Everything that Admirdl Dewey
dtoii or says confirms hie title to
The total losses on both sides of tho
Bpauish-American war were less than
Ifaose of single battles in our civil
TU.
Several of the largest banks in Ne
braska have notified their depositors
that they must reduce their balances
for the reason that the institutions
have more money on hand than they
know what to do with.
If a census were taken it would
probably show that the population of
the territory now subject to Ameri
can authority had increased about
10,000,000 within the last six months.
Of these, 1,000,000 have been added
by the annexation of Hawaii, while
the war with Spain has added the rest.
Spaisli statesmen now have an op
portunity to study the art of ruling
such colonies as are left to them.
Their method for four centuries has
been described as ignorant incapacity,
tempered by cruelty. They may at
last understand the wisdom of recog
nizing that subject races have some
olaims to consideration and a few
fights to be remembered.
The trustees of several villages in
New Xork state—Warsaw being the
latest example have passed ordi
nances forbidding children under fif
teen years of age from ' 'being on the
etreets, alleys or public places," after
the hour of nine o'clock p. m.from
April to October, or after eight o'clock
for the other half of the year. It is
made unlawful for parents or guardi
ans to allow or permit children uuder
their care to be on the streets during
the prescribed hours, "unless there
exists a reasonable necessity there
for." A fine "not exceeding $25" is
provided for parents who violate this
Section. The police are authorized to
arrest and detain children found on
the streets at night, but not to im
prison them. Their parents are to be
notified, and are liable to a fine for
not. thereafter keeping their children
within bounds.
In her desire to bother American
exporters Germany has outdone her
self. It was all right for her to ci n
demn the American cattle and Ameri
can canned goods, because the spite
of such condemnation was expended
upon herself. Nobody believed her
to be self-supplying in these com
modities. But trichina' have been
discovered once too often. The
result is no less a startling revela
tion to the world than it must
be a blow to innate Teutonio
pride. Trichinw, Berlin officials
Bay, have been discovered in an
American sausage. This is impor
tant if true,for it shows that Germany
is not self-supplying even in sau
sages. The report of the British offi
cials will probably be refuted from
high authority. They will be told
that there are no American sausages
in Germany; lienee triohinte could not
have been found in them.
Shoes made in the United States
and imported into Germany have
gained so much in favor in certain
parts of Germany that official attempts
have been made to create prejudice
against their purchase by German cit
izens. Consul-General Mason, at
Frauk'ort, in a recent communication
to the state department, sheds some
light on the character of this opposi
tion. He furnishes a translation ol
an article published in a Leipsic pa
per, which reads in part as follows:
"The Prussian minister of commerce
nnd industry has addressed to the
central committee of the Union ol
German Shoemakers' Guilds a sum
mons to a systematic resistance to
American competition in shoe prod
ucts. It is known, and the fact is here
emphasized by the minister, that re
cently American shoes of the so
called job-lot or inferior grades
•schlendersorten' —which are quite in
ferior to the solid Germau-made shoes,
which possess a certain attractive ele
gance of form and finish—have beeu
imported with growing success into
Germany. In order to effectually op
pose this import the minister recom
mends to manufacturers, shoemakers'
unions aud shareholders interested in
the shoe industry to obtain sample*
of such goods, and by cutting and
Separating the soles and uppers,
which are made of paper and joined
by long stitches cf thread, expose and
show the base quality of workman
•hip, and to bring these facts to the
notice of the press and the knowledge
of their customers." The consul,
however, advises that there is an op
portunity to develop and carry on i
legitimate shoe export trade with Ger
rnaay provided that it is conducted o.
• straightforward, intelligeut, com
mercial basis.
At thfrtite* Emperor WMaln mas*
find it particularly aanoying to b«
pointed out kj Bismarck's epithet as
"somebody's son's son."
In the next seven yeats, it is now
atated, Russia will spend $255,000,000
on her navy, for which she will get
eight battleships, sixteen cruisers,
one submarine mine transport, one
torpedo transport, twenty destroyers,
and thirty torpedo boats.
Because of the high prices for meat
German peasants are compelled to
cross the border into Bussia to get
such food. The butchers, unable to
make profits under the strict gov
ernment restrictions, have made em
phntic protest against the present
laws. With such conditions it would
seem that Germany threw a boomer
ang when it struck a blow at Ameri
can meat.
Printing is the second greatest in
dustry in New York city, as shown by
United States census returns. Cloth
ing loads, with a production of $138,-
000,000; boofcmaking, printing and
publishing are lumped at 901,000,000,
and slaughtering and meat-packing
follow with a total of sfto,ooo,ooo.
Engraving and lithographing are
grouped together as the nineteenth in
dustry in the city, with a production
of $9,000,000.
According to the London Lancet,
the ever-present microbe has the best
of opportunities to attack the cyclst
who rides along a dusty road with his
mouth open. Often after such a ride
there are unpleasant sensations, and
the symptoms are desoribed as a feel
ing of dryness in the throat, followed
by its sore and inflamed
frequently resulting in headache and
depression similar to that experienced
in poisoning cases. Boad dust con
tains numerous varieties of bacteria,
and among the more dangerous of the
pathogenic microbes that have been
found and isolated are those of pus,
malignant cedema, tetanus, tubercle,
and septicemia. The injurious effect
of these organisms would forthemost
part be averted if the mouth were kept
closed and respiration confined to the
uose, as few of the microbes pass be
yond the extreme end of the nasal
passage and consequently reach the
larynx or bronchial surfaces. In ad
dition to breathing exclusively through
the nostrils, it is recommended that
after a dusty ride or walk the nose
ehould be douched with a weak and
slightly warm solution of some harm
less antiseptic.
The report of the director of physi
cal training in public schools of
Washington has lately been published.
According to this report, the benefi
cial results of systematic daily exer
cise have been marked; but, as the
writer of the paper truly remarks, "It
is impossible to test the fall measure
of success or failure of our efforts. It
is in the remote future, with school
days long past, that the lastiug influ
ence of such work will be felt by the
individual child." However, one
thing seems certain, viz., that the in
troduction of physical training into
the public schools of America is a step
in the right direction, and, if intelli
gently carried out, should result in
producing a stronger race mentally
and physically, thinks the Scientific
American. The fact should not be
forgotten though, that physical train
ing may be abused. Gymnastics
should not be permitted to take the
place of play, but rather the two
should go hand in hand.—Medical
Record.
The recently published statement ol
the United States treasury department
as to the imports and exports of
iron and steel and their manufactures
is a very striking one. In round
numbers, the United States in 1880
imported #74,000,000 worth of these
articles and exported less than $13,-
000,000 worth. In the last fiscal year
these figures were exactly reversod.
The imports were a little over $12,-
000,000, the exports were about $75,-
000,000. When we consider the
marked fall in the prices of many vari
eties of the manufactures of iron and
steel the change is more significant.
It is still more so when we recall the
very large increase in the population
of the United States. This in 1880
was a little over 50,000,000. By the
latest estimate of the bureau of sta
tistics it is now a little less than 75,-
000,000. It follows, therefore, that
in 1880, when we had to import $74,-
000,000 worth of iron and steel and
their manufactures, we consumed not
only all onr own product, but an av
erage of $1.50 worth of imports In
1808 our own product not only sup
plied the needs of a population of
75,000,000, but enabled us to send
abroad an average per capita of $1
worth.
A TRIPLE DILEMMA.
She'* looking rather doleful, Because she's ten4er-hearted—
She's talking very blue, The war's to blame, you see-
She la no longer soulful— She was, when they'd departed,
What can the poor girl dot Engaged to soldiers three!
The doorbell's sudden ringing And now this reckless plighter
Her nerves doth sadly rend | Doth realize, alaek!
Unto the stair rail clinging, Each death-defying fighter
She wonders how 'twill end. Is safely hustling baok !
—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Jk
"CAPTAIN DORRY." >
4 A WAR BTOBY. ►
J
After my Grandmother Atkenson
died and her will was read they found
that she had divided her smaller treas
ures among her grandchildren. To
me came a square box, with a few
words in the dearly remembered hand
writing. She had written them years
before she died, for the ink was faded
and the paper yellowed with age.
"This,"the paper said, "is laid aside
for my granddaughter, Dorothea At
kenson, to be given to her after my
death. The contents of this box be
longed to her cousin, Dorothea Atken
son, for Whom she was named."
When I opened the carefully tied
package I found a blue soldier cap
that had seen much hard service. It
was faded, frayed and stained and had
tarnished gold letters on the front.
Inside of this was a small leather case,
lined with blue velvet and containing a
silver cup. Engraved on one side of
the cup was the American flag and on
the other this inscription:
To Captain Dorry.
From her faithful, loving soldiers.
Aunt Mary, my grandmother's only
ahild who had not married, still-lived
on the old homestead. She had sent
me the package, with a letter telling
of grandmother's death, but with no
word of explanation in regard to the
box.
I was at boarding school when the
package reached me, hundreds of
miles from my own people. I wrote
to Aunt Mary at once asking mauy
questions; but she had gone abroad.
The letter followed her over Europe,
never catching her, and at last found
its way back, covered with postmarks,
to the old farm.
I appealed to ray mother, the only
other persou likely to know anything
about it, but her answer was very un
satisfactory.
"The cup," she wrote, "belonged to
your cousin Dorothea, the daughter
of your father's only brother, William
Atkenson. His wife died when Doro
thea was born, aud he,poor fellow, was
killed in the war. The soldier cap be
longed to him ataul is connected with
the cup in a story which I must leave
your Aunt Mary to tell you. I never
saw the child; your father was a mere
lad when the events happened."
Often I lifted the cup from its box
and read the queer inscription and
wondered what it meant. Many times
I turned that faded cap around on my
finger and tried to guess the story
that connected them. Father had
died when I was a little girl, but I
could remember how he would say to
me, "My precious other little Dorry."
When Auut Mary returned from
abroad she wrote at once, telling me
of my much-traveled letter and invit
ing me to spend a few weeks with her
at the old homestead.
"I will tell you the story when you
come,dear," she wrote, "andyon might
bring the things with you. I should
like to see them again."
Three days later I was sitting op
posite aunty at the tea-table in the
familiar dining room.
"You want the story right away,to
night?" she laughed. "Well, I don't
wonder. A year is a long time to
wait for a story. You shall have it as
soon as we finish tea."
"My poor little girl!" said aunty,
when I brought the things and laid
them in her lap. "I must show you
her picture, Dorry."
Such a solemn, pretty little round
face! The serious baby mouth closed
firmly; the gray eyes looked straight
into yours from under the baby brows;
the thick, dark hair was cut short.
"She looked more like her Uncle
Jim, your father, than auyone else,"
said my aunt, "and you mustn't be
jealous, dear, but I'm sure he loved
her as much as he did you."
"I don't wonder," I answered,
pressing the face in the picture to
mine. "Who could help loving her?"
"Dear baby, her mother died when
she was born, and her father enlisted
in the army when she was only two
years old. Her mother's relatives
took care of her until then, but when
Will left he begged us togo aud get
her.
" 'I shall feel safe if she is with
you,' he wrote to mother, and Jim was
spnt to the city to briug her home.
•How well I remember that day. How
we cried over her, mother and I, and
how solemnly she gazed at us from
Jim's arms. He said he had found
her crying for 'papa,' but in his ten
der way he had won her small heart.
"When she was three years old
Will was sent home on sick leave.
After one little dazed moment aud a
look at Jim, she went straight to her
father's arms. He, poor fellow,
wouldn't allow her out of his sight.
"After we told her who he was,she
called him 'papa' in her quiet voice
and would sit patiently by his side,
smoothing his hair and crooning a
queer little song Jim had taugh£ her
till he would fall asleep.
" 'She ain't no reg'lar child,' old
Aunt Barbara, the colored cook, would
often declare, 'She's old, she is; she
beats my time.' Born in sad times,
dear baby, she almost seemed to real
ize it!
"Then Will left us and took Jim
with him. Your father couldn't stay
at home with all that fighting going
on, although he wasn't much mo*?
than a boy. Mother and I bade them
Godspeed with brave faces, but when
we reached home we sobbed out our
sorrow in each other's arms.
"My poor little Dorry! She never
saw her father again. Three months
from that day he was killed, and Jim
was wounded at the same time and
sent home to die, with his shattered
arm in a sling.
"He was unconscious for weeks,but
mother and I nursed him back to life.
When he grew stronger we learned
the particulars of that dreadful day.
"They had fought side by side, my
two brave brothers. Will's words as
he fell, 'Go on, old fellow, you must
fight for both of us now!' had sent Jim
madly forward,even after his own arin
hung helpless by his side. He be
came unconscious from loss of blood
and fell, rose again and staggered he
didn't know how long or where, fell
again, and when he struggled back to
life it was night, and everything was
quiet.
"No, not everything—he could hear
a moaning sound near him, and when
he crawled over to the spot it came
from he found—Will.
"Will didn't know Jim; he was too
far gone. But he kept moaning
'Water! Water!' Poor Jim lay there
and cried, for his canteen was empty,
and he was too weak to move again.
All through that night he lay there,
listening to his brother's voice beg
ging for a drink and too helpless even
to put his hand out to touch him.
"When morning came the calls
ceased, and Jim remembered nothing
more till he woke in his own room,
with mother's face bending over him.
'I might have saved his life—for a few
hours, anyway—if my canteen hadn't
been empty,' cried the poor boy,bury
ing his head in the pillow, while mother
and I sobbed aloud.
"There wus only the firelight in the
room, and wfi little dreamed that.
Dorry had come in. She sat in the
shadow till the tale was done, then
rose and stood among us, who were
too startled to speak. Her face looked
white; her great eyes were dilated,and
the baby voice sounded harsh and old
when she spoke.
" 'Did papa die 'cause he couldn't
have a jink of water?' she asked, in a
toneof horror,laying her hand earnest
ly on Jim's arm.
"We couldn't pacify her. She
didn't cry, but shook and quivered,
and all the time she was so white,and
her eyes went from one face to the
other in such a questioning, pitiful
way,that we were broken-hearted over
her.
"That year the war ended. The
soldiers began to come home, and we
could see trains filled with them pass
ing every day. One morning,just be
fore breakfast time, there was an acci
dent on the road some miles ahead of
us, and an ear'.y train loaded with the
army men was detained at our town
for over three hours.
"Such a wornout-looking lot! Some
were sick,some wounded, and all were
tired and hungry. Every house in the
place was thrown open to them. Jim,
still weak aud shaky, was rolled to the
door to welcome them as they came up
the path, while mother aud Barbara
and I flew about, grinding coffee,bak
ing cakes, fiyiug aud broiling and set
ting the breakfast table the whole
length of the dining room.
"In the excitement Dorry was for
gotten. I had left her standing by
Jim when Iran out to the kitchen.
He told us afterward that she stood
watching the scene for some time, her
hands clasped behind her in an old
fashioned way; then she suddenly
surprised him by pulling him down
and whispering, 'Uncle Dim, may I
have my papa's cap?'
"It was the first time she had
spoken of her father since that night.
Just then a lot of the boys went past.
Away she flew, and in the excitement
Jim forgot her question.
"Well, the dining room was full;
everyone was busy, and I stood pour
ing cott'ee at a side table, when Mat
thew, Aunt Barbara's boy, came rnsh
iug in, his face on its usual broad
grin.
" 'Come to the front door for jest a
minute,' he said. So I dropped every
thing and ran.
"Shall I ever forget that scene? At
first I saw only a great mauy soldiers
gathered about the horse-block in the
front yard. Some were on the road,
some in the yard,but all pressed close
to the steps. Then one of them moved,
and I saw Dorry standing bravely
among them, her white dress blowing
in the breeze, a worn soldier-cap on
her erect little head and in her out
stretched hand a long dipper.
"While I looked and could scarcely
believe my eyes, ber ringing little
voice called out sweetly, 'F'esh water,
nice f'esh water!' and she was lost
again behind the crowding bluecoats.
" 'She done got me to fetch dat
bucket and put it on them steps, and I
weren't studyin' what she was gwine
to do till I heard her callin' out and
them soldiers crowdin' up to get a
drink,' explained Mattli 'She
looked so kind o' businesslike wid dat
cap on, I went right on and done like
she told me. What you reckon made
dat chile think 'bout gettin' 'em a
drink?' he asked
'1 believed I knew «ad crept quiet
ly over to the edge of the crowd to
wateh and listen. I could see he»
plainly then. The earnest gray eyea
looked straight into each bronzed faca
from under the rim of the old cap.
She watched each soldier as he drank
from the upturned dipper, then called
again, 'Water, nice f'esh water!'
Down she would plunge the dipper to
the bottom of the big bucket and bring
it up hospitably full.
"The men crowded around her, full
of surprise and curiosity. Her little
sigh of satisfaction when some dusty
throated old veteran drank deeply from
her hands was very evident. Once,
when a young fellow asked for a sec
ond supply,the dimple came into view
for a minute, the little face relaxed into
a shadowy smile.
" 'Nice?' she asked,kindly,stooping
to look under his cap, and a ripple ol
sympathetic laughter ran through the
crowd.
" ' 'Taint likely her folks sfet her to
doiu' this,' said one soldier.
" 'Oh, they must have,' said
another; 'let's ask her.'
"She was leaning over the bucket
when he pushed his way through, but
she stood up instantly when he spoke
to her aud turned, facing him.
" 'Did your mother seud you out to
do this, sissy?' he asked.
" 'No,' she answered.
" 'Who did, then?' he persisted.
" 'Nobody; I finked about it my
self,' she said, gazing at him, a little
frown between her eyes.
"Then, seeing that some explana
tion was expected of her, she said,
quietly, though the dear voice broke
into a sob over the words:
" 'My papa died in the army 'cauße
he couldn't have a jink of water,' and
down went the brave little head, aud
the men suddenly became as still as
death.
"It didn't take me a minute to get
through and snatch that blessed baby
in my arms. I sat right down ou
that horse-block and cried over her.
Without thinking once of how they
wdre all looking at me.
"But bless me, when I did look up,
there they were, wiping their eyes on
their coat sleeves. Two or three of
them kuelt down, pattiug her little
shoes. Some of them had turned their
backs aud stood looking hard at the
ground, while one soft-hearted fellow
sobbed like a girl.
"I wanted to take her away, but
they begged hard to huve her stay,
and she was so anxious togo on, after
she had had her little cry out, that I left
her and hurried into the house. Dear
Jim,white and trembling, after I hud
blurted out ray story to the tableful of
soldiers, insisted upon going out to
her, while mother cried, aud Barbara
informed us a dozen times that 'she'd
always told us she weren't no reg'lar
child.'
"When the soldiers fully understood
what it meant how they crowded about
her, touched to the heurt by the pa
thetic little story. For two hours
she kept to her post gallantly, Jim
standing over her, proud and pale,
while Matthew carried water from the
well.
" 'I put the cap on so as they'd
know I was papa's daughter,' she
whispered to me, in full confidence
that every IUMI in the regiment would
recognize it.
"Old men, grizzly and worn,strug
gled up,proud of a word or smile; the
younger ones begged for a kiss wheu
they pressed forward for a drink, and
'Captain Dorry,' as they called her,
ladled out the sparkling water,inteut,
heart and soul, on serving her thirsty
soldiers. Then the time came for
them to move on,and Dorry was lifted
up on Matthew's shoulder to see them
go.
"From her high post she waved the
old cap good bye, while the men, led
oft' by a veteran on crutches, sent up
for 'Captaiu Dorry' three rousing,
roaring cheers that rolled away like
thunder aud echoed back from the
hills.
"They formed in Hue; the drummer
and the one lone lifer headed the pro
cession, aud down the road they came,
each man saluting as he passed, while
she, after oue quick glance at Jim,
raised the old cap and stood with un
covered head. The tattered flag dipped
to the gallant little figure; the last
blue coat disappeared; the sound of
the tramping feet died away.
"Two mouths later this box came by
express, directed to 'Miss Dorothea
Atkenson,' and iu it we fouud the cup.
'• 'To Captain Dorry.
From her faithful, loving soldiers.' "
So read Aunt Mary, lifting the cup
from its velvet bed aud looking at it
with dim eyes.
"My blessed little girl, how prou<'.
she was. Nothiug would induce Iter
to drink out of it; she guarded it lov
ingly by day aud slept with it perched
on the foot of her bed.
"We learned afterward that every
man in the regiment had given his
mite toward the purchase of the cup.
Theu they were disbanded and went
beyoud the reach of her thanks. But
'Tell them I love every one of papa's
soldiers,' Dorry said to Jim,stretching
out her arms as if to embrace the
whole regiment.
"That's the end of the little story,
dear."
My aunt sat looking into the fire,
smoothing the old blue cap absently,
and I could not bear to ask the ques
tion that trembled on my tongue.
"Yes," she said, bringing her eyes
back to my face aud seeming to read
my thoughts, "she died that very win
ter. We hung this over her bed where
she could see it always, and the cup
was on the pillow by her wheu she
breathed her last little sigh.
"My blessed baby,my little Captain
Dorry," said aunty, softly, while I,
looking down at the enp, saw it shin
ing through a mist of tears, —Youth'*
Companion.
THE MULE'S HARD LOT.
I'm a mule, an army donkey,
Never kicking,
Always sticking
To the troops where'er they go.
Silently I bear my burden,
Not a word ol credit get,
Never grumbling,
Ever stumbling
Through the dry and through the wet.
I'm a factor In the army,
Ought to see me in a light,
Always ready,
Ever steady.
Be it day or be it night.
I am good for any labor,
Tote the beans or drag a gun,
Never minding
All the blinding
Bain of lead, though others run.
When I'm old and totter legged—
Up in steaks the boys in blue
Kip and gash me.
Cut and slash me—
And my work at last is through.
—Detroit Free Press.
HUMOROUS.
An Illinois boy was recently asked
to define the word "goblin," and sol
emnly responded, "A goblin is the
ghost of a turkey."
"Kirby tells me he walks in his
sleep." "How remarkable! He
doesn't do anything but sit uround
while he is awake."
The Christian Scientist—Your dys
pepsyi exists only in your mind. The
Sufferer—Now, 1 know I am not so
low minded as that.
Young Wife—But aren't you the
man 1 gave some cake toon Monday?
Tramp—Yes, mum; but thank the
fates! I've got over it.
"That policeman on our beat is a
wonderful i*ian." "How's that?"
"He's on duty all night and never
sleeps a wink in day time."
"McSnob is certainly the laziest
man on earth." "Lazy? Suppose
you try his occupation of getting a
dinner invitation every day-"
"That dog seems almost hunii 11 at
times," said old Mr. Fussy. "I'es,"
replied Mrs. Fussy. "He growls over
his food quite as much as you do.''
That editor of magazines
l'rove fulJible's to be expected—
What wonder if they sometimes print
Things good enough to be rejected?
She (in business for herself) —Do
you think you can learn to love me?
He (a deputy sheriff) —Oh, some day
I may have an attachment for you.
"Has Hagby any talents worth men
tioning?" "Talents? I've known
him to borrow one girl's hors-e and
phaeton to take another girl out for a
drive."
Spanish Grandee—The people will
demand an account some day, I fear.
Second Grandee—What shall we do?
All the world knows we are no book
keepers.
Minnie—What a monotonous time
those poor heathen women who wear
almost no clothes must have. Mamie
—Yes. I wonder what they find to
worry over?
The New Girl—What was that pe
culiar noise 1 heard in the hall out
side my door this morniug. Mistress
(timidly)—lt must have been my hus
band calling you.
A little girl, attending a party, was
asked by her mother how she enjoyed
herself. "Oh," said she, "I am full
of happiness. I couldn't be any
happier unless I could grow."
'•Love me little, love me long,"
Quoth I, somewhat in spoit.
'•l'u have to love a mun a lot,"
Suith she. "to love him when he's short."
"I notice, Miranda," remarked Mr.
Xeggßchoice, "that your first hus*
baud's clothes do not fit ine." "No,
Cyrus," coincided Mrs. Neggsci,oice,
with a little sigh. "You don't lit
them."
"Oh, mamma, don't read any more
about canuibals being wicked for ctok*
ing the missionaries. Why, my own
dad's as bad as any of them; 1 heard
him tell you himself that at dinner
last night he toasted all his friend ."
That was a triumphant appeal of an
Irishman, who was a lover of antiquity,
who, in arguing the superiority of old
architecture over the new, said,
"Where will you find any modern
building that has lasted so long as the
ancient?"
First Theosophist—This settles it;
I resign from the society. Second
Theosophist What's the matter?
First Theosophist—Why, one of my
tenants has gone off without paying
his rent and left me a note saying he
would try to square with me in s.uie
future existence.
A Shop of Criminal Hric-a-ISrac.
Relics of great crimes in Paris,
France,are not placed in a government
museum, nor are they retained within
the archives of the prefecture de po
lice; they are exhibited for a few days
and are then knocked down to the
highest bidder. Many Parisians and
foreigners, too, residing in Paris have
large collections of this bric-a-brac de
orime. The government shop in the
Rue de Ecoles, where the gruesome
objects are exposed for sale occasion
ally, has a curious lot or two to offer
to any would-be purchaser. Up to
the present, however, pieces . of the
human anatomy have not figured in
the catalogue, but there was recently
offered for sale a gentleman's ear in
an excellent state of preservation, a 9
the auctioneer remarked, owing to its
having been kept in Bpirits of wine.
The ear belonged to one M. Deloyer.
and was bitten off by au adversary in
the course of a street row. Diloyer
recovered from the eff«cts of the in
jury. The artiole was finally knocked
down for #1.'25. A heavily muffled
man in the audience was supposed to
have been the original possessor of the
ear. He continually managed to raise
the bid at a doubtful moment, lut he
vas not able to bay ir the article,
#iich finally went to a M. Lafage.
N>w York Times.