It is astonishing bow eager the na tions of continental Europe are to prove thoir affection for dear America. The suddenness of their conversion is almost suspicious. It costs one student's parents near ly S3OOO a year to give him an educa tion at Yale. Another managed to '.like the same course on $91.25 a year., It is not hard to guess the fin ish of their life's race. When Rear Admiral Dewey has re ceived all the presentation swords ivhich admiring Americans are talk ing about giving him he will likely Dave enough to furnish plowshares for naif the farmers in Vermont needing thani. The umpire in the boundary dispute between Great Britain and Venezuela Das received twenty-two Volumes. They are the first instalment 3f testimony on the British side. The: e will be much more on that side, »nd 1:0 one dares guess how much on ;he o her. Assuredly, international arbitration is no sinecure. It is said, for the first time in the ?xpe:ience of an army in actual ser vice, the commanding officers of the United States troops will have com plete outfits for maintaining tele graphic communications with the va 'ions brigades and regiments that go to make the divisions and corps of the limy. General Greely also has B.juip.jed and has ready for service bis field telegraph outfit. It is the custom in Denmark not only to send city children into the jouutry, but country children to the city. Commenting on this, a writer in the Boston Transcript says: The country children have their taste of a pleasure and benefit derived from visits to the city, where new and strange interests appeal strongly to the wonder-loving mind of the child to whom city sights and sounds and scenes are unfamiliar. The child of the rural districts is as susceptible to the hjalthy influence of change as is his city cousin, and well might Den mark's custom of sending country children to the city be adopted in the land where her "country week' sug gestions have grown and flourished with each succeeding summer. A "city week' might with profit be es tablished, which in days to come would rival even her sister charity in popu larity and success. Age does not alwaj-s mean decrepi tude,observes the New York Commer cial Advertiser. Admiral Dewey is sixty-one, General Merritt is sixty, and is chosen as the smartest general in the service for the most arduous and remote command. Farragut com manded a fleet for the first time at sixty-one. The fact is that age is only weak when vigor declines, and that an old man who has preserved his vigor unimpaired is the strongest j man of all. When a man reaches sixty ! or seventy and still retains his vitali ty, energy and fire undiminished, young men need to look out for him. When he is their equal in activity and vim, and has in addition the craft and cnnuing of sixty years' experience he , is formidable, and likely to be as dar- j lug and bold as if he were thirty. A j man who has these qualifications when he is on the stage in any walk of life is pretty sure to be its foremost figure. A country is safe when such men camnianTTts fleets and arm:e3. The conclusion arrived at by Dr. See of the Lowell Observatory, in discussing the question as to whether there ave other habitable worlds than our own, differs from that of Garrett P. Serviss, says the New York Sun. In his account of his most re cent observations, the fact is stated that there were disclosed stars more difficult than any which astronomers had seen before—amongthese obscure objects being about half a dozen of a truly wonderful character, in that they seem to be dark, almost black,in color, and apparently shining by a dull, reflected light, and, as it is unlikely they are self luminous, it may be said that, if they should turn out dark bodies in fact, shining only by the reflected lightof thestars around which ilisy revolve, they would be the first use of planets,or dark bodies, noticed rnong the fixed stars. Mr. Serviss is not of the opinion, though Profes sor See appears to hold it, that there are no planetary bodies in the uni verse, revolving around other sans than ours; and he argues that these obscure objects, named by Professor See, are visible proves that they are enormously larger than Jupiter, and, though it is by no means certain that the latter is a habitable planet, it is quite certain, unless terrestrial analo gies are abandoned altogether, that these enormously larger bodies car.* ot be habitable. | Metal-working, shoe-making, eleo trical and other machinery exported from this country during March, 189$ had a value of more than ten per cent; in excess of similar exports last yea) at the same time. An American firm, Rnssell & Stur* gis, opened the Philippines to foreigt , trade over sixty years ago, and ai | American admiral has now releasee the commerce of those islands fron the throttling grasp of Spain. The total output of coal in tin United States for 1897 was 198,250,00( short tons, the largest ever known. Its average value was a fraction lesi than $1 per ton, a slight decrease a! compared with the previous year. When Americans beg for a private'f place in the army, anf profit, or five . miles to earn one sent. The average profit, therefore, was less than two-tenths of one cent 'or carrying a passenger (and his bag gage) one mile. By dividing the freight profit into the freight mileage (95,000,000,000) find that the tail ways had to carry one ton of freight 1530 miles in order to earn $1 or over fifteen miles to earn one cent. The average profit, therefore, was less than one-fifteenth of a cent for carry ing a ton of freight (besides loading it) one mile. FOOLISH QUESTIONS. 1 saw a sweat young mother with I met a early-beaded boy Her first-born a* iaer breast; Who h.i l a brindie pup, "And what's the Mby's name'/" I asked "And what's yourdoggy s name?" I asked, Of ber so rich'.y blessed. As I held the creature up. She looked at me with pity, as He gazed at me in wonder, and Bbe proudly poised her head: He proudly cocked his head: "We call him Dewey, sir, of course," "I call him Dewey, sir, of course," In tender tones she said. He pityingly said. I met a dainty little girl I stopped beside a rustic stile, Who led a kitten by a string, And heard a milkmaid sing a song; And as I stroked her head, I asked: "And what's your bossy's name?" I asked "What do you call the pretty thing?" The lassie as she came along. She looked at me with wide blue eyes, She looked at me in mild surprise, And as she went her way. And as she strode away, "I call my kitten Dewey, sir," "Why. Dewey is her name, of course," I heard her sweetly say. 1 heard the maiden say. THE RED BOOK. t BY RAYMOND .TARBF.Rrs. "Poor dear man!" ejaculated Mrs. Moneypenny, laying down the news paper and looking at her small grand laughter, "I must put him into the Red Book." And she gave a gentle iigh as she spoke, for the names in the Bed Book were already numerous. "What has he done, granny?" Doreen Golding dropped the mueh iated sampler she was working and pushed back the golden curls that jrould fall into her eyes. "Has he killed somebody, or drunk poison, or" —her blue eyes growing large with indden interest—"has he been ship wrecked, and was he starving,and did ae eat up all the other peoples in the boat one by one?" "Doreen," said Mrs. Moneypenny, leverely, "you are an extremely aaughty little girl. If you were older [ should almost think that you bad been reading my newspapers. Con tinue your work at once." "I haven't read any old newspa pers," answered Doreen in an injured ;one of voice; "you told me yourself, granny." "I told youl" The old lady held np her hands in horror at the very Idea. "Yes, you did, granny," persisted Doreen, standing up, a defiant little figure; "when yon read anything in the paper that makes yon feel sorry you say 'Poor man!' or 'Poor woman!' »ud then you goon reading and begin thinking out loud, and yon say, 'Fancy killing bis poor little girl! Dear, dear! Just a fit of temper; or starving, dying of thirst; dear me! I might have done it myself; one ;?ever knows!' You tell me a b» t about everything, and I make believe the rest. When I can't make it all oat I »sk Sophie. Sophie always tells me iust what I want to know." "Doreen! You are a very naughty little girl indeed!" gasped the old lady, clutching hold of ber newspaper with both hands. "Sophie is a very good girl—she never reads the news papers." "Yes, she does, granny," asserted Doreen,gathering up a colony of dolls, from the hearthrug as she spoke, "she loves it as much as you do. I always tell her when you've read anything specially dreadful,and she says 'Law, Miss Doreen! I'll be sure to read it this very night.' What has the man done, granny?" "Nothing that is at all proper to tell little girls or servants," answered Mrs. Moneypenny, stiffly. "You are a very strange child, not at all like what your dear mother used to be. Go away and play in the garden, Doreen." Doreen hesitated and then obeyed, determine 1 to find out what the man in the newspaper had done for Sophie as soon as possible. Mrs. Moneypenny lived toward the close of the nineteenth century,but she belonged in spirit to the eighteenth. She wore long silk mittens, a puce colored silk dress that fell around her in voluminous folds and a cap with lace lappets that rested lightly upon her gray, corkscrew curls. She washed the china herself after break fast and tea. She owned a stillroom and rejoiced in its mysteries. Her ball and sitting room were scented with potpourri and her linen press with lavender. Her bed was warmed every night with a warming pan, and when she had a cold she sat with hsr fe t in hot mustard and water and drank treacle-posset. Also, she wore go loshes whenever it was wet and d d an immense amount of worsted needle work. Her grandchild was the off spring of the nineteenth century; so was Sophie, the maid of all work. Oc casionally the two centuries disagreed and met in combat, but, owing per haps to a certain stateliness in its representative,the eighteenth century more often than not drove the nine teenth off the field. Mrs. Moneypenny was old-fashioned enough to believe in prayer. She be lieved in its efficacy so firmly that her household believed in it also, which is saying a good deal. She was as method ical over her religious duties as she was in worldly matters. She prayed whenever she saw a sad sight,beard a sad story or read of sin, sorrow or death. Then, if she considered the case important, she entered it into a certain red-covered book and spent the greater part of every Sunday af ternoon ingoing through its contents, mentioning each item in turn aud praying about each with all the fervor of her warm old heart. Age is some times crabbed and uulovely. Prayer kept theenrrentof Mrs.Moneypenny's life fresh and sweet, and who can tell how far-reaching may have been the influence of that book? Several pages at the eud were left blank so that Mrs. Moneypenny could record when ever her prayers brought forth visible fruit. When such items could be hon estly entered she was a proud old lady indeed. Some weeks previously the loss of a small china hen caused Mrs. Money penny great perturbation. It was a favorite plaything of her granddaughter's and lived generally in Doreen's pocket with a string at tached to its neck. When its small owner went for a walk the china ben went out as well and was bumped along every bit of grass that could be found; also, to give it a fondness for water, it was dipped in and out of every pond and puddle and was, in fact, such a companion that when one day the string was found to have lost its appendage in the course of a long walk, Doreen was heart-broken and agitated her old graudmotlier consid erably. "You really might put my own dear Suowflake into your Red Book, granny," she had sobbed. "You pray for nasty old bad men and women, and my china ben never did anything but get lost. You are a mean old granny, and I won't love you any more." As it seemed well-nigh sacrilege to Mis. Moneypenny to even think of offering prayers for the recovery of a child's toy she tried ber best to ex plain the same to Doreen, who re fused to listen, refused to stop crying and gave her view of the case as fol lows: "You said, granny—you said I was to tell God 'bout everything and ask Him for everything—l think—l think you are very unkind not to tell Him a little girl has lost ber dear china ben. You can pray much better than I can, 'cos you are so old. Why can't you do what you told me to do, granny?" The tears and the 1< g o won the day. With an unspoken prayer that she might be forgiven, Mrs. Money penny wrote down in her book: "My granddaughter, Doreen, has lost a toy and frets over the loss. Mem To pray that it may be found and re stored to her keeping." Since then nothing more ba.l been seen or beard of the china hen. Every Sunday Doreen reminded Mrs.Money penny that it had not come back, till the simple-hearted old lady grew anx ious iest the child's faith should suf fer and prayed as earnestly for the restoration of the toy as she did for the human woes that filled ber book. She need not have been anxious, how ever, for Doreen was a trusting little soul. She was quite content now that Snowflake was being prayed about properly and amused herself by imag ining what sort of adventures the china hen was enjoying. When dismissed from ber grand mother's sitting room Doreen ran off to a shady corner of the garden over looking the main road. The main road was neither very broad nor very important, for it merely led from the village of Hurst to the village of Finch, Mrs. Moneypenny's cottage standing in rather an isolated position between the two. Doreen's favorite seat w«s on the top of the low wall that bounded the garden, and on the afternoon in question,after scrambling aloft, she deposited her disreputable array of dolls amidst the ivy with va rious slaps and bumps. Unconscious that a tramp was watching from the other side of the road, Doteen played with her dolls for several minutes, until a harsh voice close to her said abruptly, "You've got a big fain'ly up there, lit tle missy." Doreen looked down into the road, studied the man's villainous face and tattered clothes a minute in silence. Then, with a friendliness born from the security of her positiou above him, she answered: "Yes, beggar man, I have a very large family, and every one of my children is desperate wicked." "Wicked, be they?" and the tramp showed all his toothless gums in a grin. "I've a little gal at 'ome what has a fain'ly same as you, missy; but her fam'ly's powerful good, she alius tells me." "Oh," remarked Doreen; then, anx ious to be polite, she added, "P'raps your little girl likes good childrens. I don't. I like them to be wicked; then I can punish them. They're all being punished now," waving her hand tow ard the forlorn group in front of her. "They've all got their legs where there's most tickly things, earwigs and spiders and snails and beetles, and they are being tickled frightfully — they are screaming like I scream when granny combs my hair. It's dread ful anxious work having childrens to bring up properly." "Seems as if I've got somethin' 'ere as yer might like to play with,missy," said the tramp after a moment's pause, fumbling in a dilapidated pocket. "It is a pnrty little thing wot I picks up in a ditch this morning," and he stood close to the wall and held something up to Doreen, who took hold of it rather gingerly. The next moment she cried: "Why, it'B my Snowflake! My own dear lit tle white hen that ran away from me years and years ago) Did God tell yon to bring it back to me.beggarman? I love yon just enormously," and Do reen beamed down on the tramp, cud dling her restored treasure close to her clean white dress, regal .less that Snowflake was no longer white, but black, and had lost a wing during her wanderings. The tramp scowled. "One good tnrn 'servos another, missy. What time do you and the servant girl go a-walkin' on Sundays?" "We go after dinner when it is fine, as soon as Hophie has washed np," answered Doreen, still gazing in ad miration at the china hen. When she looked down into the road again the tramp had disappeared, and the recto* of Finch was turning in at the garden gate. The next afternoon about 3 o'clock this same tramp stood listening out side a half-opened door in the hall at Holly Lodge, and as he listened the expression on his face changed strange ly. Fear was transformed into won der, wonder into into incredulity, in credulity into belief, belief into some emotion impossible to classify. With a hitch up of his tatters, as if to make sure that they still clung together, he suddenly pushed open the door, en tered the sitting room, set his arms akimbo, scowled at the old lady who gazed up at him in wonder from her knees and said harshly: "What'sthat yer been a-saying 'bout Sam Blake? Hurry up, missus " It was not a dignified position, per haps, in which to be caught by a bur glar, but Mrs.Moneypenny maintained her self-possession, rose from her knees and faced the intruder boldly, still holding the red book. "How dare you enter my house in this manner?" demanded the old lady after a slight pause, while she inves tigated him through her spectacles. "Yer may thank yer stars, missus, as yer ain't a deader already," said the man, roughly, coming close to her; "but when a chap hears his own name and facts 'bout his own life,he'd maybe like to know what it means afore he sets to work." "So—you are Sam Blake?" an swered Mrs. Moneypenny, under standing as people do sometimes in sudden emergencies. "You are the Sam Blake that nearly killed his wife, that starved his children and broke into a jeweler's shop 15 years ago. I know you very well, Sam Blake, for I have prayed for you and your miser able family every Sunday afternoon for 15 years. lam very glad you heard me, Sam Blake. Now what do yon want?" "Wot yer doue it for?" asked Sam Blake, still scowling. "Because you were wicked enough to require a good many prayers, and, my friend," Mrs. Moneypenny smiled a quaint, shrewd smile, "unless you are going to murder me, which would be but a simple matter, as you see I am old aud aione in the house, I shall continue to pray for you." "You're a game 'un, you are!" growled Sam Blake, half-approvingly. "I've a mind to let yer off this time, blowed if I ain't. Look a-here, mis sus, if I dou't knock yer over the head as I had a mind, nor take that diamond ring o' your'n in charge for yer, yer must hand over what money yer has in the 'ouse and give us a feed afore yer little 'un comes back. Look spry, old 'un, and maybe us won't quarrel after all." Mrs. Moneypenny measured the man with her eyes, recognized his strength aud ber weakness, realized there was nothing to do under the circumstances but obey, unlocked ber dispatch box and handed its con tents to Sam Blake, who was pleasant ly surprised, the nearness of rent day not having entered into his calcula tions,and treated her unwelcome guest to as good a meal in the kitchen as the larder could provide. "Let's have a look at tliat book of your'n," said Sam Blake, as he made Mrs. Moneypenny fill up his glass again with beer. He studied the neat entries in si lence and then banged his fist down on the table with such force that Mrs. Moneypenny started. "Of all the rum 'nns you're about the rummest!" he exclaimed. "There, shake hands, missus —yon needn't be afeared fo:- your diamond, though it's a mighty fine 'un, as word was passed down to me, sure enough. I guess that yer book 'ull be full afore you goes under, eb, missus?" "I am afraid it will, Sam Blake?" began Mrs. Moneypenny, racking her brain for a suitable word in season, but just at that moment a child's merry laugh sounded in the distance. Sam Blake shoved half a loaf into his pocket and made a bolt out of the kitchen, the door slammed, and Mrs. Moneypenny was left alone to tidy her disordered kitchen with hands that suddenly trembled as she realized for the first time that the Bed Book had saved her life, if not her money. A Brave Revolutionary Woman. Elizabeth Zane is one of the gentle women who played a part in one of the savage fights of 1777. A battle was in progress at Limestone, Ky., under the walls of Fort Henry, a large In dian force being concentrated on the Saudusky river banks under the lead ership of the notorious white renegade aud Tory, Simeon Girty. The soldiers in the garrison lacked powder to carry on the fight aud could spare no man to get it from the pow der house. Then it was that Eliza beth Zane, n slight, sleuder girl, boldly volunteered to bring them powder, although it was almost certain death to attempt it. She carried it in a tablecloth tied about her w-aist and had made two or three journeys when her object was realized by the Indians, who sent a hail of shot about her. The girl never faltered and passed into the fort uninjured. She had saved the day for the soldiers.—Collier's Weekly. A SurprUe. "Young Mr. Dabster says that he is wedded to his art." "Indeedl" replied Miss Cayenne. "I shouldn't have judged by his pic tures that he was even engaged to it" Washington Star. THE LAY OF A LAUGH. Here I am. perohed at my open casement, . Enjoy ng the laugh of some unseen miss That coujn& rippling up from some room la the basement Just below this. Morning, noon and night I can hear her Babbling away with her ohatter and chaff. And it seems as if ail creation near her Was just a-laugh. Picture her, isn't her face just made for It— Crinkled and curved for tbe laughing fit? Could she be solemn, d'ye think, it paid lor it? Never a bit. I con fancy the dimples her cheeks Im printing, And see the inouth corners upward run. I can catch her eyes with the frollo glinting? Brimful of fun. She must be pretty to laugh so prettily- Such a laugh couldn't belong to a frump; Humorous, too. to see things wittily— Probably plump. There, now, she's off again. Peel upon peel of it, Clear as a carillon, soft as a bell. Why, it's infectious! I'm catching the feel of it! Chuckling as well. What! Was I dteaming? That musical mel ody Trips up the .scale,arpeggio, 80 like a voice that was hushed—ah, wella duy— Long, long ago. Heigh ho! To think of what little straws tickle us! Just a girl's laugh—and my laughing one lies Silent, and I—well, now, this is ridiculous— Tears in my eyes. —Pall Mall Gazette. HUMOROUS, "That fellow called me an ass be* hind my back." "Did you kick?" "She has loved him silently for many years." "Heavens! What won't a woman's love accomplish. "Whatdo you call the cat?" "Boom e aig. We've fired her a dozen times, but she A) svays comes back." The Father—What are your pros pects, young man? The Suitor—A— er—that's what I'm trying to find out. "Old Grabber ought to be satisfied with the money he has." "He is sat isfied—so much so that he wants a lot more of exactly the same kind." She—Julie and Joe are engaged, but they have decided to keep their engagement a secret; Julie told me so. He—Yes, I know it; Joe told me. Bertha—Charley says that when we are married mumma shall stay with us as long as she lives. Edith—And yet you persist in believing him a truth ful man! "Lester, dear," said Mrs. Giddings, anxiously, to her husband, "I don't like that cough of yours." "I'm sorry," replied Giddings, "but it is the best I have." Proud Father—My daughter strikes Band is reaching for C. Friend—Oh, but you cau't really complain until she begins to strike you for Vs and reacn for Xs. Jack—l hear that she speaks every known language. Tom—Must be a mistake. Last night I asked her to give me a plain English "yes," and she said she couldn't. Little Georgie—Do you folks ever have family p'rayers before breakfast? Little Albert—No, we only have pray ers before we goto bed. We ain't afraid in the daytime. Weaver—Poetry is something that is born iu one; it caunc* be acquired. The making of poetry is a gift. Bea ver—So is the disposing of it, so far as I have had any expenefice. "I wish you wouldn't be asking me for money all the time," growled the husbaud. "I'm not, dear," respond ed the wife sweetly. "Part of the time is occupied in spending it." Kate—They've got just the thing now that we've been wanting. It is au automatic cyclometer. Belle—You don't mean it! Kate—Yes. It goes fight on scoring miles while you rest. Jane (readiug)—The wearied senti nel leaned on his gun and stole a few moments' sleep. Little Bobbie —I know where he stole it from. Jane— Where, Bobbie? Bobbie—From his nap-sack. "Is the crying of an infant in the night," asked the newest boarder, "a call to arms?" "Sometimes," ad mitted the Cheerful Idiot. "And again, it may be only a bottle cry. It all depends." "Beef is likely to be very dear," said the young husband to his inex perienced wife. "Never mind, love," replied the latter, whose housekeep ing experience is nil. "Never mind; we'll live on porterhouse steak." Bostrand —That tall, angular man? Oh, he's Hairweight; famous for his poetry. Simplex—Why, I never heard of it. Bostrand—Probably not. He's famous for having written more ob scnre verse than any man iu his set. Perry Patettic—l wonder how one of them fellers that has a steady job and works every day feels? Wayworn Watson—You better not let your thinker run on them ideas. First thing you know you may go wrong. Scorcher-—They say that it has a bad effect on the brain to ride witu your head down between the handle bars. Sprocket—Don't you believe a word of it. The men who ride that way haven't any brain to be affected. Family Friend -1 congratulate yon, my dear sir, on the marriage of your daughter. I see you are gradually getting all the girls off your bands. Old dlivebranch—Off my hands—yesl Bnt the worst of it is, I have to keep their husbands on their feet. Doctor—Did yon take that prescrip tion around to Mr. Ailing? Boy— Yes, sir. Doctor —I forgot the exact number of his residence. How did you find it? Boy—l told everybody that I bad one of your prescriptions for Mr. Ailing, and thoy all told me to look for a house with crape on the doer.