SULLIVAN o,ooo per mile, while those of Great. Britain are capitalized at 8220,000 per mile, or nearly 400 per cent, higher than in this country. Dr. Conan Doyle picked up consid sidcrablo " liternry material" and 812,000 during his trip in this coun try. "No wonder he finds America a great field for the successful au thor," exclaims tho Chicago Record. The New Orleans Picayuno ex claims: "General Booth is begging money in this country for his "Dark est England" schemes. America takes care of enough foregu paupers on her own soil without exporting money for the purpose. The South in 1894 raised about fifty bushels of corn to every bale of cot ton. The farmer who comes out even on his cotton at present prices is for tunate. The farmer who has a sur plus of corn is ahead. The salvation of the South during 1891 was its great corn and hog product. It is useless, in the judgment of tho Atlan ta Journal, to say more. "The fact," declares tho Now York Tribune, "that the Southern farmers hrc going ahead in a quiet, unobtru sive way, saying nothing, but minding their business in tho most exemplary manner. With a climateunapproaehed anywhere clso on this continent, a soil unsurpassed for its natural fertil ity, a wealth of fertilizers under tho surface, and a dogged peraeveranco of which they have heretofore given am ple evidenco, they are successfully proving their fitness to survive in tho struggle for life, prosperity and hap piness." There has been a singular dearth of invention in naming tho many small lakes of the West, laments the Chica go Herald, and lino eld Indian namos have been deliberately discarded in order that persons unlovely sur names might bo honored geographi cally. The Indian namos when trans lated nro often found to embody an utmost photographic picture of the lakes upon which they were bestowod. The French names that superseded some of tho Indian names, and are likely to be superseded in their turn by modern commonplaces, are often pretty and historically suggestive. According to Major H. H. C. Dan woody, of the National Weather Ser vice, tho weather crop service of tho National bureau ranks next in import ance to tho work of making forecasts. The system of gathering reports upon which the weather crop bulletins are based has been greatly perfected in recent years. The crop bulletins of the States have been improved, and are now more complete than at any prev ious time, and tho increased circula tion that these bulletins have attained amply attests their value. It is be lieved that thore is no other class of information to which so much space is devoted in the public press to-day. A tile of these bulletins for all the States for a year will form the most complete history of the weather conditions attending tho growth and develop ment of tho several crops throughout tho country, More than ten thou sand crop correspondents are to-day co-operating with tho National Weath er Service through the State organi zation ; three thousand voluntary ob servers are furnishing monthly reports of daily observations of temperature and rainfall; and over eloven thousand persons assist in tho work of distribut ing tho weather foreoasts of the Na tional Weather Service. This latter work has been more rapidly pushed during tho past year than any other feature of State Weather Servioe work. With the continuation of the present liberal policy toward these services there will be in a comparatively short time no important agricultural com munity in the United States, with tho proper mail facilities, that will not reoeive the benefits of tha foreoasts. THE DAYS AND THE YEAR. What Is the world, my own little one? Our world belongs to that clock the sun. Stead; its spins ; while tho clock bents true Days and seasons for me and you. And tlok-tlck-tock ! goes tho mlftbty clock Wnlle time swings on below, Now left—now right; now day—now night, With a tlok-tick to and fro. The pussy-willow In coat of fur; A sweet pink rose in tho wind astir; A maple leaf with a orimsou blush ; Then fnllinf? snowflakes, nnt winter's hush— While tick-tiok-tock ROCS tho mighty clock, And the world swings on below, Budding—blowing ; shining—snowing— With a tick-took to and fro. A little song when the heart is Rlad, A little si»h when tho way is sad ; Whether the shadows or sunbeams fall, Sweet rest and dreaming at Inst for all, While tick-tick-tock goes tho mighty clock, And tho world swings on below, Smiling—filßhing ; singing— crying— With a tick-took to and fro. So this is the way, my own litt'iO one, Our world belongs to that dock tho sun, And the ftnn l that somewhere koeps the key Isthesame that holdeth you and me, While tlck-;ick-tock goos the mighty clock, And tho world swings on below, Kow left BOW right; now day—now night, With a tick-took to an 1 fro. —Harr'ct F. Bloilgett.in St. Nicholas. CAfSffELL's'uXPEDIENT. BY EDSON KEMP. NE evening a group of del egates to the convention for tho Broth erh oo d of Locomot iv c E n g i n cers sat in the ro tunda at the Palmer House in Chicago, tell ing stories. them was a grizzled, oldish man from the Old Colouy, who had a curious red scar bending around from his forehead across his right temple and down upon his right cheak, with almost as regu lar a curve as if it had been marked there with a compass. The redness of its oolor indicated that the mark had been inflicted not very long ago. Tho man who woro tho scar had taken no pari, in tho conversation. Presently one