BUILDING ON THE SAND,
"Piss well te woo, "tis well to wed,
For se the world hath done
Sines myriles grow and roses blew,
And morning brought the sun.
Baus have a care, yo young and fair,
Be suee you pledge in truth;
Be cortadm that your love will wear
Begomd the days of youth!
Far #f ye give not heart for heart,
As well as band for hand,
You'd fimd you've played the unwise part,
And “built upon ths sand."
"Tis well de save, "tis well to have
A goodly stors ot gold,
And emongh of shining stuff,
For ebarity is cold.
But place net all your hopes and trust
In what the deop mine brings;
We eanaot live on yellow dust
Unsedmed with purer things,
And he whe piles up wealth alone,
Will often have to stand
Beside the eoffer chest, and own
*T4is “bans mpon the sand."
"Tis good to speak in friendly Luise
And exthe where'er we
Faur speech should bind the human mind
And love link man to man,
But stop not at the gentle words;
Yet deeds with language dwell;
The one who pities starving birds,
Should seatter crumbs as well,
The mevey that is warm and true
Must lend a helping band
For theses that talk and fail to do,
Bat “baikl upon the sand.”
IRIS ACL en.
MARGUERITES,
On a ralny morning, at one of the art
toan exhibitions for which New York is
famous, a man stood before a beautiful
painting. The darkness of the day ren-
dered the well-lighted studio somewhat
gloomy, but this picture was so placed
as to eatch every available ray,
to himself, for it was the chief attrac
rounded by an eager throng
“ sem
2 word sprang from the carriage and
hurried after her.
It was Marguerite, the mythical sis-
ter. All he could see of her was along,
brown cloak, large hat and her sunny,
beaming hair. She moved with a gli-
ding, swaying movement, peculiarly
graceful and well adapted to her tall
figure. She walked rapidly, so much so
that Kenneth found it difficult to keep
her 1n sight.
The crowd gradually diminizhed, and
soon she turned abrubtly into a side
street and stopped before a studio.
Kenneth quickened his steps to pass her
before she entered, and as he did so she
turned her head and looked at him.
That haunting, pathetic tender gaze,
which had followed him all the Winter,
was bent on him at last. His whole
being was stirred to its innermost
depths, and the sensation was 80 new
that it startled him to find that he
could be so moved
He was not the man to be so fascina-
ted by every attractive face; he had
passed unscathed through years of what
the world cills society life, and was stil
heart-whole. His nature was too ear-
pest. and intense to be easily shaken,
and he could be summed up, as few
can, in the one word-strong, His
aims were high, and his aspirations
lofty, Kenneth King had not wasted
his life.
He walked until exhaustion had com.
pelled him to stop. All his eager desire,
which had so ardently taken hold of
him in the early Winter, to know the
original of the painting, was upon him,
with ten-fold force.
But how?
He was so preoccupied with this un-
painting,
session.
immediately.
The ting
ing, toward which his eyes
ration which it daily elicited.
It was of a young girl standing ina
fled of daisies. Her hair was soft and
golden; her mouth tender and lovable;
ut it was in her eyes that the charm
chiefly lay. Large, clear, blue eyes,
gazing calmly, yet wistiully, into the
distamce.
‘Inte the*future,”” Kenneth thought.
The wind seemed stirring her thin
white dress and bending the heads of
the daisies Her hands, clasped loosely
before her, were filled with the pure,
inmecent flowers, but, unheeding them,
she stood looking into—what?
There was a nameless fascination in
the 4ife-like painting for Kenneth. He
He kad come, day after day, to unravel
bie must be ill.
“You ought to rest, dear,”
ner hour. “You are working too hard,
Kenneth. Go out more and let your
She was standing behind hs chair,
with her cool, soft band on his fore-
head.
“My poor boy,” she said gently as she
and as he looked
er it seemed to hum that her eyes
were a little like Marguerita's,
“Would Marguerite ever stand be-
}
it
head?" he thought.
“What is it Ken?'’ sald Jean,
“*Dear little Jeanie,” he said fondly,
“don’t worry about me. 1 will rest
next Summer. We will go to som
than
(x0
“You need something more
keeping cool and serene, Kenneth.
out more into society.
to-night.
him. but, as often, had to leave unsatis-
fied.
Her
face, while fresh and young,
the experience of a lifetime, and yet —
folded itself to his admiring eyes, The
complete simplicity of the whole seemed
guerites,”
ager voices disturbed his reverie,
and with surprise he saw the usual
“What sort of thing, Jean?’ asked
Kenneth, for he knew his brother-in-
law was fond of gay company.
*“This reception at Mrs. General Slo-
cum’s; an artist's reception,”
went on to describe it.
ones, Kenneth,’ she said at last, as an
inducement,
“What if Marguerite's
there!’ he thought.
brother should
be He had tried
he had failed, and now that be had
found her he must now know her
brother.
“I will try it to-night, Jean,” he said,
Very stylish and elegant was Jean
ed, around him.
picture,
to enthusiasm,
“The young artist’s reputation, as
weed] as fortune is made,’ he heard one
lady say to another.
bers who are going to have him paint
their portraits.”
“ff he has been offered such a fabu-
nat part with it?" said the other,
heard it,
ter,
perceive, and I am told that they are of
French parentage. They are orphans,
and wretchedly poor, but the brother's
one worship is for this beautiful sister,
She is his idol, and he guards her jeal-
painted ber merely as a labor of love,
But it was seen, and he was inddeed to
have it brought here,
great deal of persuasion, This is the
almost too romantic to believe,”
pathetic.”
Hedged in as he was, Kenneth could
not but hear the conversation; but he
made his way out as soon as he could.
The wistful eyes followed him, and it
seemed as if a mute appeal lingered in
their dark blue depths. They looked
out frem the pages of hus ponderous
ledgers; they followed him home that
evening, and in the darkness of the
pight he saw them in his dreams,
Days passed, and each morning saw
Kenneth before the painting, drinking
in its marvelous loveliness,
Then the exhibition closed, and he
saw it no more, He sought the paint-
er’s studio, but found that, too, :
His disappointment was great, for he
was anxions to discover if the rumor as
to the original were true or not,
Put he could divest himself of the
fdea that there was a Marguerite, as
sweel and as true as her portrait. Her
wonderful eyes followed him daily, and
he had a fancy that they belonged to his
guardian angel who watched over him,
When Winter came, and artists re-
turned to their accustomed places once
more, Kenneth haunted art rooms, pri-
vate exhibitions and painter's studios,
tn the vain hope of once more see
“Murguerites,” but it had disappea
atte: ly. completely,
Still be waited,
One day he was driving with his sis
ter Jean and ber children. The soft
Spring weather seemed doubly pleasant
after the long lee-bound Winter, and
the streets were thronged. James drove
slowly, but finally the
rsh somewhat
* Jean leaned back Ilanguidly and
watched the h :
’
thrill of pride as he led her to the car
riage.
“I will not keep you here late,
said.
When they entered the brilliantly
lighted parlors Mrs, Slocum wet them
with great cordiality.
“Dear Mrs. McDonald; so glad to see
youl And Mr. King?
she
we
hia
fashionable world. He began to take
an interest in it,
Theres were numbers of artists of note
interest,
Suddenly his attention was arrested
by a gleam of golden hair, and, hasten-
ing through the throng, he saw his
beautiful Marguerite,
It was but a moment's work to seek
his hostess,
velvet? Certainly.
one of my proteges.”’
Kenneth could not believe his senses
when he found himself by the side of
Marguerite. He had waited so long
and patiently, and now his ambition
was realized,
Her quaintly turned sentences and
slightly foreign accent proclaimed at
once her French descent,
To Kenneth the music of her volce
was more potent and lasting in its
charm than the sweetest notes of a
prima douna—ber luminous eyes with
the purple shadows under them, more
eloquent and fascinating than another
woman's most brilliant conversation.
He gave himself up to the intoxication
of her presence completely.
He found her very quiet, almost shy,
but her brother's seclusion of her ex-
plained that. One moment Kenneth
would be almost angry with him for
depriving the world of this loveliness;
the next profoundiy ateful that she
had been so shie . It seemed io
him that be had been there bul a
moment, when he heard a young man
at Marguerite's side say:
“Ma soeur, are you ready to leave?"
And she assen and introduced her
It is Mlle. Rayne,
yo!
sister, Mr, King,’’ said M. Rayne.
“Indeed, Jean—Mrs. McDonald? 1
am glad of that. I can return the com
pliment, M. Rayne.”
- Marguerite smiled her slow Nogoring
smile in answer, and the artist
p K
ming manor And when bo chose xa
to-night,
os SS CRI LENIN
honor to call. We should be most
grateful.”
Henri Rayne asking a man to call on
him and his sister! Incredible!
Kenneth accepted the invitation and
coming and going in her cheeks, After
ringe be returned for Jean.
her surrounded bya group of admiring
friends, as usual. for Mrs, McDonald
was a very fascinating woman, and
society recognized the fact,
She rose at seeing Kenneth,
“Poor Ken,” she said lightly, “have
I stayed tho long? I completly forgot
my promise,” He smiled.
“No, Jean,” he said gently,
loved her! He felt his heart go out to
her as never before. And it was from
loving Marguerite, beautiful Marguer-
ite.
“Kenneth said Jean when they were
| in the carriage, speeding homeward, *'I
mat the artist who painted that lovely
picture that we so admired at the Art
Loan Exhibition, last Winter. I shall
have him paint my portrait,’
“M. Rayne?” said Kenneth; ‘*he said
he met you, I was introduced to his
sister, who is the original of that pic
ture.”
“Were you? Was she the one in dark
blue velvet, whom I saw you with?”
“Yes, Jean. She is beautiful, I
think,”
“I wish I had met her,” said Jean,
musingly, regarding her brother closely,
but in the darkness she could see noth-
ing.
sitll
with her, Had he followed h
| tions, he would have spent every availa
ble moment with the artist and his
sister, He would have had his own
{ portrait painted, and taken it
hemence,
He was almost surprised to find how
she fliled his thoughts.
| ennobled him, and made him loog to be
| worthy of her pure love, and should he
be so fortunate as to win it. He would
i leave her présence sometimes
alinost relief to be in the open alr,
great love overwhelmad him,
As for the girl herself, with her
French ideas of propriety, her brother's
treatment of this man was a revelation.
That he should ask Kenneth to call was
! strange enough, and, not only that, he
| sometimes Jeft them alone for a few
minutes,
Henri Payne knew
metal,
She was unused to
rally reserved; but Kenne calm
steadfastness led her to trust
iy 3 ri ry or 1
ritly, Marguerite knew he
y
w
he
society and natu
ths
HDI
Der.
{he met her, and now she was almost
| terrified to discover the ty of her
own love: and £ in him,
{ She wondered at hersell, yet fell no fear,
Her nature was quick to seek the good
| in everything, and she intaitively felt
that Keanneth's love for her was
ordinary atlection, and that in 1b there
was no flaw.
1tensit
absolt trust
no
to the mountains, but Kenneth followed
It was no
but a charming and
few,
He was a little anxious at the turn of
affairs just here, He had obtained per-
mission bf Henri to win Marguerites’s
love, but the girl herself changed. She
avoided him and sought opportunities Lo
leave him when he came up Lo her,
Could 1t be possible that she did not
fest
sua
waking him understand?
He would wait no longer, he decided;
he could not school himself to patience
with this horrible doubt
He wondered as to when Fate would
grant a favorable opportunity for him
to tell his love, for here he was almost
Pow er jean,
times in the city, and, learning her
taste, had sent her namesakes, mar-
guerites, She placed them artistically
around the rooms, but never wore them,
era?" hie sald to her once, “Wear some
them, his gifts to her, but he had never
One morning Marguerite was going
The sky was blue and fair, and
not a cloud to be seen, Kenneth saw
at once,
Never had she looked so beautiful.
Her saflor dress of dark blue contrasted
strikingly with her golden hair, and the
purple shadows were deep around her
brilliant eyes. He told his story in his
own straightforward way, but warded
off her reply.
“Do not tell me now, dear,” he whis-
pered, *‘wait until you come back. If
eyes, and if it be ‘yes,’ wear these dai-
aies. [shall be waiting for you, Mar-
guerite.”
He watched her sail away with his
her eves told him what her answer
would be, ‘
He wrote a long letter to Jean, and
at the close said, **When I come home
if I bring Marguerite, shall you be glad,
Jeannie?” That was all; he could not
trust himself to write more,
It was getting so dark:—what was it?
He looked out. The sky was black
and overcast, The waves were
Kenneth strained his eves to see the
white sails of the boat that held all that
was dear to him. But he watched In
vain. Each moment the gale grew
more furious,
He was nearly maddened by suspense,
Why bad he net gone with her? le
tramped restlessly up and down, bat
tling fiercely with the wind,
Suddenly a strange calm stole over
him. He felt the mysterious presence
of the angel of death, Its icy breath
touched his cheek.
Then his eyes caught sight of a dark
object flung high on the beach, He
approached it with painful slowness,
His very heart was numb,
There on the sand lay a slender shape,
with long shining hair, With a great
ery, he bent over her, It was Mar-
guerlte, with the daises in her bosom.
a ——— I ———
Ins French Restaurant,
If you visit New Orleans this spring
and happen into any of the French res-
sign reading:
here.” .
My Hoosier friend was bound and
determined to try one of those French
restanrants, His mouth
all the way down, and he had
his chops from the depot to
street.
licked
Canal
ished free made out a satisfactory 65
cent lunch, He was charmed and
ified, and during the afternoon he pro-
bably sent one hundred strangers to
i that restaurant.
things, aud before he had [inished eal
| ing the waiter brought him a cigar and
a match on a server,
“Egad! chuckled the Hoos
is munificence! This is treatinga
| man white, and I kin lickanybody who
er, ‘but
i this
| says a word agin a French restaurant!”
“When he went over to Lhe
| pay lus bul the cashier replied that
was ninety cents,
“Why, you only charged me sixty-
five at noon,’ replied Indiana,
“Yas, i . ents”
“And you
“No sit.”
“wer
i
didn’t give
sul a cigs
t to mel”
cents, I'll see
you
Hoosier threw the cigar down and
the cashier threw it back, and by
by it was broken. Then the “jaw’”’
creased and the riot grew more
“1 send for zee po-lecel” yelled the
cashier
“Send and be durned!”
Hoosler as he took a seat,
“You laike to—to play zee daid beat,
I” howled Lhe
“Dead beat!
lled the
ye
eh
1 old highway rob
n't call me suct
police dadn’t
the room §
1 names as that!”
but every
thered around, and
illing up with
gave in
CONG,
a curious crowd,
and took 65 cents |
“Now whare you f{
he pocketed the mo
sat
ind
itiior
$1352
Ana, and « !
I'm a Hoosier, and I don’
nobody!"
“A Hoosier!
knuckle
I remember dat! A
Hoosier! Robart, you hurry up and
paint big saign which reads dait wo
Hoosier was wanted
more!"
“And now.” remarked Indiana as he
backed out, “French restaurant, a long
farewell! Good-bye old robber! 1
can’t hurt ye here, but let me
sy if I have to mortgage my cider mill
to pay the finel"’
fi
Notea Men,
five feet nine.
ladies. His partner, George P. Morris,
who once Was 80 popular asa song wri-
ter, was a short, stout man, with a dull
that
Poe was rather under size and dressed
poor. His face had a sad, dreamy, in-
tellectual look, which would at once
rivet attention. Longfellow was a man
most striking feature was his nose,
which was altogether too prominent for
When I first saw him his face
was cleanshaven, and this rendered the
nasal organ the more conspicuous, I
think that he afterward wore full beard
and moustache in order to give the rest
of his face more fullness and thus re-
duce the nose to reasonable proportions.
Bayard Taylor was a man of very
fine personal appearance. He was tall
and well shaped, and his countenance
was matked by power, He too had a
prominent nose, but it was one which
gave dignity and strength to his face.
Edward Everett was a man of unus-
ually fine appearance, and this added
much to his admirable oratory. James
Fenimore Cooper, however, bore the
palm among the literati of his day,and,
of any other day. It is doubt.
ful if world of letters ever contain.
ed his equal in manly beauty. He stood
fully six feet and was finely proportion-
ed. His movements were easy and had
that air which bel to naval service,
in which he passed his early years. His
head was large, and his features were of
a leonine cast, while his clear, gray
eyes were radiant with power. He was
one of that class of au whose
or. Bima. ote Jv 1a
writings, saw him once :
urt, the case being one his libel suits,
one
Bismarok’s Home,
There is scarcely anything remarka-
ble in the Chancellor's house at Fried.
richeruhie excep: its absolute plainness,
ing gorgeous tapestry and rare brie a-
brac, but Bismarck, after all, is only a
poor man. His state appointment is
not worth over 3,000 pounds sterling;
Schonhausen is valueless; Varzin does
not yield much and the estate of Fried.
richsrube, although estimated at 150,000
000 pounds sterling, It Is true that this
i8 no reason why Lis walls should be
whitewashed, why his furniture is of the
|
simplest deseription, why his art treas-
{ ures consists of comparatively worth-
| less photographs and paintings of his
| danghter and his sons, of Moltke, of
Cardinal Hobenlohe, of Thiers, of Dea~
| consfield, of Friedrichsrube itself, Yet
there are several objects of luxury and
ease, and others of decidedly historic
importance, There is the rich carpet,
| extending through hail and rooms; the
number of chi where the whole
winter through
and an abund:
times Lwo or three
ey,
fires b
ice OF
in one room. On
Moltke, crowned with a huge laurel
| wreath, a plaster cast of Charlemagne,
and a small cgpy of Schluter's Great
Elector. The dining-room is adorned
with the bronze statue of the Emperor,
| particular mention is due to the bronze
imitation of the Neiderwald, which
| smoking-room. A leaflet is attached to
{ it with the following
the Emperor himself
the crowning stone of
| festival which was ds
{ you, and which you un
{ able to attend WW."
| Not less interesting
| curiosity is a small card table in the
| prince’s study, Wher
your policy; a
chiefly
Lined
brass plate, bearing the
{ “On this table the prelim
between Germany and
igned the 20th of February,
| Versailles, Rue de Provence, No, 16.”
| When opened there appears the central
| round of green cloth with the very can-
espots of yore, when Bismarck and
*ayre put their names under the treaty.
it wanted a good deal of
f the Chancellor
Ary
{ (3a
GIpoIacy on
¥ 13 ys
VW POSSESS
nself of It
s Provence obstinately refusal to part
with it for any consideration of money
| until the prince at last called in a cabi-
pet maker, ordering him to make an
ther table exactly similar to that one,
$
y landlady of course decided in favor
of the better-looking of the two and al-
lowed Bismarck te carry off the
14: one,
The prince's own room 8 not
only
bears due
of iis inmate
writing table,
the militia of Immense
Even
conlains
S178
» mahogany
tand
evervihmg it
ion fo the le
Oo
gif
:
ose quills and larze pencils
¥
Gow
mind of the man who i8 reclining on
scope to his thoughis, The guest rooms
| are situated on the first floor, It need
scarcely be added that they are distin.
guished by comfort, ease and luxury
{rom the Spartan nakedness of the rest
of the house, It bodes peace and frien-
is invited to Fredericksrube. Here
Bismarck puts out the torch of hatred;
| for the host’sduty he considers to be to
| good understanding.
ES ————————— ih
Not So Very Green.
on at Poutiac. He thought be saw that
ng thing,
who had never been around any, and
he wended his way to where she sat and
insinuated himself into her sociely.
“It is a very stormy day, miss," said
the merchant traveler.
“1g that so?’ she asked, with a great
show of interest,
swoet example of rustic
yet she seemed to know nothing about
it.
“Poor, credulous, simple thing," he
thought, “she’ll be madly in love with
me in fifteen minutes.”
“Going far?” he inquired.
“Oh, an awful long way!”
the gripsack man.
“How far are you going?’’ he asked.
“Oh, away off.”
“To St. Louis?"
“My, yes, and further than that.’
“I'm awful glad, I'l bave your
com a good while, then,” said he.
YT a we shali be t friends.’
“I hope #0," she repli
“You have beaus, don
drummer suddenly asked.
* No; I used to have, but—*"
“Ah! never mind. I'll be your beau
on this trip. Now, tell me your name,
"
?
“Matilda — Matilda Haw-—well, it
used to Hawkins, but it is Jordan now.’
“What! You are not married?"
“Nol 1 poisoned my 0th husband the
other day, and you, oh, you look so
sweet, You Jook as if strychnine
would make such a beautiful corpse of
joul Come, now, won't you marry
me
"t you?" the
a A A tS lo
“Is your mother at home, bub?”?
inquired a lady as she walked up toa
house and found a small boy with an
old campaign hat on, sitting on the steps
and shooting pebbles at a dog ewer the
“No'um she’s jist gone to the gro.
cery to git some codfish for dinner,”
replied the boy, punctusting his ree
marks with spuffles, * ‘coz this haint
our day for meat, We only has it twicet
a week now, coz she's saving ap some
money to buy 8 new cloak that] jist
motre’n take the tuck out ’o Miss Bail.
ewm’s; for you see, ma she jist can’t bear
Miss Ballem, and it most kills her to
see her come out with a good stich on,
an’ every time she does git anything
new why ma she takes on jis awlal an’
says she wonders what Mises Ballom
pawned this time to buy it with, and
until she kin collar sumpin that'® wake
jailemn slam her door when she
walks along, an’—mam?"
“Don’t hit that poor dog, bub.
hurt him then, real b Dow’
You
you
Fla,
{ “No'um, ma says (ain't. Yon ses
{that's Miss Nodgel's dog, and ma is
i jist down on her, ob, awful, You see,
| Miss Nodget has owed her three deaw~
| in’s o' tea for more’n two months, an’
i she'd a had our skillet yet if mahaan’t
sent me after it, and then she broket
a piece off 'n the handle, an’ her man an’
| pa don’t jibe on politics nowhow, an’
ole Nodget he —~mam?’’
“Isn't that your mother coming yon-
. ]
der?”
Ea s Ses ev
“No'um,
mons,
over yonder, an’
it we
you see,
£'8 ole Miss Bim-
yaller Louse
iis hates her a
does M 155
ma wens to
to ses Ler
to be bus
somehow 3
got right up
et an’ went around
mame
i your mother go
Why, t
She lives tha
ma she
blame wee'n she
{ Batlem, ¢
neeanny
yrother wi
When
JUNG IV OUL, f
an’ put on her bons
to all our neighls
+
a il FTOCET] hi
!
| “No'um. You see, we used to git all
| our things at Rogers’, but finally be jis
wanted the cash down every
| time, un’ ma she jis got mad, an’ said
he would pot have nuthin’ mere to do
ves thumb weight,
ole spilt stulfl on
iss Rogers she heerd
jis come right over
y jis had kX wp an’
+ wns }
i FOL BO NE
with
an’
her, an’
| A wut It,
ian’ her’'n ma they
| down, an’-—mam?”’
i “Did your mother say shi
| right back?’
“No'um, She said maybe she might
p afew minules and ses Miss
{ Nickup, coz she’s got a baby what's got
the measles jis awful, an’ her man Las
| been jis billin’ drunk for a week, an’
i mam?"
“Will you tell ber I've been bere? I
any longer, I'm Mes
x ¢
Wal
"
x > *
{ JIS BW
81
ican't
| Thompson,
“Yes'um. Oh, yes, you're the woe
| man. what ma was 1alkin' about Wed.
pesday. I member it coz thal was our
for meat, an’—mam?"
i she say anything good about
day
ha BT
me?"
| *“No'um. She jis said you pw on a
| heap o' style for a grass widder, ‘and
| she jis thought it was a burn’ shame
that you was going to marry that ole
eross-eyed codger with a cork leg, cos
| he had money, ‘thout gettin’ no divorce
from the red-headed hoss-thiel that
—tmam?”
“Tell your mother she’s a good-noth-
ing gad-about, and she'd better stay at
| home and keep her tongue in her bead
or it"ll poison ber. I never want to put
| eyes on her again. Will you tell her
| that?"
« Yes'um' replied the boy, as he fixed
| another stone in the sling and getready
to make the dog howl, 10,
pn ———
After the Whale,
Mineral oils have pow supplanted
{ train oils for many puposes, and the
| perpetual hunting bas now diminished
| the numbers as well as the size of the
| whales, no animal having a chance 10
| attain its full dimensions befors i is
| harpooned, Often, nowadays, a wha
| ing ship returns *‘clean,” i. €., without
| having captured a single whale, so that,
| what with the lessened prices and ithe
diminished numbers and dimensions of
| the animals, whaling has become almost
| a lottery instead of a solid Investment
of capital, and few shipowners care to
run such a risk, Furnished with its
wonderful bony meve, the Greenland
whale has no difficulty in procuring its
| food, Wish mouth more or less open
| it swims backwarn and forward through
| the shoals of the Clio, which mostly are
| found near the surface. The water
| escapes freely between the horny
plates and lining fringe, while the ani-
| mals are detained within the foliage.
When it wishes to swallow the prey
| which it has caught it employs its
tongue, which is not less remarkable
than the rest of the whale’s structure,
The tongue is not free except at the
base, as with mammals generally, so
that it can only be protruded upward,
i once had an opportunity of examining
the tongue of a small baleen whale
which can be cast ashore. It was of
Et wr
cou ,
uffed pin-cushion,
tre with my fingers
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