way 18 IT 80?
BY FATHER RYAN,
{The Poot-Priest of tha South.)
Boma find work where some find rest,
Ani 8» the weary world goes on;
I sometimes wonder which is bost—
The answer comes when lif: is done,
Soma eyes sleep when som» eyes wake,
And 80 the deeury night hour go:
Some hearts bet where some heats breake
I often wonder why ‘tis :0.
Some hands fold while other hands
Are lifted bravely in the strife,
And so thro’ ages and thro’ lands
Move on the two extremes of life,
Some feet halt, while some feet tread,
In tireless march ths thorny way.
Some struggle on when some have fled ;
Some soek, where others shun, the fray.
Some sleep on while others keep
The vigils of the tru: and brave ;
They will not rest till roses creep
Around their names above the grave.
~—i Father Ryan.
A PARISIAN EPISODE.
It was in 1870; the war had just been
declared.
Marshal MacMahon had received or-
ders to paralyze by a bold stroke the
combined action of Northern and South-
ern (Germany.
In Paris—as in all France
of anxiety shook everybody.
strove to escape from the anguish o
waiting by the excess of pleasure and
discounted in advance—or, at least,
feigned to-—the first victory by giving
the reign to folly. The open-air restau-
rants mingled their tumultuous clatter of
arms with the trumpet flourishes of the
Champs Elysees; the lights of the cafes-
chantants illuminated enlaced couples,
who glided toward the gloom; brilliant
toilets bloomed in the groves of the
public gardens. Like every place where
the intoxication forgetfulness was
sold, the theatres were crowded to over-
flowing, and among them was one of the
principal [boulevard theatres in which
the publie, thronging from parquet to
the fever
ol
impatient.
The audience had assembled there to
ney—that was the nom de theatre of the
debutante—and
those who knew her—and the journals
repeated their judgment — had
proclaiming in advance that a star of the
firat magnitude was about to rise in the
French dramatic sky.
She was known to be handsome; she
was said to be entirely devoted to her
art, marvelously gifted and of a natural
brilliancy, which illuminated everything
as soon as she appeared
She had, for her debut, chosen *‘La
Dsme aux Camellias,” then still ia the
radiance of its first success, and it was
%
been
to have been written for her, and for her
The result, indeed, had justified from
the first act the most enthusiastic predic- |
ions. The mere presence of Jane de
Bolaey had, in fact, sufficed to win every
heart, to delight every eve. When the
spectators had seen that exquisite crea-
ture advance, with her tall and willowy |
figure; when they had perceived that
pale, fine face, with lips at once haughty |
and caressing, with limpid blue cyes, |
with pure and vigorous forchead and
white complexion; when, by a graceful |
movement of that profile of supreme ele-
gance, they had seen revealed a supple
and proud neck and a pink little ear |
which shone like a pearly shell against |
a golden flood of hair floating down over |
the back of the neck, a murmur of admi-
ration had arisen from the dense crowd,
and, by its prolonged buzz, had inter-
rupted for a long minute the dialogue of |
the actors, i
From that moment the ovation had in- |
<ressed, and the second act had ended
in an explosion of triumph which no past
success had equaled.
Among those whom this victory had |
most deeply affected was Louis Belcourt, |
one of the pensionnaires of the theatre, |
thanks to whom Jane, whom he had
loved from her early youth, had suc. |
ceeded in making her debut; in fact, |
leagued with the majority of young jours |
nalists, Louis Belcourt had been able to |
force the manager to give her a chance,
notwithstanding his exclusive passion |
{or pupils of the Conservatoire, through
which Jane had refused to pass. i
This young man's passion had excited
the sympathy of all who knew him; he
foved Jane with a boundless devotion |
and loved her without hope, for he was |
acquainted with the man to whom the |
young actress had betrothed her soul and |
for whom she reserved her life.
Only recently had this infinite love |
filled the actress’ heart. |
At the finish of the last Longchamps |
races, at which Napoleon Ill. was pres- |
ent, she had paused in frout of the im- |
perial tribune to look at the ladies who |
rnished the first rows. Suddenly she |
felt something like a blow on her
heart. From behind the fauteuil of one
of the Empress’ dames of honor she had
#een emerge the face of a man bronzed
by the Southern sun, whose eyes had
pierced her with a look in which was
painted the same found commotion
which she herself had felt.
As if moved by a superior power, the
man had drawn up his martial figure,
He ny hid beneath his citizen's dress
his military bearing. Quitting bis place,
he suddenly left the tribune, came
through the crowd thronging around it,
and, apparently unconscious of his move-
ents, presented himself before Jane de
ney.
There only he seemed to have reeovered
_ his senses. A rush of blood spread over
his bronzed cheeks, his were wet
with tears, He bowed, confused and hu.
miliated, to the young woman, and stam-
weringly attem an excuse,
Tg dag padding Be ld
t ins of supreme pity w .
etrates the hearts of women wimuitane
ously with the birth of love in them, the
young actress paled at the sight of him
and murmured :
‘My name is Jane as ndiney: I shall
soon make my debut in aux
ing ogain, ‘am Roger de Morfeuille,
captain of Spahis and, for the moment,
orderly to the Emperor.’
#It was a case of unspoken love. Neither
the one nor the other strove to struggle
against an imperious domination, From
that moment it had seemed to them that
they were born for each other. Without
uttering a syllable everything was under.
stood,
But the war was at the horizon, and it
was tgoitly agreed upon that their life in
union should not commence until after
the fight. Roger was sure of being one
of the first to depart. Jane would wait
for him,
They lived in that constant intimacy
frommwhich the assured morrow does not
banish respect, not knowing in what way
their existence would be arranged, but
saying to themselves that they would be
each other's to the end of the road which
lay before them.
When Roger came to make his adieux
to Jane, without a word having been
spoken to prepare for that exchange,
each, at the moment when they rose to
separate, handed the other a ring, and
this supreme betrothal was substituted |
for the bitter kisses of a last farewell. |
After the second act of **La Dameaux |
Camellins,” when the curtain had been |
upon the ncclamations which had greeted |
raised and lowered for the sixth time |
Jane, in the flush of that unparalleled |
| triumph, the echo of whigh she hoped |
{ would reach Roger, the young woman, |
| with that melancholy oppression which |
too great fortune gives, was slowly |
| mounting the stairway leading to her)
| dressing-room. i
| However, Roger knew that she was |
making her debut that evening, and she
was certain that, even amid the smoke of
i the battlefield, he could not have forgot
ten her,
Jut, without daring to admit it te her. |
! self, she had, during the whole day, been
i the prey of a sort of indescribable pre- |
| sentiment. She had watohed at the door |
| and listened to the footsteps ascending
| the stairway. She said to herself that the
{ day could not pass without bringing her
ia souvenir, some sizm of the beloved
{ one, who was not ignorant that she also
| was going to face the chances of signal
lights which decide, here, the life of in
{f nations; |
16 was
| uneasy, anxious and oppressed |
A flash of joy, love and pride shot |
of her dressing-room, she saw upon the |
white lace of her toilet table the blue pa- |
paper of a telegraphic dispatch
She rapidly closed the door that she
g the
words which had come from dear
absent one, and, without even perceiving |
that Louis Belcourt bad silently followed
her, opened the telegram.
Suddenly, amid the deep silence of the
corridor, through the door Jane had just
entered, Louis Beleourt heard a fright
ful superhuman cry, at once wild and
tender, the mortal accent of which made |
a quiver run through his veins He
forced the door and sprang into the lit.
tle chamber. He arrived just in time to
catch Jane in his arms; she was beating |
the air with her arms, there was a rattle
in her throat; she was livid with grief
and yet held in one of her clenched |
hands the dispatch she had rua through. |
As ne was asking himself in his terror |
what he should do, Jane's pallor van- |
ished, a flood of blood coloring her vi
age; her eyes, now wide open, fixed
themselves, as if by an irresistible im-
pulse, upon the fatal dispatch.
She suddenly handed it to Louis Bel-
court, who read the following words
“We have been crushed at Warth,
They have transported me to a neighbor.
ing chateau. Amputation probable. Pray |
for me. This dispatch will be carried to |
an open station. [ love you
th
wae
* Roan
The young actor stood as if thunder. |
struck. Then, making an effort, he
looked at Jane. He saw her, erect and |
resolute, putting a hat over her theatri
cal id rts throwing a cloak over her |
magnificent costume.
**Where are you going 1”
he.
“1 am going." answered she, in a firm
voice, ‘‘I am going to rejoin Roger !™
‘“But, in Heaven's name, think that
the curtain will soon be raised and your
entrancg on the stage is expeoted! This
is frightful! You will destroy yourself
—ruin your fortune, your life! Remain
until to-morrow
“Listen,” replied Jane. ‘‘Itis a quar-
ter to ten: there is a train at 11 »'clock,
I know, since a friend of Roger, to
whom I have entrusted a letter, starts at |
that hcur from the Gard de I'Est. If
you prevent me from taking that train —
you see that poignard —] swear to you on
my soul that [ will kill myself!"
Louis Belcourt recoiled in terror
Jane quitted the dressing-room and
went down the stairway.
The young actor followed her mechan-
ically, overwhelmed, and walking with
the automatic step of a somanambulist.
She opened the artists’ exit door, which
led to the street at the back of the the-
atre, hailed a carriage, and vanished in
the night. .
When Louis Belcourt returned to the
interior of the theatre he found everybody
in a state of extreme excitement. The
call boy had notified the stage manager
that Mile. de Bolney was not to be found.
The stage manager informed the mana.
er, who had just arrived, and had seen
ane in a carriage going in the direction
of the Boulevard de Strasburg.
There was an immense explosion of
rage, imprecations and iosulting lun.
guage heard from the foyer to the dress.
ing rooms and from beneath the stage to
the fly galleries, The man wanted
to have Jane arrested. The public had
begun to make a noise: strident hisses
alternated with the pounding of feet on
the floor. It was dreadful,
Suddenly Louis Belcourt, who, with
lis ardent love, was filled with despair
on thinking of the fatal consequences of
Jane's flight, conceived a plan which
lighted up his face with joy. He ap-
frosted one of comrades who was
lling a silent role in the piece and hur-
riedly conversed with him. The com-
rade instantly nodded and went toward
the auditorium through the communicat-
ing door
i
demanded
“And 1, madame,” answered he, bow-
fy i
Profound silence ensued,
The young actor advanced toward the
footlights, and said in a vibrating voice:
tt Messiours and Mesdames, Mlle, Jane
de Bolney fainted on receiving a dis.
patch which announced that the French
army had just met with s grave check
on the frontier of Germany; as soon as
she recovers consciousness she will reap:
pear before you, and until then we beg
you to be patiant!"
A murmur followed these words, A
wind of mourning passed over the house,
People no longer commented on the in-
terruption of the performance, but on
the news of the disaster.
Then silence resumed its away, deeper
and more mournful than before.
Louis Belcourt's comrade, who had
made his way into the suditorium and
the directions he had received from
friend, arose.
go on before Frenchmen who have
f
learned of a defeat of their arms!
ration. Then the audience dismissed
themselves —the prey of deep emotion.
FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.
POUR DROTHENS
Four Brothers are piping o'er land and
0'er Bee
Rach Bip ih Ow » and with good
Each pipes his own tune and with gooc
will pipes he,
And one like a clarion trumpet doth blow,
Andone playsalullaby, sweetly and low —
wild and shrill,
rill;
Pray who are the Brothers!—perchance
you have guessed ;
Look Northward and
Eastward and West,
And listen—hark! hark !—through
wood floats a strain-—
The West Wind is piping his
refrain!
Southward and
he
1OVOUs
fat
Nicholas,
SICK
RAQUIMAL
The cunning little children in
villages of the World's Fair are sick
nearly all the time,
to the sweet things which
CHILDREN,
the visitors
cl Jane de Bolney.
The rumor of our check, which the
Imperial Government had carefully con
cealed, spread rapidly through Paris,
causing a frightful stupor.
As Louis Beleourt
home from the theatre a Commissioner
f Police, wearing his sash and
furnished with a warrant of arrest,
presented himself before him
young actor was accused of having di.
vilged a State secret, a crime punisha.
ble with in of war. He
was returning
death time
For more than & month Louis Belcourt
had been incarcerated, face to face with
the terrible accusation which
over him,
He had been interrogated as to why
he had divalged the State secret
been questioned as to how he had ob
tained the news; he had kept silent, not
whether Jane would f
him if be spoke.
He was to be tried on the morrow
The successive defeats of our troog
commanded —had
tated all minds; the Government
about to show itself inexorable in
to distract attention for an instant
louis Delcourt was thinking, w
grief, of the hopeless love which had
led him to the threshold of death, when
the door of his cell opened and the di-
rector of the prison, standing aside, an
nounced
“Madome, la
hovered
hie had
orgive
8,
irri
was
order
ith
ina
le Morfeu
Comtesse
ille
It was Jane, covered with her
mourning veil,
Her beaatifal hair, but the other day
of a golden chestnut, now counted more
than silver thread: forehead
had assumed the austeri of marble
her mouth, stili beautiful, maintained
rigid contours; ar und her eyes were
traced bluish circles, and she had up
on herjentire visage that indelible pallor
of beings wounded forever, who weep
one her
¥ a
“¥
Louis Belcourt felt himself seized upon
fering without remedy
“You are free, my desr Louisa” said
“I have obtained your pardon, and
the
Alas, they can no
conceal our reverses, and your
hiv
official dispatcher. 1 thank you for what
you have done for me.”
And, after a silence, na il she
a sob which had
throat, Jane resumed
“I remained beside my husband till
his death. Then [ took his body to Mor
After that | was free: I returned
and was informed of the danger you were
"
had
risen in her
She conld pot eontioue; her tears were
stifling her.
A few minutes later the order to release
Louis Belcourt reached the offies of the
clerk of the prison, and the necessary
formalities were proceeded with: the
young actor was at liberty.
A few days afterward Mme. de Mor.
feuille set out for the domain where ro.
posed the man she had married on his
death bed
Roger had been buried with the ring
suffer from all the troubles which our
have eaten
or Thanksgiving
¥
much at Christmas
The poor little Esquimau children have
In Iceland, where the
Esquimaux live, there is no sugar at all
r any sweet things. And until they
much as heard of
But everybody who visits the
mau village is sure to i
‘ittle snub-nosed toddlers a stick
or something else
3, there was n
f peanut,
is
g that
not long ag
at the Fair,
which the
people keep on
candy out
from their
near by and t
4
ust ou account
visitors gu
sli
of thelr Gand -DAags
lunch -baskets, 8a woman is
stand ell every one that
i
rk L
nieRse
Not a bear t
3
fat
stuck in a belt at hi
policeman’s
tured a thief as easil:
His na was Bruin
un Italian who travelled
town making Dr
for them both
Late
farm house and begg
He ordered Bruin to d
iren, and then shut him up in the bara
for sale 2 J]
ATO USM
He
He
iH 9
one afternoon
’
Feri
ant
keepic yuring the night the
5 noise
some crying
family
coming the bar
‘Help ! Help!”
The farmer ran to #1 follos
win's i
13% Ars ATOU
were great
fron one
found the bear
hug-
Iz2ie0
master
a man’s neck
ging him ti 3 ¢ bear was mi
i iid do the man no great harm,
1 he was terribiv frightened
fish Wn
to
tne t
3 the darkness h
Iven w Ho 31 8
held him f
His mast MY
called out Hug
bear continued to hug
;
farmer ag 1
wet
or
mutters stood
him until th
we bad been punished
italian to
him. Bruin
of honeycomb as a reward
he wished that could
days. Littl
Ow
Bruin
113
phind
tha
vide
make the
Was IveD a
ubt he
f - oo a
hief every ar e
THRE LITTLE DONKEY.
I am a donkey and 1 belong to a very
happy family of toys
Our little mistress always put lose
use
the dining room table Sunday.
There would be nothing to complain of
if only our little mistress had no brothers,
but alas’ she has two, and oh,
scamps, When we hear them come into
the schoolroom in the evening after
school our paint turns faint from fear,
for we know what is in store for us
The boys are not quite so bad now as
they were. They used to turn the Noah's
floor, put
every
such
the
then shoot at us with a horrible toy
cannon loaded with pease. It was any-
(seni
strove to make her see the weakening of
her grief, possible consolation and life
with anew love, she stopped him with a
gesture
* + Pursue this no further,” she said; “1
shall forever remain the widow of Ro
de Morfeuille, and not having been able
to be his, I shall never belong to any one
else.”
This was the denouement of one of the
most exciting evenings a» Paris theatre
has ever seen, and thus was arrested
upon the threshold of certain glory, the
dramatic career of a great artiste, the
fashionable life of a woman of exquisite
beauty, who had been hailed at her debut
as wholly irresistible.
The noise of this episode of Parisian
existence, and the remembrance of its
consequences, have been lost among the
thousand events which marked that ter-
rible epoch.
But, more than one, on readin
recital I have Bion given, will, perhaps,
Facolleet Jane aiforieutlie ih ot brief
experience on the stage. —{Blewitz, in
Philadelphia Press. i
Wasps Are Natural
the
Burgeons,
Wasps, according to a scientific .
are tal surgeons. A pans snl i
Soming annoyed by the persistent buz-
zing of a wasp about his head, kuoeked
-. t
window upon the sill,
Only apparently, for
later a flow on
it down with a newspa
Shrough an ]
: > en
table onto the floor
One night [ saw my poor friend the
bear stamped on.
ip and said
chap; let's put him in the fire.
only how! aad make a fuss.”
So into the fire my poor friend went,
thao I can describe them.
Pretty sooa our little mistress came
iuto the room
Her distress at the loss of the bear was
very great. Her father came in and
wanted to know what she was crying
about, and he was very angry when he
heard what had happened, and scolded
his boys for teasing Nellie.
I think for the moment they were sorry.
They did not mean to torment, but
Freddie, the elder, was a terrible boy
from a toy's point of view,
Things went more smoothly for a day
or two, and then the same thing hap.
ed, and again we were made to face
the terrible cannon. Alas, | was the
unfortunate victim, and one of my fore.
tags was shot off. Nellie was consoled
by making a bed up for me in one of the
rooms of her doll’s house, and there for
many days { was nursed by the sweetest
littio doll you ever saw.
Now [ am quite well again—but how
I dread those boys |—[ St. Louis Republic.
A TIGER FIGHT IN JAVA
An English traveler in Java who saw
one of the tiger fights peculiar to the
thus describes the strange sport:
The is sot down in a trap in the
center of the Allon Allon, or great square,
surrounded by a eid or quad.
a hundred
soon. as he |
walking toward the crowd at a slow
and the slower he is the more app
does he gain.
The tiger, meanwhile, having backed
out of his burning prison, is rather as
tonished at finding himself surrounded
moe,
|
|
| spear at him
If he is a bold tiger he canters round
the circle, almost touching the spears;
| the center, fixes his eyes on one spot, and
| with a loud roar, dashes straight st it.
He is received on the spears, and
mere reeds, in half a minute |}
| dead, pierced by a hundred weapons,
in some
ese, and they give way,
becomes rather dangerous to spectators,
New Orleans Picayune,
The Pecos Bridge, Texas,
’
Another great engineering work re-
high cantilever bridge over the Pecos
River, This bridge, some 330 feet high,
while not the highest in the world, is
one of the highest, and at the same time
one of the most considerable railroad
structures ever erected. When the en
gineers locating that part of the Southern
Pacifie Railroad came to the Pecos River,
they wanted to go directly across with a
bridge; but more timid counsels pre
vail and instead of taking a flying
leap over a canon more than 300 feet
deep, it was decided to make a detour
f& iles by way of the Rio Grande,
eleven or twelve years ago.
though the
ware sharp and the grades steep, was ex
d and maintain, and more
expensive to operate, It was heavy
tax on through freight, and several years
y it was decided to take the flying
Pec and thus avoid ti
grades curves and
The Bridge Compa
3 T » tH *
WOrs entire
?
ed
Was
ionger route, CUrves
pensive 10 bul
© a4
ig
ieap of the
aud
a, ie
haul,
did the
length of the bridge
is 2.180 feet from abutment to abutment.
here cantilevers 172 feet
inches and one suspended
lattice girder span of 80 feet, This sus-
i between the two
eight massive bars,
t at each end
where it should join
The intense heat of the
space for expan
sion a In addition to these
spans there are eight lattice spas of
‘ one plate-girder span of
teen piate-girder spans
are two 6
long each,
i span is hung
cantilever spans on
and expansion spaces are lef
ing
itilavers.
several Hes
the car
mer sun makes this
of
ey
Bak
esky,
65
45
' ff 35
feet each, and sixteen plate-girder spans
The width of the
{ort
floor
part of
on
The
yi 100% each
“9
vieted span is 25
taken up oy
f the
of
Af WaAIKwaY
single track
safety of five;
strength to
: BD
sufficient
pressure made by a «
of the heaviest modern
ing over
"tom the
anon and
he bridge
lattice - work, In it
from ti
nor
ni,
oY it
tom
bw seen
its sire
structure
King's River Canyon,
River canyon is situated south
wemite, forty-five miles from
nd is the valley of the south
wing's River, says the Califor
a
3
a
nian
{t is ten miles long, one-half a mile
wide, with walls that tower to a height
of from 2.500 to 5,000 feet. The depth
of the valley is more than a mile, while
the flocr is comparatively level, with
groves and parks of willow, poplar, fir
and pice, rising from a carpet of ex
quisite flowers
The abrupt walls rear themselves al.
river flows down through its dazzling
canyon, now gliding gently and then
leaping and dashing over huge rooks and
boulders through a sarrow gorge into
deep clear pools below
Numerous streams from the surround
ing mountains find their way down the
slopes, seeking at last this mighty river,
in the furious roar of the cascades,
Great masses of rocks, curiously fash.
joned, just out from the ponderous walls
pce,
Headgear for Soldiers.
The War Department of the United
States has had under consideration a
change in the headgear of the soldiers
{ and officers to replace the forage cap and
helmet now worn in the service,
| forage cap, intended for aM branches of
| the army, is what is known as the German
| pattern, and it is claimed for it that the
| visor, being turned down instead of
being stenigh t, gives more tion to
the eyes. The top is soft #md pliable
and has the advantage of keeping the
head cool. Many officers favor its adop-
tion, while not a few look upon it with
disfavor, owing to the fact t it is al
most the exact counterpart in shape, but,
of course, not in material, of those so fre.
quently met with on the heads of emi-
grants from the Fatherland.
The other design known as the bushy,
is for the cavalry and is exactly similar
to that worn by the Eighteenth Hussars
of the Eaglish army. It is made of
black astrakhan cloth and will weigh,
complete, about ten ounces. It also
a sloping visor, but very small. For en-
listed men it will be the same minus the
pompon or top vrnament, —{ Detroit Free
rest.
Scorpion Hunts in Mexico.
The Chinese Minister's Baby.
The member of the Chinese legation
| Miss Tsui, a young lady of about two
summers, who, for a Celestial infant of
high station, has the unusual distinction
| of having been born in this coustry.
Miss Tsui, except for her bright, almond-
shaped eyes, and her queer clothes, im
pressed me as being very much the same
| kind of baby as our own babies are, She
| has u chubby face, dimpled hands and
elbows, and smiled in the most engaging
manner when it was interpreted unto
her—doubtless in Chinese “baby talk” —~
{ that she must watch and “sce the little
bird fly out of the box.” Likewise, when
she was ready to face the camera and het
father offered to turn her over to some-
{ body else for the sitting, she lifted up
| her voice and wept, in quite the reguls
| tion way, evidently preferring his pro
| tection under the ordeal.
| This Chinese baby is bright and jolly,
{ and the center of an admiring group
whenever her fat, good-natured nurse
{ wheels her through the Park in her car-
riage. Bhe wears the oddest baby clothes,
| —a wadded gown of gayest colors, which
opens in frout over absurd little Turkish
trousers of green cotton. Apparently the
piece de resistance of her costume is her
head -gear, —an embroidered bonnet sur-
mounted by a flufly pompon of red silk,
and edged across the front with a heavy,
black silk fringe, which, if it does get
extremely awry at times, still makes a
nice * bang” for her little bald head. —
Demorest,
Birth of the Restaurant,
v
The restaurant is of comparatively mod-
ern origin. The first French revolution,
at the close of the last century, witnessed
its birth. Previous to that time the best
cooks were in the emaploy of the nobility,
whose ruin threatened them with equal
disaster. A happy inspiration, however,
led them to open places of public enter-
which leaped at once into
immense populs vor, inasmuch as pre
viously, while the French people were
with the { delicate
gratify
tainment,
endowed instincts o
cookery, thd
their tastes absence re
sorts available purpose, The
proprietors of many 3 establish
ments quiokly acquired a widespread
fame and large wealth. Coincident with
the birth of the restaurant in France an
immense impulse was given to the publi
cation of popular treatises on the art of
cookery, composed by the most famous
cooks. These were rapidly disseminated
the people, who, gifted with a
genius for gastronomy, promptly
availed of the new sources of knowledge
to perfect themselves in an art of which
they have become the foremost exponents
of the world, Among these publications
was the Almanach Gourmands, es.
tablished in 1804, one of the classics of
culinary learning Cincianati Commer-
cial
were unable to
sk
vy
’
t 2
hrough of
for the
§ +3
3} ese
ri
a
among
patural
des
{razetie
Catching Wild Cattle,
1
8 months ago while chatting with
Cal
| Register, he gave ao account of the man.
ner which the wild Spanish cattle
were taken by the butcher when about
to be killed
A large and well-trained ox, called
the ““cabresta,” was turned loose from
the corral and he immediately started for
the band of cattle feeding upon the
open plain, perhaps a mile away. A
wwuple of vaqueros would ride leisurely
behind him, and when the band of cattle
was reached a fat steer was selected and
the lariats thrown upon him, one over
his head sad another around his hind
The “‘oabresta” then approached
and held his broad horns Cown alongside
of those of the wild steer,
One of the vaqueros ran up and quick
ly strapped the horas of the two animals
firmly together, when the wild steer was
released from the lariats. He would dash
here and there trying to pull the big ox
beside him, but the ** cabresta” would
slowly but surely lead him in spite of his
utmost exertions to the corral or to the
tree where he was to be slaughtered,
When the spot was reached one of the
vaqueros would shoot the steer in the
head, killing him instantly. As he fell
| the “‘cabresta” would drop his own head
land bend down his meck and wait pa
tiently until the straps were removed.
mn"
General Bidwell, savs the Oroville
ia
feet,
——————————— ———— A ————
Enigmatical Poisons.
pose only in small doses, but in large
quantities is simply rejected by the
stomach. Yet a still more mysterious
poison is the virus of the tsetse fly, an
African insect whose bite is almost in-
variably fatal to horses and cows, but
has no effect on man nor on mules, asses
aod antelopes,
Dr. Livingstone on one of his expedi.
tions lost forty-five steers in an attempt
to cross a tsetse swamp, and describes
the ap ce of the dead animals as
resembling that of the victims of the
worst kind of blood poison, yet the cause
of the mischief is not much than o
gadfly, and its sting, even when dozens
alight on the shoulders of a half-naked
native, has not the least le after.
effect, except a faint itching, which gene.
rally subsides in the course of half an
hour.—{8t. Louis Star-Sayings.
A Squirrel Adopted by a Cat,
Bystie possesses a gray
pet
squirrel which is being Yaised in a rather
curious manner,