TWO 10,000-tou steamers will ply
Mmcn Liverpool and New Orleans
hmm m they can be built.
l«Mt year was the most prosperous
in ike history of cotton manufacturing
in the South, states the Chicago Hcr
•WL
According to ttie Industrialist, Kan
mm has 105 different kinds of native
trees and shrubs, occurring chiefly in
the eastern part of the State.
The people who reside on the Hue
fMantaa, a street in Paris which re
ceived that name several years ago,
mat to have its name changed. Many
ftf them have good reason to rue
Thaama, thinks the Chicugo Herald.
An observant Philadelphian makes
ifca amazing assertion that girls with
twtrousse noses marry sooner, and are
mmro fortuuato in catching good hus
bands, than young ladies whoso feat
ures are of the Greek or Roman type.
Several lots in Cornhill, London, in
the immediate neighborhood of the
Batik of England, were sold several
•days ago at a prico that averaged $250
per foot, or something over $10,000,-
000 an acre. Several lots of equal
«»ae were offered for sale some weeks
ago, and were bought in by the owuor
«t a price considerably higher.
The New York Press estiinatos that
.about 1600 novels were published dur
ing the past six years, or 270 novels a
year. Those 1600 novels were writ
tew by 792 authors who siguod their
aames and 130 who did not. Only
340 of these authors met with success
enough to encourage them to write a
second time. In all, 2600 persons have
failed as writers of fiction during the
last eighteen years, as agaiust about
80 who have succeeded well aud 120
who huvo succeeded tolerably.
Uruguay, with her 800,000 inhabit
ants, owes in Europe and elsewhere
$100,000,000 of gold; Argentina, with
4,000,000 people, owes $350,000,000
of gold; Brazil is utterly submerged
with debt; Paraguay's credit is so
utterly shattered with debt that she
most pay $7 in her paper money for
every dollar m gold; aud Peru is in
the hands of an American receiver, a
syndicate, which for sixty-four years
will pocket all her revenues. "Thus,'
tnuses ilic New York Mail aud Ex
press: "Europe has returuod to the
Spanish-American States almost as
nuch gold as she ever took away from
them; more, indeed, than the wildest
dream of Pizarro aud his contempor
aries promised that they should find in
*ll the mines of the new word."
The Census Bureau has issued a
bulletin of prisoners and paupers in
the United States. Some of the facts
stated are of interest. In IS9O there
were in the prisons of the United
States undergoing punishment for
erfurc, 82.329 persons. Of these, 75,-
924 woro tuales and 6405 females.
There were 52,891 while males and
£416 white females, making a total of
57,310 whiles. The colored prisoners
•umbered 21,277, of which 22,305
were men and 1922 were women.
There were 407 Chinese prisoners, of
whom. 406 were males and
one .* woman. Of Japanese
ibore were twelve males and one
female; of Indians there were 322,
807 being men and 15 women. In the
matter of nativity, of the 57,310
while prisoners, 10,471 (that is,
88,156 men and 2315 women) were
torn in the United States, and 15,932
is, 13,869 men and 2063 women)
were born in foreign countries. As
to the pauperago the statistics are also
interesting. In 1890 there were in
*ll the almshouses in the United
States 73,045 paupers, of which
<#,741 were men and 32,304 wore
women. Of the whole, 37.387 were
white men aud 29,191 white women.
The colored race showed up with
J526 men and 3092 women. When it
«>Hies to crime, comments the New
Orleans Picayune,the men of all colors
«ndr races vastly cu.number
women, but in poverty
the numbers of the two 6exes
awre nearly equal each other, although
Uwre are fewer pauper women than
iota, a though from tho weakness and
aiwial restraints imposed ou the sex it
weald seem that fomale paupers
shwuJAl be in a majority, which is not
ihs case. In respect to crimes, the
cafored people in proportion largely
sftSitumbar the whites, but when it
«M«ea to pauperdom the white pcr
wviage is much the larger. Thus it
appears that the colored man is not so
witting as iho white to becoino a charge
on the public. Wliou he goes into
prison it is against his wishes, but
t**utcy in the poor-house is volun
laiy. The showing is not, however,
psrticuls-ly flattering in either case.
Get Out the Way
X climbed the bill one wintry tiny,
And mused my meditative way,
And lost in various thought profound,
Oblivious to ail around,
I beard a shout ring loud and clear
And smite in terror on my ear,—
A shout that filled me with dismay,
"Hi 1 Mister, there! Get out the way I"
I looked and saw there in my road
A double-runner with its load
Of shouting, laughing, booting boys—
A solid freight of solid noise.
"Hi! Mister, there! Get out the way!"—
A most undiplomatic bray,
A bold command without the stress
Of any corteous finesse.
I did not make a long delay
But I—well, I "got out the way."
My first thought was not one of peace,
But one of vengeance and police;
But then those boys, I thought again,
Are like all other sons of men,
All mount tlieir sleds and shout each day,
"Hi! Mister, there! Get out the way l "
We have ambitions shod with steel,
Too swift to see, too bard to feel.
We mount them in the hope to glide
Down destiny's steep mountain side.
And lightning-swift through frosty gleams
Dart these fast runners of our dreams,
And loud we shout, a raucous bray,
"Hi! Mister there I Get out the way I"
We do not turn our coasters back
But warn all people off the track,
We claim an unimpeded slope
Down t.ll the highways of our hope.
So, that our double-runners glide;
Let other men find room one side;
And they can stand there in the snow
And have the fun to see us so.
..ind so we shout day after day,
"HI! Mister, there! Get out the way I"
And so I stood there in the snow
And watfled the boys glide far below,
And swin my thoughts were thoughts of
peace—
I had no use for the police.
Do I not shout myself each day
"Hi! Mister, there! Get out the way!"
[Sam. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade.
HER DOUBLE GIFT.
BY LAUKA LANBKELDT.
"A lady wishes to see you, sir,"
said the staid man servant to Dr. Ilall.
It was past 10 at night, and the physi
cian looked up in some surprise.
"Show the lady in, please," ho said,
aud rose as a slim young figure]glided
into tho room. Iler face was covered
with a veil; her garments were black.
She came forward quickly.
"You aro Dr. Hall?" she said.
"Yes, I am. May I ask "
"I will not keep you many min
utes," she said; her manner was agi
tated, her voice almost trembled.
"You have a patient in your care—
Mr. Deveraux."
A little distantly Dr. Hall said
again—"Yes."
The girl—she was plainly no more
6uddeuly threw back her veil, reveal
ing a pale, lovely face, with delicate
features.
"You want to know who I am,"
she said, "and by what right I ask
these questions. I have no right, but
I beg of your mercy that you will an
swer me. I heard of his illness —that
you almost give him up. Is that
true?"
"Yes it is," said the doctor, gently.
"My nnmo is Dorothy Clifford,''
said the girl. A flush swept over her
cheek as the doctor gave a little start.
"You know my name?" she faltered.
"From my patient," said Dr. Hall;
"nothing he has told me—simply the
nami lie has repeated unconsciously.''
"Then perhaps you guess," she said
in low voice. "I am that Dorothy ho
speaks of. A year ago we were lovers
—engaged. I thought I had reason to
accuse him of unfaitli. Wo parted.'
"All," said the doctor, "I knew
there was some cause for this break
down besides tho frightful hardships
he has been through in America. Do
you want me to let you see him?"
"No—no—l I want you to tell me
if he must die—if it is true that there
is but ono chanco for him —if I can
give him that chance! It was all my
fault, doctor! He was true; it was
my madness that parted us. You
must let ine atone—give my life for
his if need be; but he must not know
who has saved him!"
"Do you know what his one chance
is?" said the doctor, gravely. "A
dangerous operation rarely practiced
—dangerous to both tho persons oper
ated upon—what we call transfusion
of blooil."
"I will run tho risk," said Doro
thy, with her eyes flashing. "I broke
his heart—l sent him into those hard
ships that have shattered his health!
1 will give him my healih—my life!
Esric need not know"
'•My poor child," said the physi
cian, In deep piiy, "he will know
■othing—ho is almost unconscious—
lut I have doubts about this"
The doctor slightly shook his head—
lie did not think his patient was a man
likely to mend a broken life in that
easy fashion. But he heard all the
girl had to urge and quntionod her in
his turn. The girl pleaded frantically
with sobs and tears, and at last Di-.
Hall consented.
The patient himself knew nothing
about it; he lay in the lethargy that
precedes death and was ouly faintly
conscious at intervals. There was
very little chance that he would be
aware of Dorothy's presence in his
room. Indeed, when she entered it
she stood by bis side for a full minute
without his stirring. The girl her
self seemed scarcely to feel at all.
Before her, scuseless, dying, lay the
man she had loved passionately
through all her angry mistrust aud
injustice; yet never a quiver came
over her beautiful face.
She went through the painful oper
ation without a murmu^— nay, with
an exultant smile. Each drop of her
blood transfused into the veins of the
dying man wus so much towards
atonement.
"Still living," was the doctor's re
port to Dorothy the next day; aud he
wout back to Devreaux, at whose side
he almost lived. The woman, healthy,
vigorous, recovered rapidly; tho man,
who, besides anguish of soul, had en
dured enough cold and fami 110 to
shatter a less fine constitution, strug
gled painfully with death, though he
did not care for life-
Then lite conquered. "But after
all sho has done him a cruel kindness,"
thought the physiciau. "What has
lifo to give him?"
"So we are not going to loso you
yet," he said, cheerfully, coming to
the young mau's bedside oue morn
ing.
Dovereux's only answer to this
promise of life was to look up in tho
kind face with eyes full of pain.
"Don't you care to live?" said tho
doctor, hutkily.
Devercux silently turnejjl his eyes
away. They wandered over tbe room
as if they sought something. An odd
feeling crept iuto the doctor's heart.
"What is it you want —or is it that
you miss something?" ho t>aid.
"Nothing," Devcreux murmured;
but constantly the doctor detected that
searching, wistful glance. He began
to understand. The young man grew
stronger iu spite of his apathy —the
physical need of life triumphed, and
ono day he began to ask questions:
What hud lie talked about when ho
was delirious? Who had beou with
him —only tho doctor and tho nurse?
"No one else, and we don't notice
sick people's chatter," said Dr Hall,
smiling.
"I thought there was some one
else," said Devercux, with a sigli;
"perhaps it was a dream."
"I dare say. Who did you dream
of?"
"She was here —I felt her. I don't
think it was a dream. Doctor," lift
ing himself and looking eager, "you
don't answer me— did sho come?"
"Hush!" said the doctor, soothing
ly. "Yes; sho was here —Dorothy
Cliflord."
"1 knew it! I knew it!" Deve
rcux whisperod, trembling liko a
child. "Did sho come to say good
by ?"
"Devoretix," said the doctor, "I
made her promise, and 1 dare not
break it; I cannot answer you; but
that quostiou to her."
"She will not come," Devcreux
said hopelessly.
"She will—l know the whole story;
never mind how. I Will send for
her; you shall ask her that question.
YOll arc puzz'ed. Well, 6lecp now if
you can—l will wake you wlicu 1
bring her."
Devercux, too weak or anything but
mule wonder, obeyed. Tho doctor
left the house and drovo rapidly to
Dorothy Clifl'ord. She thought ho had
come to give his daily report.
"He goes 011 slowly but well," said
Dr. Hall. "I have come to fetch you
to him."
"1!" Sho started back, crimson,
quivering. "Impossible! You havo
not told him?"
"You must come," said tho doctor,
sternly. "I have told him nothing—
somehow lie lias found out iu part."
She went to get ready, sat silent in
tho carriage, aud crept upstairs be
hind the doctor like a guilty thing, to
the sick room. Dcverenx was lying
back among the pillows, looking at
the two as they came into tho room.
Mute, with bowed head, the woman
stood beside the man she had wronged.
Sho waited for him to spcuk.
"Dorothy!" he whishered. She
trembled.
"Put your hand in mine," lie said.
"Kneel down, so that I can see you; I
havo only a question to ask."
Sho obeyed—knelt down and put
her hand in his, bending her head
lower than before.
"You came before —days ago,''
Devcreux said, in slow, half halting
tones; "when they said I was dying.
I kew you wore here. Why did you
conic?"
She flushed scarlet.
"To sure your life," she laid.
"You! you saved it!"
She turned her bead aside; her dry
lips moved mechanically.
"It was your one chance. Now let
me go. You bade me come, and 1
came—answer you, and I obeyed. I
have had enough of torture —let me
go."
"Darling, come to me."
The strength of a child in his clasp,
but she yielded to it helplessly. She
cried silent, passionate tears, and he
kissed them away, and hushed her
prayers for pardou.
'•How can I forgive?" he whispered.
"You have given of your life to save
mine. You havo atoned. Kiss me
aud stay with mo now anil forever."
"Doctor," said Devcreux, an hour
later, "I do want to live now."
"Ah! 1 thought yon would. I kept
my promise, dkln't I?"
"Yes. God bless you for all your
kindness. 11
"Oh, that's nothing. Now will you
try and sleep?"
"Promise you will give my bride to
me when the timo conns."
"You dear, grateful fellow,with alj
my heart!" And so he did before long
aud sent the two away together to
begin the life they had so nearly
missed. [N. Y. Advertiser.
Two Sorts of Men May Langh Well.
A prominent Wall street banker and
broker, who is reputed to be worth
about ten millions, walked from his
private office the other morning into
the outer room, whero was gathered a
number of his friends aud customers.
He was laughing so heartily that his
cheeks were highly flushed, and the
merry peals echoed and re-echoed
through the room. Everybody turned
to look at him, and every other faco
but one wore a sympathetic smile.
The single exception looked very
grave, and watched the merry broker
with iiitentncss. When the banker's
laughter had ceased he went back into
his office, and the grave mau said to a
companion:
"lie laughs heartily, does he not?
Yes, it is easy for him to laugh,
whereas it is very hard for many
others. There are two kinds of men
who thoroughly understand and ap
preciate laughter, in whom this ex
pression of merriment is spontaneous,
light-hearted, and without a Jingo of
the sarcastic or bitter. Ono kind ie
the rich, successful men who are be
yond ordinary caros and harassment**,
and have learned to enjoy the power
of wealth. They can turn from any
nnuoyance or grief to the contempla
tion of their success and ho happy.
The other kind includes those rare be
ings who are poor and don't attempt
to get rich. Tho plantation negro is
a type of this class, and occasionally
oue encounters a white man who is
imbued with tbe spirit of the provorb,
•As we journey through life, let us
live by the way.' But I must say tho
rich man's laughter sounds much more
musical iu my ears. The poor mau's
contains a little defiance and reckless
ness, no matter how sincero it is. It
seems to say, 'Well, what of it? I'm
poor, but who cares?' The rich man's
merriment, on tho contrary, is free
from anything objectionable. It cur
ries with it an intimation or power,
and if there is a suggestion of surfeit
in it, is that an objection? Who would
not like to drink so deep from tho
cup of pleasure as to make pleasure
lose its novelty? Wouldu't wo all
like to try ii? I think so. I only ask
that I may laugh like the rich man,
secure that my merriment today will
not be soured by reverses tomorrow."
[New York Sun.
No More Objections Were Made.
A laughable story is told about town
concerning A. 11. Hummel, the crimi
nal and theatrical lawyer. Every one
knows that Mr. Hummel is uot above
tho average stature of man (physical
stature), aud every oue who has seen
him in court knows how quickly and
often he can jump up to make objec
tions when he thinks them necessary.
It seems that he camo in collision a
littlo while ago with ex-Judge Ditten*
hoefer, who was in an objecting mood,
and he was greatly irritated by the
lutter's deliberate mothods. Appeal
ing Anally to the court, he said:
"Your honor, it it not the gentle
man's objections that I make excep
tion to, but it takes him so long to got
up aud sit down."
Mr. Dittenhoofer slowly arose and
replied as follows:
"Your honor, 1 possess a good deal
of avoirdupois, and it requires some
exertion for me to move. lam not
like my little friend there (pointing to
Hummel), who has ouly to slide out
ot his chair to find himself on bit
feet."
It la said that Mr. Hummel made no
more objections.—[Now York Trib
une.
FOB THE HOUSEWIFE.
HOW TO PRESS A SLEEVE SEAM.
Here is a useful lnut which some
body is going to tliauk mo for, I am
certain. If you have a dress or coat
sleeve which refuses to be pressed iu
anything like decent fashion, no mat
ter how much you maneuver, try
running through it a broom handle.
Rest the seam on it, and now you are
ready for the iron. Conld anything
be simpler or more useful? —[St. Lou
is Republic.
WHEN FRYING.
In frying it must bo remembered
l hat the bath of oil or drippings
should be sufficient in quantity to sub
merge the articles to be fried, and hot
euough to coagulate every part of
their surface in an instant. However,
tho temperature of the bath may vary
according to the kind of feed that is
to be cooked. For instance croquettes
aud oysters require but aminuteortwo
—doughnuts eight or ten minutes,and
raw potato balls some minutes longer.
Pure olive oil is tho finest frying
medium known to the cook, but it is
too expensive for the avoragc house
keeper. The next best medium is
beef drippings, well clarified, which
is far superior to lard. But of all
materials for frying purposes "cook
ing butter" (which usually means low
grade, rancid butter) is the worst.
Why "oojkiug butter" should find a
place outside of the soap fat crock is
one of the things wo cannot under
stand.— [New York World.
FRESHENING Ur THE DINING ROOM.
Any woman who wants lo work a
change in her dining room can do it
at a very small expenditure of money,
if she ouly has time for a little needle
work.
A friend of mine at a trifling ex
pense hat made and embroidered for
her dining room, which is papered in
old blue, somo very pretty portieres
and a table cover, of die common b uc
denim, or "overall" cloth. She
bought the double-width material,and
at top and bottom of the portcres
embroidered in chain stitch with while
linen floss, a simple conventional de
sign of leaves and scroll work. She
then lined the portieres with tho plain
material. I copy the patterns, which,
of courso, is to bo enlarged. Heavier
and snowier patterns can be found in
tho art magazines that make a special,
ty of decorativo needle work. This,
howevor, is singularly rich aud re
fined when embroidered.
On the large, square cover for her
dining table she repeated tho tame
pattern, as a border, lining the wliolo
cover with white canton Annuel, and
trimming it with a heavy, white linen
fringe. Tho cliaiu stitch is very easy,
swift, bold and cffectivo; tho veining
of the leaves is done in outline or
Kensington stitch.
With tho old Delft ware on her
sideboard, these bluo and white fur
nishings harmonize most delightfully.
Besides the inoxpensivenosa aud dura
bility of tho "overall" portieres and
table covers, they have tho further ad
vantage, this practical housekeeper
assures mo,of being laundered without
tho least injury. [Atlanta Constitu
tion.
RECIPES.
Fried Egg Plant—Paro and cut in
slices half an inch thick; spriuklo
with ealt; cover aud let stand for au
hour. Rinso iu clear, cold wutor,
wipe each slice dry; dip first in beaten
egg, then in rolled cracker or bread
crumbs, Season with pepper and salt,
aud fry brown iu buttor.
Ginger Snaps—Ono egg, ouo cup of
molasses, ono cup of sugar, 0110 cup
of butter and lard inixod, one-half
cup of boiling water, ono level table
spoonful of soda dissolved iu the
water, one tablespoonful of ginger,
flour enough to mold out rather soft.
Roll out thin and bako in a quick
oven.
Sliced Sweet Potato Pie—Line a
deep pan with pastry, then half fill it
with layers of sliced boiled potato,
butter and sugar, with a sprinkling of
flour, using twice at much sugar *s
butter. Mix together equal quantities
of brandy and wator and pour in
enough to cover tho layers. Flavor
with nutmeg or any spices preferred.
Cover with crii9t and bake.
Baked Applo Dumpling—Mako u
nice pastry, break ofl" small pieces and
roll thin, cut the sizo of a breakfast
saucer. luto each pioce put a tea
spoonful of sugar aud an apple
chopped fiuo. Draw the edgos of
crust together, so as to form into
balls. Then put them into a pan,
cover with hot water buke- Add
i,y»-o wster if tho Arst aries out, to
(«• • tsuce.
Tue first society of civil eugiueers
was formed London, 1793.
CHILDREN' ; COLUMN.
LITTLE BROTHER.
Little brother did not wake -41
When the sun shone out today;
Did not answer when I called.
Asking him to come and play.
80 I brought him all his toys.
"Nay," they said In grave surpriso»
"Brother is an angel now ;
He has gone to Paradise."
Then I laughed In my delight,
Tossing top and ball asike;
But they wept with faces hid,
And I wondered why they cried.
,H. 11. Hudson, in Wide Awake.
THE MONKEY AND THE PIE.
An Indian fakir had a monkey that
he had brought up from babyhood.
Tlie pair were fast friends, the mon
key being a faithful attendant 011 his
master and as good as a watch dog.
One day the fukir made a pie for
dinner and left it to cook on a char
coal Are while 110 went for a walk.
As the cooking proceeded the savory
smell was too much for the monkey.
It raised the crust and tasted the
chicken. Finding the food very tasty
it ale more and more, till nothing but
the crust remainod. Then it remem
bered its master, who would
shortly coino back hungry and
ready to enjoy his meal. What was to
bo done? The sharp eyes of the mon
key detected some crows not far
away, so without loss of time it lay
down on the ground as if dead. By
and by a crow came along and picked
at the monkey, which seized the bird
in a twinkling, strangled it, stripped
ofl 'lie feathers, placed it 111 pieces in
the dish, covered it over with the
crust and 1 hen contentedly awaited the
return of the fakir, to whom the whole
incident was afterwards related by a
witness of it. —[Health and Home.
THE DISCONTENTED OWLS.
There wore once three discontented
owls.
••It is so stupid to sit in the dark
and eat mico," they said.
"It must be ever so much nicer to
(ly in the sun and sip honey. Let's be
humming birds."
So one morning, bright and early,
they flapped their, way into the garden
where (he honeysuckles grew. They
tried to dip thoir bills into the lovely
blossoms, but they had not the bills ot
humming-bird*, and they couldn't dip.
'•No honey I" they cried.
41 What shall we do?"
Then one owl said: "Let's claw it
out."
So they turned around and thrust
their claws iuto the blossoms, fishing
for honey. And the houeysuckles
were so rich and full that—what do
you think? The honey just stuck to
the oWl9' claws and held them fast;
and tho honey was so thick that it
drew and drew until it s'ltcked tho
owls in—ail but their heads.
And now if you look at tho honey
suckle vine you can see those discon
solate owls peering out from tho
petals, all of them so sorry they ever
tried to be humming-birds. [Wide
Awake.
AN AMUSING SPECTACLE IN BIItD LIFE.
In a special ornithological bulletin
of the United States National Museum
occurs tho following account of tho
dance of tho prairio sharp tailed
grouse of Manitoba, quoted from the
unpublished notes of E. E. Thomp
son :
After tho disappearance of the enow
nnd tho coming of warm weather the
chickens meet every morning at gray
dawn, in N companies from six to
twenty, on some selected hillock or
knoll, and indulge in what is callod
a "dance." This performance I have
often watched and it presents tho
most amusing spectacle I have yet
witnessed in bird life.
At first the birds may be seen stand
ing about in ordinary attitudes, when
suddenly one of them lowers its head,
spreads out Its wiugs nearly horizon
tally and its tail perpendicularly, dis
tends its air sacs and erects its feath
ers, then rushes across the "floor,"
taking the shortest of steps, butstamp
ing its feet so hard and rapidly that
the sound is like that of a kettledrum;
at the same time it utters a sort of
bubbling crow which seems to come
from tho air sacs, beats tho air with
its wings and vibrates its tail, so that
it produces a loud, rustling noise, and
thus contrives at once to make as ex
traordinary spectacle of itself as pos
sible.
As soon as one commences, all join
in, rattling, stamping, jumping, crow
ing and dancing together furiously;
loudor and louder the noise, faster
and faster the dance becomes, until at
last as they madly whirl about, the
birds leap over each other in tUeir ex
citement. After a brief spell tho en
ergy of the dancers begins to abate,
and shortly afterward, they stand or
move about very quietly until they are
again started by ono of their number
| leading tff.