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3
A
rather than in the
Streeter was a young anthor who
had published several books, and who
was getting along as well as could be
expected, until suddenly he mes a
check. The check was only a check as
far as his own
cerned ; for it did not in the" least re-
tard the sale of his latest book, but
rather appeared to increase it. The
check was unexpected, for where he
had looked for a caress he had received
a blow. The blow was so well place
and so vigorous, that at first it stunned
him. Then he became unreasonably
angry. He resolved to strike back.
The review of his book in the Argus
was vigorously severe, and perhaps
what maddened him more than any-
thing else was the fact that, in spite of
his self-esteem, he realized the truth
of the criticism. If his books had been
less suceessful, orif he had been newer
as an author, he might possibly have
streets of Paris]
self-esteem was con- |
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z streets of London. |
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set himself out to profit by the keen |
thrusts given him by the Argus. He
might have remembered that although
Tennyson struck back at Christopher
‘Forth, calling him rusty, crusty and
anusty, yet the poet eliminated from
later editions sll blemishes which
‘musty Christopher had pointed out.
Streeter resolved to strike back with
something more tangible than a sarcas- |
2 = | them.”
tic verse. He quite admitted, even to
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‘himself, that a critic had every right |
ito criticise—that was what he was for; |
i eyes.
but he claimed that a man who pre-
tended to be an author's friend, and
who praised his books to his face, had
no right to go behind his back and pen
a criticism so scathing as that which
appeared in the Argus, for Streeter
knew that Alfred Davison had written
the criticism in the Argus, and Davi-
son had pretended to be his friend;
and had pretended, as well, that he
had a great admiration for Streeter’s
books.
As Streeter walked down the Boule-
vard des ltaliens, he saw, seated in
front of a cafe, the man whom he hoped
to meet; and, furthérmore, he was
pleased to see that the man had a friend
with him. The recognition of author
and critic was mutual.
¢‘Hallo, Streeter!” cried Davison;
‘¢¢when did you come over?’
<I left London yesterday,” answered |
Streeter.
“Then sit down and have something |
with us,” said Davison,
‘Streeter this is my friend Harmon.
‘He is an exile and a resident in Paris,
and, consequently, likes to meet his
countrymen.
drink, Streeter?”
“Bring me a glass of seltzer,” said
Streeter to the garcon who stood ready
to take the order.
When the waiter returned with =a
glass of seltzer Streeter pulled out his
purse.
¢‘No, no!” cried Davison; ‘‘you are
not going to pay for this—you arc
drinking with me.”
“I pay for my own drinks,” said
Streeter, surily.
Wires Will you lave to | should remember that the man who
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for I have promised to introduce you
to Miss Neville, who wishes very much |
to meet you. She isa great admirer
of yours and has read all your books.” |
“There are not very many of them,”
said Streeter, with a laugh; ‘‘and,
| such as they are, I hope Miss Neville
thinks more of them than I do mjy-
{ self.”
“Oh, we all know how modest au- |
thors are!” replied his hostess, lead-
ing him away to be introduced.
Miss Neville was young and pretty;
and she was evidently pleased to meet
d the rising young author.
“I have long wanted to see you,”
she said,
about your books.
‘You are very kind,” said Streeter,
‘‘but perhaps we might choose some-
“to have a talk with your
”
thing more profitable to talk about?”
“I am not so sure of that. Perhaps
vou have been accustomed to hear only
the nice things people say about you.
That is the misfortune of many
authors.”
“It is a misfortune,” said Streeter.
‘“What a writer needs is somebody to
tell him the truth.”
© “Ah!” said Miss Neville, ‘‘that is
another thing I am not so sure about.
| Mrs. Woodford has told you, I sup-
pose, that I have read all your books.
Did she add that I detested them?”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Woodford
led me to believe that you had liked
The girl leaned back in her chair
and looked at him with half-closed
“Of course,” she said, ‘Mrs. Wood-
ford does not know. It is not likely
that I would tell her I detested your
books while I asked for an introduec-
tion' to you. She took it for granted
that I meant to say pleasant things to
you, whereas I had made up my mind
to do the exact reverse. No one would
be more shocked than Mrs. Woodford
—unless, perhaps, it is yourself—if
she knew I was going to speak frankly
| with you.”
“I am not shocked,” said the young
man, seriously; ‘I recognize that
there are many things in my bocks
which are blemishes. ”
“Of course you dor’t mean that,”
said the frank young woman;
cause if you did you would not repeat
the faults in book after book.”
‘A man can but do his best,” said !
Streeter, getting annoyed in spite of |
himself, for no man takes kindly to the |
cordially. i candid friend.
‘‘A man can but do his
best, as Hubert said whose grandsire
draw a long-bow at Hastings.”
“Yes,” returned Miss Neville, ‘‘a
man can but do his best, although we
6c
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feated. What I feel is that you are
not doing your best, and that you will
not do your best until some objection-
able person like myself has a serious
talk with you.”
“Begin the serious talk,” said
Streeter; ‘I am ready and eager to
listen.”
“Did you read the review of your
latest book whieh appeared in the Ar-
‘Not while I invite you to drink | gus?’
with me!” protested the critic. ‘I pay
for this seltzer.”
“Very well; take it, then!”
Streeter, picking up the glass and dash-
ing the contents in the face of Davison.
Davison took out his hankerchief.
‘“What do you mean hy that, Strect-
er?” he asked, as the color mounted to
his brow.
said |
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“Did I,” said Strester, somewhat
startled—the meeting that wasso close |
and which was coming closer, and
which he had forgotten fcz the mo-
ment, flashing over him. “‘Yes, I did;
and I had the pleasure of meeting the
person who wrote it this evening.”
Miss Neville almost jumped in her
| chair.
Streeter took out his card and pen- |
¢iled a word or two on the pasteboard.
“There,” he said, ‘‘is my Paris ad-
dress.
mean by that, ask your friend here; he |
will inform you.”
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“Oh, I did not intend that you
should know that!” she said. ‘‘How
did you know it? How did you know
If you do not kpow what I |that I wrote reviews forthe Argus!”
“You!” cried Streeter, astonished in
his turn. ‘Do you mean to say that
And with that the novelist arose, | you wrote that review?”
bowed to the two, and departed.
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Miss Neville sank back in her chair
‘When he returned to his hotel, after | with a sigh.
a stroll along the brilliantly-lighted |
boulevards, he found waiting for him | has, as the Americans say, given me |
Mr. Harmon and a Frenchman.
I had no idea you would come so | that I was the writer!”
woon,” said Streeter, ‘‘otherwise I
| I had it on the very bestauthority.”
would not have kept you waiting.”
“Tt does not matter,” replied Har- |
mon; ‘‘we have not waited long. Af-|
fairs of this kind require prompt ac-|
tion. An insult lasts but twenty-four
hours, and my friend and principal has
no desire to put you to the inconveni-
| laughing, ‘‘why, he is one of the best
and stanchest friends you have; and so
| am I for that matter—indeed, I think!
| Iam even more your friend than Mr.
| Davison, for I think you can do good
“I thought Davison was the writer.
“Poor Davison!” said Miss Neville,
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““be= |
| a misapprehension. Anything that I
can do to make reparation I am willing
i fo do.”
“Oh. that’s all right !”’ said Davison;
| “nothing more need be said. I am
| perfectly satisfied. Let us get back to
| the city. I find it somewhat chilly
out here.”—Detroit Free Press.
ee —— ee
The Use of Poultices.
Physicians are often surprised at tha
| ignorance of patients concerning the
| nse of pouitices. The trouble arises
from a wrong idea as to the curative
- action of a poultice.
| In gencral, poultices are primarily
localizers of inflammation; they act
by softening and stimulating the tis-
sues with which they are brought di-
rectly in contact. The fact that their
value lies in the amount of heat and
moisture which they radiate to these
tissues, is the reason, probably, for
the application by the laity in every
| case where heat and moisture may
happen to be indicated as necessary.
Take, for example, two cases—a
poisoned wound and a finger swollen
by muscular strain. It is manifest
that these two cases are not parallel,
though in both the application of heat
is indicated as a remely.
In the case of the poisoned wound,
we have the presence of a foreign sub-
stance in the tissues. This sets up a
| local information, which by means of
| the circulation tends to spread and be-
| come general. We place a poultice
| over the affected part, and immediate-
| ly the application of the heat brings
| to it a fresh supply of blood contain-
ling numerous leucocytes—white cor-
| puscles—whose business it is to make
| war upon all foreign matter with which
| they may comein contact, and pus is
| formed. This finds a proper means of
| escape through the softened tissues
| under the poultice and with it comes
| the poison.
| In the case of the swollen finger, on
| the other hand, we have a simple irri-
| tation, and what we need in the way
| of treatment is just enough heat to
draw a renewed supply of blood to the
| weakened part for its nourishment,
| But we do not wish,asin the first case,
| to confine the heat long enough to
| stimulate the leucocytes to activity, as
in that event we should only bave
| made a bad matter worse, with an ab-
| cess to take care of.
The desired result may be obtained
by simply plunging the finger into wa-
| ter as hot as can be borne for a short
| time, or by rubbing on a stimulating
liniment.
| The moral of all this is that wo are
| to use poultices only where we wish
| to localize inflammation. In sprains
and the like proper stimulation is all
' that is required. —Youth’s Companion.
| ——————
Valuable Woods of Argentine,
While the upper provincesand terri-
| tories of the Argentine Republic are
| an almost unbroken forest of primeval
| proportions, in which are to be found
| hundreds of kinds of hard woods sus-
ceptible of the very finest polish and
| presenting the most exquisite color-
{ ings, yet the country is almost devoid
| of the soft woods of commerce. There
| are pines both in Misiones and along
| the Cordilleras of Patagonia, but they
are quite inaccessible to market; and
there are also immense cedar forests,
which are just now beginning to be ex-
ploited. At present, however, the only
woods which reach Buenos Ayres, or
are shipped abroad are the hard woods
of the Gran Chaco. Owing to their
specific gravity it is impossible to float
the logs down the Parana River; but
they are brought down in chatas, or
tiat-bottomed boats, or areloaded from
the banks directly in sailing vessels
bound to European ports. There is a
| growing demand for them both in
“There!” she said, ‘‘my impetuosity |
German and French manufacturing
centers, where they areused for cabinet
| away. After all, you did not know | work or are sawed into ornamental
| veneering.— American Agriculturist.
Geese That Cannot Swim,
Ducksswim the world over, but geese
do not. In South America a domestic
species is found that eannot excel an
| ordinary hen in aqnatic accomplish.
ments. It has lived so longin a coun-
Yes, sir.”
“Can I see the General?"
“*He is asleep. Don’t you hear him snor-
ing.”
“My!” said he, ain’t
50
After listening to the music awhile, he
said: ‘‘Well, this won't do for me. [ have
got to have the General's signature to this
requisition before the brigade can draw
rations.”
So, thinting it a shame for one man te
sleep while thousands waited for food, 1
considered the occassion sufficiently urgent
to venture on waking him up. Itookthe
requisition in my hand and entered the tent.
There lay the General on his cot, his big
nose showing up in bold relief as he lay on
his back.
I called him gently. ‘General! Oh, Gen-
eral!”’ but he was beyond calling. I put
my hand on his shoulder and gave him a
gentle shake; but he was proof against
gentle shakes. So Ygave him a shake that
nearly landed him on the floor,and succeed-
ed in bringing him to a sitting posture,
with a look of eager expectancy, which was
succeeded by a look ofdisgust when Ishoved
the requisition at him, saying that there
was an officer out there wan'ed it signed.
Up came his long, bony finger, and in a
very impressive voice ne delivered himself
thusly: ‘Young man, never shake a Bri-
gadier-General. If any more officers come
to see me, rap on the tent-post until I say,
‘Come in.”
It makes me smile yet to think what a
beautiful time 1 would have had waking
him up by rapping on the tent-pole. But
the old fellow got even with me later in the
day when my next turn came for sentry
duty. The sun had got well up, and pacing
up and down in the sun in front of the tent
was warm work. My fiannel-lined jacket
wus buttoned up tight, with my saber-belt
buckled on ouside, and every bit of heat in
my body bottled up tight and held in. It
occurred to me that by buckling the belt
around my hips under the jacket and leav-
ing the jacket open that it might make it
slightly more endurable. But I hadn’t en-
joyed the cool breeze under the jacket long
when I caught the old General's eve and
saw that he was beckoning me with his long
bony finger. I promptly stepped up with a
fine military salute, and was told to go back
to my quarters and return procerly equip-
ped, which meant to button up my jacket
and buckle the belt outside, which did,
and sweat out the balance of my two hours
the best way I could, counting every minute
when I was to be relieved, ;
Imagine how happy I felt when the Corp-
oral of the guard was coming to relieve me
to hear the General say to him: ‘‘Corporal
let this man carry a rail through the next
relief.”” The Corporal was a real good fel-
low, and selected the lighest one he could
find; but I tell you it was heavy enough be-
fore I laid it down at the end of my {wo
hours, aud I was in a brown study all the
time | was carrying it whether it was for
leaving my jacket open while on duty or for
shaking a Brigadier.—E. M. WaTrsonN, in
‘National Tribune.
“he's a-going it,
GEN.ZOLLICOFFER’SDEATH.
Personal Reminiscence of the Adjutant
of the 84th Ohio.
A few days alter the battle of Mill Springs
I was under medical treatment at a hotel in
Lebanon, Ky., when a man stopped over
night at the same place. He was dressed in
citizen's cloths, and «ept himself somewhat
secluded. I noticed he carried a crooked
root five or six feet long into his room, ad-
joining mine, and in doing so concealed it
with his cloak from those about him.
He saw my curicsity was awakened, and
to forestall any further suspicions, asked me
into his room, and we struck up an agree-
able friendship, Learning that I was from
northern Ohio, he said he lived in Franxlin,
Tenn., and had a partner in dentistry from
my own County, with whom I was well ac-
quainted before the war. He told me his
name was Clift; that he was a Surgeon in
Zollicoifer's regiment. and that the queer-
looking stick standing near him he had dug
up when the General fell from his horse,
and thatsome of Zollicoffer’'s life-blood was
on the root; that his remains were below.
logked in a safe place, and that he had them
in charge to take to Nashville.
His version of the General’s death was
substantially as several others have given
it. Heenjoined secrecy in what he told
mé, as he feared relic-hunters would give
him trouble. /
It was at the house of this same Dr. Cliff
that Gens. Schofield and Stanley took a
short nap anda good dinner on the 19th of
November, 1864. just before the desperate
battle of Franklin opened. and, as Dr. Hild-
reth, his partner, has said, was as gocd a
Union man at heart as either of his guests
| that day.
_ Zollicoffer stood very high in the estima-
tion of the citizens of Nashville, had repre-
sented them in Congress, and for years his
name had became familiar to the reading
public, for it always appeared at the foot of
every recorded vote list in the House. He
raised the regiment he commanded most-
ly in his own city, and it was composed of
the very best of young men—the elite of
the town.
A Mrs. Johnston, one year after, related.
to me in very graphic language the effect
the news of the battle had on the people of
Nashville. It had been reported to them
that their boys were in need of warmer
clothing ahd better fare: They therefore
decided on a grand festival to be held at
the market house on the public square, where
everybody was urged to bring in liberal con-
tributions. Everybody was enthusiastic.
The ladies were particularly efficient in
getting the Jong tables tastefully decorated
with Confederate emblems and flags. Never
before had there been so much spirit and
Mrs.
lated wealth. His
wealth fed his
vanity, which was
inordinate, and he
spared no expense
in obtaining no-
toriety. He purchased a house in
Newburyport, ana embellished it in
various ways. Inthe grounds he had
erected nearly fifty wooden statues,
representing some of the noted his-
torical characters of the world. One
of the statues was of Dexter himself,
and on it was the inscription: “I am
the first in the East, the first in the
West, and the greatest philosopher
in the Western world.” 'l'hefurnish-
ings of the house were imported. He
procured an elegant equipage, upon
which he had painted a coat of arms,
and he then assumed the title of
Lord Dexter. A former apprentice
of his, Jonathan Blummer, he had
trowned his poet laureate. but prob-
ably dissatisfied with his praises
Dexter began writing for the press.
One of his productions was entitled
“A Pickle for the Knowing Ones.”
The first edition did not have a
single stop or mark in its entire
make up: in the second edition one
entire page was filled with periods,
colons, commas, dashes, with a rec-
ommendation from the author to his
readers to use them where they were
wanted in the works, .or, in his own
language, “to peper and soolt it as
they pleased. - He made a pretense of
dying once to see how the people
would regard his departure, and be-
cause his wife did not cry on the oc-
casion, which she knew to be a sham,
he beat her severely. He had a mag-
nificent tomb prepared for his re-
mains, but when he died, which he
did in 1806, the Board of Health or.
dered his remains interred in the
common burying place. A simple
stone marks his grave.
> bins
LORD TIMOTHY DEX-
TER.
A Horsé with a False Ear.
“One of the most stylish driving
horses in this city has no ears,” re-
marked Eugene Carter, of Omaha,
says the St. Louis Republic. “I wiil
not disclose the name of the owner,
but the horse is driven on the boule-
vard every fine day for exercise. He
can easily trot in 2:32 without a skip,
and his disposition makes him one of
the most valuable family horses in
St. Louis. My brother raised the
horse. When a colt the animal had
his ears frozen so badly that when
the healing process set in they
sloughed off within an’ inch of the
head.
“The colt was the most promising
one in my brother Dan's stables, but
the loss of his ears made him unsala-
ble. Dan broke him three years ago,
and he showed speed from the first
trial. In less than six months he
trotted in 2:50, but the absence of
his ears placed a hoodoo upon his
real value. Dan conceived the idea
of a pair of artificial ears, and a skill-
ful veterinary surgeon had them
made and fitted th m accurately to
the stumps.
filled expectations, for fastened se-
curely to his head by an elastic band,
they defled the closest inspection,
and had, when attached to the
stumps, every motion made by a nat:
ural ear.”
re lee
Her Tougue Slipped.
The vencrable head of the house.
hold tore his hair and stamped about
as though breaking in new shoes,
while he discussed the last gas bill.
“Here, Ruth!” he shouted, “that
voung Slimjim is not to spend an-
other evening here. Understand?
Not another evening. I’ll have no
such bills to pay in the future. I
could rent a fine residence on Jeffer-
son avenue for what I'm paying out
here for gas. You want to serve
notice on that young man this very
evening, and if he won't mind you,
I'll see that he minds me. Under-
stand? 1 mean business.” “But,
papa,” hastily interrupted the fair
light of the household, “we never use
any gas to speak of after you and ma
retire,” and she rushed up-stairs with
her handkerchief in her mouth be-
cause of the break she had made and
the old gentleman decided on the
spot that human nature had changed
but little since he courted in the
They more than ful- |
aE Te — mm . * .
3 — . a . . i SELL. gam
Pa
a —" _—_— S——— _ - - re —— —— {
EE ———y 3 Su
NOTHING NEW, for you; for your coniuct appearcd to | Streeter looked hurriedly at his watch. SOLDIERN' COLUMN ' but few persons on the street and thesesho! | POPULAR SCIENCE. ; -
- a Sam be premeditated.” “Ah! I see,” said Miss Neville; ~ | by her without looking np. \ SO.
6 spider weaves gauzy web ; “You are quite rTight,”” answered | ‘this conversation is not to your taste. It seemed to her that something was wrong | :
Quick each false step retrieving, YStreecter: ** 3 ia on friends | Y yolng lead nn - and this apprehension increased every step, ' A leech has three jaws, which form
treeter; ‘‘I have a couple of friends | You are going to plead an appoin a h I
He’s weaving a ing on— : - 2 ; SHAKING A BRIGADIER. 50 well convinced was she before shereached a triangle.
i aving on and weaving on to whom I shall be pleased to intro- | ment—as if anyone could have an ap- the market honse that she observed several 1d aatrt t1 ou eitials
Fast in and out his swift thread goes duce you. Come this way, if you will | pointment at this hour of the morn- ———— groups of sad faces, and she dared not listen i The soli nu Timely in an egg eq B
From morn till night, from night till morn, be so kind.” { ing.” Why Leaving One’s Jacket Open Bes to find out what was the matter. Weak and one-third of its weight. :
And why so fast—the whole world knows The preliminaries were speedily ar-| ‘‘Nevertheless” said Streeter, Il came a Serions Offense. srembuling, she approached gn old Methodist Nearly 300,000 pounds of aluminum 1t
{That old, old web he's weaving. | ranged and the meeting was to take | have; and I must bid you good-bye. - : he pn me or God's sake tell me Were produced in this country last stan
{The drowsy bee on limber perch place next morning at daylight, with | But I assure you that my eyes hava IS the'spring of } what's the matter with the people thismorn- year. mak
* Is all day droning, swinging, pistols. | been opened, and that I have learned 1862°Co.- B, lat | ing.? g : cv: i India ink is made in Japan from ths ent
{And up and down, then down and up Now that everything was settled, the | a lesson to-night which I will not soon | Mich. Cav. was | Why, Sister Johnson, Zolicone iskilled * ,,t obtained by burning the shells of snd
y le , : Tok nite = > | tore 4 i r- | and his regimen \ :
. He sings and hums and hums and sings, prospect did not look quite so pleasant | forget. I hope Imay have the pleasure Sexstiod 2s Body: She added. i droprea em otly Tmt. i e
As sipping from a rose-leaf cup, to Streeter as it had done when he left | of meeting you again and continuing Gen. Crawiord. | my basketand broke several dishes.” " | A hive of 5000 bees should produce oe
He swings and sips, and sips and swicgs London. Davison had asked for no | this conversation. Perhapssome time We thought we | 5 Neues Rasplesn B® avery hody Soak fifty pounds of honey every year and 3
1 rs win ei explanation; but that, of course, | I may tell vou why I have to leave. were very fortu. | back what they ha Tough 4 = Le re edge
That old, old tune he's singing. . ’ . 3 2 A ; v 1 he place t home to multiply tenfold in five years.
id his nate, and that we | every family in the place went ho ply 3 bl
: conld be accounted for, because this| Streeter found his friends waiting ne Ande | ourn for a dear friend; but before night | pout ’ et s6olors ~~ e
Two lovers sit beneath the tree— critical sneak must be well aware of | for him. He knew it was no use try: soft snap. The | they got more authentic news that their , = ow Ah Dn Som: SA at 7 tern
Oh happy, happy meeting. the reason of the insult. Still, Streeter | ing to see Davison before the meeting. duties were mot boys, though badly whipped, were mostly | It 3s 5) that w ! ea 7 ow oO d bs non
‘What do they say? Oh, dear—my fair, had rather expected that he would | There was a long drive ahead of them, very severe, and shies 0 make Food time Be the TSA b i tracts ew, a red or black one beside £0 8
'Tis nothing new ; no, nothing new ; s hav i . How AY 'H : ! the Commissary Every veteran knows how long the boys jt ill be perfectly dry.
g ; DO, g , perhaps have pretended ignorance, and | and it was gray daylight when they department was | Will continue to repeat some word or prhase | Jy ar . pres
Oh, peachbloom cheek and golden hair— on receiving enlightenment might have | reached the ground and found the always accessible | that has no historical significance, such as | Anew glass for thermometers is un- its 1
Just “I love you,” swest *‘I love you,” avoided a meeting by apologizing. | other party waiting. We had to keep | Grab aroot” or “Here's your mule,” but affected by a heat of 1000 degrees, the trod
The old, old tale repeating. Anyhow, Streeter resolved to make | Each man took his place and the ourselves and a Yay a au ordinary glass being unreliable above the
—Bettie Garland, in Godey’s. a night of it. He left his friends to | nistol that was handed to him. Whe gb 2 “What's the news?’ “Oh! "Zollicoffer’s 750 degrees on account of its tendency alog
arrange for a carriage, and see to all | the word “Fire!” was given Streete, carry ourselves killed.””—C. Woobrurr, in National Tri- | to soften. yeas
STRIKING BACK that was necessary, while he donned | dropped his hand to his side. Davison » siz zd glemight Then riing behind une, | The carbon of the food, mixed with cert
' is war-nai A ih: | stood wi TE : int the General that it made our backs ache 3 ; : {shes and
x his war paint and departed for a Ae stood with his pistol still pointed, but sp I a a AN ECCENTRIC "LORD." | the oxygen of the air, Funnies fuel
. ering to which he had been inv ited, he did not fire. | gade, in writing of those times, even accus- for the body, which esnlves the b eat in Proc
X BY ROBERT BARR. and where he was to meet many of his | ty hy don’t you shoot, George? ed us of wearing paper collars, Qucer Abtivs of an. Ameriesn Would-Be exactly the same way that a fire or
countrymen and countrywomen in a ' said Davison. Among my earliest recollections of per. Aristocrat i candle does.
EORGE STREET- fashionabl t of Pari H t thi int buked his | sonal intimacy with the General was that ArISLOCPal. > <
of way in Duis, {iosaionabc DALE 07 Lars, Harmon, at this point, rebuked Is | oi) 6 morning when I was pacing back One of the most noted eccentries in Txperiments have been nade by MAL
Vacant he Lopedy. Jy hostess appeared to be over- principal, and said he must have nc | und forth in front of Headquarters tent | American life was Timothy Dexter, | Goutes and Sibillot with the view of
: 3 joyed to see him, communication with the other except | about d o'clock asa sentry. It wasa bea | 7.,rq Timothy Dexter as he chose to | adopting aluminum as a material for
and expected to ~ : ning g y ping
a °Xp |° “You late.” she said, ‘“that I through nd tiful morning. Hardly a sonud was to be 3 a
meet Alfred Da- | pre so Ys ol Tong LB Second. . s ; heard, except from inside the tent, from eall himself, who the gas-holders of dirigible balloons
sr | was afraid that something had occurred | Oh!” said Davison, impatiently, | whence issued the melodious notes of one died in the begin- | instead of silk or other stuffs, and the
vison there. He | : > g {
keew that Davi Yat vor keep you from coming alto- 9) Sos t pretend io know the rules of of tite besvios Roi thet, 1 eer came ning of the cen- | results of their experiments have been
: | gether. is idiotic game!” ross. h y begs v afaolory
son was going to | ° ¢«Nothine could have prevented me | 3 a Sto ped forward the rising sun there was a little stir about tury. He was born | satisfactory.
be in Paris for at | a AE aa I 1 A = ppea = the tires, for the cooks were gettingto work. in Malden, Mass., A trolley wire snapped and fell on
ar | from coming,” said Streeter, gallantly, | I merely wished to give you the | The mules, too. woke up, and by their tu- in 1747. aod en- South Boles and - Third
least a fortnight, | |; od : : ir. ya 5 : s the Sout oulevard, near ird ave
545 | ¢iohere Mrs. Woodford was hostess. | opportunity of firing at meif you cared | multu us braying it was quite evident that tered into busi - yi
and he had a par- | «Oh, that is very nice of you, Mr. | to do so,” he said; Sand now I desire | they wereready for breakfast also, An officer Bre 1B E0 > nne, 1n New York City, and one end, A
ticular reason for | Strack I 1% answered the lady; “hat 1 i = 1 ize for 2 SF ebion ot the cate. approached the General's tent and tccosted ness at Newbury- | from which a white flame shot, struck
wishing to come SS ets htes talkin Yt on ety wht ain ander] "Urs this tien. Coswionts toni? =port, where he | yWilligm J. Jones in the right eye,
across him in the]. oy N90 Stand 2 > JOU. any my ths : 3 3 thie Canidae rapidly accumu- | destroying the sight. He is suing for
$100,000 damages.
In producing the metal of tha
future, aluminum, America is in it. as
usual. Bauxite, the aluminum ore,
was first found in Pike County, Ala-
bana, in 1889. The Warwhoop bank,
in the latter place, has been quite ex-
tensively operated since 1892, and
considerable quantities of the metal
taken out.
The Northwestern Lancet is anthor-
ity for the statement that the drowning
of expert swimmers is not to be ex-
plained as is commonly supposed by
cramps, but by the perforation of the
ear dram. The vertigo and uncon-
sciousness which precedes death is
caused by the water entering the body
through the perforations in the drum.
With the introduction of the are
light a new insect was found—a huge
bug with mandibles whose bite was to
be dreaded. With the coming of the
electric cars a small insect of the
shave, size and color of the flea has
made its appearance. No one as yet
can explain its presence. It possesses
wings and its prineipal habit is to fly
into the mouth, nose or eyes of the
person when the car is going at a very
lively rate of speed. Motormen are at
times bothered with them, more es-
pecially in the afternoon and early in
the evening.
Contrary to the opinion of very em-
inent geologists, Professor Bonney
contends that glaciers exert no exca-
vating action, and this conclusion he
bases on facts observed by him in the
Swiss Alps. He had followedup many
of the valleys in Switzerland, and the
work of the glaciers in every instance
should, he believes, be classed rather
as abrasive than erosive. In the ab.
sence, however, of the erosive theory,
it will be difficult to acccounv for the
present character of many of the lochs
on the west coast and in theinterior of
Scotland.
em
A Famous Pianist’s Sprighily Remark,
Stupid as a pianist, is a simile at
once apt and exact. A man like Pad-
erewski, who divides his time between
practicing in private and performing
in public, has little leisure for the
study of differential calculus, cunei-
form inscriptions or any one of the
other thousand subjects of which a
proper understanding is the manifest
characteristic of a cultivated end
sprightly mind. Nevertheless, before
sailing for other shores, Paderewsii
managed to get off a little jest. It was
a poor thing, and not his own. Yet,
uttered by an artist assurprising as he,
it is not undeserving of record.
Whether by bribe, by flattery or by
both, history does not aver; but hy
some means a mother and daughter
managed to gain access Lo his sanctum.
The mother was proud of her daughter,
as mothers will be, and as for the
daughter, she had aspirations. She
hsd been taught to play, she thought
she played well, and, to make a long
story short, she ardently desired Pad-
crewski’s opinion of her prowess. She
| came, then, saw the piano and at-
| tempted its conquest. Paderewski
i listened, or appeared to, while the mo-
ther beat time approvingly. At last,
with a final crash, the girl rose from
the stool, and the mother flushed with
pleasure.
‘Tell me,” she whispered to the
artist. ‘‘Tell me in confidence. What
i do you think of her?”
Amiably the artist rubbed his hands.
‘I think she must be very chari-
, table.”
“Charitable? Charitable!”
“Yes,” Paderewski sweetly repeat-
ed. ‘‘Charitable. She lets not hex
i left hand know what her right hand
| doth.”—Omnce A Week.
———
ssiretting Into a Serape.”?
The red and fallow deer which
| formerly roamed through the English
forests had a habit of scraping up the
; earth with their forefeet to the depth
j of several inches, sometimes even of
half a yard. The stranger passing
through these woods was frequently
exposed to the danger of tumbling into
: one of these hollows, when he might
| be said truly to be ‘“in a scrape.” The
college students of Cambridge, in their
good-will shown as on this occasion,
| little perplexities, picked up and ap- i
f : Cr : ic work hi T i 2}. | > wh or 1 J 3 : i ,
i ence of repeating your action of this | work, while Mr. Davisou is foolish try where water is found only in wells | J said she started soon after sun-up on the | days of kerosene lamps.— Free Press. | Ted the ot pe 3. ole
i evening. We are taking it for granted | enough to believe you are doing it. | that it has lost its aquatic tastes and | day set with a basket of dishes to help com- . em I € phrase to other.perplexing I
that you have a friend prepared to act At this point in the conversation | abilities entirely. | plete the arrangements. She had about four You will miss it if you guess at matters, which had brought a man or
squares to go. She noticed that there were the size of a lion by his roar. , morally into a fix. —Detroit Free Press.