A Man's Empty Heart.
It acorns so strango
That any man should novor sot his heart
On anything—but live a|<art
v rom iloar deairo
And from laughing hope!
Without whoso kindly beacon ruv
Wo'ro like poor mariners astray
Without a coni|iaiM.
Our lives would bo so tamo,
If wo should bo content to grasp
Only the things our hand could clasp
Without much striving.
tVo cannot always
Hope to attaiu our aim—bat still.
By tearing to attempt, wo will
(Sain simply nothing
Oh! wo would mini
So much unloss w <lard tho I oar
Of losing thing, which arc not hero,
Dot lartlter on.
Kvon if wo lose
Tho ho|io on which our heart was set
Thorn no in os for every vain regret
Some compensation.
Keinoutliranco ol
Anticipation soothes tho pain
Of bittor loss, and holpa us gain
Courage and hope.
To have known defeat
Makes us more kind to grids that lay
Within tho boura oi every day
n other pooplu's lives.
.nd when we win'
Attainment gives us strength to beat
Kaoh added pain and added euro
That comes to us.
Tlion daro tho strife!
For o'er defeat's dark clouds there couia
Tho lights ol many a victory won,
Which hloosed our life.
Btuie Donaldton.
An Expensive Lesson.
Mrs. Piercy was not in a good hu
mor Lbat day, as site sat at the break
fast-table pouring coffoo for her hus
band, and dispensing bread and butter ;
to tho three plump little Plercys. zlhe !
was a handsome, overdressed woman,
with a good deal of false hair, frizzed '
and puffed and braided on the top of
her head, anil a complexion that Uiro j
remote witness to the constant use of j
cosmetics. And Mr. l'ierey, at his end I
of the table, was evidently ill at ease, ,
as he broke his eggs and nibbled dili- |
gently at his roll.
"But what was I to do, my dear?" |
•aid he, after a brief silence which was
by no means peaceful.
"Do?" shrilly retorted Mrs. Piercy. j
"Why, what do other people do? Are
wo to keep a home for the indigent
poor? Or a refuge for the widowed
and fatherless!"
"My dear, my dear," pleaded Mr.
Piercy, who was a small man. with
thin hair and spectacles, "you may be
a widow yourself, somo day."
"And if I am, I shall not go begging
among my relative*, that you may de
pend on," said Mrs. Piercy. "And, af- j
ter all, she isn't any relative of yours
—only your brother's wife! I'd like j
to know what earthly claim she has
upon you! I declare, the more I think
of it the more I am amazed at the
woman's presumption. B--r very name
is an aggravation, too. 'Plume I'ier. '
cy,' indeed. I'll wager my new I.ve
pin that she was a second-rate artresw
whon she married your brother. No,
Mr. Piercy, if you think that I—"
But here the torrent of the lady's
eloquence was cut short by the unex
pected appearance on the sceno of the
very subject of her objurgation—a tall, ,
pretty woman of about four and
twenty, whose wavy, golden tresses j
ami delicately fair complexion con
trasted vividly with the deep mourn- i
ing weeds she wore.
"A veil down to her feet," mentally
ejaculated Mrs. Abel Piercy. "And a
six-inch bias band of the very best
Cotirtiand crape on her gown. I won
der who's expected to pay for all this?"
Abel Piercy, the kindest-hearted of
little men, welcomed his brother's
widow with genuine hospitality; but
Matilda, his wife, looked askance at
her, with no friendly smile upon her
countenance.
"Of course you will consider this
your home," said Mr. l'ierey, as he
made haste to draw a chair close to the
lira
"Until you are able to suit yourself
somowhere else," crisply added his
wife.
The widow said little; she only
looked, with large, wistfnl eyes, from
one to the other, as she sat there, the
morning sunshino turning her fair
lacks to braided masses of gold, the
pearly delicacy of her skin arousing
the liveliest envy In Mr A Abel's heart
"Though, of course, It's only some
French balm, or Circassian cream or
other, that I haven't heard of," said
she to herself.
But, after Mr. Ilercy bad buttoned
on his overcoat and gloves, he camo
hack to the breakfast-room, while his
wlfo was putting up the children's
school-lunches In the pantry.
"I am not much of a talker. Plume,"
said he. In an odd, heeltating way; "but
you are welcome, my dear—-very wel
come! And I hope you will try to feel
at homo. Don't mlnil Matilda—just
at llrst. She's a little peculiar. Matilda
is, but i do assure you she—"
"Mr. l'ierey!" uttered a sharp, warn
ing voice, at this instant, from the
threshold, "is it possible that you
haven't started yet ? Ami you know
how particular Budge and liodlcy ari
as to your getting to the store at nine
precisely."
Mr. l'ierey turned pink all over.
"Yos, my dear —yes," said he, "I'm
quite stire to be in time!"
And off he started on a gentle trot.
When he was gone, Plume took off
her bonnet and veil, removed her man
tle and gloves, and went into the
kitchen.
"Cannot I do something to help you,
Sister Matilda?" said she, pleadingly.
Mrs. Abel l'ierey looked, with cold
blue eyes and lips primly compressed,
at the fair face, which was younger
and fresher than ever without the jet
black circlet of the bonnet, and the
slight, graceful ligure before her.
"No, I thank you," said she. "I am
not used to have tine ladies in my
kitchen."
"Hut if you will lend me an apron " j
"No. 1 thank you, Mrs. Oswald Pier,
oy?" repeated the housewife. "You
will tind the newspaper in the hall- I
Perhaps the advertising columns may
Interest you."
"We are sisters." said the young
widow, with a quivering lip. "Will
you not call me I'lumo?"
"()h, no, we're no relations at all, '
in reality," said Mrs. Abel l'ierey, j
weighing out ounces of sugar and >
pounds of (lour with an unerring
hand. "And really, your name is such 1
a very peculiar one. .fane, or Martha, j
or Kliza, would have been more to my •
taste. Perhaps, however," with a \
keen, sidelong glance, "you have been
on the stage?"
"No," said Plume, "I was a teacher j
when Oswald married inc. Hut what
did you mean about the advertising
columns of the paper?"
"Situations, you know," said Mrs.
l'ierey, reaching over to the raisin-lmx.
"Hriilget, you have been at these i
raisins, as true as I live! There's half !
of 'em gone sine.- 1 was here last."
"No, mum, I haven't!" sharply re
sponded Bridget, who was used to
these kitchen skirmishes. "Sure I
never lived in a house !>efore where
they counted the raisins and the lumps
o' coal, and if I don't suit, mum, it's
a month's warning from b>-day, if
ye's plaze."
"Situations!" repeated Plume, half
afraid of Bridget's warlike demeanor, i
half puzzbil at her sister-in-law's
words.
"Yes," said Mrs. Abel, tartly, paying
no attention to Bridget and her skillet
"in a glove-factory, you know, or a j
fancy store, or even as nursery gover
ness or attendant to some elderly in
valid. For of course, you know," with
another of those oblique looks that
made Plume feel so uncomfortable,
"you expect to work for your living
We are not rich enough to support all
our relations. Abel's salary was re
duced last year, and no one knows
how strictly I have to Tonomize In
order to make both ends meet. And a
strong young woman like you ought not \
to sit down on a sickly man with a
family, like my husband, because—"
"Stop oh. stop'" said Plume, lifting
up her hand, as if to ward off some in- j
visible terror. "lie said I was wel
come. Be told me—"
"That's just like Abel"' said Mrs
Pierry, scornfully. "He'd take in all
creation if he could. Bo never stops ,
to think whether he can afford it or
not."
"I am sorry that I intrude." said
Plume, with dignity. "It shall not lie
for long. I will look at the newspaper
at once."
es, that's a deal the licit plan," '
assented Mrs. Pierry, ungraciously.
"Of course you won't mention our
little chat to Abel. Be might lie
vexed; and, after all, I'm only speak
ing fur your good."
Hume looked at her with an expres
sion of fare which somehow made Mrs.
Abel Pierry feel as if she were shrink
ing up like a withered walnut in its
shell.
"Yes. 1 know." said she, "But you
need not lie afraid; I am no tale-bear
er, to make mischief in any one's fam
ily."
Mrs. l'ierey felt very uncomfortable
after this little conversation was ended.
"How she did look at ine!" thought
she. "But I only spoke the truth,
after aIL We can't be burdened with
her support, let Abel talk as he pleases.
And no matter what she says. I believe
she has been an actrese! No one but
an actress could ever put on such royal
ways as that!"
Half an hour afterward, when the
bell rang, and some one inquired for
Mrs. Oswald Piercy, Mrs. Abel nodded
her head to the cake she was taking
out of the oven.
"Company already," said she; "sad
gentleman company, as I live I Well,
if this is the way she intends to go
on, the sooner she suits herself with a
situation the better!"
Mrs. I'ierey had been secretly anx
lons for an opportunity of quarreling
with her sister-in-law. Here it was at
last; and when the old gentleman with
the glossy broadcloth suit was gone,
she bounced into the parlor with a red
spot on either cheek-bone like signals
of war.
"So you have been receiving com
pany, Mrs. Oswald?" said she.
"Ye," I'lunie innocently answered.
"Gentleman company, too!" cried
Mrs. I'ierey.
"It was Mr. Van Orden, my hus
band's lawyer," explained I'lumc.
"Oh, 1 dare say!" said Mrs. I'ierey,
"All that sounds very well; but I have
the character of luy house to look to,
and
"He is coining hack with a carriage,"
hurriedly spoke Flume. "1 am to go
to his wife's house at once. Mrs. Van
Orden is willing to give mo the shelter
which my own relatives grudge me!"
"I wish tier joy of her bargain, I
ain sure," said Mrs. Abel I'ierey, with
a toss of the mountains of false hair
that crowned her head.
And so the two women parted, in no
spirit of amity,
"I dare say she'll go straight to the
store," thought Mrs. Abel, "and invent
a pitiful story for my husband's bene
fit. And Abel will make a great fuss
Abel was always soft about his rela.
tives but 1 shan't mind it. I always
have been mistress In my own house,
and 1 always intend to be, Oswald's
widow or no Oswald's widow."
Nevertheless, she could not help
feding a little apprehensive when h'-r
husband came in to tea For when
Abel really was angry, his anger sig
nified something. Hut to her surprise
lie enterisl all smiles, and rubbing his
palms, gleefully.
"So Flume has gone?" said lie.
"Yes," said Mrs. I'ierey, pretending
to Is* busy with a knot in the second
child's shoe. "She has gone. Hut
how did you know it?"
"Vail Orden stopped at the store tc
tell me," answered Mr. I'ierey.
"Strange, wasn't it? And quite ro
mantic, too."
"What on earth is the man talking
about ?" said Mrs. I'ierey, aroused at
last into something like active interest,
"Why. didn't l'lume tell you? It
seems that those last investments that
poor >swald fan> ied he had licggarcd
himself with, have turned up trump
cards after ;U1 And Von Orden tells
me that Oswald's widow is worth one
hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Mrs Al>el I'n-rcy turned first green,
then crimson. Alas for the fa'al blun
der she had committed! Alas for the
ruin's! chances of her three little
girls to inherit their aunt's money!
>he made some trivial excuse al>out a
forgotten pocket-handkerchief, anil
went up stairs to weep the bitterest
tears she had ever shed.
It was a lesson to her, but it was an
expensive one. For Plume I'iercv, al
though she always remained on the
most excellent terms with her kind
little brother-in-law. never crossed
Mrs. Abel's threshold again. She had
l>een too deeply stung too bitterly in
sulted there.
"And It's all tny own fault," sadly
reflected Mrs. Abel. "Oh, dear, oh,
dear! why can't we see a little way
Into the future?"
Oyster Schools.
It Is common to quote the oyster as
the lowest example of stupidity, or
absence of anything mental; and as it
is a headless creature, the accusation
might not seem wholly unfounded
Yet the oyster is not such a fool but
that it can learn by experience; for
Dicquemase asserts that, if it lie taken
from a depth never uncovered by the
sea it oj>ons its shell, bees the water
within and perishes. Hut oysters taken
from the same depth, if kept in reser
voirs where they are occasionally left
uncovered for a short time, learn to
keep their shells closed, and then livp
for a much longer time when taken
out of the water. This fact is also
stated by Hingley. and is now turned
to practical account in the so-called
"oyster schools" of Franco. The dis
tance from the roast to I'aris being too
great for the newly-dredged oysters to
travel without opening their shells,
they are first taught In the schools tc
Ix-ar a longer and longer exposure to
the air without gaping, and when their
education In this respect is completed,
they are sent on their journey to the
metrojiolls, where they arrive with
closed shells and In a healthy con
dition.
Statistics show that not quite one
thinl of the population in the United
States is foreign born, or foreign in
the second degree. Of the 15,000,000
Included In the above computation,
about 4,500,000 have Irish fathers.
DETERMINED DUELIhT*.
The lloitlle Mertluii llrl wren <rehm
and H'alktr
In a recent number of the .St. Louis
Qlobe-Dvrwrat, a Forty-Naur gives
some interesting recollections of old
time duels on the western coast. Him
self an adherent of the code of honor
that demanded reparation for real or
fancied insult, the details of the duel
as related by one of the participants,
is unusually interesting. He says:
The first duel that 1 was concerned
in was between a young man from
Philadelphia, named Graham, and
General Walker, afterwards of Nicara
gua fame. It grew out of a violent
attack on the county court, of which
Judge Morrison was the head, in the
Kan Francisco //-r/</, by Walker, who
was one of the editors. Young
Graham was a protege of Judge
Morrison, and without consulting him
he wrote a very denunciatory letter to
Walker, which resulted in a challenge.
Graham had the choice of weapons,
and he chose revolvers, at eight paces;
at the word to advance and fire until
either or both of the parties were
killed. At that time I was stationed
at Sac ran ien to, ami one evening I re
ceived a letter from Graham begging
me for < Jod's -ake to come down on the
first boat, that be was in trouble and
wanted me at once, 1 got ready as
quickly as possible and caught the
evening boat, wondering what sort of
a scrape Graham had got himself into,
never dreaming of a duel. I arrived
at san Francisco lute at night and ,
w.-nt at once to Graham's room, where
I found him in consultation with his
friends. I was there informed of
what had occurred, and the phasanj
news was imparted to me that I had
Ieen chosen his lighting second Here
was a row between two men, with
cither of whom I had hut a slight ;> *
quaintance, and in whom I had no jar- ;
ticular Interest. The terms were un
usually sanguinary and the affair
would probably terminate in the death
of one or lioth. Under the code if one
<>f the principals showed the white
feather his second was obliged to Lik j
his place and light it out. It was aj
situation that 1 did not r- li-h in tin '
bast, I knew that Walker was a reg
ular lire eater and would i.ght to the
death, but Graham I was not exactly
sure of. His terms were bh ■ ly enough,
but then be had never l>-cn trisl, and
|f the thing w.-nt on, he might weaken
and I have to take it up. I labored
with him to obtain some modification
of his terms. 1 told hint that they
w. re so sanguinary that Walker would
l>e justified in declining them. We sat
up all right, and tr;e.i our tist t > br.ng
atut a peaceable adjustment, but it
was of no lis. The tight was to come
niT at 1< o'clock in the morning, and,
finding no .-scape, 1 was oblig.sl t->
make the l.t of it. We had our
breakfast and took a carriage for the
dueling grounds, un the way Graham
told me that he was a dead shot, and
that he intended to kill Walker on the
first fire. I halted the carriage, and
told him I vvould not go a step further
if that was his purpose. If he were
the exje rt marksman that he claimed
to be it would la- a little less than mur
der. and I proposed to wash my hands
of the affair unless he would promise
to w ing his man instead of killing him.
At last he agressl to it, and we wen'
ahead. <>n the ground we found
Walker and his second, who was Gap*
tain Folsom, of the army. I tried to
effect an adjustment of the difficulty,
but without success, I had taken the
precaution to dress my man in black
from head to foot, without a particle
of white anywhere visible. Walker
was in a blue swallow tailed cost, with
buff vest and black pants. His coat
was buttoned, and la-low bis breast the
light line of his vest couhl be seen.
The impending light was know n to the
whole of San Francisco, and. as it wa,
Sunday, not less than .VXNI people were
on the grounds. Among the most in.
terested sp*rtators was Alexander
Wells, then Chief Justice of California.
The ground was measured, pegs
driven, and 1 won the word. The men
were placisl in position and the signal
given: "Gentlemen, are you ready?
Fire' one, two, three, halt!" At th p
word both wheeled and fired. Walker
stood still, hut Graham advanced one
pace and lioth fired again. After this
I called a halt. and. going to Folsom.
tried to bring aNmt a compromise, hut
no use. Walker had his blood up and
proposed to kill or l>e killed then anil
there. I went to Graham and told hiui
that all parleying was at an end: that
Walker proposed to kill hitn If he couhl.
and that I alwolved hiin from the
promise made in the carriage, as he
must fight for his life. I rememlier
distinctly bow excited the Chief
Justice became as he rushed up and
down the line, swinging his arms and
crying to the crowd. "Keep out of the
Une of fire, gentlemen; keep out of the
line of fire." At last the word was
given, both pistols cracked, and Walker
a
spun around on his heel and full into
Folsom's arms. They tore open his
clothing and found that the ball had
entered the bxly just where the white
line of vest showed below the coat. It
was supposed, of course, that it had
passed through the bowels, as It came
out on the opposite side, but it was af
terward ascertained, upon a careful
examination, that by a most fortunate
accident it had glanced and run around
the lining of the abdomen, just under
the skin, so that the wound was In
reality but slight, lioth were satisfied
and became warm friends. Graham
accompanied Walker on his Nicaragua
expedition and was killed there.
Ited FHh Lake.
.Nestled amid the lofty peaks of the
Itocky mountains, away up in the
Sawtooth range, in Idaho, at an eleva
tion of tJOUQ feet alstve the s a level,
writes a correspondent, lies the U-auti
ful Lake Talioma. Beautiful lakes are
no rare thing in these mountains, but,
amid them all, it would Is* hard to find
one presenting a more perfect picture
of quiet beauty than this. Idaho
means "Gni of the Mountains," and.
surely, Lake Tahorna deserves to I/O
called the Gem of Idaho, It is not
large, being only about three mile*
long and one mile wide.
Where the water of this lake is
eighteen or twenty feet deep you can
see the pebble- on the bottom, and the
fish darting about, as plainly a- though
they were in a glass glolK.*. Then the
bottom of the lake breaks off suddenly
and descends almost perpendicularly
several hundred feet, fr-aii which point
(he water grow- rapidly deejM-r t-ward
the middle of the lake. It is said that
it has been sounded to the depth of
27' XI feet, but the story is not well
authenti' ated It ha-, however, been
no a- ri-d, with a wire line. ltM' feet
without finding l-'tt en. and it ha.- been
estimated by (fljrvcyor* that its grc.t'*t
d'-pth may > .rr(*i>ond with the height
••f the highest peak in its vicinity,
winch is l.V* feet, though no accurate
measurement has vet l**n attempted.
The water, besides 1~ mg very old,
p X-cv-ea S -me JM-< iliaritv whi h makes
it very difficult to keep afloat in it. or.
a-a man expressed it "There is no
- ib-tanc to the water, and a man
i sr.'t swim easily." The lake is full of
fish of different k!:.<K it is off cal.
•si Ihi Fish Lake, on acount ■-fa
brilliant red fish that swarms its wt r-
Their remarkable beauty charms the
eye. their jw-uliax habits well repay a
close study and observation, and when
served hot for breakfast no daintier
dish could Is- desired. They are quite
large, weighing from two and a half t -
four pounds. Their bodi'is are a bright
r<-l, and the h'-.vl and fins are a light
brown. They 1- >k in the water like
- arb-t -atin. The male lias a decid'sl
hump or. his b.v k, and a turn'-d up
nose, while the female is |>erfx tlr
straight. In th< spawning s ;i*on they
run up the creeks that bs*l the lake in
vast nu ml ten*, to the gravel Iwds in
shallow water. They dart hither and
thither so swiftly and in such a multi
tude that the water seems, at times, an
almost Solid mass of color. They must
live on aniniah übi. for n > f<*l is ever
found in th'-ir stoma' i.x, n>r are their
digestive organs tittxl for s--lid food
They will not take bait of any kind,
but are sprat ed and taken like salmon,
to whom I supjHise they must lear
some family relation. IVhcn the young
ixre hatched, they soon seek the deeper
waters of the lake, and then disappear,
probably going to the dee|>est part,
where the; remain until nearly full
grown, or about three years. ,
The Position for Sleeping.
A German. Baron lieh'henbaeh, has
occupied many years in studying the
art of bcdmaklng. or rather U-dpla ing.
and maintains that improperly placed
Usis will shorten a man's life. He
-ays; If a mere magnet exercises an
influence on sensitive persons, that
earth's magnetism must certainly
make Itself felt on the nervous life of
man. In whatever hemisphere you
may le, always sleep with your feet to
the equator, and let your Iswly lie as
.'true a a needle to the jtole." The
proper direction of the l*ly is of the
utmost importance for the proper cir
culation of the blood, and many dis
turbances in the organisms have liecn
cured by simply placing the Ix.lster at
a different |Hint of the compass from
that it had occupied. Let such as have
hitherto lieen in the habit of sleeping
with their feet where their head ought
to t>e, take to heart the example of the
late Dr. Fis<-hwester, of Magdehurg
who died recently at the age of 109
years. The most unhealthy position,
we are told when the liody lies east
and west Some observers assure us
that to sleep In such a position is tan
tamount to committing suicide, and
that diseases are often aggravated by
deviations from the proper posture.
Spurn and Whip*.
The Matory of spurs la both curious
an'l entertaining. The earliest form
of spur was a single goad or sharp
p 'int.
The dashing young knights of the
feudal times had a great love for deco
rating their spurs with jewels.
In the tournaments they used spurs
with mottoes on the shanks. One such
had "A true knight and I" on one side,
and "Anger me and try" on the other.
ily ancient custom, the chorister
hoys in the cathedrals can claim "spur
money" if anybody enters the sacred
edifice with spurs on:
If you brine in iptir or list,
Sixpence you |my— be mire of that.
The whip was not so knightly as the
spur; it however took part in several
old customs.
In the ancient city of York was a
day called whip-dog day, on which the
lioys were accustomed to go around
and whip every (log they met. This
originated in the following peculiar
fact. A priest once celebrating mass
drupjied the pix, which an urireligiout
dog snapped up and swallowed.
The profane Ix-ast was hung, an(l foi
years lus species was subjected to tur
ment f• -r his outrageous impiety. That
was, of course, in the good old times-
Another humane game connected
with the whip was this; A rooster
was tb-d to the branch of a tree. The
players were blindfolded ami presented
with long whips. They were then led
to a little d.stance, ami commenced
lashing in all dire tions, the fun con
-i-tinj/ in the smart cuts they gave one
another. The one who struck the roos
ter lirst, and made him cry out, won
the game.
The old game of whijetop is as old
ax hi>t- n. In Dryden's trarislat, >n f
Virgil's .Kneid we read: •
A ye n*- tri|il;ru: "hip Out top for spot t
On the wmooth of the etnj ty court.
Two hundred years ago tnen played
w! .p-tep as eagerly a- the b- ys, and n
"ome villages a "town top" was j re
v ided for the amusement of the jo r.
rairnacions Ponies.
Ponies are < uumon in India, but the
juailitest of them all is a little fellow
run to seed and (aihsl the t.ittoo. A
correspondent of the London Firld f:r
n.-hes the f...lowing d-s- riptlon: It is
a j tony with few- redeeming qualities
to -et • ff against a whole -tableful of
\ ' ut an, ng his very questionable
\ .rtiu* may be r( • koned bis pugnacity #
S . great i- this, that it would !*• quite
JIS- l.le to kis-p Indian tatUeia, like
c . k-. for lighting purposes. If decent
ly fed. groomed, and but moderately
worked, they will become as high
rouragixl as game cocks, and as ready
to rush at one another, and to do battle
to the death, as birds In the pit, A
chestnut pony of this sort—a child's
j ny. too has l*-en known to bite off
the ear of another pony for his break
fast. and to assimilate a very consider
able portion of the tail of another
tattoo in the course of the afternoon.
When hard worked and ill fed —as he
generally is in a native stable--the
tattoo's pugnacity, for which one c an
not but give him credit, is turned into
a stubliornnesH that would astonish a
donkey. Nothing w ill move him. not
even a rope round his fore b-g, backed
up by profanity and blows. A stoic
might admire the animal when in this
mood if he did not belong to himself.
Hut perhaps after the five fat natives
within the box on wheels, to which
the tattoo is attached, have given up
all hopes of moving for that day and
have letaken themselves to the chew
ing of lietel nut as a solacing and phil
osophical employment of the hour, the
cunning and malicious tattoo will
make a sudden and unexpected dash
forward with the reins atmut his heels,
when may bo witnessed the edifying
spectacle of five fat batioos laid upon
the road at equal distances, just like
the eggs and the lasket, as in athletic
performances. Tjie tattoo's mind, such
as it Is. Is. in fact, against every man
and every man's hand is against hire.
But although morally bad and physi*
rally unlovely there are good points
about the brute after all. It may take
time to discover them, still there are
hopes for the tattoo of the future.
The Malls.
The growth of the nails is more rap
id in children than in adults and slow
est in the aged; goes on faster In the
summer than in the w inter, so that the
same nail which is renewed tn one
hundred and thirty-two daye in win
ter. requires only one hundred and six.
teen in summer. The Increase of the
nails of the right hand Is more rapid
than those of the left; moreover. It dlf- ,
fera for the different Angers, and in
order corresponds with the length of
the Anger, consequently It is fastest in
the middle Anger, nearly equal In the
two on either side of thla, slower in
the little Anger and slowest In the
thumb. The growth of all the natls on
the left hand requires eighty-two day*
more than those of the right