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A MISLAID CONTINENT.
Now let us run the list over,
Of men preceding Christopher,
Who came before Columbus came, that lag-
gard dull and slow ;
Those early Buddhist missionaries,
The rapt religious visionaries,
Who thirteen hundred years ago discovered
Mexico.
An Irishman named Brendin
(The list is never ending)
Be crossed the Sea of Darkness, crossed the
wild, untraveled main.
He thought that he would try a land
Some miles away from Ireland,
Bo he, twelve hundred years ago, discovered
us again.
Leif Ericson, the Norseman,
A regular old sea-horseman,
Who rode the waves like stallions, and
couldn't endure the shore,
Five hundred years thereafter
Said to his wife in laughter:
“It’s time to go and find, my dear, America
once more.”
And so he went and found it,
With the ocean all around it,
And just where Brendin left it five hundred
years before ,
And then he cried ‘‘Eureka’
I'm a most successful seeker!"
And then —went off and lost it—couldn’t find
it any more.
They fought the sea, and crossed it,
And found a world —and lost it—
Those pre-Columbian voyagers were absent-
minded men ;
Their minds were so preoccupied
That when a continent they spied,
They absently mislaid it and it couldn't be
found again.
But Columbus when he found us
Somehow kept his arm around us,
For he knew he must be careful when he
found a hemisphere ;
And he knew just how to use it,
And he didn’t misplace and loss it,
And mislay it in a corner where it couldn't
be found next year.
Like a pretty worthless locket
He didn’t put it in his pocket
And drop the New World through a hole that
he'd forgot to mend .
But he kept his eye upon it,
And he kept his finger on it,
And he kept his grip upon it and held on it
to the end.
—Sam Walter Foss, in Yankee Blade.
“0ld Rags and Bottles.”
BY AMY RANDOLPH.
INKLE,
tinkle !”
It was no sound
of sheep-bells on
the Apennines, no
chiming of the
Angelus at twilight
across empurpled
vineyards and Pon-
tine marshes, yet
it had a cheery echo under the white-
‘blossomed elderbushes and close to
the old farm, even though it was only
tinkle,
o’ second nature to him to hoard up
things; and as he gets further on in
years, he's more set in his ways than
ever. Jest you come round the back
door. He's out and Comfort is out,
and now's a first-rate chance to get rid
of the old wood stove as has been
rustin’ in the shed for a hull year.”
Moses Minton’s eyes twinkled. t
was not the first time he had become
an accessory to just such harmless
domestic plots as this.
“I'm at your orders, mum,” said he.
‘“And prices warn’t never better for
you nor wuss for me. Halil a cent a
pound is what we're agivin’ for old
iron now.”
‘“’Taint much,” said Mrs. Ralston.
“It’s better than nothing,” argued
Moses. ‘‘And really,now, ain’t it wuth
that to get a lot of old truck out of the
house ?”
“Well, I dunno but what you're
right,” said Mrs. Ralston,
And while Mr. Ralston was yet cull-
ing out the ripest and deepest-colored
of the apricots for an especial order
for a dinmer party at Doctor Jessup’s
on the hill, old Moses loaded up his
cart with the rusty wood-stove in the
center of the bags of rags and bundles
of old newspapers and drove away,
jingling his bells through the purple
twilight to the infinite disgust of the
gray horse who knew an den of
clover and daisies when he found it
and was corresponingly reluctant to
leave it.
Presently Comfort Ralston came in;
a tall, rosy girl with limpid brown eyes
end luxuriant auburn locks pushed
off her fair, freckled brow.
“Am 1 late, mother?” said she.
“But they kept me longer than I ex-
pected.”
‘La, child, no,” Mrs. Ralston re-
sponded. ‘I hain’t but just hung the
kittle over. I'm sort o’ behindhand
to-night. Old Mose Minton has been
here, but don’t, for goodness sake, tell
your father! And I've sold the rags
and all them old paper and the wood-
stove out in the shed.”
“Mother! The wood-stove?”
“I got forty-five cents for it,” said
Mrs. Ralston. ‘And it wasn’t no use
to us, all rusting away there.”
‘‘Has he gone, mother?”
“Your father? Why, no, he’s busy
with them apricots out by the orchard
wall for—"
“N, I don't mean father, I mean
Moses Minton! Hes he gone?”
“More than half an hour ago,” said
Mrs. Ralston, scooping the tea out of
a little japanned tea-caddy with leis-
urely composure. Comfort turned
red, then white. She made a step
toward the door, but almost instantly
checked the movement.
“It’s no use,” she said, to herself.
“I must wait until to-morrow.”
The morrow’s sun was well sloping
on towardafternoon, when Mr. Ralston
hurried into the kitchen where his
wife was pricking plums to preserve,
relentless fork.
“Mother,” said he, ‘be I gettin’
a string of bells stretched across a |
wagon and agitated by the jog-jog of |
an ancient white horse, that was as |
blind as the little god of love, while a |
shrewd old man trudged beside him,
guiding his devious way.
‘“Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!”
‘“‘Anything in my line to-day,
squire?” asked Moses Milton, checking
his march as he caught sight of Mr.
Ralston gathering the early apricots
from the sunny side of the wall.
“Git out!” was the terse reply.
‘‘Rags?”’ suavely added Moses,
stretching nis neck to look at the red-
cheeked beauties whose subtle fragrance
filled the air. ‘‘Bottles? Old iron?
Noospapers?”
“Git out, I say!” growled Ralston,
never once glancing up from his oceu-
pation. “I hain’t no time to bother.”
‘No offence, I hope?” said the in-
domitably cheerful itinerant. “I seen
an old wood-stove in the shed as I
came by.”
“Well, and if you did, what busi- |
ness was it of yours?” retorted Ralston. |
“Wal, none, not if you look at it
that ar’ way,” said Moses. ‘But if so
be as we could drive a trade—""
“We can't then, and there's an end
on’t,” answered Ralston.
And after one or two second’s fur- |
ther waiting, Moses Minturn chirruped
to Old Gray, and once more the bells |
jangled merrily on the air indicative |
of a move.
“Strange how persistent them mis- |
erable creatures is,” thought Farmer |
Relston. |
‘Strange how crabbed Simeon Rals-
ton gets, as he gets older.” meditated |
Moses. ‘‘If that ar’s what money |
brings with it, I, for one, don’t wants
to be rich. Get up, Old Gray.”
Farther down the lane. however, |
where the ripening blackberries hung |
their knobs of jet on every bough and
spray and the sound of a little brook
somewhere in the distance made a
dreamy gurgling, Moses Minton came
across Mrs. Ralston, a fat, comfortable |
old dame, as unlike her husband as the |
motherly barn door hen is unlike the |
gaunt, high shouldered game cock.
“Well, I declare,” said Mrs. Rals-
ton, “‘if I wasn’t jest a-thinking about
you, Mose Minton!”
“Was you, though?”
old man. ‘‘Anything in my line to-
day? Woo-os, Gray! I sw’ar to good-
ness” (as the old horse contentedly
buried his nose in a green bank) ‘‘that |
there critter couldn’t find out Where |
the clover crumps grow no better, not
if he had forty pair of eyes, inste'd o’ |
being stun-blind !”’ !
‘Me and Comfort, we was a-sayin’,” |
contentedly purred on Mrs. Ralston, |
who was in full pursuit of a flock of |
lemon ducklings who were evading her |
guardianship in every direction, ‘‘that
you hadn’t been along in quitea spell. |
And the bag of mixed rags is quite |
full, and there's a lot of old numbers |
of the Missionary Review. and-—
don’t speak so loud. I kind o’ don’t
want father to heer. he’s so mortal sot |
chuckled the |
{
blind as well as deaf, or be I losin’ my
senses? If I ain’t, where's that old
sheet-iron stove as used to be in the
corner of the wood-house?”
Mrs. Ralston’s guilty conscience sent
| the red in a hot flood to her cheeks.
93
stove, Simeon?
| “That sheet-iron
said she. “Why——1I sold it!”
| «¢30ld it"’” shouted Ralston.
| “When? Why?”
“Yesterday arternoon,” said the old
{1ady. ‘‘T'o Mose Miton, as goes around
with the rag-and-bottle wagon. I
wasn't no use standin’ there—and he
gin me forty-five cents for it.”
“Forty-five cents!” roared Ralston.
‘For —ty—five—cents!”
And he rushed frantically out of
{ the house.
‘Mercy on me!” said Mrs. Ralston.
‘‘Is father crazy?”
Abgnt that time, Mrs. Minton, the
tall and gaunt helpmeet of the itin-
erant hero, was down in the cellar of |
| her house, rooting in the ash-drawer
of the identical wood-stove which her
husband had bonght yesternight; |
| while Comfort Ralston, upstairs
awaited the result of her investiga-
tions with a palpitating heart.
“Here it is!’ said Mrs. Minton. “‘A
flat packet of papers! Andit’s a good
thing yon thought of it afore Mose had
carted it oft!”
“Quick! Give it tome!” fluttered |
Comfort, as she caught sight of her
father’s figure trudging up the lane. |
“Let me get away before father comes!
Mind, Mrs. Minton, nota word of this
to him!”
"And away she ran, disappearing into |
the pine woods before Mrs. Minton
could realize what it all meant.
“Well, I never!” said Mrs. Minton. |
are engaged ag’in her father’s wishes!
And these is love-letters. Well, I do |
declare! Nobody needn’t never tell
me that there ain’t no romance, even
in the rag-and-bottle business!”
Then entered Mr. Ralson, panting
and perspiring with the haste he had
made.
‘Be you Mis’ Minton?” was his curt
address. |
‘Yes, please, sir,” said the old wo- |
man, smoothing her stiffly starched
white apron.
‘Your husband bought a sheet-iron
stove at our place yesterday—-the
Ralston farm--didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir,” a little timidly. “It’sin
his way of business, you know, sir.”
‘Yes, I know. But there was a pack-
age of papers in the pipe-joint——"
“No, sir, it wa’ n’t,”” said Mrs. Min-
ton, temporarily thrown off her guard.
‘Jt was in the ash-drawer, for--"
And then, remembering herself, she
screwed her lips close together and
grew very red.
“Where is the stove?’ ejaculated
Ralston.
‘Down cellar, sir,"
ton. ‘Look for yourself.
>
said Mrs, Min- |
I’m sure I |
your papers!”
And dowa rushed Simeon, In half
la glimpse
| empty hat.
| itself into the shabby one.
| “thank you!
| the country above where
ag'in’ partin’ with anything. Tt’s kind | aminute he returned, evidently much
relieved.
“They were in tke ash-drawer,” said
he, “and your *%Kdsband must ha
changed ’em around!
tween meddling men and meddling
women, I'm ‘most ruined!”
| “Dear me!” gasped Mrs. Minton,
looking feebly after him as he strods
away. ‘‘There ain’t neither beginnin
nor end to all this fuss. What will
Moses say when he comes home!”
Once safe in his own room at home,
Mr. Ralston fitted onhisspectacles anc
hurriedly opened the fateful package
“Faugh !” he cried, dropping it iv
dismay. “It’s a pack o’ love-letters!
‘My own love!’ ‘My dearest treasure!
‘Yours until death!” What are these!
And where's my five United States
bonds for a thousand dollars each?”
He was answered sooner than he had
expected, for while the exclamation
vet hovered on his lips, Comfort rushe¢
in with clasped hands.
“Father,” she cried, ‘“‘herc is some-
thing that belongs to you! Some
government bonds with your name on
them! And, oh, where did you gel
Ben's letters?”
man, a slow smile breaking over hie
face. “Well, here they be. A fan
exchange ain’t no robbery.”
“Father’’—the girl's head droppeo
her eyes— ‘‘you know it all now. We
love each other. We shall be wretehed
unless we can be united. Take back
what you said, father, Do not forbid
us to be happy, dear, dear father!”
“Well, well,” said Ralston, ready tc
concede anything in the immense relief
of recovering the treasures that had
| been well-nigh lost, “*have it your own
way, if the case is really so bad as that.
Folks says Ben’s business is lookin’ ug
of late, and p’r’aps he’ll make a decent
sort o’ husband for you yet.”
¢‘Oh, father! Oh, father!”
“There, there, Comfort,
monstrated the old farmer. ‘But it’s
sort o’ queer, now, ain't it, that we
in’-place for our things, eh?
old raven and a young un, eh?”
tidings.
mother, if you hadn't sold the old
stove!
1
| father’s face!
Moses Minton’s jangling
music in Comfort Ralston’s ears.—
New York Ledger.
rete
An Artist Helps a Fakir.
Usually stories regarding the per-
| sonal characteristics of foreign actors
| precede their arrival in this country,
| but the general rule does not seem to
| have been observed in the case of
| George Grossmith, the London come-
land after a brief engagement in the
| East. He left many {riends and ad-
| mirers in this country, and if half the
| stories now told of him are true he
| must be one of the kindliest of men.
{ One is related by the Buffalo (N. Y.)
| Commercial of his being in an inn at a
| well-known seaside resort, one even-
| ing, when a forlorn traveling ‘‘reciter,”
| of the type as pathetically well-known
| to England as to America, gave a s0-
| called ‘‘entertainment” in the drawing
| room. Like some of its sort, it was
| wearily unentertaining, and when he
| passed around his shabby hat at its
| conclusion it was but togatheralenten
| harvest of half-pence. As, disheartened
| enough, the fakir was leaving the
| room, Grossmith, just entering,caught
of his downecast face and |
Straightway grasping the |
situation, Grossmith signalled him
| with a gesture to remain, and taking
his stand at the end of the room, said,
“Ladies and gentlemen, as the next
number on the programme, I will give
you a humorous shetch;” and there-
upon did so in his most inimitable
style. Amid the rapturous applause
which followed, he proceeded to pass
around his hat, exactly as his prede-
cessor had done. The situation was
appreciated ; silver, in coins of gener-
ous size, promptly weighed it down.
Grossmith rejoined his humble fellow
entertainer ; the modish hat eraptied
Over them
Grossmith smiled his own sly, quaint
{ smile; and ‘‘Well, we've done pretty
well this evening, haven't we?” said
he, and was cff before one could say
19
- beet —eeeee + + et
Bears Killing Cattle.
One night last week a bear killed
and carried off a veal belonging to
| ‘Then it’s true that she and Ben Blifil | Peter Ficker, and so badly crippled a
yearling that it died the same day
from the effects of the injury. An old
cow was also pretty badly used up at
the same time and carries evidence of
bruin’s claws. The stock were all in
the pasture at the time the attack was
made, and after the calf had been
killed the bear carried it a distance of
over a mile into a gulch overgrowing
with undergrowth, where it was eaten.
Tt is said that bears are plentiful in
the Grand
Ronde empties into Snake River, and
they can be seen at all times of the
day along the banks of that stream.
A prospector’s camp was visited by
bruin last Monday during the absence
of the men and a quantity of bacon
aiid sugar eaten and destroyed, The
tracks in the sand show there must
have been three hears.---Asotin (Wash-
ington) Sentinel.
Se ————
New York Baby Boarders.
There are quite a number of women
in New York who earn their living by
taking in ‘‘baby boarders.” These
little tenants are anything but a bur-
den to their foster parents, many of
whom are widows or old maids who
But | don’t want nothin’ to do with none of | have passed the frivolous age and get
a great deal of comfort out of a haby
guest.
I declare, be |
plain, gathered or draped, is that most
| generally
peaks are permitted when more be-
“Ben's letters, eh?” said the old
on his shoulder, the tears sparkled in |
don’t |
squeeze me so everlastin’ close,” re- |
| tain is draped a length of sea-green
should both hev’ selected the same hid- |
Like an
And Comfort Ralston hastened joy- !
fully to her mother to impart the glad |
i length of Nile Green silk, putting here
“It never wonld have happened, |
Oh, you should have seen |
And ever afterward the sound of |
bells was |
Te S | dian, who recently returned to Eng- |
piercing each purple sphere with a |
THE MOST FASHIONABLE BODICE.
The round-waisted bodice, whether
adopted, although short
coming to the figure. Sleeves puffed
up above the shoulders are now quite
gone out of fashion; they are still
ample in the upper part, but come
sloping down from the shoulders,
draped to the elbow, and then clinging
to the wrists. This shape is more
graceful than the balloon sleeve, which
is still fashionable, but becoming
only to very slight figures. —New York
World.
A PORTIERE OF SHELLS.
A lady who spends her summers at
the seaside has collected about a bush-
el, more or less, of small, almost flat,
thin yellow shells, which abound at so
many points on the coast. With these
she this year fashioned a portiere that
is novel and pretty beyond description.
Each shell is pierced with a hot wire,
and then strung on a delicate wire, so
that the narrow end of one is next to
the wide end of the other. A number
of strings were made in this way long
enough to reach from the floor to the
curtain pole, where they were securely
fastened to a strip of plantation cloth
of the same shade as the shells.
Through the fretwork above this cur-
India silk, falling half way to the floor
on the right side.
A less ambitious woman has made a
curious scarf by sewing these shells in
artistic confusion on either end of a
and there among them bits of golden
brown seaweed. A fringe is made for
each end by stringing shells on green
embroidery silk instead of wire.—New
York Commercial Advertiser.
FABRICS FOR MOURNING DRESSES.
Deeply crinkled crepons of pure
wool very thinly woven are excellent
fabries for summer mourning dresses.
They are chosen at this season for the
first and deepest mourning dresses,
though many modistes commend Hen-
rietta cloths and French bombazines
all the year round, especially for the
first gowns worn by widows. Nuns’
veiling is still liked for its lightness,
and is already ordered for next year
by the merchants. Iron grenadines of
exceedingly fine meshes of mixed silk
and wool and those with a sheer "sur-
face not defined by meshes are suita-
ble for the deepest mourning dresses.
A new fabric, called “‘sable,” is a silk
crepon as thin as Liberty's silk, and
deeply crinkled like Japanese silk.
The fashionable modistes use sable for
the whole gown, and trim it with the
soft-finished English crape that is now
made without dressing and is entirely
lustreless. Gauze grenadines with pin
dots or with larger balls make thin
dresses for midsummer or are used for
blouse waists, with sleeves and skirt of
crepon or grenadine.
For general wear and traveling
dresses is a new Priestly goods, called
Carmelite, a light-weight mixture of
silk and wool that sheds dust, and is
as cool and thin as muslin. The silk-
warp crystallette introduced last sum-
mer is still liked for its dust-resisting
surface and feather weight. Camels
hair grenadine, as strong as iron, is an
admirable sheer wool fabrie, entirely
without lustre, cool to the touch, and
either plain, striped or figured, itis
forty-four inches wide, and costs from
81.50 to $2 a yard. All-wool batistes
and tamise cloths are slightly heavier
stuffs for ‘‘second-best” and traveling
dresses. Plain black india silks have
solittle lustre that they are commend-
ed for cool summer gowns, for travel-
ing, and for World's Fair dresses for
those wearing the deepest mourning.
Storm serges of very wide twills and
hop-sacking woven in basket checks
are suitable for seaside, mountain and
traveling gowns, and are also safe
purchases for the next season, as the
merchants have already placed large
orders for these stuffs for autumn and
winter use. —Harper’s Bazar.
HER COSTLY ROBE OF SPUN GLASS.
from a warp of silk woven in with a
body of spun glass go delicate in text-
ure that it is pliable as the softest silk.
The process was invented but recently,
and none of the peculiar fabric has as
yet been put upon the market except
in small articles, such as neckties, and
these only as souvenirs from the works
on the plaisance.
‘With the present facilities for manu-
facturing it can be made but slowly
and at great cost. One yard each day
is considered a big turnout. It is,
therefore, expensive material, and the
dress which the princess will have
when completed will cost about $5000.
Cost, however, will not be taken into
consideration so long as the princess
is pleased with the figure and fit. It
will be presented to her by the glass
works, when finished, and will be
taken to Spain for the especial delight
of the courtiers at home. Manager
Libby, of the glass works, said that all
arrangements had not been completed
for the acceptance of the dress, but
that they were under way and would
doubtless be finished that day. —Chi-
cago Herald. :
FASHION NOTES,
Blackroses are novelties in millinery.
Shot moire antique dresses are the
latest.
English coats of rain-proof cloth are
in great deman
Bluish violet shades are now taking
better in Paris than the reddish violet
craze now here.
Belted waists, which the modistes
call blouses, are part of many of the
imported dresses.
Paris is advocating flesh-colored
suede gloves for evening wear in place
of the pure white so long worn.
Dress nets, more popular than lace
skirtings, in large meshes, have a bor-
der trimming in guipure effects.
Black organdies have clusters of
cherries, unripe blackberriesand holly-
berries tossed gracefully on the sheer
black surfaces.
A favorite combination of color for
evening dresses is white and bright
orange yellow, the soft, rich tone of a
ripe nectarine.
Shoulder ruffles seem to suffer no de-
crease in popularity as the season ad-
vances. They are used on almost all
dresses of all materials.
Waists are inclined to be short and
are finished at the bottom with either
a frill or soft folds of silk, and have
enormous drooping sleeves.
Parasols are shown in all sorts of
pretty and graceful shapes. They
follow the dresses in being on the
fluffy order, and are literally loaded
with lace.
Linen tatting, in the new intricate
and really beautiful patterns, makes an
exceedingly pretty trimming for
morning dresses for both women and
children.
The hair at present is completely
waved all over the head. Fortunate is
the woman whose hair waves naturally.
Others must betake themselves to the
curling iron.
The latest fad for weddings at which
little girls act as bridesmaids is that
they should be dressed as flower girls
and carry wicker watering pots, filled
and twined with roses.
English walking gloves to be usea
with promenade costumes come in all
the cloth shades to match the toilets.
Gloves for the street fasten smoothly
over the wrist by four or five buttons
and are made with pique-stitched
seams.
The half-hoop rings are largely
used, and are sold in sets of from three
to five; ruby, diamond, sapphire and
enameled ones are worn together, or
two rings of colored gems are
separated by a couple of diamond
hoops.
Lace is to be worn to an extent
heretofore unheard of. To be strictly
fashionable, one may simply be
swathed in it. = There is nothing that
lends itself so readily to the fluffy
ruffly effect of waist trimmings as this
material.
Princess Eulalia, upon her return
home, will introduce into the royal
wardrobes of Furope a new and pe-
culiar product of American invention.
Her Highness, since arriving in this
country, has szen many things for
which admiration was expressed.
While making a trip through cosmo- |
politan Midway Plaisance, at the
World’s Fair, her eyes rested upon an
object which seems to have charmed
her above all others. She made no
hesitation in saying it delighted her
when it was first presented to her view,
and long after she left the plaisance
thoughts of possessing a sample filled
ber mind. Next day her mind was
made up to procure it at any cost, and
negotiations were at once entered into
for it.
This product of our genius which
| the royal lady has so signally honored
| by her wish for it is, of course, a dress.
But it is a dress such as no other wo-
man has yet worn, although one, a
distinguished actress, had found it be-
fore her and had made arrangements
for having one made. The dress is to
be made of glass, and will be woven es-
pecially for the princess at the works
on the plaisance. The material is made
+
A fine quality of ladies’ cloth, which
| is now called habit cloth, is an ex-
| tremely popular material. It comes
in all the exquisite new shades, and is
used not only for tailor-made costumes
| but for those that are much more
| elaborate.
| mohair and alapaca in their dust-re-
| sisting and admirable wearing quali-
| ties. These goods are now dyed in a
| greet many of the new shades, and
| look particularly effective in rose color
shot with gray, and reseda shading in-
to ple golden russet.
When will we hear the last of this
absurd talk about hair-cloth? One
may search for hours through the best
establishments and never find a yard
of it in most approved dresses. And
just why there should be so much talk
about it is something that no one
seems to understand.
The belt-and-girdle furor seems to
have no limit. Fitted belts of material
elaborately embroidered with beads
and jewels, velvet folds and drapings,
silk, satin, bengaline, ribbon, mull,
lace—there is no end to the materials
and combinations as foundation and
finish for these popular accessories.
| There are few fabrics that supercede .
POPULAR SCIENCE.
One heat unit equals 772 foot pounds.
Foz has been known to explode dur-
ing earthquake.
Tapioce, used in puddings, is ex-
tracted from a deadly poisonous plant.
The cry of the gray squirrel is an
exact imitation of that of a young
baby.
Thera is no doubt that persons ara
often moonstruck, particularly in the
tropics.
Water boils at different tempera
tures, according to the elevation above
the sea level.
The Simplon tunnel from Brieg in
Switzerland to Tsela in Italy, will be
twelve and one-half miies long.
Australia has extreme heat in sume
mer. A scientist says that matches ac-
cidentally dropped on the ground there
were ignited.
The shadow cast by any color does
not show that color but its comple-
mentary color, thus a red object shows
= fant tinge of green in its shadow, red
and green being complementary colors.
Some extensive experiments have
recently been made in vodicrrion with
the German Army, the object of which
has been to provide continuous elee-
trical illumination at night from bal-
loons.
In the good old times, when oil was
used in lighthouses, a 6000-candle
power lamp was considered immense.
The latest electric lighthouse, built in
France (Heve, at Havre,) will have the
power of 2,500,000 candles.
A horse can draw on the worst roaa
four times as much as he can carry on
his back. On a good macadamized
road he can draw ten times, on a plank
road twenty-five times, and on a street
railway fifty-eight times as much.
A Rhode Island sculler rejoices in
possessing an aluminum shell, made
wholly of that metal, that weighs only
twenty-three pounds, all rigged. It
measures thirty-one feet eight inches
over all, but is less than a foot wide.
Many deep sea fishesare covered with
phosphorescent spots, which act as
portable lamps. Thess fish live at a
depth of two to five miles. Their soft
bodies are made firm by the tremen-
dous pressure of the surrounding water.
A Cerman authority asserts that
writer's eramp ean be avoided by hold-
ing the pen or pencil so that the move-
ments take place at the brachiocarpal
articulation, but the new reporter says
he thinks he'd rather rue his chances
as to the cramp.
The ruddy color of Mars iz thought
by Herschel to be due to an ochery
tinge in the soil; by others it is at-
tributed to peculiarities of the at-
mosphere and clouds. Lambert sug-
gests that the color of the vegetation
on Mars may be red instead of green.
A novelty in thermometers is in the
form of a, sensitive paint, which at the
ordinary temperature is a bright yel-
low, but if submitted to heat gradually
changes color: until at 220 degrees
Fahrenheit it shows =a brilliant red.
On being cooled it returns to its pris-
tine hue, but remains as sensitive to
heat as ever.
In the southern part oi the Indian
Ocean, between twanty dozrezes and
fifty degrees east longitude, a cold ant-
arctic current has gr influence
than has been attr d tc it on the
maps. Its eitects are plainly manifest
far to the north by abnormally low
temperatures. the northern drift of
icebergs and the low salinivy of the
water.
or
In the whole field of nwbural science
there is nothing more astounding than
the number of times a fly can clap its
wings in a second. As the fly passes
through space at the rate of six feet in
a second. it must in that point of time
a it i 500 or 600 times. But
in rapid fight we ave required to be-
lieve 3609 is a moderate estimate. The
mind is stupefied if it attempts to
realize these results.
EE
Captured by a Sleeving Beauty.
When I wes last summer in Den-
mark, I went to Primkenau, where the
Dukes of Augustenburg had their resi-
dence. The Emvnress Augusta Victoria
was born and brought up there. The
Empress, as a child, had known, I was
told by a member of the little ducal
court, the Emperor in childhood. But
going to Cassel, and then to Bonn as a
student, he lost sight of her. The
acquaintanee was renewed
romantic circumstances. When he
was twenty, or thereabouis, he was
sent in the early summer on a tour to
Holstein, and extended it to Prim-
kenau. The younz Princess was a
finely grown girl and blooming as a
rose. She somenow heard who was
coming and dressed in her best to re-
ceive him. Growing tired of waiting
she got into a hammock swinging in
an arbor, which was scented with
freshly-blown lilae. There she fell
asleep. ’
The wandering Prince came by the’
arbor, saw the sleeping beauty, and
was conquered. It 1s said that as he
was gazing on her she was dreaming
that, more fortunate than her mother,
she was being watted to a magnificent
throne, and that an imperial crown
had descended on her head. William
did not mean to disturb the sleeping
beauty, but, as usual, he was in uni-
form, and the dragging of his sword on
the asphalt of the summer house and
the clanking of his spurs betrayed
him. She awoke and saw a pair of
eyes that looked Jove at hers and then
she rushed aws y toward the residence.
Presently her governess came to tell
her that the Crown Prince of Prussia
was there. Her mother, the Duchess
dowager, being ill, it devolved on
Augusta Victoria to do the honors.
She hastened to welcome the illustrious
visitor. He lost no timc in declaring
nimself her lover, and thev were
cagaged before he loft the house. —
London Truth.
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