A ——————————————
UNDER THE ROSES,
Over our door-way roses twine !
"Tis an humble home —bat hall divine—
In a tangle of roses and eglautine.
Wee little windows cannily look
From under the old roo! into a brook,
Frolicking down from a rocky nook.
“Welcome, darling,”’ they seem to say.
To the musical streamlet tripping away,
Gleefully down through the meadow hay
Or, wistfully, sometimes, **Prithee stay?"
But never the laughing waves delay,
po
Tho' ever so softly echoing—'‘ay !
To the lean-to roof gray lichens cling;
Over it great elm branches fling
Drowsy shadows, and lazily swing!
Binging and swinging, to and fro,
In the od’rous air, their tassels flow,
Tenderly, over the cet below,
And the sills are velveted o'er with moss,
Boft as a lady's silken floss—
Thresholds a fairly queen might cross,
Hither and thither the robins flit,
Or saucily under the roses sit—
Asking liberty—never a bit !
Happy as ever the birds are we!
Happy as never the birds can be ~-
For the birds can’t love as I love theel
Under the roses we sit and dream,
Till sorrows only like rose-leaves seem—
Floating away on the rippling stream!
RISER
HROBBITTYS.” !
The boys in Dutchman’s gulch usually |
alluded to him as ‘The Kid of the |
Camp,”’ but he said his real nume was |
Pobbitts., 1 have spoken of the miners
¢: Dutchman’s gulch as “boys.” Some
oil them wore beards as thick as a hedge
a, and hair which floated on the
ze like sea weed streaming from a |
«her-beaten wharf. leadville was |
nearest supply to Dutchman's
h, and at Leadville could Bobbitts
ally be found. |
ne Kid of the Camp was about nine |
years old, with a thin, weazen face, a
shrewd twinkle in his rat-like eyes, and
a perverted taste for Monte and dog-leg
tobacco. Bobbitts invariably ‘‘played
in’ what few nickels, dimes, and quar- |
ters he could earn or beg, but the older |
gamblers liked to have him lean over |
their shoulders when enjaged in bucking |
the tiger, regarding it as good luck, and
Bobbitts as a Mascotte.
“My ma named me Bobbitts,”” he |
would explain, whenever interrogated
regarding his early history; ‘“‘and I
reckin she knowd me.”’
Bobbitts had made his appearance in |
the far West at Cheyenne, where he
had guietly dropped off from a Union
Yacific freight train, with adboot-black
apparatus slung over his shoulder, and |
a paid up capital of eighteen in
his pocket.
From Cheyenne,
over to Leadville,
“Where were you born?” inquired
Joe Watrous, alias the “Count,” one
evening, after he had turned in a coupie
of hundred dollars’ worth of dust to the
Monte bank.
not an anusual experience; in fact, so
monotonous had it become of late, that
it was far from possessing any very
great degree of fascination.
“Dummed ef I know,” answered
Bobbitts, rubbing away industriously
at the gambler's boots. “The fust |
thing I knowd I was in Clinton, Iowa,
living with my ma. Me and her lived
together,”
“Who was your father?’ continued
the Count, lazily removing a polished
boot from the box, and substituting
another heavily coated with yellow
clay.
“Dummed ef I kin tell ver, Guess
he was no great shakes of a man, or ma
would have told me suthin about him.
But she didn’t. Reckin he was a fly-
by-night, and no good."
“Then you never saw him {
him??’ said the Count.
This conversation between Bobbits
and the Count bad attracted quite a
crowd of penniless or indifferent gamb-
lers who had been lounging about the
saloon, and they commenced to mani-
fest something of a listless interest in
the roken, sketehy, biographical
narative of Bobbitis.
“Well I dunno, exactly,
Bobbitts, pausing in his work, snd
gitting back on his heels. “I'll tell
yer. There was two men come to ma's
house one night, about nine o'clock,
and they both talked with ma, an’ ma,
she talked back at ’em, as wild as a |
jack rabbit, an’ I heard one of ’em say |
as how ma was a bad woman, an’ then |
the other man hit him with a cheer,
an’ drawd a knife to stick him; bat |
ma. she got between ‘em, an’ kep the
man off his pardner, an’ then they both
quieted down an’ went away together, |
an’ ma cried, an’ sald one of ‘em was |
my fade, Bulyd never knowd which, |
an’ nevwr did ygit the right on it, I
was prety foung then, youlknow. |
Again tobbitts applied himself vigor.
ously to the mud-coated pedal of the |
Count, and the crowd laughed at the
curious idea of youth advanced by the
precocious youth.
“Where is your ma now?" inquired
one ot the group of listeners.
“She shook me, about a year ago,’ |
answered Bobbitts, rubbing away at the
gambler’s boots harder than ever,
“Ran away, did she?”
“Yes; left one day when I was down
town selling some papers, an’ when I
went to our house her trunk was gone
and a letter was on a cheer fer me. 1
knowd it was fer me, an’ I took it over
to a neighbor what had been kind co
me, an’ got him to read it.”
The last boot was finished now, and
Bobbitts carefully rolled down the
Court's pant leg, and brushed from it
the yellow splotches of mud,
“What did the letter say?" inquired
a low. hoarse voles from the edge of the
crowd Bobbitts peered between the
forms of two men, and then, after nay.
ing carefully looked the weiner over,
addressed himself to the erowd gener
ally;
Ay said, ‘Dear Bobbitta’ an’ the
Jetter was wet and dirty, as Ir ma had
cried over it a good deal, ‘I am going
away for a time, but 1 will came
to you within a year. Be a good boy,
an’ I will pray fer yer.”’ [ hain’t been
the best kind of a Sunduy school kid,
but 1ll bet high ma has prayed for me,
all the same.’
“What makes you think so?” in.
quired the man with the hoarse voice
cents
Bobbitts JdAnfted
£) know
te
replied
on the edge of the crowd, Several
other persons, including Bobbitts, now
regarded the stranger more attentively,
He was a tall, sallow complexioned
man, well dressed, 1n a style approach-
ing the extreme of fashion. His age
might have been anywhere between
thiety-gight and forty-five. Bobbitts
now exhibited evident signs of uneas:-
ness,
“Yes,” continued psobbitts, turaing
addressing him through the medium of
the crowd; ‘‘she allus prayed for me
an’ fader every night, But I
want to talk to you any more,”
don’t
fidelity; we went home, openly up-
braided her, and when he wenr too far
1 struck him with a chair, even as
struck him last night; and he—he
feigned forgiveness, and again we went
forth from my home together, he to
plot and scheme and rob, and’ i to be-
lfeve and become his willing dupe.
Thomas Darkle then went East, 1
West, He saw his uncle, and by friend-
ship, lies, and gross misrepresentations
speedily convincsd him of my wife's
alleged unworthiness, and stooped to
blight the honest parentage of Bobbitts.
The will was revoked, a codicil was
added, and when Robert Darkle died
strangrr.
John Morley paused in his narrative,
and the stranger. The
“Do you know that man?”
“What man?’ said Bobbitts, sullenly,
“The man who just spoke to you,”
“No, nor I don’t wantto know him ”
“ Why?"
righteous indignation which had not
yet burned out.
“How did you regain your wife?’’
vuletly asked the dyctor,
“One year ago she left Clinton, and
Bobbitts to the care of strangers, Maeh
ma’s house an’ raised a
ilin’ about,
by Thomas Darkle, involved the names
one in Texas and one in Georgia. To
irrefutable proof that
Darkle was a liar, As ksaid, | came
West. I worked mines.
sold, and made money; and then, when
pushing his way
crowd, and viciously kicking
boot-black, who fell with a
to the floor
In another
through the
the little
low moan
stant the man lay
floor
of the saloon, stricken down by a blow
from the shoulder of another
Petersham coat, and whe tenderly
y
for a glass of water.
“Shame! shame!” rolled
from the throats of a doesn indignant
men, and the well-dressed stranger had
dazed manuper to comprehend the situa-
tion, before he was seized by the shoul-
ders, dragged
bedily on to the sidewalk.
i
|
i
;
|
outside crashed through the saloon
window. The Count sank to the floor,
a dark purple stream trickli from
his mouth,
the bullet had reached his heart.
“That might have been any one
tye shouted “Pag
rior
Lig
of
us! Mofit, Deputy
a3 a valiant posse, he bolted out into
the night after the stranger.
A physician, hastily summoned, let
fall the hand of the Count and turned
to Bobbitts, wh the
friendly kaoee of
51
il rested
his protector.
Count had *‘coppered™ his
passed over tl
LHI
+ silent, unhappy count
upon
to
iis boy a home?’
will ¢ Yesabanl an + "
Willi gO LO hotel with me,
*And your name
“Is John Morley, 1 am his father,
His mother is with me, at the Crandall
House,
“That is good,”
the
is mmijured, and that he may become a
cripple for life. What internal injurles
he may have sustain! I cannot now
determine’
John Morley bent down and
the thin, white lips of Bohpitts,
“*Call a hack,” he said huskily.
The little elfish {
looked up from a Lackground of snowy
pillows scarcely whiter than his face,
Over those pillows tenderly bent a hand-
some woman, still on the sanay side of
thirty, John Morley and
The tears which dimmed fhe eyés of
lady but heightened her
beauty softened by past
patient waitinr and wate
“Hea will live,’’ said ti
the mother
Kissed
the doctor.
beauly—a
r, and
of Bobbitts murmured,
“Thank Goal”
“But will alway
Bobbitts elesed his yes wearily when
he heard this, and then opened them
again, with the shadow there of
I-time twinkle.
“An the kids will
ing jigger from Jiglown,'' he said.
“No, no, darling’ answered the
mother, burying her sweet face in the
pillows beside his own; **you shall Know
no more of this world’s rudeness, its
wickedness, ite poverty, its woe." !
The doctor drew his chair before the |
fire. John Morley sat |
TUG,
i
the
ol
all eall me a limp
o
told the story of his life.
the ‘Count.’
Thomas Darkle., His father, James
Darkle, died when Thomas was a boy,
Is
an uncle, Robert Darkle, an eccentne
bachelor, and by him reared and educa
ted. My wife's father was lost at sea,
soon after we were married in New
York, where Robert ‘Bebbitts' was
he informed ns that he had made a will
leaving the bulk of his property, a haif
million, to our little Robert, the annual
interest thereof to be paid to my wife,
quarterly, until the maturity of his
namesake, Robert, when the whole
should be his. To Thomas Darkie he
had willed fifty thousand dollars,
“From that moment Thomas Dackle
commenced to plot for a reversion of
the will, and he succeeded. Both
Thomas and my wife were only children,
orphaned at an eatly age, His first
onslaught was againss e will, was
made through ma By various tempta-
tions he turned me from an honest,
hard-working man, to a dissipated,
hquor-inflaned wretch, with the man-
hood almost burnel out of my soul,
aud then—~theu he plunged the knife
desper into my heart and turned it
‘round. He attacked the repatation of
my wife. He worked upon a naturally
too jealous disposition. and tried, in
New York, to cause an estrangemsnt
beeween us. He followed us to Clin-
ton, lows, and attempted there to blast
the character and cast a clond upon as
pure a woman as ever breathed the air
of purest Heaven. Daily he fed the
flawnes of passionate , anh then
he came one night with what he claimed
living, especially a wrecked and broken
life Jike mine, my wife came to me in
Denver, came with all the proof that
loyal love could
Where
hand
only shadowed us,
bitts? Together,
on his
being set
undue in-
He too,
Tom Darkle, too, was
3
The thought of wills
by courts, on proof of
frightened him,
S00,
trail.
aside
fluence,
his successor in office,
vou know the rest,
to the door of the room, aud called the
doctor out into the hall, In a moment
he returned, and said:
**I1 am obliged, by the duties of my
office, to; leave you now, and conduct
County.
coming forward from the bed where
lay her crippled son,
“No, it was not an accident,
“By the way,
stand that by the
' replied
the doctor.
death of Tom Darkle
descended to
Bobbitts?"
Thelface of John 1
he replied:
“By the terms of his uncle's will
d by him."
3 again an
have just
“Then Bobbitts
were the strongest proofs of her In-
to AI AI ORS
Duten Signboards.
The signs are an interesting feature
Duteh streets, It was some time
before 1 understood what it meant
when I read *‘fire and water for sale.”
t wms the poorer people make
, but buy boiling water and red-hot
urf, with which to prepare their tea
if a baby is born. a
red satin and
1 f one is =
100r, if
L no
fires
¢
and coffee,
placard of
hung upon the
toms
atin x
those interest
making and replying
A drugshop is Known by J
Moor’s head, and arri )
herrings is announced by the hanging
out of a large gilded crown de
with box leaves,
The country houses, 100 are decora
ted with legends. The retired gentle
man seems anxious that all
hs
i
saving
ing
£3
Le
is content, he
paints in huge letters on the fro
house such sentiments as these: ith
out Care.” “Big Enough,” “My sati
faction.’ “My pleasure and Life,” “So
ciability and Friendship Within,"
very possible occasion for eating and
drinking is ambrased, such as the cele.
bration of betrothals, births and
many national feasts, Just
don’t know, but the drink with which
the jower class celebrate an engagement
is known as “bridal tears.” These
el.
the
drunk,
iow the Thanksgiving Tarkey Originated,
in 1621 the Pilgrim Fathers had been
eleven months planting their little col.
in the wilderness of the
Indians, and enjoying their civil and
religious liberty. Esteeming their pro-
set apart a day for public praise and
thanksgiving to the God who had pro-
tected and delivered them from
perils that beset their first work in free-
dom. Having made a treaty with the
Indians, they decided to invite the chief,
Massasoit, and his associates to partake
with them a public Thanksgiving Din-
ner. Just here they found themselves
embarrassed in properly supplying their
tabie with edibles suitable for the ocea-
sion, Corn, potatees, turnips and pump-
kins of their summer production were
decidedly inadequate for the entertain.
ment of their guests So Governor
Winthrop dispatched four hunters into
the forest to procure some game. in
due time they returned with a supply of
wild turkeys, which probably made the
most enjoyablo dinner that has been
spread from that day to this. And
more, that turkey dinner bas been imi-
tated now 262 years, and will be for
years to come. And while the Pilgrims
prasad their God, the Indians bi
the turkey,
Be
Bumper Cookies, — Two cups molas-
wes, one-half cup sagar, one tablespoon.
fal sods, one largs tab nful of
vinegar, ons egg. Mix soft and bake
q ¥.
ns
A youxaun brother had es m
old sud ill-tempered wife, but extreme.
114 used to say, “Whenever |
”"
ro
They Meet Again,
Decked In the sheeniest of white
robes, Alene floated down the lawn of
Ellerby Hall. Nestling in her gold
brown bair were rose-tipped apple blos- |
soms, and clustering over her dress |
were the same sweet-scented blooms. |
Not mora falry-like were they, nor |
more beantifully tinted than i
Ellerby herself, So at least thought |
Raymond Ogere, {
But he sighed as he gaze! upon the |
pretty vision before him, who had |
promised herself to another only the |
day before. Promised to murry Robert |
Willis, a man for whom Raymond felt |
some coomtempt as being superfleial |
and weak,
““f have come to bid you geod-by,” |
he said. “Business requires me again |
in the city,” |
i
!
Alene |
*Good-by,”” was the reply, in a low,
formal voice, as she laid her slim, cool |
fingers In his, i
He held them as he looked at her, and
then he said, in a wistful tone, a strange |
expression growing in his eyes: ‘I wish
you would give me a bunch of those
She loosened some and laid them
his hand,
When he left her he smiled a bitter,
grim smile, *‘I had quite forgolt
the significance of apple blossoms,
‘Preference!l, What a mockery.’
So Alene stayed on for a while wit]
her aunt in Elerby Hall. Alen
mother was living, but her father ha
long been dead, and left them but
scant income. Her aunt, Mrs, Ellerby,
was also in moderate circumstances, for
the hall had now a heavy mortgage
upon it. Bo Alene was not an heir
nor even a young lady with rich rela.
in
#11
i,
Her aunt had called Raymond Ogere
Again she
had called Bob Willis **a foolish
Two daysaflter Ogere's departure Alene
astounded her aunt by saying she wish.
ed to go home, This announcement
set Aunt Ellerby to pondering.
fon.
10,
Job
noon, and she had seen him going down
but
“He is a prodigious numbskull,
BE
lerby had said to herself, She sald to |
Alene the next morning at breakfast:
“You see, dear, I am thinking of
selling the hall (1 have a fair offer
it}, and going to live with Bess.”
was her daughter, married, and
“Why,
nevel
® is
And
Can
il go.
ir mother
mr voyage, After
and 1
season
other
here a
and her
and sal-
mmtered |
hatever |
aunt were weil «
the first
on board was Bob
wet down' Miss Ale n |
him she was civil to him now, an iis |
esteem for the young lady in no |
wise lessened from the that 1e
was ‘en route’ tn the Ol id. i
One day Mr, Bob une
?
1%
Pris
most perso
nope of his Pp
terward, picked them up,
papers was flattened and
Certainly Miss Alene knew
to read what di ng
ad
sre she Was perusing:
Dear Bob: Y«
3
ed
d not x
1 have surprised me, yet
' &
iy displeased at
call this
* ¥ " - awa I » Sa 2 ®
your proposal. Please eve.
ning Yours evermore,
ALENE ELLERBY.
is was written again and again. all
the sheet, each copy growing near-
er to a lik own hand, She
spend ys paper and thought. Then
looked again at the date and drew
a great sigh, [t was dated May
tha day fore Raymond Ogere
her good-bye.
Alene neither fainted away nor d
face Mr. Willis with a scathing
glance of She left the
papers where she found them, retreat.
Ti
VET }
ness to her
iro
Le
14th,
by
; 3
bw ae
id
shin
SOOT. Oly
ed tight in ber little fist,
That night Alene astomsned the wor-
thy relative who accompanied her if she
knew Mr. Raymond Ogere’s address.
“No, my dear,” was the reply, and
with the words her last hope of ever
meeting Ogere vanished. For
ne means at her command by |
A few days before Alene sailed for |
the Old World, Ogere sat upon the bal- |
cony of a hotel in Paris, He had been
sat & lady, who had done much to |
This was the Countess |
Brittale, who had been visiting friends |
among the Americans, The countess |
was poor, and owned nothing bot an |
owl-haunted chateau, where she never
went,
She was a widow, and quite his own
age, to be sure, but what did such
things matter, so long as people agreed
and were happy? And then her posi-
tion gave her such rare opportimnities to
benefit an ambitious man. And uncon
sciously Raymond found himself listen.
ing to this wooing, and when, at part-
ing for the night, the countess laid in
his hand s tea rose she had worn in her
haar, he actually caught himself murs
muring some very mellow sentiment,
Fifteen minutes later, in his cham.
ber, he opened his memorandum book
to make an entry, when something fell
to the floor. As he bent to find it he
saw only a dried, ormkied bunch of ap
pe blossp Yet he sat, forgetfnl of
everything else, gazing upon it, until at
last two tears fell upon the little dead
petals, Whatever he had thought of
ers peeping ou
Within twenty four hours he and auga.
od a gr aroUn on a steamer bound for
ow .
another steamer and their own ship was
slowly sinking.
At length it was discovered that the
other vessel was comparatively uninjur-
ed, and boats were put oul and the
veyed as rapidly as possible to the other
vessel
One gentleman-—a finely-shaped fel-
low of about 30-—stopped short as the
not fainted, but she was weeping hyste-
Her gold-brown hair fell in masses over
He staggered against the partition {or
an instant, then, controlling himself he
when some one
He seemed to realize
“Ah! Mr.
is your—wife,”’
Bob Willis turned
asked, looking around.
“Your wife.”
“Ohl—ohl-you are mistaken, sir.
Ah, 1 see, old friend Ogere! Howd’'ye
do?’ and the next Instant he was gone,
Alene was now staring into the face
above her own with rational eyes. She
knew that volee, and all fear was go
“My what?”
¥iga
remembered the note, ‘‘His wife?
Never!” she cried fiercely. “Did you
think I would marry such a4 creature as
that?"
Then, th Comic
situation strik
liysterical
al side of
r, she bu
in which Ogere
jol
done all t
of a formidable
1: but 1}
itself, and he had
beautiful Mi:
Y es; Mr. B wh had
order to rid himself
rival, and he had
vanity had overleaped
found the poor but
Ellerby not so much in love with him.
self or his money-bags as with her mem-
ory of the absent,
“They must have broken it
thought Ogere, as he fliished
enade with Alene,
“Will you be my wife?” he whisper-
ed, as they sat down, And for answer
Alene turned her poor foolish, tear-
stained face and hid it on his sleeve,
Not until they were on shore, and
Mr. Willis well away from them, does
Alene enter into the explanation her
lover craves,
It is right that he should know
she had never sold herself to
she did not love, as Ogere
supposing all this while,
And alas for t
her faint prop.
her 68d]
nis in
succeeded
115
we
¥ 1
Oil,
his prom-
that
man
bad been
the
he OC
been
feell she have
Ogere’s face ; moment? A
ears later Mr. and Mrs, Ogere met
Still a very attraetive woman sii
succeeded in capturing a rich En-
boax
few
her,
had
“Colonel,
small daily paper
andgp ddr §
groat tdbubie with Ameri
hurry, fe dash off
should soeive hours of
comparatively easy matte
for our heagpers do not
liver polished noes; but
it is different,
up journalism a r fesgion to whieh
wy life should I rescived
never to turn off a bad piece of writing,
Some of our greatest writers have work.
ed for days upon sentences which after.
ward proved to be simple. Now, |
have been at work for some time on a
, and have at Inst reduced
thoess that pleases me.’
The approached the young
man's desk, 100k up a sheet of paper
and read the following :
the advertisement
wanted in another column,”
“This is oceriainly a fine
said the editor,
The young man
eonld not conceal his
“Yea,” continued the editor,
a remarkably fine sentence.
it over and over, time and again,
you?"
“Yes sir, bus at last I got it to suit
me.”
“Uh, huh, *Advertisemon' of a ooo
wanted in another column.’ Certainl
very fine, but say, we don't waut a oo
in apother column, Nope of of our ool.
umns have cooks in them,"
“Oh, no, of course not,” replied the
young man,
“Bat by the way you have expressed
yourself, people are jad to infer that
this column-—the one in which the no-
tice appears—has & cook and that an.
other cook is wanted in another column
I am sorry to see that in this, your
first attempt as a journalist, you have
fallen into the pernicions habit of wri.
ting too rapidly. You must not dash
it off in this way. It is dangerous to
(io away ov the
Write
the sentence om the broad page ol your
desk :
at
study, It
fo talk well,
ns to de
in writing
el to
expect
Whe dem Be
$3i0n
ait
DE devoted
scuteuce here
t 10 a smo
a4 Ersw
aai1to
Sela of a cook
sentence,’
was pleased. He
wuislaction,
"this is
Wrote
didn’t
k
v
k
the other side, After you have com.
pleted the work, sit down on a rock and
wait until [ call you. Good morning,
sir, Yes the sun is shining beautiful
to-day. Good morning.
——————
Single Women,
There is no more interesting oharso-
tor, whether in fiction or real life, than
the spinister who has, for some good
reasen, refused a lover's proposal, and
being now past the hour of old maid.
The urdeal through which she has just
soems to have refined her feel
ngs, and of itself insonsibly drawn to
her the of all who know her
history, Such a one is eminently love.
able and sympathetie, forward in all
good works, the warm friend of
married men and women, the confidan
Birds of ali Colors.
“Do you find ready sale for them as a
general rule?” asked a reporter of a
bird dealer in New York.
“Oh no, they are a very slow com-
| modity to dispose of. The stock must
| be varied to sult the different tastes of
{those who buy them. .One person
| almost adores a bird that another would
| refuse to buy at any price,”
| “What bird seems to be the greatest
| favorite generally with people just
| now?”
{ *Of course, the canary will always
| hold its own becanse of its being pretty
to look at and asa rule a good sougster.
{| The goldfineh, which comes from the
| British Isles, 18 becoming very popular
| on account of its rich and little twitter-
| ing notes, which are very pleasing to the
{ear. The little indigo, or blue bird,
{ has numerous patrons for the verysame
| reasons. But just ut this time it would
be difficult to find one, as in the middle
| of summer they are nearly all shipped to
European ports, particularly Paris,
where they meet with ready purchase,
as the climate of France is well adapted
to them. ‘Those that have remained in
our ¢ity just now resemble the common
sparrow more than any other bird, They
have lost all their blue plumage for a
rusty-looking gray, but in about another
month they will be as blue as ever
“What do youn call this bird?” asked
reporter, p to one shaped
very much like a mocking bird. but its
colors were richer and more DnUIMerous,
the most | being rose and
Drown.
“That i
like ti
TUO8LY
intin
inting
yromizent
tanager. It sings
hose shape iL 80
is the blue
that bine
predominating . They come
South America, principally Pra-
zil. and sell here for about $5. Hers
are some starlings which are, after a
manner, taught to talk. To effect this
their tongues are slit, Here 1s a relative
of theirs from East India. It a good
imitator of whistling and generally
| sells for $10. The German blue jay,
not distantly related to the same family,
articulates a little and this makes his
value about §i5."
A 3 macaw which fol-
lowed the owner of the store to any
part of the room and asked to be put on
his perch was, he said, valued at $50.
When his request to be replaced on his
was unheeded, he pecked at
vrietor’s repeatef
>
&5ire more eu
resem? i
tanager, in wi 8
thea
vik
from
wl
4
very tame red
DET
i
i
tha
4] »
boots and is
colors
f
whi
tiful as those
re sold for §10
hes of music
but between
ING
“Mi
Sto $2
They
head and
with a velvety
arkably rich and
American love-
iniature and its
§¥ recommenca-
$4. Mexican
ds wo
paroquets sell
swe kered-noeck
ay #
3
>
troopicals are ¢
M wa
Cac
1-0 as
) * concluded the bird
jer. **is perhaps the only one of ils
id in the It is a cross between
anary and a nightingale. During the
and aftétnoon 11s notes are
4 f the canary, but toward dusk or
2 moonlight n it might easily
mistaken for glish nightingale,
he owner 1s proud ef it and
would not part wi wr $100,
The Niger,
city.
orenoot
grid Toe
an
TEaN
The iz between the Niger
and its i i v., the Chadda or
Benouch, which European enterprise is
now endeavoring to open up, has already
figured conspicuously in African history
as of self-organized
negro federation which West Africa has
yet seen. In the earlier part of the
present century the Yorubas and other
| local tribes attempted to protect them-
selves against the terrible slave hunters
{of Dahomey by establishing a colony
| eighty miles inland from the port of
Lagos, near the mouth of the Niger,
and building a large fortified town
| there, which they named *‘Abbeokota”
{ (foundation stone). Here they formed
| a federation under a constitution which,
| though simple, wight be copied with
| advantage by more eivilized nations:
“We will all be freemen, all brothers
{and all Christians,” The new capital
repulsed, with the loss of several thou-
sand men, the mvading armies of Ih.
homey, and elected as its first bishop a
Yoruba convert named Adjai, better
| known as “Samuel Crowther.” This
curious settlement still exists, and may
not Improbably play an important part
in the projected development of the
Niger valley.
L
the seat the first
:
i
:
§
a.
Hewgag.
The kazoo is 0 have a nval m the
field, Thus is the bewgag. The hewgag
is than the kazoo and costs more,
but it is saad that it will scatter the
crowd quicker. A man’s sanity Iasts
only ten smnutes of he » compelled w
listen 10 & healthy bewmag, It is fash
joned somewhat on the principle of a
hurdy gurdy, if you know what that is
A string of catgut passes over a revolving
cylinder and a few keys enable the player