Cbc Bisque Cohen By JOHN LRIC VIRGINI (, j i /r l', 1 ,<■,'/ .V< i lure, Jt Co. 11.,- long suinl beach seetued to be deserted tint a single wul In view. Budieuly from tin- gray timbers of a wrecked vessel's stern rose Dickie Bert 's bead Half kneeling In bis worn and scanty garments, j le rested a baud on the jagged edge of a beam and, erailing bis neck, looked tip and down tlie beach. for a second be knelt tbere. facing tbe gleaming sea. 'l'be sun was In the west, but it was still bright Well, It was early yet. She usually came a bit nearer sunset time He hastily dived into one of bis pockets ami from the tangle that crammed It extracted three marbles, a fishhook anil his dearly bought treasure. I'be salesgirl had wrapped it daintily for him with nar row white ribbon, ami be held it care fully, almost reverently, in '.»oth brown little hands. "Jlmlnee. I'm glad I've got soine thln' to give her before she goes away— soniethin' to remember me by." For a quarter hour more the sun marched toward the western horizon, anil then she came But, alas, she was not alone! V man was with her—not one of her numerous summer admirers, but a man whom Dickie never had seen. He was young and vigorous, but there was something about him that bespoke ;igt —a sternness, even a hvd ness. as of one who had fought battles. They passed the corner of tbe wreck whence Dickie Boy's head had risen Just before and went down to the other end of the vessel, where some fallen timbers made a sheltered seat. They were both looking away from the dis mantled stern, and through a conven ient opening in Its Joints a pair of blue eyes watched them eagerly. It was not In Dickie'-, character of youthful ti«- dltlons to sneak or hide, even less to be an eaviwdropper. but somehow a cu rious shy lies* bad Invaded him at of the si rainier, and he found hlm«etf Unable to i: > forward or speak, but of the conversation which reached his ears ' he understood little or nothing—he was still such a child. "How plainly we hear the buoy!" said the girl, arranging tbe border of her bh e serge skirt close to her russet shoes. She was intent upon speaking of impersonalities. The man looked out to sea. whence came the fitful tone at disconcerting Intervals. "Wind's in our direction," he remark ed briefly. "What makes it so sad?" she specu lated idly, picking up a pebble and throwing it Into the surf. "Tho Ir regularity of the sound, do you think?" "Irregularity is not necessarily sad," tbe man objected. I think perhaps It's the aimiessness, the futility of it, dear. .V bell ought to call people to gether. and this one warns them off. Therefore It's lonely. It must ever be lonely. That's why it's sad, little girl." The bell swung at the mercy of tbe wind and water. Its sound came to them in the pauses of the surf. "Keep away, keep away!" chanted the girl, with the same measured inter- | vals. "Yes, I don't know but you're right. It's a rather doleful burden." j While the girl looked silently out to sea he reverently studied her face, with Its somewhat pale beauty—the effects of the gold hair under the yachting cap and that of the chastening Indif ference of her eyes. Suddenly be rose and stood before i her, hi.s broad shoulders silhouetted ugainst the growing pink of the west ern sky. "I'm going away again. Eleanor," be j said. "I'm going tonight. I thought when 1 came back tl it you might love me Perhaps you do. 1 don't know. You don't know yourself. But I've lost my old boyish faith, you see. 1 ills trust you. and you distrust yourself— and—so—it ii hopeless." He spoke with a bitterness that seemed involuntary. Then for one brief second lie stooped and laid his face against the soft l.uii on her forehead. She could not see the yearning tender ness of his expression, but there was a flush on her cheeks and a light iu her eyes "You see, Blair." she said slowly, "it's so hard for me to know my own mind. I" "Yes," be threw iu. a little frown on his forehead, "an i it wasn't so very dif ferent five yea: ;.go "You uiean to reproach me, Blair?" The flush on the girl's face was deeper now, but the light had died out. The note of trouble in her voice melted blm. Uncousciously he sat down again on the timbers. "I mean that I nave tost five good years out of my life because you didn't know your own mind, little girl. If you had known" She held out her slim hand to stop him. Then his eye fell on a tiny ring on the third finger a ring with n bit of red stoue like a drop of blood. He reached over and took the outstretched band. "Poor liitle ring," he said musingly. "You would not take It, you remember, Eleanor, till I promised that it should bind you to nothing It was to be a reminder merely of ..ur friendship. But in these five years all my thought, all my labor, lia- been for you. I've never been wholly hopeful, but l;ow the last shred of hope is gone." He relinquish ed her hand gently "And tomorrow well, the years that stretch before me seern a bit black and long." "Blair. I doM't think it's kind of you to talk lik»* that." tbe girl broke in. with a nervous little laugh that was half a sob "It makes me feel -it makes me feel positively guilty, ug If mirth rippled l"» • ■ ilie shadow of tbe big hat. and its ,w u< r let the suit case drop to the porch. It landed squarely on Mr. Lloyd's toes and brought the tears to his eyes. "I'm 'the baby.' " she laughingly said as she stood for a moment on the threshold of the door taking him in from head to foot, striving to fix the identity of her mysterious cross ex hminer. "I am 'baby' still, despite my advanced age and tbe centuries of fu tile protest at my mother's tender for getfulness. I Mil I not do well for an tnfant"—this very saucily and boldly— "to travel way from Albany to Blair vllle all alone, only to meet a severe luterlocut >r barring the entrance to my hunt's home?" "But Martha?" was all Mr. Lloyd could say "Is my mother, who will arrive to morrow I came ahead. Does this sat isfy you. Mr. impertinence? Please re move your foot from beneath my lug gage mi I carry it int i ihe house. Ba bies, you know, must have attention and attendance." Mr. Lloyd ex; raeteil his fojt with alacrity, though he did not obey the command He had fought and won many hard legal battles, but here was a golden opportunity to prove that there i are times when discretion is the better | part of valor. He tied, or, to be truth j ful, he limped abruptly down the little path toward the village. As he collect- i ed his thoughts, being a good lawyer ; and a wise jurist, he decided to revise j and to overrule his previous Judgment ns to babies. "Girl babies eighteen years of age j and upward, with rosy cheeks, laugh- j Ing eyes and fluffy hair and saucy dim- i pies," mused Mr. Lloyd, a smile play- ; ing round the corners of his mouth, "do ! not come within the purview of the , precedents you have heretofore cited to support your case. Judgment is ac- i cordingly rendered for the infant ile fendant. with costs to tbe belligerent plaintiff. Case dismissed." Mr. I.loyd returned to the Melton t household to dinner as placidly as usual, j As time progressed he learned whether 1 his decision as to one girl baby in par tlcular was to be affirmed by a higher court, from which there is no appeal. Winter Flhlilor. Winter fishing has one merit, which , all true sportsmen will recognize as such namely, considerable uncertain- j ty. One day you may fish certain wa- j ters— whether deep or shallow, whether weedy or,free—and well nigh draw a blank, while the very next day the same waters will give rich finny re turns. What is more strange is that not seldom on the same day there will be good luck in different depths and varying waters of the same lake or pond, and observation through the clear black ice of early winter or late au tumn has convinced the writer that these mystic fishy moods of biting In winter are almost or quite independent of the movements of the schools of "bait"' fish. About all that can be said on such points in the way of general suggestion is that winter fish bite usu ally better on a mild day than a cold one. best of all during a gentle thaw: that they take the bait more freely under thin i.-e that is, in early winter —than after the ice lias thickened, and that they appear to be quite unaffected by noise, such as the rumble of skates or the gentle thunder of the "settling" ice. It is certain that some of the best strings of a lifetime have been taken when the fun of skating could be Join ed with that of watching the lines.— Outing Magaziue. THE SUDAN NATIVES. rhff Oner Thought White Men to B« Submarine Monatera. There is a passage in one of the an cient Arab histories to the effect that "the white people come from the other side of the sea." This statement has become so distorted among certain tribes of natives of the Sudan that they believe that the white men come from the bottom of the sea. A wily Arab leader in this district once in formed his followers that they had nothing to fear from the white men, as they could not live away from the water. The fact that a high official took his bath daily was further con sidered confirmatory evidence of the submarine origin of the white man. The Arabs. In* order to retain their In fluence over the natives, spread broad cast the report that the white men were cannibals. The fact that they did not eat black men was explained as due to their devilish cunning. They wanted to make themselves strong In the country before beginning their hor rid practices, but as they could not al together do without this kind of food they brought human flesh with them in cans In west Africa a French expedi tion had the unfortunate experience of finding a portion of a human finger cut off, no doubt, by some accident—ln a can of meat. Here was fresh and conclusive confirmation of the story, In which the people had almost ceased to believe, and it was only after a con siderable lapse of time that the Idea was at length eradicated. Chicago News. AN AFRICAN FOREST. Peculiar Effecta Produced by Wind, Sunlljiht and Shadow. An explorer -describes a central Af rica forest: "Ten miles west of the lake begins the only piece of real vir gin forest met with. It is throughout a dense virgin forest and almost Im penetrable. It consists of very largo trees of many varieties. The upper parts are festooned with a light gray ish green moss hanging in long stream- ; ers nnd giving to the forest a very fan tastic appearance. When these long streamers are agitated by a storm they make the whole forest, seen from one of the hills near, look like a rough sea. Again, when the sun is vertical the whole forest appears dark, but when the sun Is low the general effect on the sunny side is curiously light. "All the trees are bound together with innumerable lianas and creeping plants. Between the stems is a dense tangled mass of lesser vegetation. The forest stands to a great extent In the water and mud of the swamp. A singular feature of It is the abruptness with which it begins and ceases on the plain. The grassy swamp or open country reaches to the mighty wall of trees, which continue in the same den sity from one side to the other. There is no smaller wool or scrub outside forming a transition from the open plain to the forest. "Inside, the silence and gloom are accentuated bv the apparent absence of animal or bird life. There are some herds of buffaloes that make It a head quarters. elephants visit It occasional ly, monkeys and parrots are sometimes seen, aml a harnessed antelope now and then appears at the iiige, but the gen eral impression left is one of lifeless ness." C alrinuu. Calcium \v:\n first made In minute quantities by Humphry Davy. In the new process chloride of calcium Is placed in a receptacle and fused by electroh -is An iron cathode forms a tia -is up hi which the molten calcium iep';-;ii itseif. and the once rare metal #u:ids i. -m■ 1 r up into an irregular rod resembl g a cabbage stalk When the I!: Ir gr iwii to the right length it is i !i!ppe 1 ofl" and dipped in paraffin v • x to preserve it from the action of the i'ir. I bur Mrnnjce anil Kenin rkn Mr Men, ,\ ; 1>; 'i!;e- the grandfather, prided him 'lf n> • wp'ii his wonderful strength •■! ! skill iu athletics than his genera Whip, as Duinas the second prided hii'iseif more upon his knowl edge of , i ik"ry than the authorship of "The Three Musketeers," so Dumas the third prided himself more upon his knowledge of art than upon the writ ing of La Dame aiu Camelias." They were three strange anil remarkable men. 41 Tbelr Own Kipeuae. "Do you joke writers ever make Jokes at your own expense?" "For the first few years all our Jokes are made that way After that, if we're lucky, we get paid for "em."— Cleveland Leader j The "Baby" 112 '« « I !By EDWARD L RECKARD -■J J l j"jjj 'j. fff r rrsss JJ']■ ssss j" J j-r S* r Mr. John Lloyd suffered the guilt of i ' an eavesdropper, and for the moment ! ' was deeply and regretfully conscious j ; of his crime. He mechanically removed from his j mouth an unlighteil cigar, and pressed j his lips determinedly. There could be ! no mistaking the words spoken in : ' Mrs. Melton's soft, motherly voice. : { Mr Lloyd stopped still on the stair ' case and deliberately listened. "Martha is coming with the baby to morrow oil the 1- o'clock train from j Albany." Mrs. Melton was saying. 1 i Hie rustling of note paper revealed her source of information to Mr. I.loyd as i plainly as if he were in the sitting room itself. "And to stay a whole month!" cried j 1 Miss Edith, the one remaining member of the Melton family who as yet had i escaped, through no fault of her own, 1 : the matrimonial halter. Mr. Lloyd tol erated Miss I'M.th because she was in tli" house when lie took up his resi ; donee with the Meltons a year ago. Next t ! babies. Mr Lloyd abominated j ' spinster- of c Ttain age out of pure 1 [ fear ot 'heir possible designs upon in :in-eii' nid unsuspecting bachelors, i"l I ley can have the big spare room, ami" Mr. Lioy.i did not wait to hear the conclusion of the sentence, spoken in i Mr. .Meiioil's hearty tones. He stepped ' quietly nit of the wide, old fashioned liaiiw: y iii the twilight and moodily walked to ird his law office, adjoin- : ing the courthouse at the other end of j the prosperous little county seat where | he had won a name for himself in the < few years lie had resided iu Blairville. 'ihe spue loom was across the hall j from Mr. Lloyd's own ample and hand somely furnished snuggery. So "Mar tlia and the baby" were togo iu the spare rooui. were they? The doors were to bang, the baby was to bawl ! and all of the members of the house- ' hold were to run up stairs and down again forty times an hour for eighteen I hours a day and, from Mr. Lloyd*; un sympathetic and pitifully deficient un derstanding as to babies, eighty-one j hours a night, waiting on"the baby," j making life miserable for the star j boarder and supposedly delightful for everybody else? Not if John Lloyd knew it! He would return to the ho-j tel in the village, at which he had been a central figure until the day he hail gone with the Meltons in their j big. rambling home on the hill ainoiif the maples. Hotel life had its draw- ! backs, bin the proprietor had been un ; der contract not to room doting moth- j ers and leathery lungeil infants with j In hearing of Mr. Lloyd's apartment. The next morning at breakfast Mr. Lloyd's silence and gloom were In marked contrast with the animated i table conversation regarding the visit ors who were to arrive that day. He had tried a dozen times during tbe . meal to tell them that he was to give up his room and return to the hotel, but each time the words stuck in his j throat. He finally divided that he would quietly return to the house dur j ing the morning, put his things in or- j der and later send for them with a polite note of explanation at the sud denness of his departure. True to his resolution, Mr. Lloyd j crept into the house unobserved and | placed his effects in some semblance | of order for removal. With every I sound from below be fancied he <1 is tinguisheil agonized squeals In infantile treble, mingled with the chorus of adult voices in soothing efforts to quiet the tempest. Warm and flustered for a dignified bachelor of thirty-five, Mr. Lloyd slipped down the side staircase, out on the little porch to which led the short cut up tbe hill from the railroad station. None of the family had observed his burglarious entrance or hasty exit, but, shades of Blackstone, a woman was coming along the narrow path over the rear lawn, directly up to the little porch a woman in a neat traveling gown and carrying a suit case! "Caught!" groaned Mr. Lloyd aloud, j and he felt a hot glow of shame and j ' vexation sweep over him. "Here's; Martha, by all that has to do with j babies, fat or lean, squealing or coo- J ing!" The feminine gender in the traveling gown paused at the foot of the steps, gazed in amazement at Mr. Lloyd's stern and heated, features and display ed from beneath a big hat the rosy face of a very pretty girl. Mr. Lloyd had not seen her profile because of the hat, and now that It came Into tnll view he looked again and did not re move his eyes from the roguish ones that sought his so inquiringly. "Martha, I suppose?" he ventured, impolitely, scornfully and audibly. "Sir!" The red lips parted haughtily, aud the trim figure straightened per ceptiblv iu the traveling gown at the strange salutation. "You're Martha, Mrs. Melton's sister, of course, but Where's"— Mr. Lloyd's voice dropped out of hearing as sud denly as his courage. "I'm not Martha." she answered j sharply. "To be sure you are," insisted Mr. Lloyd, very firmly. "Where's the the baby?" "The what?" cried the young lady wonderiugly. "The baby Martha's baby. Where is he, she or it, or whatever you call 'em?" Mr. I.lovd was desperate: but. as boy babies and girl babies all looked alike to him. his mixture of gender was excusable. An unmistakable girlish giggle of • I purposely broken your heart. \ou \ ..ul.ln t w : i.i to marry you if i In in I surely made up my mind, wo liil you? And I can't help it if na dir. deliberately made me a coquette— so ihere! She i . -ed a handful of sand into spai*e. She was angry with lier-elf for the foolish tears that had started. Then tbere came a startled little cry [ of pain. Some of the saml had blown i ilirtvih into Dickie Boy's blue eyes A few moments later, when he had been drawn out into the light ntid had stammered Ills honest excuses, he laid the ribbon wrapped packet In his j lady's lap and would have turned and fled, but his limbs seemed to have lost tbe power of locomotion. Eleanor swiftly untied the ribbon while Dickie watched her adoringly. He v. is not afraid of her. ever, but of the big strange gentleman with the se rious eyes "Oh, oh. oh!" cried Eleanor. "What a dear, cunning little heart!" She held up a heart shaped pin tray between : her eyes and the light. "And its j bisque, real bisque But who sent It, j Dickie Boy?" "I bought it, I did." ussured Dickie, swelling with diguity. "Why. IMckie. Dickie Hoy I Wherever lu the world <lid j m get ho much moneyV" she said tenderly, drawing him down to her side and pushing buck his locks of hair while she looked into his eyes. "Worked," answered Dickie laconic ally, displaying liis hard, brown little hands, which showed unmistakable signs of wrestle with a stubborn soil. "Oh. Dickie, Dickie Boy! And you ; did ail this for me?" "Do moiv'ii that for you, I would. I'd do anything for you," said he stout ly. An' 1 wauted you to have some thin' to remember me by when you | was gone." Involuntarily Eleanor turned to the grave face behind her. Blair hnd not i spoken. He was looking at the cliffs which frowned darkly against the glow of the sunset sky. and It suddenly struck her how deep were the lines that loneliness and pain had carved. Quick ly she glanced down again at the ador ing small countenance on her ar Years before Blair's face had worn that same look of boyish Idolatry. The remembrance of it touched her now as his manly devotion had failed to do. "I'll keep the little heart always, Dickie," she said, rising from the sand and stooping to kiss the boy's forehead I as she did so. "An' you won't break it?" inquired Dickie anxiously. Eleanor smiled strangely The bit of bisque had come to her as a token. "No, Dickie Boy. i shall never break any more hearts, 1 think * never any more." 1 urning to the man, she said gently: "Blair, dear. I'd like to walk up the hill and see the last of the sun set. Will you come?" The man stopped at sight of the girl's face. There was about It a strange radiance that touclied while It i uplifted him. And as the two went up the hill to gether Dickie followed at a respectful j distance, turuimr handsprings. THE PARLIAMENTARY WHIP. Ie In aik I uiporlnut Official and (iftii a (iouil Salary. When private art airs or other matters make it impossible for our lawmakers to attend to their duties in house or ! senate a "pair" i> made out with a member of the opposition and tiled with the clerk. This acts to preserve the balance of the majority, since one vote from each side is taken away. The matter i- entirely one of personal arrangement, and the clerk's only duty ! Is to record the tact. In parliament there is an official to prepare these pair- and to act as 1 '"whip" for iii- party, the place carry ing with it a salary of .<io.(kn) as pat ' ronage secretary. '1 he parliamentary whip is something | more than an arranger of pairs, how : evi r, for hi- chief duty lies in seeing | that all members of his party are pres- I eat when there i> likely to be a need of their vote, and for this purpose he i seinls out through his assistants no j tier* in which the importance of the j events to come is shown by the num -1 her of the underscored lines used. A one line whip, wherein the subject of the debate and other information are underscored inn once, is not regarded i as being particularly pressing, but a two line whip c tinmands attention, and a three line whip means that the recip i ient who absents himself is liable to j find h in*elf in disfavor with his party. : I our lines are used only in announcing I great events, and no one who receives j the occasional five line whip would j think of remaining away unless ill la I bed. in parliament pairing is a matter ar ! ranged by the whips of the opposing parties and not by those who seek to escape their duties. At times there are humorous mistakes made us each seeks to pair off some one who would la aay event remain away The most nota ble case was one wherein a man abed with a broken leg was paired with a member who had just died, each whip gloating ovei his cleverness until the facts came to light. WINDS AND DRAFTS. The Former \re BeneUelal, but the I.alter \re llnui|rruu». By a draft is meant the currents of air in an inclosed space. Our fore | fathers attributed nearly all the evils I that beset them to drafts, and they I would not have slept in uncurtained ' beds for anything. Of course their windows and dojrs were shaky, and I house- -tood far apart, so drafts were nearly inevitabl.'. But the modern sci entific world tries tu deny drafts alto gether and calls them winds, which are harmless and even healthy to a certain degree. Any one who cares to tiud out the difference between a wind and a draft can do so in any apartment which has windows on different sides of the house. I.et him open a window on a windy day on the side of the housa toward which the wind blows. The air which conies in is quite harmless if the person exposed to it be dressed In Warm clothes, and little children may take the air in a room thus ventilated. But let him open a window past which the wind blows, and it will be found that the air in the room is moved by a number of currents, all of which strive to reach the opening. It is the passing wiad which sucks up the air in the room and draws it out, and this causes the room to have what is called a draft. The effect upon sensitive persons is Immediately felt, like the forerunner of pain to come. A draft will always be felt as colder than the wind. Very dangerous drafts are those that are produced in railway cars by the rapid motion of the train. It is not wind that gets into the carriages, but the air of the car which is sucked out. A lighted match held to the chink of the window will prove this, as the tlame will be drawn toward the window, not blown from it. | "The Itrldßp" Horn of Sorrow. "My poem entitled 'The Bridge,'" said Longfellow, "was written in sor row, which made me feel for the loneli ness of others I was a widower at the time, and I u ed sometimes togo over the bridge to I'. iston evenings to meet friends and return near midnight by ' the same way The way was silent, ' save here and there a belated footstep. The sea rose or fcil among the wooden piers, and there w as a great furnace on ; the Brighton hills whose red light was J reflected I \ ,ie waxes. It was on such 1 a I te, 1 ry * alk that the spirit of ! i.L" pi ie upon me. The bridge has been gi i!> altered, but the place | or it is the same." I tie i: - - stein. "Yo • i t ike this horse." said the d e ' a bargain." I n't want him." said the > I want something to drive, and I never could drive a bar gain." The most manifest sign of wisdom Is a continual cheerfulness. Montaigne 1 BLACK FRIDAY. I he Mail Seene In tlie l.olil Itouui on 'i Hill l-'nleful Oeenwlon. la the middle of the gold room was a : Email fountain. Around this the day's j proceedings began, writes T. Ilendrlck j ia the Am ri. an Magazine. Jay Gould's j own broilers, pale, haggard, half dia- i trustful and halt ashamed of their | Work, st a 'aed the bids. Gold bail closed ; the day previously at 111. Now a Gould broker offered 14,"> for sl<X>,ooo gold. llis only response were the curses anil list shaking- of a bedraggled, per- j Fpiring crowd. "One hundred and forty-six for SIOO,- 00»» gold." Still there was no response. "One hundred and forty-seven." Each advancing point meant millions j in profits to Guild and likewise mil-| lioas ia losses t > the community. At every advance the crowds, losing all restraint, alternately roared and wept. I "One hundred aad forty-eight." "One hundred and forty-nin£" Above the pandemonium the monot onous voices of the Gould brokers could be heard, quietly, remorselessly putting up the price. _ "One hundred and fifty." "One hundred and fifty-one." At this point the buying began. Hith erto the crowd had been held magical ly spellbound. The audacity of the Gould brokers had paralyzed all. Board brokers were particularly dazed. In face of the clique's demonstrated pow er no oae seemed able to bid. even to make the feeblest attempt to check the terrible rise. A few uptown merchants now, how ever. started to purchase. Soon the "Lidding degenerated Into panic. Ev ery oae scrambled to get his gold ' now while the price, judged by what had already happened and the unques tioned power of the gang, seemed low. All purchases, however, meant enor mous losses. I Fortunes accumulated through years of self sacrificing toil were swept away iu a moment. In their craze men ran aimlessly about the room, moaning, I screaming, vainly appealing for help. ' Outside, where the crowds breathlessly j waited announcements, the same scenes i were repeated. Ruined men. unable to | get into tiie building itself, pushed, l cursed and fought. At each rise in the | price the rage against Gould increased. I When the h I reached 150 there were I cries of "Lynch! Lynch!" And meanwhile what was the plotter of all this mischief doing? lie was selling gold. To whom was he selling'.' To l-'isk and ;-Il his own associates. He was the only man who really under stood the situation who knew, that Is, Upon what a tiiinsy basis his "Corner" rested. li • seat I'isk. Bidden and Spcycr into the gold room to advance the price ostensibly for the benefit of the clique, and when it had reached a certain point unloaded on his own ac count lie had sold largely, unknown to his confederates, the day before. The t.rejilesl of Hirer*. The Amazon i- toe king of streams. I"ioni first to last it receives over 1,200 tributaries, of which more than 100 are large sized rive - an.l rise so far apart and have their Hoods aad ebbs at such different seasons that the Amazon is at about the same height the year around. At some points on its lower course one bank is invisible from the other. The beholder seems to be looking oa a great yellow sea of fr« s!t water. Wliea dis covered, some tribes of Indians on the lower portion knew nothing of the ex istence of the opposite shore and did not believe that it existed, saying that "the great river flowed all around the w >rld." It- aioiith, including that of the I'ara. is lsu miles in width, and it Is navigable for large sized ocean steamers for 1.0"" miles from the sea. ami so vast is the tiood that the ocean is tinged yellow for I<hi miles from the coast of Brazil 'AIM* % n Itiikiio. The Achaean league was formed by the twelve towns of Achaea for mu tual protection against foreign aggres sion. It was broken <ip by Alexander the Great, but reorganized B. ('. 280 and again dissolved it. <\ 147. The second of these leagues comprised all the leading cities of the I'eloponuesus ami. indeed, most of the cities and states of Greece. It was this league which contended with the Koaiaas for the independence of Greece; but, its troops being defeated by Metellus at Searphaea anil by Muiamius near Cor inth. the league was dissolved, and all Greece submitted t • the Koman domi nation. i ..e <<•. '. ii •• -• in society is a certain heartiness aad sympathy. A man who is not happy in company can not find any word iu his memory that j will lit the occasion. All his informa ; tioa is a little impertinent. A man who is happy there finds ia every turn of the conversation occasions for the Introduction of what he lias to say. The favorites of society are able men ami of more spirit than wit, who have uo uncomfortable egotism, but who ex actly fill the hour and company, con tented and contenting. Emerson. KILLTHMDoUciT" «no CURE the LUNCS Dr. King's New Discovery _ „ /CONSUMPTION Price FOR I OUGHSand 50c&$1.00| rrce T,ial - I Surest and Quickest Cure for all B THROAT and LUNG TROUB- 8 LES, or MONEY BACK. g HUNS II! A Reliable TIN SHOP Tor all kind of Tin Roofing Spoutlne and Ceneral Jolt Work. Stoves, Heaters. Ranges, Furnaces, etc. PRICES TUB IMBXT! QUALITY TOE BEST! JOHN HIXSOIN NO. U« E. FRONT ST, PARISH REGISTERS. (he Son <»t Kit I He* I'licy Kepi In llie llltl 111. > * In KIIKIhiiiI. A vicar, John Printer of Worle, is | accused in J."iS4 of having got so drunk "at a Taverne in London, being the I howse and signe of the Swaun in old | Fysh Street," that he had to be "caried j to his Lodginge. or some other conven j lent pln< c>. ihei being so dronck, not : bahle hym-seulf tog to" that, is, walk. Lie is also e'firge.l with being "a j common pi ycr at Howies in the i-hurebyanl of Worle (his own parish) j i nd a co, haunter of Tavernes, iilchouse Henrbeatinge (baiting) and Hill-beating', yea, upon the Sabbaoth | daies, ami an usual plaier at Tables I (Imekganm ,i i 'ardes in the ale , houses mi l invi i lies." j i»n Sept. Hfcil. John Kroek of j IMindry i < pre uteil. "For ie:.illie playing of the tiues i ami en ' in the churchyard theare on SaMi.io h dales and holie daies, as namelic li i', with others, did soe up pon St. M -rlie's tlaie past, and being reproved by (!>•• churchwarden for tho same, lice a lie him a frown rd answer, sayinge. *wi e are at < xercise to doe the kings crviee. A; you will not suffer us, , but the whiles you cutt your neighbors i throats.* lh it o.i Soandaie, 1 Julij, it on i Sonndaie I .lunij ult., hee, Arthur I'aytou, and Edward Ward, tayler, did | daum e iu the churchyard thereof." | ami ltichard Hulvord "played upon his instrument to those that usuallie iliitu.ee in the churchyard theare."— London Ac demy. THE BIRD OF DEATH. • It !» tlie Only V eiioiuou* Member of llie >• on t tiered Tribe. Among al! the thousands of feathered ! creatures classified by the trained or i uithologists but oae, the rpir a'doob, or * biiM of death," is known to be ven ■ a t . :s. 1 Ins queer and deadly species of the winged aad feathered tribe is a native of the i<laud of Papua, or New i.uiaea. llie Itird Is described as be. ing about the size of a common tame pigeon, of gray plumage and a tall of eMr.ioriiiii.uM length, ending In a tip of br.Hi int carlot red. It is a marsh bird and - [ >'tad to inhabit only the iiiunen ,• stagnant pools adjoining the lakes of the interior of the island. The rpir has a hooked beak as sharp as a cock's spur ami hollow. The venom with which i inoculates Is distilled in a set of organs which nature has pro vided for that purpose and which lie in the upper in a nil i t>le. just below the openings of the nostrils. Under this poison secret ing laboratory in the roof of the mouth is a small fleshy knob. When the bird sets its beak in the flesh of a victim this knob receives a pressure which liberates the venom and Inoculates the wound. Xo man, native or otherwise, was ever known to recover from a bite inflicted by a rpir n'doob. The suffering iu such eases is said to be much more agoniz ing than in cases of rattlesnake and Uila monster bites. The l*l«li Vet. curious i ustoia was at one time In vogue at I;ioueester, Mass.. which 11- lustrates the sacrei'aess which seems to surround a fish net ami the protec tion which the law affords that class of properi.\ Whenever it became neces sary to in' " miie a hi/use because of smallpox or oi'icr contagious disease tlie i oar.;atlne was elici ted by string ing Me:-; i : the Inti'iling on the out side I'h • !>• ailty for disturbing a net w is so great that no one <lared to med dle with the hairier. A Kinic'ii Rune. Alfonso, king of Aragon. was one day examining the different articles In his jeweler's shop in company with many ladies of his court. Lie had scarcely left the house when the Jew eler missed a diamond of great value and ran after tiiia. complaining of the theft. Th ■ king, not willing publicly to disgrace any of his attendants, com manded a ho ge basin full of sand to be brought him. into which he directed each pel's >n 10 putin th • band clinched and t-> .trav it out flat. Hy this means the diamond v.its left in die suml. un known by v hom | Tlse Home Paper j ■ of Danville. ! ; Of course you read ~ | \\ """" PI I. EOFLE'S OPULAR APER. i ! , i! Everybody Re HIS it. ! f'tiblished J;very Montr; l.xcvpt Sunday ;i ! No. 118. Mailt ngSt. I i Subscription o cen r Week. TONS OF GOLD TREASURE. I u*t Stort' of W «"si 11la I'hi|»tlf«l Krom New \\ **i*l• I Info Old. It has never in"ii told how vast was )l,e Ir«*:i dial was emptied from tin* I aew word not the «»!<! in tin* glorious lays <u' 'ln- Spanish dominion. We call mlv jn »of liow great it was by col liic.il .-vi.Usi >■ The I tootles of Cortes | nini I'IZ-ISTO me famous in annals of i now w rlu hSioi \ in them we liave ! read lin>\ the soldiers of the former •uried av •> i niy a small part of the t --ensures 1 ■ :oli'il i Mexico, yet were so i» i• i«• I ■' > iv lili stolen gold that when ill } i'HI f' "in the causeway into the lake i : : ie nciuorahlc retreat from ! Me\ ?' -ink and drowned as we :hted \ illl I'ltiintiieis of lead; also we ■; d!• I'i/. 'rro exacted as a trib i nie I'm- i lie lilti'i -.tion of the Inca Ata titt 1111 t'd ill;.i tilled to the depth of k.'vci 11 i •( i a i'i<■ in cuteen feet wide ' t \ 'wo feet long and that was Jv i! "I .:i lh l.i whi pesos d'or, the • Iu,\ lent of nearly Sirt,."ftO of our lirtlii". W ' !'• ike -ailed the south sea in ! tlie <;-i Iliad upon his piratical vnyairo i 1 <m- iimuavigation in the years I'.TT ?!• ■ nd when he captured the !Nn •» ra S uora delia t 'oneepeion -sur ii II I' d he I'ai afue or ♦spitfire of Cape I Kan I i in.it took three days to I transfer the treasure front the cap tured ship to hi> own. In that single haul there was realized a "purchase," as it \\.is eal'ed. of over twenty-six J tons of silve: - . besides eighty pounds of . I virgin gild. ih'rteen chests of pieces of | eigh containing over Sl.Oijo.OUO in i money ud an enoriiioiis amount of I jew eis and plate. | Upon tliti evidence of .lohn liv-te we | read that w hen the (Jolden Hind laid j her course 112 u- England. by way of the I j Cap- of iJo "I llitpe. she was so heavily | "ba'lasted" with pure silver that she | "rot! ■ exceeding deep in the water."— ! Harper's Magazine. j THE MOONSTROKE. I A Sailor'* Ei|tt-rifm-e Ult-r n Vighl \tt |ton Ut-t-k lit llit- Troitli-M. j "I'eople laugh at uiO'instrokes," said | a sailor. "They eall them shellbacks" superstition. 1 once had a moonstroke, I though. Mitl i tell you it was no laugh ing matte:'. "I.i a full moon one night in the trop ics I fell aslcp oil deck. The moon shone dilvctly on in■•. 1 lay in a white pool of moonlight. So three hours went by. "Then, when they woke me, I felt like a man in a dream. My moutli hung open, as it does when I sleaj), and 1 couldn't close it.and my head lay over on the side, and I couldn't straighten it up. "Nor could I understand what people said to me, nor could 1 obey orders. Voices I'd hear far away, but they seemed meaningless, unpleasant. 1 was very drowsy. All I wanted was sleep. "They worked on me for two days, rubbing nie down with cold water and dosing me with castor oil, before they brought i. e round. And always after j that I have been careful never to sleep j where the moon's ra\ - could get at me. I M.i moonstroke happened eight years j ago. but siill at every full moon 1 am I stupid ami drowsy, my head droops a j little to one side, and inv mouth tends ■ to hang open. j "There's many a sailor has been I moonstruck, but this accident never i befalls landsmen. I.andsmen, you see, i never sleep out of doors."—New York Herald. The Dni-kine Stool lit England. The lastest recorded use of the duck ing stool in England (the designations i cucking and ducking were, of course, i synonymous in the days of Queen Ellza ! bet In was in INiMt. It was at Leomin j ster, when a woman named Jenny I Pipes, alias Jane Corrau, was paraded through die town on the ducking stool ' and ducked in the water near Kenwa ter bridge by order of the magistrates, in l v l7 another woman, called Sarah Leake, was wheeled round the place in ! tlit same chair, but not ducked, as, fortunately for her. the water was too low. The instrument of punishment in question has not been used since then. — London Notes and Queries. ! f % '■ fe want to do alt Ms of Putin ' A j t Tin ; m j j It's It ! I |lt ill MR | | Its fit. | A. well pi tasty, Hill \| / ter Head, I A)l Ticket, Cii Program, St.. £>J ment or Card (y ) an advertise foryoui business,:i satisfaction to you Hew Type, lei Presses, Best Paper, M Skilled Vert, Promptness- A]] y°u can s>sk. A trial w'li mu'-u you our eustome We respectfull"' ;o-'- that trial. M* No. ii H. Mahoning St ,XJB, ,XJB, |
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers