Cdf crrst llrpablircn n rtTfu,anre0 rnur wcmtatDAY, at ,7. E. WENK. T.fll6e In Braearbangh Co.'s Budding, ELM STREET, - TIONE3TA, PA. TICItMS, ll.RO TKIl YE2-A.K. No siiWrlptiittis received for a shorter period Phnn thito moiiilit. ;'l i .'li.i ,(iii('uiinli'itod from all parts of the vmiiii v, N icewl I l. tak. n of anonymous nMllll!IUIOUtllS. The Bolls of San Bin. Kl n. LOKGFKM O-W'BmBT POKM 15 TH R JT7L "What the Bolls of Bun Blu To the shipe. thkt southward pane For the harbor or Masatlan ? To them ia nothing more Thhn the sound of surf on the shore Nothing more to master or man. Bnt to me, a dreamer ofjdresms, To whom what ieand what seems Are often one and the same The belle of San Bias to me Hare a strange, wild melody, And are something more than a name. For belle are the voice of the church; They have tones that tonch and soarch The hearts of the young and old; One sound to all, yet each Lands a meaning to their speech, And the moaning is manifold. . THg LITTLE KEEPER. """""tSOO TRIZE STORY. BY ELEANOR 0. LEWIS. Abont forty miles inland from tbe tsoast of California is a long, narrow alloy, curving in and out to suit the ago. 'on of a boisterous little river thphi Miguel. A high flanked railroad adapts itself just as faithfully to the undulating line of water. Twice, however, in the val ley's length, it crosses the stream by overrd bridges, emerging from them to wind on as before by the water's The flrrt bridge is within a quarter of a mile from the entranc of the rallev, and the little village of Dickson's June. 1 Won is in plain sight The second bridge is three miles from the first, in the lonely heart of tbe hills. The hil Is form a sloping background for the keeper's house at the north end of the bridge, but in front they rise so steep as to seem almost perpend ionlsr. No other houses are in eight. The nearest is at Dickson's Junction. A number of trains pass dav and night, bo none stop at the keeper's house. The "keener" of the bridge some ears ago ws a Rootchman called Donald Ornigie a hard-featured, tall and lsrge-bnned man. with stooping shoulders and weather-beaten fane. Tn his earlier days he had been a miner an adventuresome and success ful one. But. all at once misfortune came upon him. Tbe bank failed in whioh he had placed his earnings : f there were maiyy sad hearts, but his " perhaps was saddest. Not only was the work of a lifetime gone, hut the hopes of a lifetime too. The old mother in Scotland whom he bad left when a mere boy he could not now expect to see. When the news of her death came a few months afterward he was hardly surprised be had felt in his heart that it wonld be so. But this was not the worst ; a few weeks more and his sweet wife died, leaving him alone in the world with a helpless baby daughter. And now for a year or two he carried on a desperate straggle with fortune ; so desperate that it is not much won ler he grew bitter and gloomy. When at last through an old mining acquaint ance, who, more fortunate fhan him self, was now a wealthy director of the Ban Miguel railroad, he was offered the post of bridge-keeper, he was glad to accept it. The pay was small, but it wis sure; and above all it gave him a home and the chance of keeping little Jenny under his own care. So here in the rongh cottage by the bridge he anchored, and was bridge tender, housekeeper and father all in one. He taught Jenny her alphabet when she was old enough; he made her clothes and curious affairs they were; J he whittled out little playthings for ' her: he told her rambling and poorly invented stories, and found the interest of his life in her daily pleasures and griefs. Once a fortnight in summer, onoo a month or less in the rainy season, he went to the Junction for provisions, matches, thread or whatever .was needed in his little household. He spoke to no one exoept those he had dealings with. His old acquaintances he quite passed by. With bowed head and hasty steps he went through the town, did the neces sary errands and hurried away, breath ing more freely as he left the houses behind him and entering the deep val ley came nearer to bis bridge and Jenny. For Jenny was such a comfort I She was growing up into a slender, 'delicate little creature, warm-hearted and loving, but sensitive and grave be yond her years. Tbe father and child lived like two hermits, saying little to each other, happy in the mere being together. It was a great day wbeu she first went ' to the village, when she was in her sixth year. Part of the way her father darned her, part of the way she trotted by his side, her hand in his, and talking with unusual animation. But as they went up the long street, hand in hand, somehow her baby eaeer ness died away. She felt rather than ' understood the amusement, almost ridicule, with which they were greeted. And they must have been a queer looking pair the child especially must have attracted attention with her outlandish drees and frightened, wild little face. It was onlv human nature after all t the children thould giggle and the fn people stare: but all the t i"f. n it. ''. Hie Vol. XV. No. 17. in her life the sense of grief and per sonal hurt. She would not refuse to go with her father since he liked to have his little girl with him, but eaoh trip to the town was a small torture to her. Oraigie long used to being the ob ject of a not too kindly attention hard ly noticed that bestowed upon the child, except as it reflected on himself, and formed one reason more why they should koep to themselves and be all in all to each other. So back they would go from the town, and at the first sight of the bridge his heart would warm. "Weel, Jinny," he would say, "here's oor brig again." And with intuitive womanliness the child felt that she ought not to sadden poor father with her troubles, so she locked them in her own small breast. In this monotonous way the time passed on till the winter that Jenny was nine years old. The dry season had been unusually prolonged and hot, so that when the winter rains at last set in they were everywhere weloomed. The hills grew faintly green and tbe air had an almost springtide warmth. But Donald Oraigie shook his head rather ominously when Jenny cried out that she wished this nice warm weather would last a long time. " It's up to nae guid, I'm thinkin'," said he. " It lniks to me like there 'ud bo a reg'lar doon pour by to morrer or sooner." When theirearlv dinner was over he proposed going to Dickson's; for, as he told Jenny, there was no knowing when the weather would let them get there again, Hnd various things were needed. A soft but not unpleasant rain was fall ing as the two went down the main street to Jansen's store and grocery combined. " There's old Craigia and his girl," nid one person to another, as they passed. Owing to the rain there were more loungers than usual in the store, and as is the way with an idle crowd they gave all tbeirattenticn to the last new-comer. Croipie entered the store without looking round and walkei straight to the counter. "I want adoobleboxo' matches," said he, ,"a paper o' ye'st, a 'gahllon o' molasses and a cahn o oil." These orders were filled in the midst of an attentive silenre on the part of the audience. Then Jansen, who was a big coarse-grained fellow, made bold possibly by so many spectators, winked at them as if to say, "We'll have a little fun," and addressed Craigie: "Matches, molasses, oil and yeast, here they are, sir; now what else ?" " Nothin'," said Craigie, shortly, and pulled out his leather purse. " But these things are for your house," urged Jansen. These are for your house ; don't ye want something for yourself ? Checked shirts, now, or" "Noo, I till you," said Oraigie, who by this time had taken from his purse the right amount of change. " Or for your little gal now ; an apern, or or a hat, you know." continued Jansen, with a side glance as he spoke at the very nondescript article that covered the child's head. At the word hat there was an audible titter from the loungers, and Jansen. catching his advantage, went on, " Or maybe a dress now?" This time the langb. was universal and louder. Poor Jenny stood there mute, misera ble, shamefaced ; a tiny mark for so many arrows. But something in the laugh and the general stare seemed to rouse Craigie, not so much to anger as to the perception that there must be something really amiss to cause it. lie looked down at Jenny's little quivering face, and for the first time perhaps whs aware that the headgear whioh framed it was in no respect like ordinary headgear. He saw, too, the queer tags with which her dress was adorned, and the mottled frontispiece, which only by courtesy could be called an apron. Ibis, to him, new aspect of things. took his mind quite away from the sneering tone ot the storekeeper and from the interested crowd. He looked like a man who had just woke up. "xemuybe reet," he said at last; "she an' I lives aloone like, and I luik at little but keepin' her warm." 1 lien he turned to Jenny. What ud ye like, me bairn ? A nice ap'on' 'ctead o' this?" looking at the article with which she was misadorned. Scared, yet fascinated by the thought of the new apron, she looked up at her father with a face that expressed a pleasure he was quick to read. " Shoo us the calicooes then," said he; " and Jinny, ye sail pick for yoursel." Juusen must surely have been drink ing some of his own whisky, for in gen eral he was too sharp a business man to insult paying customers; besides, he very likely felt that public senti ment was on his side and against Craigie, whose silent, unsociable ways were not at all in his favor. At any rata, under pretense of getting calicoes, he pulled down a pile of figured ohint7.es and cretonnes. One piece in particular he unfolded before the child. It was a dark ground, covered with figures of gaudy birds, presumably parrots, and monkeys climbing impossible palm trees. Jansen put his finger, as if by chance, on one of the monkeys, saying with a wink as he did so, " This is about your style, I reckon." A roar of laughter followed this sally. Craigie ruado a qi;iek, wrathful move ment toward Jansen, but found himself arrested by Jenny's clinging hands. The child was weeping wildly. "Oh faither I faitherl" she kept saying, "coome away, ooome home." He hesitated a moment, but finally stooping took her iu his arms and $u&i TIONESTA, PA, WEDNESDAY, JtJLY 26, 1882. and a kind of rough and savage dig nity. By this time they were all silent, half in expectation of a fight, half from real regret as they looked at the sob bing child. "I suppose," said Craigie, in his strong, harsh tones, now full of sup pressed passion, " I suppose ye think it fune to laugh at a mitherless baby 'at niver hairmed ye" turning to go "ye mah think it fune noo, an' yemah think different sume day, when yer ain bairns are mitherless." The men parted right and left with out a word, leaving a lane to the door. When it closed behind him two or three, who had laughed among the loudest, looked after him and remembered afterward how as he turned the corner and dis appeared in the drizzling rain, Jenny, whom he still held, suddenly put an arm around his neck as if to steady herself. All the merriment was over. Jansen made an uneasy attempt at a joke, as he folded the monkey pattern ; but no one laughed. The oommon feeling was ex pressed when Jim Barker blew from his mouth a quid with some violence and said ; "I'm dnrned if ever I laughs at them two again I" Ah no I no one would laugh at them again ! "Dinna mind it, Jinny," said her father, as the two nearcd home. "No, father," answered Jenny;, yet her lips quivered as she said it. Meantime the rain grew heavier, and if possible, wetter. By the time they reached tbe bridge they were drenched. The swollen river was roaring below, beating against the stone piers with a deep, angry growl. Donald Craigie examined the tim bers closely, almost inch by inch; and it wat with a troubled face that he said to Jenny, on entering the house: "I'm thinkin' there'ull be trouble, my bairn, if the water gaes on risin'." Indeed, his anxiety was so great that Jenny quite forgot her recent grief, and the two ate their evening meal in silence. It was five in the afternoon when they reached home ; iu half an hour the east-bound freight-train passed, at 6 o'clock the express, and after each one Craigie made a careful and minute inspection of the bridge. There was to be another train at 8 o'clock, then no more till midnight Jenny, tired out, iell asleep at last by the fire. Her father put her on the bed without undressing her, and settled himself for a short nap in his chair. But he could not sleep. The noise of the storm grew louder, the cry of the river sharper, and an anxiety possessed him that he could iu no way control. ,Twice, lantern in hand, he went out, crossing and recrossing the long, gloomy bridge. All was safe, however, and he called himself a fool for his pains. Still he could not rest ; and at a quarter of 8 o'clock he Btarted for a third trip. Some noise he made woke Jenny, and she asked if the train was gone. "Not yet, my bairn; but I'm gaein' oot to see that a's safe." So saying he bent over Jenny and kissed her. "How wad ye like it, Jinny," said he, " to gae where there'd be nae trains by night, an' nae brig wi' the water swirlin' ?" "Why, faitherl" said Jenny, with wide-open eyes, "wad ye like it, yersel'?" " I'm nae sayin' that," he answered, "but we'll think of it, we'll think of it, we'll think of it, my bairn." And with a final kiss he went out into the storm. Jennie, flattening her face against the window, watched the lantern bob bing in and out, till it disappeared. By this she knew he had entered the bridge. Half a minute perhaps slipped by when all at once her heart gave a bound, then seemed aotually to stand still, for above the noise of the storm a dull, grinding roar met her ear, then a thud, then the rush ol the storm once more. It took but a few minutes for her to reach the bridge and call " Faither I" forgetting that even if all were well he could not possibly hear her in that ele mental din. No voice, no light, oame through the rain to meet her, and hope died in her heart; she knew she should see him no more. But the train I At that mo ment her scared senses came back to her. There was no time to cry. She must take her father's plaoe as far as possible, and try to stop the train. She hurried back to the house, and with grave, unchildish forethought, took off her shoes for fear of slipping on the wet timbers, tied a shawl firmly around her, and lighting another lan tern started again for the bridge. Onoe within it she advanced cau tiously, throwing the light of the Ian-1 tern before each step. It was only too easy now to see what had happened. The middle pier had given way, carry ing with it in its fall both beams and planking. Between the two halves of the bridge there now yawned a black gulf, but feebly spanned by a ragged, shivering timber, whose length hud secured it a momentary hold. The whole structure indeed was trembling, and the other piers might any moment follow the first. Imagine it the shaking bridge; tne tremulous flare of the lantern against the darkness; the long, wet beam span ning a black chasm up through which came the growl of the wild river, down to meet whioh oame the stormy rush of the wind; and in the midst of it all a mere speck in space the child. There was bat one thing to do and she did it Unsteadily balancing her self, and clutching the lantern tightly, '' hi "'. ti . s t' e bci. Pt?r little Mtnnbikmt M bare feet clung to it like fingers. Step uy step sue aavanoed, though the wind seemed to snatch at her. and nlntnVi hor limbs, and try to throw her into the nK,uB uamnes D6I0W. Once she almost stood still, afraid to go bsck or forward. Then nhn flt th timber quiver, and with a desperate ef- i i i , . . . . . iurt hub uroae into a run mat carried her over the gulf. She stumbled, but had no time for more than one honWnrd glance, which showed her a blank where A 1 m tne Deam naci been. A few steps more and her feet felt the Wet. gravellv earth of t.hn mum track, down whioh she fairly flew, in iu incB ui wina and ram. It had taken precious time that perilous Passage and she knew that. nn. less she could reach the straight line of iracs: Deyono tne curve all sbe had done Would be in Vain. ' And ah a did rnuih if just as a luminous glow at the far end mariea tne approaching headlight of the engine. The sight gave her new strornrth and Bhe ran swiftly forward, waving the lamern irom sine to side, till all at once something seemed to give way within her, and she fell heavily to the earth. When after much panting and puff ing ue great engine stopped it was half a yard perhaps from a little heap that lav across the track, with a broken lantern beside it. "It's a child," explained the engi neer to the men who Isame run ning up. "Why," looking more closely, " it's old Craigie's, girl. Tve seen her playing by the bridge. Something's happened to bring her here." A couple of brakeman hastily caught up lanterns and ran ahead. When in a few minutes they came back it was with pale faces and voices shaken with excitement that they told their story. "How the child got over, I don't know," said one; "for the middle of the bridge is gone, cut clean out." There was a great stir at the Junction after the train had steamed bock and the reason made known. But silence fell on all when a big brakeman carried tenderly into the waiting-room a limp, childish figure, whose face, wet with the rain, was deathly white, and whose feet were bare and bleeding. There was quite a crowd of people, but they fell back to give her air, while the doctor and some ladies from the train chafed her limbs and in every way tried to rouse her from her faint. They were so far successful that at last her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened, and she looked about her. Big Jansen's face, near by, this time full of an anxiety and grief that almost transformed it, was . nevertheless familiar to her, and seemed to bring her suddenly to the memory of what had happened. "Mr. Jansen," she said, softly, " faither meant to mak' me luik nice. We thought I did. Per'aps he didna ken how. But" after a second's pause he'll no be back, the water" The babyish voice trailed into silence. The eyelids closed. The doctor, still kneeling b6side her, quickly put his hand on her wrist, then over her heart. When at length he looked up he tried to speak, but oould not. Then he turned and walked abruptly out of the circle to hide the tears that filled his eyes. There was a long silence, broken only by sobbing from tbe ladies who stood around. You should have seen little Jenny's face the next day, so smiling and white in her coffin. Another long coffin stood beside hers, but this was closed ; for when they found Donald Craigie's body, half a mile below the bridge, it was crushed almost beyend recognition. There is now a new bridge and a new keeper, who is a popular man at Dick son's. But there is no one who speaks otherwise than gently of "poor Crai gie ;" and no one whose voice will not tremble a little when he tells yon about Jenny. Out in the village graveyard, whioh slants up the nearest hill, is a white stone on which is cut, not too ar tistically, a weeping willow. Under the willow are the words : "To the memory of Donald Craigie, and Jenny, his daughter, who died in trying to save others. This stone is put up by Henry Jansen." Youth's Com panion. Cotton Seed Oil. The gourmand who carefully makes up his own dish of cool-looking salad, says an exohange, is very apt to be de ceived into believing that the rich gold colored oil he pours upon it is from the land of olives. It is an almost even chance that it is from the land of cotton, for tbe sale of cotton seed oil for olive oil has become so extensive that the Ital ian government has begun to take strong measures toward keeping the former product out of Italy, where it is taken in Italian vessels from New Or leans, to be bottled and labeled, and returned to this country, so that mer chants can say it is imported. But, to those who dread the substitution of cotton seed oil tor olive oil, there is comfort in the fact that the supply of the native product is limited, for planters whose lands are thin prefer to return the seed to them, and the oot ton lands of the lower Mississippi, whioh do not need careful fertilizing, fur nish the seed for the seventy cotton seed oil mills in the South. This enterprise is bound to remain confined to the South, for the seed ia so bulky that transportation would not be profitable. That the manufacture of cotton seed oil, however, will increase is beyond doubt, as the raw seed goes through processes that nearly triple its value, and its oil is being used for paint snd n't o f r !' S'lrvcMnery, $1,50 Per Annum. Curiosities of Ocean Cables. Of the total 97,200 miles of cable in the world, some 86,420 are owned and worked by the Eastern Telegraph com pany and its affiliated companies, the Eastern Extension Telegraph company and the South African Telegraph com pany. The Eastern Telegraph com pany is perhaps the most enterprising of cable corporations, and makes a very fine display at the Crystal Palace, Lon don. Cable operations have been, says Nature, of great assistance to the geographer, and the soundings taken in order to ascertain the nature of the sea bottom where a cable route is projected, have enriched our charts quite as muoh as special voyages. There is, how ever, another way in whioh these ope rations oould be made subservient to the cause of natural science ; but it is a way which has not been sufficiently ta ken advantage of. Besides the speci mens of stones, mud and sand, whioh the sounding lead brings up from the deep, the cable itself, when hauled up for repairs, after a period of submer gence, is frequently swarming with the live inhabitants of the sea floor crabs, corals, snakes, mollusks and fifty other specimens, as well as over grown with the weeds and mosses of tbe bottom. Many an unknown species has passed over the drums unnoted to rot and fes ter in the general mess within the cable tanks. We venture to predict a rare harvest to the first naturalist who will accompany a repairing ship, and pro vide himself with means to bottle up the specimens which cling to the cable as it is pulled up from tbe sea. Some idea of these trophies may be gathered from the stall of the Eastern Telegraph company, where a few of them are preserved. Two of these are very fine gray sea snake, caught on the Sai gon cable in a depth of thirty fathoms, and a black and white brindled snake, taken from the Batavian cable iu twenty-five fathoms. Twisting round ropes seems to be a habit of this creature, for the writer remembers seeing one scale up a ship's side out n the River Ama zon, by the " painter" hanging in the water. A good example of a feather star is also shown; these animals being fre quently found grasping the cable by their tentacles. A handsome specimen of the blanket sponge, picked' np in the. 5ay of liiscay, is also exhibited, uut the most interesting object of all is a short piece of cable so beautifully in orusteJ with shells, serpulae and corals, as to be quite invisible. It was picked up and cut out in this condition from one of the Singapore cables. The rapid growth of these corals is surprising, and head some vain able information on this might be gained if the electricians of re puiring ships in theseieastern waters would make some simple observations. Curiously enough, so long as the outer most layer of oakum and tar keeps en tire, very few shells collect upon the cable, but when the iron wires are laid bare, the incrustation speedily begins, perhaps because a better foothold is afforded. A deadly enemy to the cable, in the shape of a large boring worm, exists iu these Indian seas ; and several of them are shown by tbe company. The worm is flesh colored and slender, of a length from 1 inches to 2 inches. The head is provided with two cutting tools of a curving shape, and it speedily eats its way through the hemp of the sheath ing to the gutta peroha of the core, into which it bores an oblong hole. A Texas Cloud-Burst, Captain Merril's corps of engineers and assistants were camped in the val ley of Buck creek, in Childers county, Texas. Their tents were set one hun dred feet from the dry bed of the creek. This creek was about twelve feet deep from the level of tbe valley on either side of the bank. The valley is nearly a mile wide, but the high lands curved in olose to the place where tbe camp was pitched, and tbe valley widened on the opposite bank. The night was clear, and no cloud in the distanoe betokened a rainfall. The boys staked their ponies near by, turned their mules loose and laid them down to sleep in their tents. About mid night one of the boys felt water at his feet. Springing up he saw the water coming, and yelling like a savage giving his war-whoop, roused his companions. In less than a minute they were all standing in water np to their waists. Knowing to which side of them was tbe hill, they rushed wildly through the water and succeeded in gaining a safe foothold. The water rushed by them, covering the en tire valley to a depth of six feet, and carrying away all the tents and baggage. The pony was saved by one of the boys cutting the stake-rope as he passed him, he fortunately having gone to bed with his pints on. Most of the boys were in their night clothes, and a solemn set they were. The sqdden rise of water was undoubtedly caused by what is known as a " cloudburst " on the head of the stream, some twenty or thirty miles away. Any number of cattle were carried down stream, but most of them finally escaped. "Father ! when a hen sets on an egg three weeks and it don't hatch, is the egg spoiled V" "As an artiole of diet tbe egg is thence forward a failure; bnt as a species of testimonial it is striking ly aromatio and expressive." A letter mailed in St Louis thirty -two years ago to a man in Green Bay has juut reached its destination. The family were us well usual when tbe letter WiiS written. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One ftqnare, one lneh, one InaeHioa.... II 00 0:io Hqnare, one inch, one month. I 00 i )nn 8 iiatv, one inch, three months 00 One Hjimt, one inch, ono year..., 10 00 Two Hqiiares, one year..... 18 00 tjnarter Column, one year............. to 00 Half Column, one few, MM 0 00 One Column, one year 100 0 Legal notices at established rate, Murriaee and death notices gratia. All bills for yearly advertiRrmenta eolleoted .iiiirtcrly. Temporary advertisements must be I ..id for in advance. . Job work, cash on delivery. HEALTH HINTS. Notning furnishes less brain food than beef. No two persons should habitually sleep together. A delioate stomach should not take fruit and vegetables at the same meal. No man or woman lives rightly whose spirit is controlled by bodily appe tites. There is no physical happiness which can come to mortals like that of perfect health. To remove warts wash them with moist washing soda and let them dry without wiping ; do this two or three time a day. A good remedy for blistered feet from long walking is to rub the feet at going to bed with spirits mixed with tallow dropped from a lighted candle into the palm of the hand. . Arsenic poisoning is not always to be traced to green coloring. One case was due to red wall paper, and the substance is found abundantly in white, blue, mauve and brown wall papers. Saved. " Can you not answer me, Gwendo len T" Up from the meadows the soft breezes of a perfect June evening were wafting the faint perfume of the cowslip and a dead horse ; and as George W. Simpson and Gwendolen Mahaffy stood near tbe gate, whose decrepit appearance told with more eloquence than oould mere words of the deathless passion that en slaved their souls, both felt that a crisis in their lives had arrived a moment had come whioh would in the misty future that stretched away before them, like one of William M. E.varts' letters, be either a bright beacon of hope and joy to look bock upon with gladness, or a deiolate landmark like the lightning-riven trees that one never beholds without a feeling of sad ness. Secure in the consciousness of his own merit that sterling merit whioh always lies in a strong arm, clear brain and large feet and yet with a modest diffidence concerning his own worth, the young man stood there in the gloaming with a half-reluctant cat-on-the-back-fence expression that lent an added beauty to his pure young face, and made more pleadingly tender the earnest father-is-ooming-up-the-front-steps look with which he regarded the beautiful girl who stood by his side. He had asked her to be his wife to leave parents, sisters, brothers, and all tbe endearing influences of a happy home, where two girls are kept, and go out with him into the wide world as a helpmeet and companion. He had told, in fevered sentenoes, of the great love he bore her, a love that would ever be tbe guid ing star of his life, he said, cheering him when the blaok clouds of adversity and despair hung heavily in the horizon of his hopes, and ' without which his whole existence would be one arid, trackless waste on whioh lay the whited skeletons of Ambition and Hope ghastly remnants of a life wiiose final wreck was all the more sad because of tbe happiness whioh it might have held had Love not flown away with mocking laugh when pleaded so passionately. When it came to ornamental lying, with two rows of fluting up the back, George took first money. Gwendolen had stood in graceful poise as he spoke, one ear thrown slightly forward, and her right foot cov ering the door-mat, and now that he had finished, was looking down in maiden shyness, while the rosy blushes that chased each other under her daz zling complexion would have told, if anybody oould have seen them, of the emotions that were agitating her young; soul. Bat no words came from her lips those rosy-ripe portals that opened with such languid grace when there was a pie in the house and George began to fear that perhaps he had talked her to sleep. Presently, however, she drew quite close to him, put her hand in his, and, resting her cheek upon his shoulder, she said: " Yes, George, I will marry you." "But when ?" asked the voung man, a horrible fear that his bluff was to be called chilling his very blood. " I will marry you," repeated Gwen dolen, " when a bicycle rider is elected president." Turning away to hide his emotion. George muttered in low, piratical tones: - - . it " Thank heaven, I am saie. moaya Tribune. The Future of Alaska. T.iotitanant. Wnnil anvil in the Centuru: A.IUUbl'UI.... I . vw J With a comparatively mild climate throughout the arohipelago, with most valuable ship-building timber covering the islands, with a cedar that now sells at $150 a thousand loet in Biiaa, wnu splendid harbors, with inexhaustible fisheries, with an abundance of coal, and the probability that veins of cop per, lead, silver and gold await the prospector, with tbe possibility of rais- log sumoieni gnrueu to6d.'" ;v, niM nmniinrrv Rwamns on nearly every island ; with all these advantages it is surprising tnai an uiuunmum, am phibious, shipbuilding, fishing colony from New England or other States has not established itself in Alaska. One drawback is that Congress has not yet organized a territorial government, hut when this region shall have been opened up to individual enterprise and settlement it will then be discovered that Alaska is a valuable possession. The secret of the Keely motor has , been divulged.HH " money,
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