THE DIFFERENCE.
Some people fear the bridges far beyond
may not be strong.
And even, as they move ahead, keep
dragging woe along.
Some people east their glances back
where shaky bridges sway.
And worry over troubles they have
passed upon the way.
I ft lis Little Hospital.\
In the little country hospital the
young nurses were very good and at
tentive to everybody, not having been
In the business long enough to have
grown callous. They were nice girls,
mostly in their first year's course, and
their lips would twitch and their
faces whiten very often in the
operating room, or when they held a
patient's hand while he died in the
night. But they were brave and went
about the pretty hospital singing soft
ly in the cool corridors, carrying lit
tle white-clothed trays to the sick
rooms, and being the best of medi
cines themselves by reason of their
neatness, their bright eyes and their
kind voices.
Now. one beautiful bright spring
afternoon, at the railroad junction in
the town, two trains, filled with pleas
ure-seekers, smashed together, and
the doctor and the matron and the
nurses were plunged into a world of
work, for ambulance after ambulance
came driving up from the scene of the
accident and left to the care of the
girls many people sorely hurt. And
among them was a very little boy,
about six years old. whom nobody
know anything about, because his
father and mother were both killed in
the collision, and there was nothing
on them to show who or what they
were, except that they were poor. It
is comprehensible that a very great
deal of attention was paid to this lit
tle fellow, and he would have been
placed in the woman's ward, as the
hospital was too small for a children's
ward, but the woman's ward was full.
So the boy, quite insensible, was laid
on a cot in the men's ward, and next
to him was laid a big. brown-bearded
man, also insensible, from whose
clothes ha.l been gathered quite a sum
of money and whese few papers went
to show he had been a sailor. He was
a very rough-looking man, indeed.
The man came to his senses first,
and it was night. The nurse on watch
was quite frightened at the man. He
was in pain, and great allowance must
be made for that, but never, in all
her life, had the little nurse to listen
to such words as came from the big
brown-bearded man's lips. He wanted
to get up and go right away, and he
found he could not move his great,
massive legs. So he began to abuse
his fate, and the railway and the hos
pital and the nurse and mankind in
general. He was a very bitter-mouthed
man indeed. The little nurse, by the
light of the night lamp, did her best
to soothe him, because he aroused
other patients, and there was a terri
ble groaning and wailing in the small
ward And all at once the little boy
came to his senses, too, just for a
minute, arid his face #was turned up
to the sailor's face, and his eyes fell
upon the sailor's face. He was not
quite sensible yt for it seemed he
mistook the sailor for his dead papa,
and he said very prettily:
"Good-morning, dad. How are you
S .his morning?"
The sailor, looking into the little
fellow's eyes, was abashed and stopped
his swearing, and was silent for a
moment, and then muttered clumsily:
"I'm all rii-ht."
"That's nice," said the boy, and be
came unconscious again.
The sailor did not abuse anything
any more just then, but lay groaning,
and every now and then whe~> the
little nurse slipped by in the shadows,
he called to her softly, and the first
time he said:
"Pretty little chap."
The nurse nodded and smiled, and
the sailor smiled bark and. until
morning came at last, he only groaned
and watched the child, and did not
curse at all, but every time the nurse
came to wipe his brow or give him
drink, he whispered to her to look at
the boy.
"Pretty boy—he thought I was his
dad," he said, and would have laughed,
only his pain made him groan in
stead. Again he caught the nurse's
hand.
"Said it was nice, he did. Cute,
ain't he?" and then his face twisted
in pain.
But neither could the sailor rise
from his back, and neither could the
sailor hope to sail the sea again, for
he was in the same case with the
child and both were slowly dying. At
first sometimes the big brown man
wouli forget himself in his pain, and
the nurses would shut their ears, ter
rified, and the matron would threat
en to move him to p. room by him
self, and that frightened him to si
lence, for ever since "the accident he
had a great love for the child. The
child would look at his huge friend
in surprise when he fell into one of
his rages and say:
"Oh, John, that's not nice."
An! John would bite his lips at
once and be patient. Then the child
would say:
"How do you feel. John?"
And the sailor would answer:
"First rate, Joe."
"That's nice." little Joe would say,
and they would lie quiet and look out
of the window at the river and be
yond where the big hills purpled to
the skies, and were always looking
up.
So it was in the mornings, when Joe
seemed always first awake, and ready
to have his hands and face washed
by the nurse. He could net turn about
to se« the other paitents, but he
learned all their names and as soon
as he heard them moving, he always
asked very politely:
"And how do you feel. Mr. Smith?"
And Mr. Smith would always an
swer, because it pleased the child:
"First rate. Joe."
"That's nice," said Joe, and so he
would ask each in turn, and to each
answer, always the same, he would
reply cheerfully: "That's nice."
And when they asked him how it
went with him, ho always said, though
sometimes with an effort. "I'm pretty
well, thank you." Then everybody
would say, with real pleasure: "That's
nice, Joe."
So the summer went nn. and very
few patients came to the hospital,
and John ana Joe were alone, save
for the nurses who grew to dread the
time; that was soon to part the
friends.
At last they told the sailor that
there was no hope at all for him—a
clergyman came to prepare him. He
tock the news very calmly, but in
stantly whispered:
"And the little fellow, Joe?"
"Don't tell him." said the minister;
"he is so innocent he needs no prepa
ration. But you?"
For days the poor sailor was in
much trouble, and one night he whis
pered to his little companion:
"Joe, say you was rich as Vander
bilt, and was going a long sail, would
jcu leave me behind?"
"No, John," said the child very ear
nestly, "I would want you to come
too."
"Would you feel sorry, Joe, to sail
away and leave me on the wharf, or—
or if you was safe on a big fine ship,
see me busted to pieces on the rocks?"
"John!" said the child, "I would
jump out and pull you to my ship, I
would."
"Good old Joe," said the sailor, and
said nothing more until prayer time,
when ho squeezed Joe's hand and
whispered:
"Pray hard, Jce. Pray hard for me
to come along. Pray far two. Joe."
An.l little Joe prayed for two.
' The two used to watch for the
searchlight of the big night boat whiea.
ran between two great cities on the
river. When the steamer turned a
point, its light flashed for an instant
full on the front of the little hospital.
Joe and John, nand in hand, very,
very weak now, would lie and watch
for it. Joe had made a story that it
knew they were there and smiled in
on purpose to say "Good night." Al
ways he piped "go-cd night," in re
turn, and John also. Then Joe,
squeezing the once powerful hairy
hand, would feebly ask:
"How do you feel tonigftt?"
"First rate, Joe," poor John would
answer, with a smothered groan.
"That's nice."
And they would lie very still or
gradually go to sleep.
And so one night the steamboat
came up the river and turned the
point and cast its light upon the lit
tle hospital.
"Goc-d night," said the sailor, in a
very low, mi sky whisper, while Joe's
little hand rested on his. But the
boy's eyes were wide with a strango
light.
"It didn't say 'good night,' John,"
he whispered, and tried to squeeze
his friend's hand. "It said 'good
by.' "
The sailor tried to rise in bed, but
was unable even to call cut. He saw
the river, but he could not see tne
ether side. It was dark. He was
afraid. His fingers closed round the
child's feebly.
"How —do —you —feel tonight, dear
John?" said little Joe's voice very
softly and tenderly.
There was a moment's pause. The
sailor' 3 voice rang out with a glad
cry.
"First rate, Joe."
"That's nice," said the child.
And the little nurses, running in
found the friends had gone together.—
P. Y. Black, in Los Angeles Times.
Canarie* a* Weather Prophet*.
"I have heard of all sorts of barom
eters, or rather weather signs, but I
know of no more reliable weather
prophets than my birds," said a Balti
more lady who owns several canaries.
"I cau almost always tell when it is
going to rain by the distinctness with
which I can hear the trains at night,
but the birds are even more reliable
than that. If I hear them singing
in the morning early before I take
the coverings of their cages off I
know that the day will be a good one,
no matter if it is raining at the mo
ment. but if they do not sing I am
sure there will be bad weather be
fore the day is over. I have never
known them to fail, and I never think
of going shopping or calling unless
the birds sing in early morning. That
is why I never caught in the rain,
as many of my friends do. That poor
weather bureau man who makes so
many mistakes in his prophecies
ought by all means to get himself
some canaries." —Baltimore Sun.
Japnii** Up-to-I>ate Postal Service.
There Is one little exhibit in the
postal museum which illustrates the
degree of perfection to which the pos
tal service of Japan has been brought.
It is a missive pasted over many
times with "forwarding slips," show
ing the efforts made by the postal
authorities to deliver the letter to
the addresses. There are about 25
of these "forwarding slips" on the
envelope, and these make it clear that
the letter folic wed the addresses all
over the island of Japan. There is
a law In Japan which directs that a
citizen, upon reaching a determina
tion to change his abode, shall notify
the postal authorities of liis new ad
dress.—Washington Star.
I MW&- ,
New York City.—The box Eton
makes the Tory latest form of the
popular jacket and Is much liked both
for entire costumes and separate
WOMAN'S BOX ETOJf.
wraps. Taffeta, tucked and plain,
black and white, is much used for the
latter purpose, but etamine is some
what newer and more durable, and is
attaining great vogue. The May Man
ton original, from which the model
was made, is of the open mesh light
weight tucked material in black, with
revers and applique of cream Cluny
lace over white, but cream makes a
charming warm vreather wrap and is
peculiarly effective over the much
worn white? gowns; and entire cos
tumes are made from linen and duck
as well ns suitable silks and wools.
The Jacket is simplicity itself. The
backs lit smoothly and the fronts hang
from the shoulders, without darts, in
box style, the upper edges being ex
tended and rolled back to form re
vers. The sleeves are cut in coat
style, but tlare becomingly at the
wrists.
To cut this Eton for a woman of
medium size, three and a half yards
of material twenty-one inches wide,
three and a quarter yards twenty-sev
en inches wide, two and one-eight
yards thirty-two Inches wide, or two
yards forty-four Inches wide, will lie
required, with three-eight yard of all
over lace and two and a quarter yards
of applique to trim as illustrated.
Woman's Tucked Illonae.
Tucks not alone hold their place, but
gain in favor month by month. Both
for the odd waist and the gown made
en suite they are held the smartest
possible finish and are seen alike in
thin diaphanous materials, silks and
soft wools. The charming blouse il
lustrated in the large drawing Is adapt
ed to many uses, and is equally ap
propriate for the costume and the
separate bodice. The original Is of
white lawn, and is worn with a tie
and belt of blue Liberty satin: but fine
madras, grass linen, Swiss and all
similar fabrics, India silk, crepe de
chine, taffeta and the like and all soft
wools are equally suitable.
The back is smooth and snug, with
two groups of tucks that are drawn
together at the waist to give a becom
ing, tapering effect. The fronts are
tucked in three groups and are ren
dered unique by the extension on the
right edge, which is closed witli small
pearl buttons in groups of three. The
sleeves are in bishop style, tucked
nearly to the wrists, where they fall
free to form becoming puffs.
To make this blouse for a woman of
medium size, four yards of material
twenty-one inches wide, three and
three-eight yards twenty-seven inches
wide, three and a half yards thirty
two Inches wide, or two and a quarter
yards forty-four inches wide, will be
required.
Tli« T.oulaine Silk Snrni.
Nursery fashions are more perman
ent than the modes of older women,
but still a few fleeting changes are
perceptible now and then. For In
stance, the question of sashes is a'.-
ways of interest, for a little maid looks
her sweetest in a white dress with n
blue sash. Gr -sgralu silk, watered
lilk and satin have ul) had their day.
This summer preference is shown for
the Louisine silk sash, a pretty soft
weave. The sash ribbons used by lit
tle children are not very wide.
Flowered Muslin.
A pompadour flowered muslin gown
has a pretty tinish to the sides of tlia
front of the waist. There are box
pleats of the muslin on either side of
the white-tucked lawn vest, in which
are three bread bands of cream lace
insertion set across. The upper part
of the vest is outlined with a broad
collar, which has applications of lace,
This collar is of sheer white muslin,
which is particularly pretty over tli?
flowered muslin of the waist.
A I'rctty Pique Frock.
A pretty pique frock for a child has
a coarse lace yoke of guimpe, a turn
down collar edging it frilled with
lace, and through the collar, which
is cut in deer slits, buttonhole stitched,
a ribbon is run and tied in the back.
Similar slits are cut in the lower part
of the waist of the little frock, which
has the skirt sewed to it without a
belt, and through this a narrow waist
ribbon is run and also tied in the back
Cliartnln£ Neck Chains.
Mexican opals make charming necfc
chains, pretty, limpid things. Some
of the stoues are deep red in tone, oth
ers almost white, a3 they show in dif
ferent lights. Each stone is set in a
gold band, and the whole necklace is
a liquid rainbow of light. Quite dif
ferent is tiie necklace of Australian
opals. In the other the stones are
almost flat, and in this the opalescent
beads, showing charming soft green
and blue tones In their milky depths,
are long and egg-shaped, with a line of
rook crystal running through the cen
tre of each, tte whole very dainty and
attractive.
Cliibl'x Wrapper.
Simple wrappers that can be slipped
on when the room is cool or during
convalescence are essential to the com
forts and well-being of the children
as they are to that of their elders. This
pretty little May Manton model can be
made to serve such purpose and also
as a bath robe when made from suit
able material. The original is of dot
ted dimity, in blue and white, but
Scotch and French flannel, tlar.nellette,
lawn and various fabrics are appro
priate.
The back is seamless and laid in
four tucks that give a yoke effect and
provide fulness below. The fronts also
are tucked but open at the centre for
their entire length, being closed by
means of buttons and button holes
when desired. The sleeves are in
bishop style and a simple roll-over col
lar finishes the neck.
To cut this wrapper for a child six
years of age, three nnd three-quarter
CHILD'S TVRArPEB.
yards of material twenty-Severn Indies
wide, three and one-eight yards thirty
two inches wide, or two and five-eight
yards forty-four inches wide, will be
required.
From the Kitten.
T an) only a kitten, and what can I do
To keep myself busy the longest day
through?
I cau eat a good dinner, and drink some
warm milk.
And smooth my soft fur till it's glossy
as silk;
[ can play when I'm frisky, and sleep
and grow fat,
And in time I'll be known as "the fam
ily cat."
—Little Folks.
Living Sunbeams.
Of all the birds the tinv humming
birds are the most lovely. They look
like animated jewels as they dart
about from flower to flower in the
sunshine. As is so often the case
with birds of beautiful plumage, they
have no song to speak of. Moreover,
they are as quarrelsome as the saucy
sparrow, fighting with their mates as
well as with strangers. They are very
inquisitive, too, their curiosity often
getting them into trouble, and some
times even into the collector's net.
But like most wild things they cannot
bear captivity, and usually pine away
and die. For that they are such ex
quisite creatures, the South American
Indians call them the pretty names of
the beams and locks of the sun.
The Glrla and the Para»oU.
Two little girls, named Annie and
Grace, had been given new sun shades,
and had fallen into a quarrel in regard
to their respective beauty.
"Mine is red," said Annie, "and
is therefore the gayest and most at
tractive, and will best become my com
plexion and hair."
"And mine," retorted Grace, "be
ing blue, is much cooler to look upon
and is a more fashionable summer col
or; and besides, its shape is better,
its size larger and its handle more
beautiful. I wouldn't have a red um
brella for anything, so there."
"And I think you're a mean, hate
ful, little girl, so there," answered
Annie.
Then they became so interested in
their quarrel that they laid their open
sunshades upon the ground while they
continued the argument.
And while they were thus engaged
a playful summer breeze came up-and,
catching up the parasols, whirled them
into a nearby pond, where they floated
amid the mud and ooze much to the
dismay of theiir owners.
Moral—ln (quarreling about the
shadows we often lose the substance. —
Chicago Recc/d Herald.
Keienfr for Young Folks.
Every bod* knows, or ought to know,
that the pressure of the atmosphere
at sea level\is in round figures. 15
pounds to thp square inch, but it is
not generally known that this may
be demonstrated in a very simple way.
Take a glass tube three feet in
length and closed at one end, the open
ing in the tube being equal to one
eighth of an incn square. Pour mercu
ry into the tube until it is full, and
then, with your finger over the open
end of the tube to keep the mercury
in and the air out, invert the tube in
to a small vessel containing mercury.
Having removed your finger from
the open end of the tube- the mercury
in the latter is, of course, in communi
cation with that in the vessel, and you
will find that the mercury, in the tube
will fall six inches, leaving that much
empty space at the top.
Now put your finger over the open
end of the tube again, and lift the lat
ter from the vessel. Four the mercury
out of the tube and weight it, and you
will find that it weighs three and
three-fourths ounces. That is to say,
a column of mercury one-eighth of an
inch square, and 30 inches in height
weighs three and three-fourths ounces.
But a square inch is t>4 times as large
as one-eighth of an inch, and a column
of mercury one inch square and 30
inches in i.eight would weigh, there
fore. 64 times three and three-fourths
ounces, or 240 ounces, which is equiva
lent "o 15 pounds.
The piessure of the atmosphere,
therefore, must be 15 pounds to every
squat c iuch of surface. —Philadelphia
Recoi d
Tlic Mocking IHrd and the 15 til if Hove.
On the eastern shore of Maryland
there are some beautiful woods, and
these woods resound with the music
of the little mocking birds that gaily
flit from bough to bough.
Some years ago, about twenty-five,
there lived in Talbot, a Maryland
town, a little girl named Alice, and
her brother William. They were the
only children of a clergyman, and
were greatly loved by every one. Like
other children they had their pets, and
being in this land of songsters among
them were a mocking-bird and a ring
dove.
"Bob," the mocking-bird had a very
soft-gray back, and the sprinkling of
white on his black wings and tail
made him look as if he had just come
in from a snow-storm, lie and the
pretty ring-dove with the black half
ring around its creamy neck were
kept in the same room in cages that
were hanging side by side.
"Bob" was the pride of* Talbot. He
could be heard through the village
streets at all hours of the day, and
very often at night, and the passers
by paused to listen to the clear liquid
notes poured forth so sweetly from
his tiny throat.
By and by an aunt of the children
came to visit them, and when the
time for her to leave drew near the
family thought they would like ta
make her a present. Unfortunately
they had not a great deal of money,
and as she had so often experessed
delight at the songs of the mocking
bird, it was decided to give little
"Bob" away.
I do not understand how that could
have been even thought of, but it was
—doubtless it was supposed that an
other mocking-bird could be caught in
the woods.
Alice and William grieved more than
the others, though they wanted to be
generous; yet it was many nights be
fore they fell asleep without a fearful
talk about their dear little merry
"Bob."
One morning came a letter from
Aunt Julia for Alice, and this is the
principal thing that was in it:
"I do not know what ails Bob. He
has not sung a note since we came
home, but sits in the Corner of his
cage drooping. 1 have tried every
thing I could think of. What do you
suppose is the trouble?"
The family at Talbot were surprised
to hear that "Bob" had stopped sing
ing, and the only way they could ac
count for it was that he missed his
little companion ring-dove. So they
decided, as they did not like to ask
to have "Bob" returned, to send the
ring-dove onto him.
This was done, and the change in
"Bob" was wonderful. He began sing,
ing, singing, singing, as if his little
throat could not contain the sweet
melodies any longer. They poured fort j
in bursts of rapture—the little bird
singing, singing, until there was one
final peal of glorious song, and little
"Bob" lay dead upon the floor of his
cage. He had lost his life while show
ing the joy that had come all too late
to his little broken heart.
I have often wondered what became
of the little ring-dove, but no one has
been able to tell me.—Anne Washing
ton Wilson, in Little Folks.
Villi anil Tlielr Oclil I.ittln Way*.
Fish have a great many curious hab
its and are often very knowing fel
lows. They can be ill-tempered oi
mild and gentle as truly as animals
or boys and girls. A visitor to the
aquarium at Battery Park one day re
cently discovered that there are not
only big fish, but tiny little ones whose
ways are well worth watching. Tc
hear of fishes with eyes nearly on theii
tails is surely astonishing. Yet that
is what the little "four-eyed fish" in
the Aquarium seem to have at first
j sight. But looking more carefully the
tail eyes prove, to be merely black
| spots inside of white circles. This lit-
I tie fish is so short and broad with its
I bit of a tail, that at a distance it is
j hard to tell which end is head and
, which tail.
Four-eyed fish have at least three
other names and are known as the
bride, butterfly and peacock fish, the
last name being given because the
' "eye" is like that in a prticock's tail
feather. There are more than twenty
of them in the tank in the Aquarium.
| but unhappily some make themselves
I disagreeable by nipping and biting the
others. They come from Bermuda,
i where they live in the shallows of the
coral, flitting in and out among its
j crevices and fissures.
Then there are the grunts, from Ber
: muda also. They have not deserved in
the least their ill-natured name, foi
j they are peaceful fellows.
The blue parrot fish are called by
one of the Aquarivm officials "merry
go-rounds," because for hours at a
time when their tank is full of watei
they amuse themselves by swimming
round and round in narrow circles.
One of the most interesting and in
telligent little things is the sea horse
Although so tiny, measuring only a
j few inches, he has a head and neck
I shaped like a miniature grace
ful and erect, and the long, tapering
tail makes him look like some of the
strange creatures of the fairy book
pictures. Mr. Spencer, one oi
the Aquarium officials, tapped lightly
on the glass, the sea horse came for
ward at once from his dim corner, and
seemed to pay the closest attention tc
all that was said to him. Mr. Spencei
has known them in laboratories tc
grow tame enough to come when
one called and cling to one's fingei
with their slender tails.
Among the strange and interesting
fishes who have had individuality al
their own is the exquisitely beautifu'
angel fish, with a gorgeous blue banc
about the edge of the body and fins
His nntne is as ill suited to his tempei
as the grunt's was found to be. for the
angel fish cruelly kills his mate.
The green morays, or great eels
which grow from 10 to 15 feet long;
the queen trigger fish, with a spine or
its back which raises or drops like
the trigger of a pistol, and the pretty
moonfish from our own Gravesend
bay, which look like mother of pear
and fairly cast a slight reflection front
their brilliant bodies, all attract many
visitors, and appear to be conscious
sometimes that they are being showr
off. But the carps at the entrance
so say the attendants, actually seem tc
weary of the crowds of sightseers, anc :
when they stand motionless anc
open their mouths languidly, it is theii
way of yawning and says to curious
visitors: "Oh, dear! Why can't you gc
away aud leave us alone." —New York
Tribune.
Tlio Hurefoot FIHI.
The latest sensation in Dublin is the
adoption by a number of society peo
pie of the "barefoot" fad for their chil
dren. Considerable attention it
aroused now and then in the streets
about the fashionable squares by the
appearance of smartly clad children,
walkiag barelegged and barefooted, all
but a slight sandal. The idea is that
the children are ma.le hardier and less
likely to take cold by this
—Dublin Freeman's Journal.