A Mother's Song.
The days are dark and dreary, a went.
And lUroalnning clouds k° '• V;
My eyes have grown aweary, swSet,
Of gasing at the sky;
Ot gating at the sky, my swont,
Where uovor it star .loth tiso;
Though hope should hide in thu outward tide,
Let me find it in thy oyne, O swont!
Let me And it in thine ny<~
My heart hath grown aweary, swont,
Of a race that shows no goal;
And the pnseing hours strike dreary, sweet,
To a desolate humun soul.
Did I say desolate, sweet, iny sweet.
Nay, never while I have tiioe,
Though tho sinews stnrt in my aching heart,
And reasou itself should lire, my sweet!
Aud reason itsolf should tloc.
Cling closer, ay, closer, O sweet, my sweet!
Thy pressure doth case my pain,
And I jotirncv with steadfast feet, my sweet.
Up tho pathway of life again,—
Content to fliul in thy grasping hands,
And tho dew ol thy dawning kiss,
A beacon to lure me through sunless lands,
If lifo promised no moio than this, O sweet!
Ii liie promised no more than this.
H'illtnm Hijjt.
Mr. Marigold's Mistake.
"I shan't marry him," declared Meg
decidedly, while she twisted her back (
hair up in a tawny knot on the top of I
her head.
Meg's elder sister and sister-in-law
looked decided disapproval at their
relative's refractory announcement.
"You know, Meg, dear," began Mrs.
Joe, the eldest brother's wife, hut Meg
cut her short in decided tones.
"Yes, I know all you can tell me,
and more too. I know I'm an old
maid"—she was twenty-five—"and I
know you are all too |oor to support
me, and too proud to let me support
myself. Hut for all that I shan't
marry Simon Marigold if he is as rich
as cream and 1 as poor as Job's turkey,
so there, now." And Meg tlouneed
out to weed the carrot bed, while the
discomforted relatives shook their
heads more disapprovingly still, and
made comments on the otatinary of
human nature in general and some <
folks in particular.
"Site's a throwing away her best
chance," declared Mrs. JIM; mournfully.
"Simon Marigold Is a ketch for any
body," asserted Sister Jane, "with that
big farm of Ids. Such a g-l per
vider as he is, too."
"But if she don't love him, you
know," ventured Mrs. Archibald, the
youngest sister, who was suspected of
being romantic.
"Fiddlesticks," declared Mrs. Joe
emphatically. "Folks can't livo on
love, and if Meg throws away sich a
chance of being settled comfortable
she'll iiv jto rue it. That's all 1 kin
say.''
"Now, look a here, gals." Grandma
Larkins came down from the attic
with a hank of blue dyed yarn, which
she proceeded to wind into a ball
"Jest let M.-g alone and I'll promise it
will all come right in the end. Gals
of her age often docs hev them ijuare
notions, hut she'll git over Yin hime-hy-
The girl kind o' fancies she likes some
one else better'an Simon, but j< st
leave her alone'an -he'll get over it
and settle down with him on the Mari
gold farm as comfortable as two pea
in a pod."
In tin- meantime M. g was still at
work iri the garden, diligently pulling
the weeds in the i arrot bed. It might
have been that she had no other time
to weed carets, and it might also have
been that Eben Hooiittle had no other
way of getting home, except by Un
well-worn cattle path, which led past
Grandma I.arkins' k.trhen garden and
around to the pasture bars. At al'
events, he --*>n came sauntering by
and leaned on the gate jtost for a chat
"And to think." said .Meg to herself,
when he had auntered on, v\ ith a
freshly-plucked r- e in his button lu le
"to think of my marrying Siuon Mar!
Igold."
Alas. p'>or Simon! lie was not pale
and intellc. tual with a developing
moustache and violet eyes. He never
scented his handkerchief with extract
of pond Illy, i, r wore buff kids, nor
carried a can far I rum it.
.Simon Marigold was broad shoul
dered ami sun timed. And his ews,
though clear and honed, were unde
niably grey
"(Hi, n i," thought Meg. blushing up
to the roots of her very frizzy bangs,
"I rouhJ nexr-r.*never luarry hint."
As the days sped on Grandma Lar
kins began to look worried, an 1 to )o->e
a little faith in hi r own predictions.
"Ef it wan t fur that there thiillcss
Doolittle," she sighed, "a comln' here
ail the aime an' a drummin' on his
catarrh she might take Simon Marigold
yet."
*••♦ * * *
"Well, Eben."
Mr. Marigold gave one or two broad
sweeps with his sex the among tho red
clover he was rutting, then hung tho
glistening hlado on a stubby persim
mon tree, a.id turned with a heated
face toward his cousin.
Eben Doolittle ww not heatcx.!. llin
summer coat looked cool and light,
and his white pocket handkerchief was
heavily scented with pond lily.
"I 'npo.se you want that money," said j
Mr. Marigold, and drawing out his
leather jKwket-hook, he counted out ]
one hundred dollars in crisp hunk hills, j
and handed them to his cousin. "1
'spose it's all settled, Eben," he said
anxiously.
Ebon's placid features showed no
anxiety nor cure whatever.
"Well, no."
lie coolly put the hank hills in his
poeket-ltook before ho condescended to
explain further.
"1 haven't asked her yet, because I j
wanted to get the money Ilrst. A fel
low don't like to get married without
a cent in his pocket."
"You are sure she'll be all—oil
right?"
"Oh, of course." Ebon was shoul
dering the light gun he carried, get
ting ready to start. "Of course it'll
be all right. She'll drop into my arms |
like a rare, ripe peach when I ask j
her."
Mr. Marigold's gray eyes shot a
gleam of disapproval at his nonchal- I
ant cousin.
"Well, Eben, I wouldn't talk that
way of the woman 1 loved," he said
gravely. "I would Is- so proud of her
love 1 would hardly dare to own it,
even to myself."
Eben laughed, but made no answer.
"You needn't mind paying that
money back," added Simon, as he t>k
his scythe from the tree, "if you'll
only try to make Meg happy and com
fortable, but don't don't expect me to
come to the wedding, Eben, for I—
really I couldn't."
"All right," returned his cousin
carelessly.
And Simon Marigold turned to his
mowing, while Eben stalk>sl ofl across
the meadow with his gun slight'.y
swung over his sbouhbr.
***
"Simon."
The iluttering grape vine screen that
overhung the fence and the low j>er
siiiitnon tree was put aside and Meg
I.arkins, blushing like a dune rose,
stepped out.
The astonished mower gazed as if
petrified.
• oh, Simon, I heard all—all you
said," she exclaimed, with tears brim
ming in her soft, brown eyes, "Grand
rtia sent me to pick dcwlerries." she
t* ntinued, and I want to tell you
that I'm not going to marry Eln
Hooiittle. lieeause I don't love him,"
and she Mushed like one ■ f the trmn|>-
et vine's scarlet hells, that had dropjitsl
on the cnu raid turf at her feet.
"Meg." v iin< II came tow ards her
with a new light shining in his honest,
brow n eyes. "Oh, Meg, do you—could
y u love me?"
"Ami with dro-iping eyes and tears
still in tbeui, Meg said she e.uld and
did.
• * • • *
"Ib>w nice it i-." said Mrs. Joe. as
she wh ski.] the eggs for the wedding
cake, "Ilow nic<- that Meg is really
going to mam a man of proj>erty af
ter all."
"And a real love match, too,"
<hin e l Mrs. Archibald, with that sim
ple philosophy which considers love
and romance of more value than all
the diamonds of (iolronda or the
fabled wealth of "Orinus and of Ind."
"Will, I si— how 'twas a gwine to
turn out long ago." put in Grandma
I.arkins complacently, turning the In |
of the blue yarn sock she was knitting
"I alius said 'twould coine all right in
in the end, but think, me a sending
Meg over to the Marigold pasture to
pick bluelierries hcl|H| it along some."
Anil perhaps it did: Fate is not
ntsve using bluelierries as a means
now-a-days at least, litUn M. Clark
in SL I,'tiiin Moyazltw.
Tile I'onnllj.
"Father," observed Melanrthon Mar
row fat to the old gentleman one even
ing after his mother hail gone out of
the room, "I've liecn reading a good
deal about, panics lately, and it seems
to me that many of them might be
avoid* d."
"There's millions in It if you can
tell how, my l>y," said Mr. M., shak
ing his In ad as if the problem were
utterly incapable of solution.
"All it needs Is." continued Melanr
thon, "for women to be brave."
"Ilut they ain't brave," remarked
his father firmly, "and how arc you
going 'o make them so?"
"Easy enough," returned the Inge
nious lad. "(live thein mice for pots
when they are children.— Brooklyn
lingle.
Sea shells and crawfish are to he
found on the top of Lookout moun
tain, In the northeastern part of Yava
pai county, Arizona
THE AURICCLTIKAL EDITOR.
How lyk I'nrlmut Conducud " Tht
Knrmrr'i t'rlollU." Orltflual Views 011
KullM*.
Dyke Fortescuo rambled Into the
office of an agricultural newspaper
pulAisheil in the interest of rural read
ers, and named the Farmer's Friend
ami Culticator's Champion. liyke
was fresh from Denver, where he had
been doing local work on a daily. lie
wanted a situation—he wanted it
badly, and lie soon closed a bargain
witii the proprietor of the Farmer's
Frit nd ami Cul tint tors' Champion.
The proprietor intended to he absent
for two weeks, and Dyke undertook to
hold the journal's head steadily up
stream until his return.
"You will receive sonic visitors,
quite likely," said the proprietor
" Entertain 'em. Entertain 'em in a
manner which will relied credit on the
paper. They will want to talk stock,
farming, horticulture, etc., you know.
<ii\c it to 'em strong."
Dyke liowcil, borrowed a half dollar,
got a dean shave, and soon returned
to face tin- music and edit the iirst
agricultural journal with which lie
hud ever IM-CII connected.
" I feel that, with my journalistic
experience, it will bo just fun to run
an agricultural paper," suid Dyke to
himself.
At 2 oclock p. m. the lirst visitor
showed up at the door of the office,
ami Dyke cordially invited him inside.
The farmer entered hesitatingly, and
remarked that he hud expected to meet
the proprietor, with whom lie had an
appointment to discuss ensilago.
"I am in charge of the journal,"
said Dyke.
"Oh you are. Well, you seem to
have a pretty clean office here."
" Yes," replied Dyke. "But about
this ensilage. Ensilage is a pretty
good breed, isn't it?"
Bres!!" exdalmcd the farmer
" why—"
" I mean it's a sure crop; something
that you can rely
"Crop! Why its isn't a crop at all."
" Yes, yes, I know it isn't a crop,'*
said Dyke, perspiring until his collar
began to melt away down the back of
bis neck, "but you -an do better and
cleaner work with a g'>d. sharp ensi
lage ->n stubby ground, than "
"Take it for a sulky plow, do you?"
"No.no,' said Dyke. "You don't
s-s-ni to understand mo. Now, if a
farmer bail la an ensilage on low
gn iund —"
" Builds an ensilage! You sr-em to
have g-.t the thing mixisl up with
some kind of a granary."
" I'shaw, n-'," continued Dyke. "I
must make myself plainer. You seo
this ensilage properly mixisl with one
part guano, and three parts hypophns
phate of antimony, with the addition
of a little I ran and tan bark, and the
whole flavored with chloride -f lime,
iiiak<-s a top dressing for strawberry
tssts which •"
" Why, ■ nsilago isn't n > manure."
"No. certainly not." said Dyke, " I
know it is often ase-1 in that way-
You don't catch my drift. When I
s i 1 top dressing I meant turkey dross
ing stuffing, you know for thanks
giving
"tt-ol Heavens, man! Ensilage
isn't a human f->-> 1!"
" No, not a human fond exactly,"
sai l po >r Dyke, grinning like an alms
house idiot "It isn't a f-*xl at all. in
the true sense of the word. My plan
has always been to lasso the hog with
a trace chain and after pinning his
ears bark with a c|oth--s pin. put the
ensilage into his nose with a pair of
tweezers.
"My go>d lands! You don't use
ensilage to ring logs."
" I never believed myself that it
should l>e used for that purpose, hut
when v-iii want to ring hens, or young
calves to keep them from sucking
The farmer gravely shook his head.
" Did you ever try ensilage on the
hired girl ¥" said Dyke desperately, and
winking like a bat at 11:30 a. in.
The farmer slowly arose, and with
some evidence of rheumatic twinges
in his legs.
" Young man," he said "you are a
long ways from home, ain't you?"
"Yes," replied Dyke, dropping his
eyes beneath the stern glances of the
farmer, "in my ancestral halls in
England, sad-eyed retainers wearily
watch and wait for my return."
"(Jo home, young man, go home to
your feudal castle, and while on your
way acrosss the rolling deep, in use on
the fact that ensilage is simply canned
food for live stock -put up expressly
for family use in a silo, which is noth
ing less than an air-tight pit where
corn stalks, grass, millet, clover, alfalfa
and other gteen truck is preserved for
winter use. as green and verdant as
the sub-editor of the Farmers' Friend
and Cultlrators' Champion."
And Dyke Fortescue sighed as he
remarked to himself; " There ain't so
blamed much fun in running an agri
cultural paper aa I thought"— Tsuras
Siftlngt.
LA HI US' DEPARTMENT
l*w Nlylc f llaanlr*
There is to be an entirely new style
of beauty. The girls with the ruddy
locks of the golden hair and the Saxon
skin, that have held their sway so long
will have to abdicate their throne to
their dark-haired sisters. So fashion
has decreed, anil when fashion has de
creed a thing the result is as unalter
able as a general election. To be in
the fashion to-day you must have dark
hair, dark blue eyes, not a particle of
color and lips as red as the cherry-
These rather varied requirements are
to he met—with art. London Court
Journal.
Tin nir>.
The true wife not only has the con
fidence of her husband, hut the affairs
under her personal supervision and ex
clusive care flourish like a garden, says |
a level headed writer. All things beau
tiful spring from her touch, and he en- :
joys the blessing of her tact without ;
fully realizing how it comes. She loves
the praise of her husband, she is
feairous to he permitted to share his
life-work, and his confidence is the only
reward she seeks. She never overtaxes
us income, for she knows how much
it is, and she keeps within it. -She may
lornetimes long for an increase of
worldly goods, but she never reproaches
Mm when he is diligent and docs his
>wtt.
I htvalrmia Woriluu.
Not until the middle ages set in did
women begin to take that station in
life which the modern world has leen
' proud to accord them. The knights o
Europe made a special business of pro
tecting women, especially such as h;id
j 10 natural protectors, and as a conse
quence of this romantic employment
ievoted a large share of their time to
Love-making. Doubtless there have
| jwn more extravagant fools than these
cnights of mediaeval times, hut un
fortunately history has not recorded
j -ither the namesor the actions of such,
' ind we are. therefore, forced to take
.he statement on faith, fine tells how
! le never sees his lady love's face with
out criming himself; another hums
tamps and tapers before the altar of
die Virgin that his mistress' heart
nay Is- softened ; another performs
venance, and says a hundred masses a
lay for the same laudable end. An
chor has a vision of Cupid on horse
back, I >OO ted and spurns I, with lance
n rest; and still another represents the
j Deity as the god of war, driving his
j iloo.lv chariots over the hearts of the
lutnan race. One turns preacher, and
n a country pulpit recites the praises
f his lady, the people mistaking liis
! rhapsoiiy for a hymn to the Virgin;
>ne turns pilgrim and walks barefoot
tnd bareheaded through l'.uropc; one
! -to sea; one thrcatenisl to bury
ilnisi if .dive, anl another, or the ma/1-
I' st or m.t devotisl of all. curses him.
•df. wishes that he m iv fall from his
ior*e and never rise, that his helmet
nay wear a hole in his head, that his
•ridle reins may he too long and hss
itirrups t<vo short, that his horse may
.rot forever, that he may ncv. r win at
( lice, that he may l---k like a sneak and
run at the next battle like a coward if
I lis lady l>e not the most beautiful
; woman in the world and he the most
levoted lover.
I'tihlon XalH
Ited Is the rival of yellow this season.
New York women make their own
fashions.
Coat sleeves to lie en regie must lie
very tight
American styles arc popular in Eu
-1 rojiean citii-s.
A late style of capote protrudes in a
peak over the forehead.
Open net ventilating corsets are Un
kind for the hottest weather.
The shell hat and the fan capote are
the latest novelties in millinery.
English styles are more |>pular than
French with American women.
The sunshades that have appeared
are exrelingly gay in appearance.
Shirred lioiinces and shirred draper
ies appear on many new costumes.
lilack velvet necklets are worn high
alwut the throat and fastened by dia
mond studs.
Imported parasols are more and more
elegant, and some have the handles
studded with gems.
"Spider webs" Is new and very thin
material shot with color, and designed
for summer dresses.
Very pretty black lace fichus, large
size, are furnished to wear with sum
mer dresses in place of mantle*.
Turks in bunches across the skirt in
flounces, and in lengthwise rows on
front breadths, are still In favor.
Skull-crowned turlian bats, placed
far back on the head, are atlll very
fashionable for young ladies and girls-
Black brocaded grenadine, with Urge
velvet (lowers, makes a graceful basque
ami draperies for plain grenadine
skirts that have lace flounces.
i'ins for securing hats are ornament
ed with brilliants, horse-shoes and in
sects, composed of pearls and less ex
pensive precious stones, often artificial.
Useful costumes of pepper-and-salt
material are in favor among those who
export to travel considerably. They
are tailor-made, have very tight-iitting
basques and plain skirts.
Laced kid gloves have had their day,
and now women of good taste have
gone back to buttoned kids, which are
the best, after all. They come in all
ttie shades and colors, and with buttons
enough for tire longest arm.
The traveling cloak for young ladies'
summer journeys is a cheviot New.
market closely lilted from neck to f<ot,
with checks of mingled ecru, garnet
hrown and olive. There is a pointed
hood with garnet silk lining.
One of tin- handsomest Hack silk
costumes yet diown ha-, a* the bottom
of the short walking skirt, three gath
ered flounces, and each flounce has
three rows of narrow black velvet rib
lion run on near the lower edge.
White inulle morning dresses are
made with a Watteau plait from the
shoulders, and are trimmed across the
front w itli alternate frills of lace and
embroidery. Salmon or dark-blue
changeable satin ribbons are tied in
front in many bows.
An English fashion, now prevailing
to some extent, consists in wearing an
epaulette of two loops and two ends of
riblmn on the left shoulder of an even
ing dr'-xa, and a ribbon bracelet aliove
the elbow. A fancy buckle usually
fastens )itb ornaments.
Dressy liasques are cut open, in oval
sbajie, below the throat, and finished
off with a standing net collar em
broidered with gold, silver or steel
(•e.t ls. and male to project by fine,
thread-like wires, and fastened by a
diamond brooch, that represents but.
tons. The sleeves arc of lace to the
• llmw, with I leaded ruffles, and then
are satin creves for epaulettes.
How Needles are Made.
From a lecture in I'aris on "Steel in
Modern Times." by Mr. S. I'erissc, w<
take the follow ing notes on the curious
and interesting uis-lie manufa'taring
Industry: The n<-e.llo. says Mr. I'erissc.
passes through the hands of eighty
workmen la-fore it is ready to deliver
tc the trade; and if we take into con
sideration that these articles oust at the
very most only two dollars per thous
and. on an average, we find that the
eight thousand ojierations are remuner
ated by the sum of twenty ei-nts.
Owing to the progress cffecU-1 in
the draw ing of st< > 1 into wire, cat
stfj has been principally employed f->r
some time past Formerly, in France
and 'b-rmany. manufacturers us<-d ir<>n
wire, which was converted into ste 1
during the f >urse of operation. The
manner of manufacturing differs but
little. At llorcettc. the centre of needle
production "f the continent of Kurope,
there are five series of operations m
volved in the iiianufacture First, con
version 'if the Wire into needb-s in the
rough; sec ind. temjwring and anneal
ing. third, p-fishing; fourth. softening
of the |Milished neelles: fifth, putting
up into packages.
First, the conversion into netsllns in
thorough Involves twenty operations,
the principal ones of these lwinggaug
i ing the wires, cleaning, reeling an 1
cutting into pieces of a length equal
to two needles. Sharpening or jsunt*
I ing is done by tncans of grindstones.
Ily the aid of a leather thumlistall the
workman holds fifty wires at a time.
The latter becomes rsl hot by friction
on the stone, and a constant stream of
particles of steel and stone is thrown
off. which formerly brought aliout
phthisis in the workman after a time,
hut the adoption of powerful ventilation
has now remedied all that. After
pointing the wire is cut in two, the
head Is Hkttenisl. and it is then anneal
<vL Then the eye is punchel in the
head by means of a steel punch, the
j ojieration living performed bv children
i in less time than it takes to describe It.
i other children "hole" the neisihw that
is, remove the particles of steel detach
ed by the punch. After this the heads
are hollowed, s rted, and, when neces-
I sary. cemented.
Second, tempering and annealing of
the raw product requires nine opera
tions, but they are fierformed with lots
of thirty-pounds weight, each contain
ing more than three hundred thousand
needles.
Thinl, jHilUhing is the longest opera
tion. although one million are polished
at once. It requires five operations,
each of which is repeated seven or
eight times. The needles are put into
rolling cylinders along with small hard
stones and oil and colza. The stones
gradually Iwcome crushed, and the
friction of the particles during the
motion of the rollers effects the polish.
The last polish is performed with oil
alone and coarse bran.
Fourth, the sorting of the polished
needles Involves five operations, and,
after burnishing, which is a very deli
cate and important process and that
which gives the lustre, the needles
undergo the last operation of being put
up into packages.
HUHHY HIDE HIIOEH.
4
Trl<l>* toy Whlrh the Poor ar* *wlnllt<l
IHctplliiaa la K*ot Wear.
"You newspaper fellows have ha/1
your whack at a great many frauds of
the day, but you have thus far over
looked the commonest and in some re*
npects the meanest of all frauds, that
in shoes. Why don't you expose it Y'
The speaker was a middle-agpd man of
natty dress, evidently a member of the
era It known as commercial travelers,
arid the one addressed a reporter for
the Commercial. The latter, overlook
ing the flippancy with which journal
ists had been classed as "fellows,"
asked for plans and specifications as to
frauds in shoes, and was enlightened
in this wise:
"it would take too much of your
space to go into minute details as to
how frauds are perpetrated on the
purchaser of shoes, so numerous and
ingenious are they. I will therefor®
merely tell you ai/out some of the ordL
nary ways of getting up cheap shoes
of deceptive apjiearan< e. (lood leather
of all kinds, as you are aware, costs
money, and a great deal of it, in corn*
parison with prices twenty-five years
ago, and a great deal of ingenuity has
been expended in devising methods for
making n little of the tanners' product
go a great way. Sole bather is the
most costly of all, and naturally there
is more fraud in the soles of shoes than
in the uppers. In a great many of the
cheajier grades of shoes now sold the
soles consist of a very thin sheet of
leather for the liottom, just enough to
hold it together, and the space bet ween
it and the so-called insole, which usual
ly consists of a strip of muslin, is filled
either with bather shavings pressed
together or with common straw board
The wearers of this kind of leather
goods should always lie careful to
avoid the shady side of the street, as
dampness is ruinous to this sort of
shoe, causing the biggest part of the
sole to crumble to pieces.
"The uppers, which the seller always
assures the purchaser are genuine
calf-skin, are split cow -hide, and w ear
little if any lietter than the <>IPS. The
heels are in strut keeping with the
! other parts, consisting of a thin outer
r:m of leather and a slender lKittom of
the same material, the remainder
lieing made up of scrap bather. Half
the ready-made shoes worn in I'itts-
Imrg, 1 don't hi-sitate to assert, are
-hams of one sort or another, in part
or in whole.
"The falsification is n--t confined to
men's shoes; oh.no. There is fully as
much or more fraud in women's foot*
1 g .ir. There is'petifile goat' made out
■f blackened muslin, with soles of
plaited hash,' as pressed scraps are
termed.
"Sheepskin is skillfully dressed to
imitate ki<l and many of the shoes
made of it and sold for sewed work are
merely pasted together and dissolve,
so to speak, the first time they are wet.
This sort of fraud sets hardest on the
poor, and especially the unreasoning
I poor, who must economise from force
of necessity, and always buy things
that are "cheap* without much refer
ence to their quality or durability. %
Shoes at half price are always a temp
tation to the poor. but if they would
give the matter a little study they
would soon discover that one pair of
honest shoes, sold at a fair price,
would outlast three or four pairs of
the other kind, though when first put I
•>n the latter look just a* nice or
than the in-tter kind."—
(Pa.) Commercial.
Dor Seven Wonders.
The seven wonders of the world in 1
ancient times, were the pyramids of
Egypt, the l'haros of Alexandria the
w alls and hanging gardens of Babylon,
the Temple of Diana, the statue of the
olympian Jupiter, the Mausoleum of
Artemisia and the CoUoasus of
Rhodes.
The seven wonders of the world in
modern times are the printing-presti
the steam engine, the spina ing
the telephone, the phonograph,l
graph, and electric light. ,
The so called "seven wonders" of
the ancients are mere trifles compared
with those of the present time. Hie
Brooklyn bridge, for example, would
nuiko the hanging gardens of Babylon
a mere toy, while the whole sevedlL
wonders put together would sink into%|
insignificance, could their builders |
have seen a lightning express train at I
full speed.