A Pillow of Roses, home is afar from the town and its jar, WV here cool country breezes are blowing— Where birds unafraltd warble soft In the shade, And beauty and bounty are growing; No tlatterers woo me, no lovers pursue; So peace in my cottage reposes; My days glide along like the flow of a song, And 1 od on a pillow of roses; Ah, never a sleep is so balmy and deep, No eyelid se happily closes As hers who lies down without kingdom or orown, To dream on a pillow of roses! M The fur of the ermine is costly and rare, And royalty claims it to robe her— And buoyant as air are the gossamers fair That spangle the grass in October — But neither could spread so delightful a bed To solace the worlkd-weary comer, As roses, which grew in the sunshine and dew, And stole all the sweet of the summer. Ah, never a sleep is sobalmy and deep, No eyelid so happily closes As his who bes down without kingdom or orown, To dream on a pillow of roses! The down of the elder is dainty and soft In her nest by the boreal billow, By covetous mariners plundered too oft, For a monarch’s luxurious pillow; But the rest of a (queen is not serene, And a king upon thorns oft reposes,— How gladly they'd lay down the scepter to-day, To dream on my pillow of roses! Al, never a sleep is so balmy aud deep, No eyelid so happily closes As his, who lies down without kingdom or crown, To dream on a pillow of roses! always During one of the long journeys I made In my vouth I met with a Ger. man singer traveling on foot, carrying his knapsack. The poor artist had sold his theatrical! wardrobe, had no longer the means to pay for a nights lodging and was singing in the streets to obtain the price of a meal. Pitying his forlorn condition, for it was evident from his appearance that he had seen better days, 1 asked what had reduced him to such extremities, Seidler—for that was once celebrated tenor—wept bitterly as he related to me the history of his mis. fortunes J had a beautiful voice; the public de- lighted in listening to me and 1 even perhaps. cause I was too much of a mau. lost the heart of Mignon!” “The heart of Mignon?” said I. “Yes, when one has lost 1t as 1 have one can sing no longer. Whilst one has I have ces. To lose Mignon’s heart is a prov- erb well known among singers of my country—a story and tradition, call it what you like.” “1 would like to hear it, Seidler, Let us go and smoke 1a a quiet place and the Johannisberger which colors glasses will enlighten your me its golden lustre,”’ The gloomy countenance of 14 in ing story, short, simple and yet myste- rious, full of postic sentiment charming morality. A young singer from the Imperial Theatre of Vienna, walking in the Pra- the promenaders. fined, sweet and melancholy. The singer approached and asked her name, ‘My ed to teach me dancing and 1 would only learn wmousic; he could see in only a bad ballet dancer, and I think I am good for nothing but a singer.”’ “What has become of Mignon?" “1 do not know; morning and then went away.” “What are you going to do then? ve seem to beg.” “Will you come to me, Mignon?" “Who are you?” with strangers,’’ “I am an artiste who does not sing as well as you do, Mignon, but sweet voices and pretty singers.” “An “(Give me your hand, You shall be my low you.” whose name was Stephen and the singer whose name was Mignon were already the best friends in the world, They sang together every day, amidst the fruits and cadences of an interminable duet. In a case like this duet music resembles calumny some. hing always remains behind, For Stephien and Mignon was much love and a great deal of sor- row, One evening Stephen had been singer whom she silently admired A tear suddenly fell upon the voung girl's forehead. Raising her little Land to dry her friends tears, she said: “If Stephen is unhappy what will be- come of Mignon?’ “Look at me,” said Stephen, there sorrow in such tears?” Mignon knelt before theartiste whom she called her master, she leaned her pretty head upon Stephen’s knees, with- out noticing the long black Lair which fell over her shoulders. Stephen tried to raise the young girl, and felt upon his hand a tear from the eyes of Mig. non, and said to her in his turn: “it oa are unhappy what will be- come of Stephen?’ “Is “Look at nas Laid Mignon. there sorrow in tears?” “Mignon, my darling Mignon,* said Stephen, ‘‘weep in my arms, let us weep together, so close to one another that our hearts may guess the seeret of our weeping eyes,"’ Steptien gave her a kiss. With a gurl who loves you a kiss like a food i8 never thrown away, At this moment his heart, moved by the caress given and returned, the amorous actor could think of nothing more gallant than to repeat “11 mio tesora,” still contem ting Mignon. He sung with nn spirit and | ' - “la never had his voice been so pure, 80 brilhant, so charming as now, in this supreme moment of joy and love. One might almost have said the singer had discovered taste, sentiment, the true passion and genius of music upon the lips of his mistress, in the heart of Mig- non. In the inner life of great artistes, those elect who live through the imagi- pation, the heart, the spirit, there is nearly always a women hidden, a muse, an Egeria, an enchantress, who loves and inspires by her heart or her kisses, From that day forward Stephen, who felt that he was singing wonderfully, promised himself to reach fame and for- tune. Mignon promised herself to aid him by her counsels, her memories and her lessons: she would be one to help and secretly direct his new studies; she became his mstructor in love and song. When Stephen reappeared at the Court Theatre after a long absence, the audi- ence absolutely failed to recognize the voice of the singer. It had become penetrating, spiritual, caressing, mar- Never had been heard any- thing so brilliant yet so soft, so expres- sive, so impassioned as the song of that wonderful actor. The heart of Mignon | sang there. She was proud of the talent | and fame of Stephen. The poor girl studied from morning tll pight, the better to teach her lover all the wonder- | ful arts of song, the most difficult re- | sources of music, the very mysteries of i perfection. Stephen’s success was her | masterpiece and it was truly the heart | of Mignon through the lips of Stephen that sang in the Court Theatre. So long as her beloved loved her still and | was good enough to tell her so, so long | as he brought her the bouquets the pub- lic bestowed upon the wonderful singer, so long as he returned her valuable les. | sons with protestations and tenderness, so long as the young girl believed she | had nothing to ask or desire in this | world, But her joy was not to last, her | happiness was to end as quickly as a ro- | mance. Inthe pride and intexication | of this triumph, Stephen began to re- | semble the hero of a French play; when the gambler is fortunate he forgets and disdains the love of Angelique. When | fortune leaves and betrays him, he re- turns to the woman who loves him and | adores her again. Just so was it with | Stephen's grand passion; when he Was | happy in the enthusiasm of the audi- | ence, neglect of the beauty, tenderness | and devotion of Mignon. If the public was cold and lost some of its enthusi- asm, then he became loving to the poor child once more, he found her charming, pretty, clever and adored her. Soon Stephen imagined that be no longer needed to draw inspiration from the taste, the lessons, the voice or the heart of Mignon. He ended by seeing | in her only a poor girl to be pitied, a | | faithful misstress who loved much. a | devoted friend with much resignation. Stephen liked to live in the land of | rouged gallantry, in the equivocal kKing- dom behind the scenes, Mignon had a great fault in his eyes; she was not an actress, she had at her feet neither { terers, slaves lovers nor poets; she wore no garlands of faded flowers, and ber simple attire was not theatrical finery. Her face was rosy without paint, her hands were white without bleaching, her breath sweet without perfume. No! was no actress, she was satisfied | with being a woman. Mignon did not think of complaining, or grieving; per- haps she determined to let herself die as quickly as possible without suicide. The health of the young girl failed | daily and alarmed everybody except | Stephen. Mignon forced herself in vain to struggle against suffering and weak- ness, and one evening she fell uncen- | scious and almost dy in the arms of her physician. When she came to herself late at night, pale, motionless, voiceless and unrecognizable, Mignon saw Stephen | seated at the head of her bed, bending | sadly toward the young invalid, as | though te whisper to Ler pity and con- | solation. she tharked him for his visit, his | kind looks, his sadoess, with a smile, a | tear and a sigh. “Dear Mignon,” said Stephen. “God { himself has avenged you and punished me, | “God avenged me?" murmured Mig- { non. ! “Yes, my fame and fortune are end- | | ed: the day I began to forget and betray | you, I felt the first effect of the Divine anger.’ “What has happened, Stephen?" “I cannot sing any longer, Mignon, | the last notes of my voice died away | | with the last sighs of our happiness, 1 { have lost all I owed to the inspiration | of your love, God has breathed upon my | lips. and song has ceased. | ~he 5 ing “You cannot sing any mote, Ste- phen?’ “I shall never sing again, Mignon.” “But you will sing again,’ cried the { young invalid, “You will sing if you ilove and obey me. Listea to me.” | stephen knelt by her. “I have no strength left, no memory, {and IT can scarcely sea you and [ feel t that 1 must die soon; presently at the last moment you must come softly to the bedside, you must bend over her | who has so deeply loved you, you will know by the pallor of the countenance, | the agitation of the features, when the last breath is about to escape, then you must hold me in a last embrace, your lips pressed to mine, you will feel that I am expiring and your last kiss will receive the heart of Mignon, If you will receive it within your own and once more listen to its counsels, you will recover all you have lost, the voice, the expression, the passion of the inspired artiste. My best beloved, you will receive the heart of Mignon; it will live in and inspire you as long as you do not it by your actions or thoughts, y heart shail breathe {ato your voice those exquisite notes, treasures of melody and poetry, So long as you remember the poor girl who adored you the heart of Mignon will be faithful and bring you bhappi- ness!’ ' A few hours after this scene the poor child was at the point of death, Ste- phen gave her a melancholy kiss; she breathed ber last sigh and the spirit of Mignon passed into the heart of Ste- phen. Two or three days after her death Stephen entered » he ber. Arent) Jouk OF he. roots luapital ihe artiste ments, almost resem mad- | ness, He handled the little articles she had used, he caressed the head of Mig- non on that pillow where it no longer lay, and he uttered aloud to a phantom words which had once been whispered to the woman. Mignon above might be happy and proud; she was still loved and regretted, Suddenly it seemed to Stephen that a mysterious voice, as sweet as that of his mistress, whispered low in his ear, “You can sing God pardons and 1 in- spire thee, Sing.”’ Stephen dried his tears and sat down before Mignon’s plano. With tremb- ling hand he struck the notes, his eyes turned to that heaven where he hoped if by a miracle, be sang with a voice " the “11 mio tesora,” which he had so often sung at the feet of his mistress, It was the loving heart of Mignon which once more sung in Stephen, From that time forward Stephen never sang in the theatre without think- ing of Mignon; he had loved herself and he adored her memory and this adora- tion brought good luck to bis talent, ——— IA ————— The Shoplifter’'s Muff of the female shoplifter, and, by those The boliday period 18 the choicest season of the year for the shoplifter, have become perfectly familiar with the ‘warehouse’ dresses and cloaks of the Until the advent of the French muff the ladies who llived by fancy articles in the largest stores had but with the new device they have been eyed professional counter watchers. The shoplifter’s muff is, outwardly, there being notbing to betray its capacity for con- Its is covered with tit «IL instead of being padded with cotton th fur rests upon a iramework of wire, Between the fur covering and the wire- supporting frame the space usually filled ding accommodation for quite a stock valuable lace, articles of jewelry, gloves, or anything else small and val. able, In the bottom of the muff there is a e on the inside worked by the hand of the wearer, who, after introdu- cing the article stolen in the muff, presses back this slide and drops the plunder fmto the cavity between the frame and the far. With one of muffs shoplifting is so easy as to be suc- nov these $ ces. as not sand wo cessfully practised by walker | suspect that his counters ed ough a muff worn when In action. The operator her hand =» muff on it on goods which ie samy and a moment of the part of the salesmar is agipie for her Lo tr pious warehouse CALl conveniently an with one hand. The movement ot con cealing the stolen articles is Ane. ously executed, and however well muff may be stufled, it caunot be | ged out to attract attention, like a clo or a dress one store 4 1 as these ar $ thr Liar &} prop FRE diverted or saleswoman Feast ¥ aie A Inge SALOpies as she d quickly pick up nsfer Lo he: : UCU rikt ant LASLALL # wae —— - « uitivate the Mistletoe, who was not kissed under a bough of mistletoe al Christmas would not be married during the following Year en origin should exclude his found 12 young peopie al any peried. On the contrary, they took good eare that it should be hung, and st 4 supply of berries determined the num. ber of kisses. man use of the plant such a preventative of the state of old maidism, Some trace the use of green Romans and Druids the vervain was a panagea for every ill, and above all, plant in the Christmas season. The that grew on the oak, but the common mistletos ( Viscus Album), with its pearly berries, is gathered from the hawthorn, the old apple tree, the lime and the fir, and from other trees, Of late years this parasite has been scarcer made to propagate it, This is done by cleaning off the bark under any joint of a young tree with the moistened thumb, and then pressing the glutinous berry on the cleaned place tili it adheres to the bark; it will begin to show growth in about fifteen months, 1% is an obvi. ous suggestion that in sec'fons of the country where the statistic gshow a fall- ing off in marriages thisgplant ought not to be let die out, EN ——— Descendants of the arsemoen From Greenland con little hamlets occupied by the descend. ants of the Norsem @ who emigrated thither hundreds of years ago, are in existence, aud that fhe py and contented enced by the even side world, and un the story that asing in the out. filed by politics or pl the coast of he ish fshing untry, which then pus climate than nursery, to your trees, Clear away the dead and diseased trees. CHASED BY A BLUE HERON. A Carious Adventare in a Florida Swamp--The Hunter Hunted. Of all the native birds in Florida tribes. the great blue heron, extraordinary size. Capt. Dummitt, who planted the most noted orange grove in the State, killed one on a bayou near Mosquito Lagoon fifteen years ago which seven inches from the point of its bill to the tips of 1ts toes. The coastwise In south of sixty and eighty feet, but north of Cape Canaveral it 1s a gnarled brush from ten to fifteen feet high. bushes cover the little islands as hair covers a man’s scalp. The islands are veritable thickets and woe betide the | the second shot the heron fell, and the | ltnpetus from its speed was so great | that it, came against me, legs, wings, | neck, and beak, in a limp lump, had | shot it through the neck. Its head was attached by the skin of the neck alone, I carried the prize to camp. Its plume age was the perfection of feathery beauty, Old Conner, my guide, was awaiting my return with a supper of | roasted venison and yams, The bird | was so tall that Conner festened its | beak to the drew the neck over my head. and the | feet touched the ground. He after- { ward severed the head from the neck, {and hurled it across the fire at the i trunk of a palmetto have seen per- { formers at a circus handle a knife in a | similar way-—the sharp beak entered | the tree, and stood quivering there like | a heavy-bandled bodkin; and for all that I know it remains there to this | day. ct ps infested with sand quitoes, and scorpions. Creeks intense labyrinth, * Chese solitary creeks are the favorite fishing grounds of the great blue heron. my life have been spent in hunting the bird in these haunts. Seated in the bow of a Canadian canoe, with my gun my stern, I on mangroves, At was frequently a Huge wings were beneath the arching sharp turns there scream of affright, unfolded. by a shot well aimed, sport, however, for a stranger. Even i the green labyrinth and suffer tortures. Unpractised hunters are apt great blue herou is as sharp as a needle, and his long neck masks immense and great power, The bird strikes with marvellous precision and with the rapidity of lightning. When i the cheek The blow was was just Worth It after twilight, The darkness saved I was in a thicket lookin ) birds that I had shot while on the wing spot guishable foliage, and As | stoopad to pick i as tho in $ i ak § Cheek was plerc thrust from a stiletto In the spring of 1575 in the heart of Turnt about eight miles from vd of Indian The weather was very dry and there was much less water In the swamp than usual, I was hu quet wild turkeys, wood du bears, SWARmp streaked with savannas a hundred yards wide a iles in extent. Deer becom in my viciaity, I set a savan- i 3 morning while ona tur key hunt. After the burning the grass the new crop would serve to bait the deer within a fortnight, At sunset | was miles away from camp. At dusk I saw several gobblers fly into a grove of tall espresses and marked them with t! intention of retuming in the m g 8% daylignt and shoo! yin the trees. The redden. ed sky gave me bearings on my way back to camp. After wading | ten minutes through mud and water, lis tening to the doleful music of a death 1. I emerged upon the burning sav. The sky was overcast it as dark as Erebus. A VLrisksonth w was driving the northward, ° eaping over th 1 was encamped | Swamp. he he d-cats and pumas is fm : In ng scarce 2 On re one of dead ie nn Ir a ule & tail, tops of the cypresses an orange hue, Suddenly [ saw in the lurid light They the precision of machinery. lastincts Un inspiratica I discharged it, for the ‘‘sight’’ was invisible, The barrel did good work, The third heron great circles, I saw that the bird ran forward to mark the spot. But the burnt part of the savanna, despite the lurid Hght from the rolling wave of fire in the south, was as black as the belly- ing darkness of the clouds. 1 heard tiie bird strike the earth with a thud, but did uot see where it fell Tue black ashes of the burnt grass were an- I searched for the prize but did pot find 1. I was perplexed. Suddenly a feath- ery form arose from the ashes ten feet away. it seemed to tower above me, It was the heron. It had elevated the white plume on its head as an angry eockatoo draws forward its topknot, The plume alone could be distinctly aeen the darkness, With a blood- curdling scream the tall bird darted for me. | knew my danger. On the spur in the blazing savanoa, The bird gave jump. 1 divined the situation. It's iy infuriated. If it struck me in the through me. In my baste {o secure my prey | had neglected to withdraw the empty shells from the fowling piece. It would not do to stand the chance of a fight by using the gun as a club, for it was so dark that 1 could not gauge the bird's distance, Besides the bird would be facing the light, and I would be facing the darkness, 1 continued my retreat; I ran as though the devil waa after me. In my flight I threw open the barrels of my gun, and drew out the empty shells, I: mad baste I reloaded and relocked the barrels, still running at the top of my speed. Then I , wheeled about, und banged a with both barrels. The bird shrieked worse than ever, and was un touched. Again 1 sped toward the burning I had regained my composure owever, Fear gave way to mirth, I outright at the absurdity of stars that no DINING WITH AN EX-KING. | By Mrs. Lynn Linton as She Saw Him My { much has th the fortune Hever Among great, dined with a king, albeit a king de- i posed. When Ekbal ood Dawlah, the | the ex-king of Oudh, came over to Eng- { land to press his claims I was 1atroduoe- led to him by Mr. Hector, who had | married a dear and charming friend of and who had been twenty-six | years a merchant in DBagded. Hence { it was that as Mr. Hector’s being also the old king’s—I cluded in a famous dinner given by Eisbal ood Dawlah at his house In Brompton, It was a dinner entirely | in the Eastern style, where we sat on i the floor and ate with our fingers. Mr. Hector was very earnest in impressing on his wife and me the most scrupul- { ous attention to two things-—-to touch | nothing with our left hands—do we pot all remember the men in the ‘Ara. bian Nights” whose right hands were wrapped in their cloaks, and who thus | were obliged to eat with their left 7— 'and not to soil our fingers beyond the first joint. We all sat on cushions on the floor, where also the dinner was { laid. Sir Henry Layard, Sir Henry lawlinson, Captain Felix Jones, late jushire, and his wife, a y Chaldean and a Nestorian Chris- Prof. Vambery, and the party. We first he of rice on our plates, were afterward placed all @ When the king wished honor us he scooped up own | but I have | mine was in- iad a on which the meats of the table, to some aid it withvhis wmnd on designated. Mrs. Hect ot Was ait bevon creatures I 1 white, fringe to their » water, scented soap, 1 embroidered {owel, 3 lion sashes, nd a basin ia fi when Si nged an we all clean, Ther the servants, Though a water drinker for his own part, ing allowed wine champagne Lo whi Hked And what struck me as es. pecially royal and fine was that when the servants began their meal and gravely served them with wine-—a f champagne in each hand, Mrs, Hector and 1 were rather out of tha run of things, for the conversation was carried on in Persian, Hindustan, or Arabic indiffe ant of the notably those i i 1 bottle Oo woman who could taix with the men, That all sorts of ‘merry jests"” were | said, perhaps broader than would quite Eoglish tastes was evident by the faces and the loud laughter of the men. | Sometimes they transiated for our bene. fit and sometimes they would not, and { I never regretted more my ignorance of the environment in which I found my- I remembered, too, suit 4 how Suir Henry Layard teased us—all in good humor--by saying how incomparably | more beautiful, more attractive alto- | gother was Mrs, Jones In her Eastern | dress and Eastern childlike simplicity, {than were Western women in their | starch and stays. This was about the | time when wild Dayral won the Derby | and we who loved and be lieved in La- | yard looke! to the fulfillment of the anagramatic prophecy and hoped that | the Premiership would some day fall to | the second conqueror of Nineveh, An- other striking incident took place that | evening. | king was out of the room, Prof. Vam- | bery disappeared. Presently there glid. ed in a wretched being all in rags and seeming dirt—a gaunt, creature, who stole in like a shadow and sank down in a noiseless bundle | close to the wall by the door. When | the king came in and saw the fakir he | called out in a voice of thunder: “Who is this dog?” His face was teally ter rible. He drew back with a look of disgust and rage that made him like some wild animal. rather than a man, When Vambery revealed himself and explained that it was simply a joke his roval wrath a little subsided, but he ordered him to leave the room at once, and to have done with such detestable fooling. sell Shakespeare's Mortgage. A photograph has been taken of the original deed of mortagage by William Shakespeare and others to Henry Walker, London, vintner, of a dwell ing-house at Black Friars, dated March 11, 1612-13, with autograph signature of the great poet, Accompanying the deed isa letter of Albany Wallis to David Garrick, stating that the docu ment had been found a the title deeds of an estate at Black . be longing to the Rev. Mr, Fetherston. baugh of Oxford, who presented it to Garrick. A in or} egg produ 8 or liver cooked and chopped fine, with milk, and a liberal supply of oats. In should be furnished. THE FAMOUS PONY FIXPRESS, Where It Went, How It Went, and What It Accomplished Twenty years ago settlers starting for the far West, with their heavily inden wagons, knew that the journey would occupy six mouths’ of hard travel, and might involve many dangers of varied character-~chiefly from hostile Indians, prairie fires and rattlesnakes, Once | started on that far journey, many a weary month must elapse ere any tid- ings could reach them from the home they had left, Great was the excitement when a | company of fearless, determined men { announced their resolution to carry let- | ters from the shores of the A {those of the Pacific in fourt i The feat was deemed impossible, | Nevertheless, Central Overland { California and Pike's Peak Express | was duly organized, the vast expanse of | country right across the Great Contl- nent was divided into runs of sixty | miles, and at each terminus rude log huts were erected as stations and sta bles tor men and beasts. The latter were strong, swift ponies, selected for thelr hardiness and great powers of endurance, and the riders | were all picked men, experienced scouts and trappers, noted—even in that re. | gion of keen, hard ridi menor courage and good horsemanship; and | many a tyme must both have been tried i te the utmost in course of those | terribly Jong and awfully jonesome rides across reckless prairie, cone tinually in danger of attack, by day or | by njght, by wild Indians or highway robbers, Once a week | started from either i Continent. From the first moment to { the last, not a second must be lost. As long as the pony could gallop, gallop i he must; and the eager s seemed las keen as their riders, and scarcely needed the cruel spur to urge them on, For sixty miles at a stretch they must { keep up their utmost speed; and when | at length the goal was reached, where the next messenger was waiting in the saddle, ready to start without one min- ute’s delay, the precious letter bag was tossed from one the other, and, ere the wearied 11 had even dismounted, his successor had started on his onward way. Then pony and feed, and rest | the messenger with a refilled letter bag, | which was warranted to accomplish its { journey of upward o 00 miles in 240 hours, (The railwa » New York } con wted as far as he eastern antie 1118 0 § i pty GARY 9 the the th Lie An eXpress messenger of the Great side ERR ur postman 10 COIeY . man might rest and till the return of Aan, Wi 3 * ¢ i = y Ol two years, a amazing reg veniur failure YEW, Alu © The men who get the down leave 1wme early in the mornings and risit the places to which the eider-duck sorts, ea for the esty in clefls in ymetit y bigh up, be certain ana Then ® vi sre a false Oo the step i death fortunate man who falls down on the jagged rocks below. The down is plucked from the breast of the duck by the bird it=eif, and is used to line the for the comfort of the young he hunter robs the bird of all the lining it has provided for the nest, putting it in a bag that he carries for the purpose, and then goes on and repeats the performance at some other ipest. Everything must be done very quietly, for a loud noise frightens the birds, and if frightened away once they will not build there again. | There is a law enforced that forbids [the discharge of firearms within the | hearing of the breeding places, and a stranger would probably be mobbed if | he disobeyed it. | Two crops of down are gathered, The | first crop is the best, for the duck uses an abundance of her choicest down ¥n i making her first nest. A short time after the first is gathered, the hunters go over the same ground again and rob the nests of the second lining, which consists of all the down the poor duck could rob herself of for her young. | This proceeding seems to call out the last energies of the birds, for they then | make a pew nest, and the drake lines it with his breast feathers. In thas nest | the young is hatched. The hunters seldom disturb it, for the probabilities | are that that pair would go away and | never return, | After thedown has been gathered it | is taken into a large room in the farm- | er’s house, and each nest—for the lin- | ing retains the shape of the nest-.is { placed on top of a primitive arrange- | ment that looks like a harp laid flag, | with strings of leather runningeacross {it. The nest is then rubbed over the [ strings and the litcheu, moss, sticks, | chips and other parts of the framework | of the net that are mixed with the | down fall through to the floor, while {the down remains in the operator's hands, The down is then picked and | brought to market, and from there | shipped to all parts of the world. The | color of the down is a saprise to many, for instead of it being white, as some people imagine, it is a blue-siate color, glossy, and very pretty. An immense amount ean be crushed into a handful, but it will resume its natuzal appear ance when « The down taken from dead birds is not so good as that from the nests, It is not so light or so much like floss silk to the touch. Ice jand furnishes about seven thousand pounds of the down a year, that is of a superior quality. THAT'S a great watch, Hobbs, 1 paid $2 for it, and it keeps time to a minute.’ “Ah, indeed! Why, it's four o'clock, Nobbs, and your time-piece says it's 8. Poll, that’s the minute it keeps.” un wah nese Ones,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers