from a Western city, making
a visit to a iady in Boston, sent up her
card with the corner turned down-—a thing
that should never be dune when the person
called upon 1s at home. This mistake,
made by a reflned young lady, sugeesis
the demirableness of & little technical in-
formation for girls brought up 10 parts of
the country where card etiquette is less
understood than in our large cities. When
a call is made with a hope to see
called upon, inquiry should
made at the door if the lady
and if 80, a card should be sent
be
up, that
When it
day, on which the lady of the house bas
her, but the wisitor should leave one upon
the hall-table. When the person visited
eud, or the upper right-hand corner, of the
card may be turned down, as a token that
the vimtor has called in person. The best
way to make what the French call the
“visit of digestion,” after a dinner, or the
call after an evening party, is —exoept in
eases of real intimacy--t0 leave a turned-
down card, as it would be too grest a tax
on the time of & hostess if she were com
pelied to receive each guest again, sepa
rately. Cards may be sent by post, on
arriving at a place, 10 notify friends of
one’s presence in town, and may also be
sent on departure, marked ““P. P, OC." ~—
pour prendre conge-4o take leave. A
married lady who 18 strictly puactilious
about social observances leaves her hus.
band’s card with her own. The English
style of gentlemen's cards, which is being
widely adopted iu America, 18 a small
card, not much more than half the size of
a lady's. But a Frenchman still uses
cards as large as his wife's, as was formerly
the American custom. It 1s much better
never to turn a card down than to turn it
down not according to rule, for not to turn
it 18 of no consequence, while, for instance,
to send a tarned-dewn card to a lady who
fs at home does betray ignorance of the
social *‘convenances” one is attempting Wo
observe.
si A ID ISA
A New York foundry has a steam
hammer that strikes four hundred
times a mioute, Passers- imagine
thut it is a Chioago girl her
musio lesson.
Victoria's Domestic Despbotisa,
The queens
| families prove how great
gratitude for the privilege of not belong-
| 18g 10 any of them. This dreary [ate
migal have happened by a mere accident
{of birth, 1t 18 8 narrow and fortunate
| escape,
and thelr
18 the cause for
biographies of
is drudgery and thraldom. The letters
{of the Princess Alice, like all literary
emanations from persons of royal birth,
| confirm this fact. The tedious detalis of
| her cramped and monotonous court life
| give strong evidence of
Bat throughout the pitiful revelation this
truly good and
wrote occasional trnthful observations, of
which the following 18 one of the best:
“People with
| more responsible than for the color of
| one's eyes, have things to fight against and
i
i
wr
Bolt Hands Out of Date,
The place was the house of a weslthy
family in Fifth avenue, New York. ‘The
oracle, President Barpard of Columbia
College, was discussing on the thorough.
breeding
imbued a human being with refinement,
“With my eyes blinded, as they are,” he
remarked —~he wore eye bandages because
temporary inflammation—**1 could
probably distinguish by a shake of the
hand between a person of refinement and
a person of coarseness, ’
“Let us test you, Mr.
Jarnard,” sald
i
|
|
“agreed,” smd he,
Here let me interpolate some informa
tion as to the fashion ip hands, There
was 8 time, pot long ago, when Lhe elegant
belle slept with greased hands in old gloves
| and equable dispositions, who are free
from violent emotions, and have conse
quently no feeling of nerves—still less of
irritable nerves. One can overcome a
great deal, but alter one’s self one cannot,”
Queen Victoria apparently has a mans
tor opposition. While her subjects are
comparatively free, her sons and daughters
are 1n bondage. She 18 more deserving of
the “Madame Velo” than wes the
unfortunate Marie Antoinette during the
French revolution. The Queen curlails
socielity, nigh neck dresses,
opinions, Princes
Princesses.
connected
august
title
customs,
plans,
Everything and everybody
with the royal family are sub-
mitted 10 her pproval, and
seldom approves of anything but piety,
prudence, precedence and unhmited hard
work performed by others in her name.
The Prince and Princess of Wales are the
hardest worked of all the court slaves.
They are forced to pass a great portion of
their ume in presenting flags,
schools, hospitals, charities, bazars,
ing at all varieties of pubhe functions and
Bilate ceremo and lsying of corner
stones of churches, mers, and in working
tor their future populanty. And In
midst of their few breathing epelis
pleasures they are Invariably and suds
recalled Windsor, Balmorsa
Oshorne House, to lunch with the (
Their not to be envied. It mu
a crumb of consolaticn tw the Bocialists
the Nihilists, the dynamiters, the O'Dono
van Rossas and the rest of the discontent
people.
pastimes, and
she
pening
presid-
es,
and
1 ’
CTY
$ tr
Vv vi
#
T+ must be
it 18
i
—E A ————
Picking by Machinery.
Comton
3
The perfection of al
picking u 8 regarded as
to “revolutionize labor” at the Bo
machine of this kind has long been de
sired, as second 10 importance only Lo Lhe
cotton gin; aud it 18 cisimed hal & Suc
cess has at last been attained by Mr.
Mason, of Sumter, B. C. An "mperfect”
mode! has already picked 300 p
an hour. The improved machine,
| the inventor has now completad, is expec
ted to pick 600 pounds an hour. One hand
and a pair of borees will do the work of
| fifty hands, as at present employed. Har-
vesting that pow costs $80 is reduced t
£2.50, the saving per bale being $6
Mason is spoken of enthumastically as “‘the
Mahdi: of the South, who is to deliver
the © grower from his grealest
trouble, and rescue him from merchants’
| claims and storekeepers’ bills—to revolu
ionize the entire situation of labor.” The
inventor has refused $1,000,000
patent, ana,
will engage in the
the machi
a practi cott
iRcaine Cf
st}
iid
minds in
which
wion
backed by abundant
manufacture an
thal
t Aim
probable
: and that Lhere are slid
be overcome; bul if a tral
nplished what
a
be no Gouin
the
ly aceor
there
actus 8 «
i Can that
L100 1 . In
chanic L
voars it
YOATSs, is
view of
ng the past thiny
say thal & coninv
ance of this sort is impracticable.
The effect of such an invention
colored labor—for this is the only sort that
has been trained to pick colton--is vari.
ously estimated. The Southern papers
generally concede that It will, at first,
greatly injure the colored people in the
| potion Slates. But eventually, it
| thought, “the cotton picker
material benefit to the Bouthern colored
people, as they will be drawn from the
fields iato the mulls as operatives, or into
cities, where they will earn more
unen
| the
with better educations! advantages; while
for those who rema’n industriously at
agriculture there will be, with thrift and
economy, improved opportunity for ad.
vancement. They will, it is srgued, in
picker, land owners and planters, instead
of hired laberers.” We see
why the picker should injure the laborers
binder, or
laborers in the
enable the planiers
their acreage, 10
and
the
than the
threshers,
wheat belt,
to increase greatly
| gather their crop at the critical time
when it 1s ready, and to add largely to
| their profita. And this should add to the
| general prosperity of their section, in
which all industrious and temperate citi
zens will share
reaper
injured
It will
i
i Bellowing Ilassos.
A good story is told of John Gilbert,
the primo baseo, who succeeded the late
| George Uonly in the Abbott opera troupe,
and who will make his reappearance next
season in legitimate HKnglish opera
Jack,” as his inumate friends call him,
lis a great ‘‘kidder,” and occasionally
| indulges nis fondness for a practical joke.
| When the lamented Conly was at the
| height of his artistic career, he Wisited
| his native city, Philadelphia, where
| Gilbert was then studyine for the lyric
stage with Bugoor Ettore Barili, the half
brother and only teacher of Adeline
Patti, who had likewise been the leacher
of Conly. One day the two bassos mel
at Hornickel's Cafe, a favorite resort for
professional people.
“I'l wager you that I can bresk a
pane of glass by sumply swelling on one
note,” sad Gilbert,
“I'll wager you'll not be able to do it,
and that 1 will,” sad Conly.
“Done!” exclaimed Gilbert.
Conly began the contest. The window
rattled violently, and though the glass did
not break there was a gr panic among
the waiters, Then Gil tried and two
~wple of friends outside the window,
who olayed thoir parts admirably and
wan sued a "es their canes at
the thoe ‘s ng Was engaging
the astention of Conly and the spectators.
the sun, like mushrooms growing
white in a cellar, 80 that thegimignt look
though they they had never
come in contact with anything rougher
than satin. It 12 wholly different now;
athletic sports mare in high approval. The
daughter of wealth oars, tennis
bats, bridle relos and tricycle handie-bars,
all without gloves, and she is proud of the
culous palms which ensue, and the red
rosiness of knuckies used 10 be
the hue « lily. Her hiking for out-
hag not yet taken her inlo
base-ball field, where her fingers might
permanently di !
uy
and 80 the hands are
Erase
the
thal
if the
(00r eXercise
Lhe
get ge,
becoming dis-
again be
were,
rured breaks
will never
soft as
Barnard evidently was not posted
nalerial matter, for be fell pre
into the trap set for him.
il maid,’ said the
rogue, ‘‘and : hapds with
her. Bhe is and can hardly say
‘boo’ without violating some grammatical
rule. Bhe's without a bit of ure.
You shall also shake hands with a young
isdy who, as you will admit when tid
her name, 18 nothing rt of cultured
perfection. But mind you,
mustn't aliow yoursei! Ww
softness or hardness of palm.
**No,” he promised, | will id
nad solely
of their clasp.”
sciared that the ma
1
m
#3: pony
waty
aor
rh
JUKE
#0 small they
will
il $ “wt
LET
cull
sh
»
entily the
lady and the subtle
characteristics
Nevertheles
who was brou to give
smooth, nl hand, was Lhe
ady, who had a leathery hand in
was the servant. If
ant
A Arnis
Being Understood.
The
nPOriancs f
able 10 express ot
versation or in wri
estimated. Yet, if
the talk of if nelg
hi
Mi Kis
being
in cone
IVEr-
y judge from
& railway
car, and from the columns of tl average
newspaper, Lhe ranch of learning
that, considering ils im 5, 8 10
neglected. 1f he has plenty of ¢ at Lis
disposal almost every one can make him.
self understood, but too often the number
of words used iz out of all propertion 10
the ideas. The peculisly nervous tem-
perarent, and the limited vocabulary of
most AmMEricans, express
themselves In a vague, verbose fashion.
I'bey arc i at the pith
f what t aking shout; and when
; ir inability 10
words, thal
n a8 compact,
10 use
is No
lead them to
$ 1 » ”
too long ny
eEre
which one knows
cause of much loose, mesa:
which may serve ils purpose
but which more oftener leaves a listener
in such a state of uncertainty that he 1s a8
likely us not to attribute his doubts to has
own dullness. Honesty, simplicity and
exaciness are not qualities that are con-
spicuous in the conversation of an ordinary
American, or even in thst of a man of
liberal education. The temptation io ex-
travagance aod inmncerily, which. stnctly
speaking, are forms of dishonesty, 18
| great, especially if one wishes 10 creale
the impression that he is unusually clever;
| and simplicity and exactness of slalement,
| being oftentimes unatiainable, give way 10
{ circumlocation and generalities. The
{ result is that one gives at best only imper.
| fect expression to his ideas.
—————
Arab Oadities,
house
hat.
An Arab on entering his
| moves his shoes, but his
mounts his horse upon the right
while his wife milks the cow on the’left
gide. In writing a letter he puts near-
| ly all his compliments on the outside.
| With him the point of a pin is its head,
whilst its head is made its heel, His
head must be wrapped up warm even
in Summer, while his feel may well
enough go naked in Winter. Every
article of merchandise which 1s liquid he
weighs, but be measures wheat, barley,
and a few other articles, He reads and
| writes from right to left. He eats
| scarcely anything for breakfast, about
| as much for dinner ; but after the day's
work is done, he sits down to a hot
meal swimming in oil, or, betler yet,
| boiled butter, His sons eat with him,
but the females of his house wait till
his lordship isdone. He rides a don-
| key when travelling, his wife walking
| behind, He laughs at the idea of walk-
ing in the street with his wife, or of
ever vacating his seat for a woman. He
knows no use for chairs, tables, knives,
forks, or even ons unless they are
wooden ones, Bedsteads, bureaus, and
fire may be placed in the same
category. If he be an artisan he does his
work sitting, perhaps using his foot to
hold what his hands are engaged upon,
He drinks cold water with a spoon, bat
never bathes in it unless his home is on
the seashore, He is rarely seen drunk,
is deficient in affection for his kindred,
has little curiosity and no imitation,
no wish to improve his mind, no desire
32 Bulsrw und himself with the comforts
of 11
Ie-
He
id
Siae,
not
No editor has ever been elected
President. This soccounts tor our
enormous National debt,
Tun presunt fashion of belt bouquets
causes a» great many flowers to be
waisted.