I* Vict la.
I *ing thft Hvmn of Hie Conquered, who fell in
the bottle of life—
The hrnan of Urn wouiultW, the heeten, who
died overwhelmed in the strife;
Not the jubilant eons of the victor*, for whom
the reeonmling acclaim
Of nation* wan lifted in chorus, whose brown
wore the nhaplet of fame -
But the hymn of the low and the humble, the
weary, the broken in heart,
Who strove and who failed, acting bravely a
silent and desperate part;
Wlioee youth boro no Bower in its branches,
whose hopes burned In ashes swsy,
From whose hands slipped the prise they bad
grasped at, who stood at tno dying of clay
With the work of their life all around them,
nnpiliad, unheeded, alone.
With death swooping down o'er their failure,
aud ail bat their faith overthrown.
While the vc.ee of the world ahou its chorus,
it* (xean for thoaewho bavo won
While the trumpet iasounding triumphant, and
high to the breese and the sun
day banners are waving, hands clapping, and
hurrying foot
Thronging after the laurel-crowned victors 1
stand on the field of defeat
In the shadow, 'mnagst thane who are fallen
and wooncled and dying-and there
Oh ant a requiem low, place my hand on their
pain-knot tod brows, breathe a prayer.
Hold the hand that is haplem, and whisper,
"They only the victory win
Who have fought the good fight and havo van
quished tnedemon that tempts us within;
Who hsve held to their faith uno<lured by the
prize that the world holds on high;
Who hare darocl for a high cause to suffer, re
sist, fight- if need be, to die."
Bp>ak, history I Who are life's victors ? Unroll
thy long annals and say—
Am they those whom the world called tbo vic
tors, who won the success of the day?
The martra, or Nero ? Tbo Spartans who fell
at Thermopylae tryst,
Or ths Persians and Xerxes ? Hi* judges or
So -rates ? Pilate or Christ ?
W. Story.
THE INVISIBLE GIRL.
Haying decided to finish the jeer in
Italy, I looked about me for a dwelling
to be bad upon reasonable terms. I
found what I wanted in the outskirts of
the ancient city of Lucca, one of the
loveliest spots on the peninsula. The
house was quite new and in every way
desirable, while the rent asked for it
was absurdly low. I questioned the
agent in regard to this circumstance*.
Having my money sale be could afford
to be truthful.
" There is nothing against tho house
itself," he said, " but the grounds have
the reputation of being haunted.
Ht range sounds are said to bo heard
near that ledge of rock in tho park
yonder. We Italians are superetitons,
signer," he added with a bow, " but I
presume to an American a ghost is no
objection."
"So little," I replied, laughing, "that
I am obliged to you for the opportunity
of makiag the acquaintance of this
one."
Snch superstitions are common in
Italy, and the agent's story made very
little impression upon me.
Luring s tour of inspection around
the premises I came upon the rock in
question. It consisted of two walls of
gsanite, perhaps twenty feet in height,
meeting at an oblique angle, oovered
over their greater extent with wild
vines. It struck mo as an exceedingly
beautiful nook, and appropriate for my
hours of out-door lounging.
On the following morning, provided
with s book and s cigar, I went thither,
and disposed mjself comfortably in the
shade of an olive. I had become ab
sorbed is the voltune, when I was
startled by the sound of s voice near
me. It was apparently that of a wonmn,
wonderfully soft an 1 sweet, and was
singing oae of iba bdlad* of the coun
try. I could distinguish the words aa
perfectly as if spoken st arm's length
from me.
1 started up in amazement. I had no
visi ore, and my only servant waa an old
mgy Nevertheless, I made a thorough
exploration of the neighborhood, and
satisfied myself that there was no one
hi the grounds The only public road
was hall a mile distant. The nearest
dwelling waa directly opposite, across a j
level plain—in sight, bat far ont of ear- j
shot. la a word, I could make nothing
e.' *.
I observed that when 1 left my origi
nal position under the olive the voice
became instantly silent. It wss only
Within the circumference of a circle of
about two yards in diameter that it was
audible at all.
It appeared to proceed from the
angle Viet ween the two walls of rock.
The miouteat examination failed to re
veal anything bat the bare took. Yet
it was out of this bare rook that the
voice issued.
I returned to my former station in
downright bewilderment. The agent's
story occurred lo ma, but even now I
attached so weight to it. lam a
practical man, and was firmly convinced
that there mnst be aoaae rational
explanation of the mystery, if I ooold
bnt discover it. The votee waa oertainly
that of a young girl. Bat where was
she? Wss ths old fable erf the wood
nymph a truth after all? Had 1
discovered a dryal embosomed in the
reek I sin tied scornfully, even aa the
fancies tm through my head.;
For more than bell an boor the
singing continued. Then it censed, and
though I waited patiently for ita
renewal, I heard no more of it that day.
When I returned to the house I made
no mention of the matter, resolving to
keep it to myself until I had solved the
mystery.
The next morning, at an early hour,
I returhed to the spot After a tedious
Interval the singing began again. It
went softly and dreamily through one
verse of a song, then ceased. Presently
I heard a deep sigh, and then in a slow,
thoughtful tone, the voioe said:
"Ob, how lonesome it is I Am Ito
pass my whole life alone in this drear y
place?"
There was no answer; evidently the
person was merely soliloquizing. Gould
sho hear me if I spoke, as I heard her,
supposing her to bo a living being at
all? I determined to hazard the ex
periment.
"Who is it that is speakingf I
asked.
For some moments there was no
reply; then, in alow, frightened whis.
per, the voice said:
" What was it ? I heard a voioe."
" Yes," I answered. "You heard mine.
I s|K>ke to yon."
" Who aro yon?" asked the voioe,
tremulously; "are yon a spirit?"
"I am a living man," I returned.
" Can yon not sec me?"
"No," answered the voioe. "1 can
only hear yon. Oh, where are yon?
Prsy do not frighten me. Come out of
your concealment and let me see yon."
" Indeed, I don't wish to alarm yon,"
I replied. "I am not bidden. Tm
standing directly in front of the spot
whence your voice seems to come."
" Yon are invisible," was the trem
bling answer. " Your voice comoa to
me out of the air. You most bea spirit.
What have I done to deseive this?"
" Havo no fear of me, I entreat yon,"
I said, earnestly. "It is as much of a
mystery to me as it is to yon. I hear
yon speak but yon are likewise invis
ible."
" Are yon a real living being?" asked
the voice, doubtfully. " Then why do I
not see yon,? Come to me. I will ait
here. I will not fly."
"Tell me where I am to come,*' I
said.
" Here in my garden, in the arbor."
" There is no arbor here," I returned,
" only a solid rock out of which yon
seem to be speaking."
" Saints protect me," answered the
voice. "It is too awful. I dare not
stay here longer. Spirit or man, fare,
well."
" But yon will come again," I pleaded.
"Let me hear you speak onoe more.
Will you not be here to-morrow at tbo
same hour?"
"1 dare not—but yet your voice sounds i
as if you would do mo no harm. Yes, |
I will come."
Then there was utter ailenoe, the mya- I
terioos speaker had gone. I retornmU
homo in a state of stupid
tioning myself if I had not
a-rosea and if the whole own
not a delusion. I was faithfnl to
pointment with the voice on the t<mß- ■
ing morning, however. I had watted
but a few moments, when the soft, !
trembling noeents broke the silence,
saying:
" I am here "
"And,l, too," I answered, "I am;
grateful to yon for coming."
" I have not slept the whole night,"
mid the voioe, " I was so terrified. 1 j
am very mncb afraid that I am doing I
wrong to come."
" Aro yon still afraid of me T
" Not ezaotly, bnt it iz so strange."
" Will yon tell me yonr name f
"I don't know—Lenore. What is
yonra?"
" George," I answered, imitating her
example aud giviug my first name only.
"Bball wo not be friends, Lenore?"
" Oh, yea," answered the voioe with
a silvery peal of laughter. Evidently
its owner was getting over her fears.
" Don't bo offended, George. It is so
strange—two people who cannot see
each other and perhaps never will,
making friends."
"I Jwill .solve the mystery yet, Le
nore," 1 answered, " and find oat where
yon are. Would yon be glad to see me
in my proper person V
" Yes," was the reply, " 1 should like
to see you."
" And I would give s great deal to
•so yon, Lenore. Yon most be wry
beautiful if yonr face is like yonr
voioe."
" Oh, hush I" was the agitated answer.
" It is not right to speak thus."
" Why not? Do you know, Leo ore,
that if this goes on I shall end by fall
ing in love with you, though I never
see yon."
"Yon are very audacious," was the
reply. • If yon wore really here before
me I should punish yon for it. As it is
I am going now."
"But you will oome again to morrow,
Lenoraf"
" If yon will promise to be mors dis
creet, George, yes."
As may be imagined, I did not foil to
keep my engagement with my invisible
friend. For many oonsecotive days
these strange meetings continued. AM
sbsurd as it may seem, the voice was
beginning to make a powerful impres
sion upon me. I felt in its soft tones
tho manifestation of a sweet, refined
woman's soul.
True, I bad made no progress toward
unraveling the mystery. Nevertheless
I wss confident thst through somo in
explicable dispensation of Providence,
I had lieen permitted to hold com
munion with a real, living, lovely
woman, from an unknown distance. She
had not yot told me more than her first
name, and I did not press her for more
as yet. Her only answer to my ques
tion as to where she wss, wss, "In the
garden." She did not soem capahlo of
grasping the fact that I was not invisi
bly near her and capahlo of Boeing her.
She seemed "content with matters as
they stood, and for the present I could
do no more.
I male no one my confidante as to my
daily occupation ; first, IK- cause I knew
that I should be regarded as a madman
upon my mere statement of the facts,
and next, because I shrank from having
an auditor at my mysterious confer
ences. Will it be believed 7 I was in
love with the invisible girl—in love
with a voice I Absurd, of course, but I
am not the first man who has fallen in
love with a woman's voice. Beside, I
eras confident that it was only a matter
of timo before I should see the girl in
person.
One day toward tbe end of summer
we had been talking as nirasl, and I had
said :
"My stay in Italy is nearly ver, Le
nore."
"Ah," was tho quick reply—"you will
leave me, George."
"No, Lenore," I answered—"not if
you wish me to stay."
"How can I help it, George, whether
you go or stay ? I have never seen yon
—I never shall see you. What am Ito
you T
"All in the world, Lenore," 1 an
swered. "Onrs has been a strange ex
perience. Without knowing each other
as people ordinarily do, we hav<- yet
been r-lose friends. You an- more to me
than a friend. I love you, Lenore."
There was a quick, suppressed cry, no
other reply.
"Be truthful, Lenore. Tell mo your
heart. If you love me, trust to me to
discover your whereabouts and come to
yon. If you do not, say it, and I will
spare yon the pain of mesting me, and
let us never speak again."
There was a pause, then she tremu
lously said;
"I have never seen yon, but my heart
tells me to trust you. I know yon are
good and noble, and I am willing to
leave my fate in your hands. Yes,
Oeorg , I love you."
Even as she said the words she uttered
a cry of alarm. Then a gruff man's
voice spoke:
"Go to your room, Lenore. As to
this villain with whom you have been
kholding secret meetings, we shall aoon
bd him and punish him as he deserves.
Hkrch for the rascal, Antonio, and
■ring him to me."
There was a qniek trampling of feet
and the sound of crushing shrubbery,
as i* men were breaking tbrongh it.
Then another man's voice spoke:
"He has disappeared, your excel
lency."
"Very well, we shall find him yet.
He cannot escape me. This is a tine
piece of business, surely—the daughter
of Count Villani holding secret meet
ings with some commou vagabond. Le
nore shall take the veil."
"Yes," I cried, "the bridal veil,
count I shall pay my respects in
person to day."
Then leaving them to get over their
astonishment as best they might, I re
turned to the bouse in high spirits. The
name, Count Villani, bad given me the
elew to tbe whereabouts of Lenore. The
dwelling of which I havo spoken as
situate across the plain and opposite
tbe rock was the residence of Count
Villani. I had met the old gentleman
in the city and formed a speaking ac
quaintance with him. As neither of us
had mentioned our private affairs, I had
had no means of connecting his daugh
ter with my invisible girl.
That afternoon I presented myself to
the count, and after amazing hitn with
my story, which a few tests .convinced
him was tine, formally proposed for his
daughter's band. As my wealth and
social position were well known, he of
fered no objections and his daughter
was sent for.
As she entered the room I saw tht
my idea of her hsd been lose than true.
I bad never seen so lovely a woman,
nor one who so perfectly embodied my
big best conception of grace and beauty.
Her dark eyes, still wet with tears, met
mine inquiringly.
"Lenore,** said I, "I have come as
1 promised."
"George," she oriod, with a radiant
smile, "is it you T*
"Are yon disappointed V I asked,
" MB I what you expected 7"
"Yon could not be more," she an
swered, nalvoly, "you are no less."
"Now that we meet as solid and ma
terial being*," 1 continued, "are you
willing to ratify the contract we made
whon we were only voices, Lenore?
Your father gives us permission."
It may bo anpposed that I roceived
a satisfactory answer, whon the good
natured count fonnd it discreet to turn
away his eyes daring my reoeption of it.
As to the strange oi reams tan oe which
was the means of uniting ns, a series
of tests revealed a remarkable acoastio
property in the rook, by which persons
standing in oertain positions with refer
ence to it were able to hear each other
with ease more than a quarter of a mile
apart. It is a very matter-offset solu
tion of the mystery, but Lenore and I
are u< ne the less grateful for the good
offices of the rock.
The hocal I'sper.
"Thousands of people receive all the
benefits from a local paper, prosper, and
forget tbe editor whose huart anil brain
have t>een devoted to the interest# of
building up the town or community in
whioh these sarno people have met with
success. Many a paper located in some
nnhoard of town or county has been
the mcansof bringing the natural advan
tages to public notice, built up the vil
lage into a town, labored for tbe pros
perity of the county, assisted every one
else to a front seat and then failed be
cause a short-sighted public no loager
see s direct income from the money ex
pended to support it. When railroads
were building, when public institutions
were wanted, the local press was kept
oiled and editors kept from starvation;
bnt now it is as popular to send to somo
noted city for fashionable dress goods,
clothing,"furniture, carpets, etc." The
above sound doctrine from the Bur
lington llnrkeye is verified by the fol
lowing from the Western H'truttead:
"A largo portion of the people do noth
ing to support their local papers, and
yet roap the benefit every day of the
editor's work. A man will say, ' Ad
vertising does not pay in my
bnsinees. I have to keep my men on
tbe road, and get my customers by
going after them,' and yet the fact is
thst the town in which he does business
would be unknown, the railroad over
which be ships his goods would be uu
heard of, if it were not for tbe news
paper which he says does him no good.
The local paper is of sdvantage to every
man in the community, and when a man
refuses to contribute to support the
newspaper on tbe ground that he
docs not need it, he might a*
well reinsi to py his taxes for the
support of the courts and polioe force
on the ground that he never breaks tbe
law and does not need the officers.
There are men who believe themselves
honest au<l pious, who are doing busi
ness in every community, and every day
appropriating to their own nae tbe J
fruits of other men's labors, by reaping
tbe benefit of the newepapar without ,
contributing acant to its support, and j
get they would bo terribly shocked if
they should be charged with steeling
from their neighbors. But tbe princi
ple is just the some, tbe only difference j
is that tbe law can reach them in one
case, and in the other it cannot, but mor j
ally, it ia just as diabnoest to steal the
fruits ofjyonr neighbor's enterprise as it
if to steal his chickens. Too much I
credit cannot be given tho newspaper
for the work it has done and is still ;
doing for tbe benefit of this country.** j
Quaint Hayings of the Pacific ('east.
The great West ha* become notes! for
quaint and expressive phrases coined by
tbe rough element of the coast. The
ratner aud prospector, st he srandered
through tbe hill* and followed the cir
cuitous valleys and narrow passes,
prefixed names to these places, as
'•gulches," and "canons," until
almost every croon and gulch haa
been dubbed srjth some old name
which forever afterward will doeigaate
tho locality.
Tho mountaineer, after years of West
ern life, floda himself lost in an Eastern
metropolis and fails to meet his engage
ment on prompt time, but is not at a
loss to give a decided reason lor his
delay, bemuse of "getting lost among
ths box canons." Terse and pointed
remarks like that of the man Who said,
" I did not fight him, hut had he oome
a step further the doctors would havo
thought when they dissected him that
they had strnek a new lead mine," arc
quite commou among miners.
How expressive are the sayings: "He
is a gashed vein and has pinehed;"
"He shows well on the surface, bnt
there is nothing in his lower levels;**
or, "He don't aseay worth anything."
He who lacks courage is in Western
parlance devoid of " grit" and has no
" sand.*' Men who roughed in the
early days on the Pacific coast are called
" eld-timers," and when they die it is
not uncommon for their associate* to
speak of their taking off as their having
" passed in their checks."
Those who have toiled through the
snows aud braved tbe dangers of cross
ing great mountain ridges have ooined
a style of expression upon tbe deeth of
an old friend which to them is fuller of
meaning than the plainsman can re
alise: " He has gone over the rang*."
Each State and Territory on the Pa
cific slope has its peculiar phrases, and
time are many common to all,
CLIPPING *OR TUP CURIOUS.
Henry 111. extorted;, New Year's gifts
from his subjects^
8t Petersburg was founded by Peter
the Groat in 1705.
Tbe loaves of the Maderia vine arr
used in Franco as spinach.
There wro ecological gafdens in
Chins more than 2,000 years ago.
The art ot dyeing woolens wss brought
from Holland to England in 1008.
During the recent heavy rainfall in
low* tho grontid was fbuttd covered with
tiny, blood-red living creatures.
Twelve perpendicular feet of water
are annually evaporated 'from the sur
face of the Bed sea between Nubia and
Arabia.
The heaviest rainfall in the United
States, except on some mountain tops,
is oo tho coast of Oregon and Washing
ton Territory.
The religious ceremonies of the Egyj>-
tiau* were precede 1 by abstinence, and
the allowed neither ani
mal food nor wine.
A healthy man of average weight irn-
I hi In* eighty ounces of water, in liquid
state or mixed with solid food, every
twenty-four hours.
The office of marquis was formerly to
guard the frontiers and limits of the
kingdom, which were called the
marches, from the Teutonic word
marcho—a limit.
Tho empiro o' Japan raised 38,900,-
[ 000 bushels of wheat this year, all win
ter wheat. The only improvements in
wheat cnltnro and separation over the
practice of *<-mi-civilized nations wero
introduced into Japan a hundred years
ago by the Hollanders.
In the yoar 1710 the weight of fat cat
tle in the London market averaged only
370 pounds st the sverage ago of five
year*. In 1705 this was increased to 482
pound". In 1830 tbe weight wa 050
pounds, nearly double that of 1710. It
is probable that the average weight at
one year leu ago (say four years old) is
at tbe present moment folly three times
that of 1710, and tbe beef—owing to the
superior quality of the cattle and the
1 letter methods of fattening—fully fifty
, per cent, more nourishing and economi
cal to to the consumer.
What Foods Are Most Kconomical 1
With an advance of twenty to 100 per
cent, an l more, in the priea of staple
foods, tbe shove is npw s most import
ant question to orer forty millions of
our people, and one of much interest to
seven or eight millions more. Probably
there are not two millions who take no
thought or care as to the cost of their
daily diet. Meats, floor, potatoes
, corn meal and milk, are the main arli-
I cles of sustenance for the great masses.
| Fish, riea, beans and oat meal (receut-
I ly), with lesser amounts of some other
j article-, are consumed; but those alto
| gother do not, we j udge, cinstitute one,
tenth of the food of the entire people,
| perhaps not more than five or six per
i cent.
Dried or smoked beef, ham and
I cheese, rank high, but dried fish out
ranks all others. The nutritive value
of dried eodfish is remarkable, and it
deserves special attention, 100 pounds
of it supplying as much nutriment as
341 pounds of beef I It is obesp and
abundant everywhere, because very
portable, and easily kept. It yields
labor-sustaining aliment at from one
third down to one-ninth the cost of
beef in difforeut sections of the oountry.
It is easily digestible, and if properly
freshened and cooked it can be made
palatable and aoceptable to a very
large class needing to practice eoonomy.
Of the relative value of potatoes,
dour and corn tneal we speak elsewhere.
At the average price of beans these are
the cheapest strength-sustaining of all
direct products of tbe coil, if not
charred or hardened ia baking. The
drought has greatly d i mintshed tbe yield,
and tho present price is high, but they
are still comparatively economical.
The occupation of aoy elass of per
sons has much to do with deciding the
most economical foods. It is ostimsted
that in a temperate climate an average
man needs each twenty-four hours,
simply to sustain life without increasing
his weight, about eleven end a halt
onnoes of boat-producing, and four and
a quarter ounces of flesh-forming foods.
Laborers and those putting forth much
exertion need most of the flesh-forming
food, tuoh as lean meats of all kinds,
egg*. cheese, fish, beans, peas, oatmeal,
bread, cabbage, roots, etc.
. Those exposed to cold need more of
the heat-producing foods, as fat meats,
coramo*l and generally those articles
containing large amounts of oil or
starch, or both, of sugar, etc.—America*
Agriculturist.
The *mer's Daughter. Pgf; J
" Bat you know, pa," said the farm
er'* daughter when ha spoke to her
ebont the addresses of a B •lubber's
eon—"yon know,
me to marry a man of culture."
"Bo do I. mv dear—eo do I; end
there '■ nobeUtr culture in the country
than agriculture—than agioxllun.."
m- W#
TIIK FAMILY IHK.TOR.
Ltvpm uf Mft ad vine* people to educate
the stomach. When it is once accus
tomed to simple food, vorsrioua appe
tite, distress and disease will disappear.
The naiU of the toes aboold be
properly trimmed at frequent intervals.
Young people are apt to overlook this,
and by neglect the nails, npon great
toes especially, get a cnrvatnre inward
that may cause great trouble in after
life. Where the nails get this curva
ture, a tendency of the edges to curve
inward and to forta a cylinder, they
cause one of the most painful affections
possible. The trouble often
from too short a shoe and allowing a
nail to grow too long. Where the
trouble is slight, the cutting of the nail
, deeper at the center than at the corners
i will relieve it. If the nail is very thick
I and hard it should l>e scraped in the
center by means of a piece of broken
glass, and when thin enough the corners
may be lifted and a bit of cotton or
i lint put under each corner.
If troubled with wakefulness on re
t tiring to bed, eat three or four small
| onions; they will act as a gentle and
soothing narcotic. Onions arc also ex
cellent to eat when one is much exposed
to the cold.
Children, -specially boys, often MI (for
greatly from chilblsins. In their fond
ness for winter sports, especially
skating, children, if their feet are not
actnally frorec, let them get very cold.
While tbc feet are very cold they go
suddenly to the lire an 1 warm them,
j The consequence is s derangement of
I the circulation in the feet, and a painful
| itching and boring, which are apt to rc
| turn whenever the feet become cool,
and are afterward warmed. In esses
where the system is not in good condi
tion, chilblains may become very trouble
some, snd require the care of a physi
cian. It is said that kerosene is very
efficacious in relieving the pain from
ordinary chilblains. Soma liare found
relief in the use of a wash of one part of
muriatic acid in seven parts of water,
but that was before kerosene came into
common use.
IVar*.
The pear as a fruit stands next in
popularity to the apple, and has, like
it, been known and cultivated from
time immemorial. It ia mentioned by
the earliest writers as a fruit growing
abundantly in Nyria, Egypt, as well aa
Greece, and it appears to have been
brought into Italy from those places
about the time that Syria made himself
master of the latter country (W B. G),
and from thenoo it spread over Europe
to Britain. Homer mentions the
" pendant pear 'as one of the fruits of
the orchard of Laertes (Odya. 24 G
21*9 1). Thcophrastus often speaks in
praise of them and of the great produc
tiveness of old pear trees ia his works.
That learned physician of ancient times,
Galen, considered pears as containing
in a greater degree more strengthen
ing and astringent virtues than apples.
The Greeks and Homans have a- veral
kinds of pears whose names included
their Uste and form. Pliny describee
about forty varieties cultivated in Italy.
Of all pears, he says, the Omstumine is
the most delicate an J agreeable ; this
frnit Columella places first in his cata
logue. Then there was the Frier
man pear, which was esteemed for its
abundant juice, which Pliny o pares
to wine.
The Tiberian pears were so named
because they were the sort Tiberius,
the emperor, preferred, and they grew
to a larger rise than moat pears; others
were named after the persons who had
introduoed or cultivated them. Some,
Pliny tells us, aro reproached with the
name of proud pear*, because they
ripened early and would not keep.
There were also winter pears, peers for
baking, etc., as in the present day.
Nevertheless, Pliny did not oonaider
this fruit, in an uncooked s ate, good
for the constitution, for hs states all
pears whatever are bnt a heavy meat,
even to those in good health, nnlesa
boiled or baked with honey, when they
become extremely wfaol<wom* to this
stomach. Some pears were weed as
conn tar-poison against venomous mush
rooms ; the ashes of pear trees were
also used for the same medical purpose
The encionts appear to have had a
curious notion respecting the effect of
this fruit on beast* of bardan, for Pliny
tolls nt a loot! of apples or pearu, how
ever small, is singularly fatiguing to
them. The best way to counteract
this, they say, is to give the animal
some to eat, or at least show them the
trait before starting. Virgil speaks of
pears which he had from Oslo.—c*enc*
Opmtip,
Avoid.
Goring about in ebuiwh.
Boasting of our own doings.
Want of respect toward seniors.
Laughing at ibf -fitsUkes of others.
Pleasing self In pte oreuoe to dthem.
to talk while olhrs ardhpeak
Saying what will sound another's
feelings.
Prinehocd, by silently withhold!ag
the *rnth.
Leu! U ugh tor, ill temper a