I TRIBUTE TO JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.
BT JAY I TACQUJfIS.
(T'e remains of tin' author of -Home, Hweut
Home." left the (,f Jau. 4. 18Ki, on
board a French Nt" 1 """ 1 ''to carried to Mar
seilles, whence tlwy were forwarded to America.J
John Howard I'ayue! thy sacred bones
Bhoiil'f r4,rt t upon their native shore;
A thousand weloomoa to the ship
Tim' bears thee to thy home once more.
Alohammod&n and Christian wept
To lose the well-loved dust of olio
WlioßO pure, poetic soul had crept
Into their inmost hearts and homes.
For throe decades their loving hands
Had guarded well thy foreign tomb,
And dusky lips in Afric's land
Sang oft thy tender "Homo, Sweet Homo."
John Howard Payne, thy simple song,
From every open doorway floats.
Where summer evening loiterers throng
And one by one take up thy notes.
In everv warm, home-loving heart,
Though rich or poor, though high or low,
Thy "Home. Sw.ft Home" lias touched a chord
Responsive to its ebb und tlow.
In "palace home," in pleasure's hull,
Thy strains float out to dancing feet,
The noisy newsboys cease their call,
And roving urubs of the street
Take up the struiu with loud halloo,
While barefoot waifs with voices swoot
Sing on, of "homes" they never knew,
Of "loving smiles" they never meet.
"lis not tho poet's fiery words
That touch our fancy for a time,
And stir our passions and our blood,
And make us half iu love with crime.
'Tis not grave wisdom's learned voice
That rings for aye, through deatlileßß years,
Put thoughts like thine, one common theme
Of love, half mixed with pain and tears.
These words inscribed with iron pen,
Jn slabs which guurd thine empty tomb
P.ml echo in one grand amen
That swells from every heart and homo:
"Sure, when thy gentle spirit tied
To realms above the azure dome
With outstretched hands God's angel said,
Welcome to heaven's Home, Sweet Home.''
lIUHHVILLE, Neb.
[After tho removal of Payne's body the emptv
grave was covered with marble slabs, upon wliicu
were inscribed tho words of this last versa]
THIS IS AS IT SHOULD BE
When my son Gregory married Miss
Morrison, I gave him a piece of my
mind, and told him I didn't care if I
never saw him again. Why? Oh,
well, I didn't like her; she wasn't tho
sort of a girl I'd have chosen. I have
never seen her, but I knew she wasn't.
A Highly young thing, just from board
ing school, who couldn't make a shift,
or buke a loaf of bread; but there was
Miss Fish, a plain girl, to be sure, but
so good, a splendid housekeeper, and
all that. I always liked Almira Fish;
and Gregory to go and marry Fanny
Morrison! Well, as I said, I told him
what I thought of him and hor, and
the boy showed his temper, and for six
months I never saw him.
I hore it as long as I conld, but a
mother must be a fool about lier only
boy; so one day, as lie wouldn't come
to me, I went to him, as the rascal
knew I would. I went up to the oflico
and walked up to tho desk, and I was
going to scold him, but something
came over me that made me choke to
keep the tears back, and before I knew
it we had kissed and made friends.
"And now you'll go and see Fanny,"
said he; "and I'll find you there when I
come home at night." And after u little
coaxing I said I would go - and more
than that, I went.
The house was a cunning little place
a mile or two out of town, and, I must
say, it was very neat outside.
I rang I lie bell, it shone just as it
ought to, and before it stopped tink
ling some one opened the door. It was
a pretty young woman in a blue chintz
wrapper, and when I asked her if Mrs.
Gregory Bray was at home, she an
swered :
"Yes, that is my name. I've been ex
pecting you an age, but better lato than
never."
"How did you know I was com
ing?" I asked, puzzled fo know how
she knew me, for we had never met bo
fore.
"Oh, I didn't know," said she. "Ill
deed, I had made up my mind you
wouldn't; but it is a long way out here.
I know. Come right up stairs.
Miss Jones was here yesterday to on!
and baste, but wo will And us much as
we can do to do the trimming between
us."
"Cool," I thought. Then I said, "I
suppose von are having a dress made."
"A suit," she said, "a skirt, ovorskirt,
basque and dolman. I do hope you
make nice button-holes,"
"I should hope I do," said I. "1
would be ashamed of myself if I could
not."
"So many can't,"said she; "hut I told
Miss Jones to send me an experienced
hand, and she said there was no bettei
than Mrs. Switzer."
Now I began to understand. My
daughter-in-law took me for a seam
stress she expected, and if ever a wom
an had a chance I had 0110 now. Not a
word did I say, only I wondered it
seamstresses generally came to work
in gros grain silk and a cashmere
shawl; and I sat down in the rocking
chair she gave me and went to work
with a will. I can sew with anyone,
and as for button-holes- hut this is not
my story.
".She was a pretty girl, that daugli
ter-in-law of mine, and very chatty
and sociable. I talked of this and 1
talked of that, but not a word did she
say of lier mother-in-law. I spoke of
people I had known who had quarreled
with their relations, but she did not
tell me that hor husband's mother hud
quarreled with him.
At last I spoke right out about
mothers-in-law. 1 said:
"As a rule, motliers-in-law and
daughters-in-law don't agree."
She said: "That's a very wrong state
of things."
"Well," said I, "I suppose it is; but
liow do you account for it?"
"f suppose young people lire selfish
when they are first in love," said she,
"and forget old people's feelings."
It was an answer I did not expect.
"It is plain you are friendly with
your mother-in-law," said I.
"1 am sure I should be if I had ever
seen her."
"Oh, then, I have been misinformed,"
said I. "I was told that Mr. Gregory
Bray was the sou of Mrs. Bray, who
lives on street."
"That is perfectly true, but still wo
have never met."
"How singular," said T. "I've hoard
she was a very queer old lady ."
"You haven't heard the truth then,"
said my daughter-in-law, "Mv hus
band's mother is a very fine woman iu
every respect. But when my husband
told lier suddenly that he was going t„
truvry a girl she never saw, she was
naturally startled, and said some tilings
about me, knowing I was fresh from
boarding school and no housekeeper,
that offended Gregory, and so there
has been an estrangement. I think
my dear husband a little to blame, und
1 have urged' him a dozen times to go
and see her. He is very fond of her,
and thinks no one like lier in many
things; but his teuioer is uu. and it
wilt talce time to coot it ; liiealiwliue, i
feel quite sure if she knew me she
[ would like me better. Perhaps that
I is a piece of vanity, but I should try to
| make her, you know, and I won't full
| into absurd superstitions that a woman j
must hate her mother-in-law. I can't
remember my own mother, und Greg
ory's certainly would seem to come
next to her. Now you have the story,
Mrs. Switzer."
"I am sure it does you credit, and ,
the old lady ought to bo ashamed of I
herself."
I wanted to get up and kiss my
daughter-in-law then and there, but
tliat would have spoiled ray fun, so j
after that I sewed hard and didn't say j
much, and together we finished tlie j
pretty silk dress, and had just finished j
it when u key iu the door caught both j
our ears.
j "That is my husband," said my I
! daughter-in-law; and I knew it was I
Gregory. Upstairs lie came, two steps I
at a time, opened the door, and looked j
at us with a bright smile on liis face.
"This is as it should be. Fanny, I
shall kiss mother first this time."
And lie put liis arms around us both,
but Fanny gave a little scream.
"Oil, Gregory! what are you about?
This is Mrs. Switzer, who is making
| my dress. At least, I have thought
so all day."
"My dear," said I, "I've played a
.little tr'ick on you, or rather let you
play one on yourself, but you've turned
out as good as gold. I could not got
you to say a word against the old lady.
I am Gregory's mother, my dear, and
yours, too, if you'll call me so."
"Indeed I will," said the dear girl,
| "but I have kept you sewing hard all
day. You see, I was expecting a Mrs.
I Switzer, und I "
"We've been all the more sociable
, for thut, my dear," said I, "and I'm
glad it happened. I've been very fool
| bh all tho while, and Gregory lias
chosen a better wife for himself than
| I could have done."
And so I think to-day, for I believo
there never was a better woman than
Gregory's wife Fanny.
Falling a Boy I p in the Mori* tig,
If you want your boy to get up by
eight o'clock you will be obliged to
commence operating on him by six. A
boy never begins to sleep in earnest
until it is time to get up. Over night,
you must tell him that it is absolutely
essential to life, liberty, and tlie pur
suit of happiness that ho should get
up by eight o'clock, and make hint
understand that his honor is at stake.
Then sot tho alarm olock right by
liis head, and wind it clear up, so that
when it goes off at seveu, next morn
ing, tho whole neighborhood will hear
it, and think there is a fire some
where.
In the morning, after you have
cleared your throat, you can begin to
call your hoy. Tho earlier you start
out at it the more vocal exercise you will
got.
When you have yelled up the stair
way all that you feel thut you can, go
up stairs, and fire away at him from
the hall. Then, cheered and inspired
to fresh efforts by liis resounding snore,
open liis chamber door and shake him.
and poke him up, as tho keeper does
the animals at the menagerie. If you
work with a will, and your hands are
moderately cold, you will probably at
the end of half an hour's hard work,
elicit the sleepy inquiry ;
"What's wanted! Who's—a—want
ing -me—to-get up this time of
night"
And your boy will sit up in bed and
rub his fists into his sleepy eyes, and it
would tako an hour's hard work to
make him understand that lie is tho
same boy who was warned over night
to be on hand at eight this morning.
Ho will give up tho attempt to rub
open his eyes in despair, and sink hack
again among the pillows, and if you
mean to conquer, you have got the
whole business to go over again.
There are some very curio us facts
about boys who cannot wake up in the
morning -facts which go to show that
science lias not yet succeeded in ex
plaining everything.
This same boy of whom we have been
writing, will get up on the morning of
July tt.li at one o'clock, and noliodv to
call him! It is just as easy &s sliding
down hill. Ho w ill get up to go fishing
witli Bill Jones at any hour Bill may
name. He is always up in season to
si'O his big sister's beau take liis depar
ture on Monday morning nhouL cock
crow.
He can get up anil get ready to go on
tho train which leaves at seven a. nr.,
when there is a circus in prospect.
Ho is an early riser when he so wills
it, but on other occasions you might as
well try to wake up the sentinel on tlie
soldier s monument on your village
common.
And his mother will excuse him, and
toll her next door neighbor whose boys
are all girls, that poor Willie works so
' hard at school, and grows so fast, that
lie needs all the sleep lie can get, and
it seems to be a shame to wake him up
to cat breakfast witli the family. ,
And so YVillie is left in bed till ho
sees fit to get out of it, anil tho break
fast-table stands, and the kitchen girl's
temper is spoiled, and so are the muf
fins and the lmked potatoes; and when
Willie grows up anil gets a family cf
liis own, he will try liis wife's temper,
and lie will set the had example of un
punctuality to his children.
So, therefore, we say toliim : "Willie,
get up the first time you are called."—
Kate Thui-n, in Ntw York IVeel'.lt/.
"Miss Jennie una Me."
One evening a man, tall and spare,
surrounded by a country atmosphere,
cautiously approached tlie desk at
Willard's Hotel, Washington, and hesi
tatir.gly said that he wanted a room.
Mr. Harris placed the register before
him and handed him a pen.
"What's tliet for?" inquired tho
wouhl-he guest.
"Sign your name, please," was tho
reply.
"I've got a lady with mo. It's my
wife wove just got married," was tlie
faltering remark of tlie visitor.
"Then write both your names on the
register," was tho advice given.
An inspection a moment later ro
vealed the following entry;
"Miss Jeunie A me "
Two ALMOST perfect spheres about
four inches in diameter one black and
of vegetable origin and the other wliitt
and a mineral product—were lately ex
hibited to the Geneva Society of l'hys
ics and Natural History. Both were
remarkable as having been produced
by a mechanical movement. The black
ball was one of two produced by tha
slow rolling together of dust in a cav
ity of the oak shaft of an old mill
wheel, and the white ball was a calca
reous pebble found with many ethers
in a grotto traversed by a torrent flow
ing into the Athone.
LAM < >l' IIIL llv lI2ALL
j A STIUKIM' OOLIJitTIOX IN THE
NATIONAL MUSEUM.
A <Jrou| ol MCIIINO NOW Keilig 'Mollnloil
by Hie Tuxlili'liiilsts The Noiblo Anl
mills So Scarce tliut SpecimoiiM llavo
Willi Grout Difficulty lloeii Necuiotl.
\JJ i/W tlie most
r> H /vjOv Cj Kmlm diking objects or
!Iv <V /n ~ > A )\|y jjff collection of objects
j in tlie National Mu
! ( containing what i.s
known as tlio Inif
falo group. This
represents a small
\ section of Montana
i scenery, a spot in the prairie where
there is a pool of water and a group of
, buffalo mounted bv the taxidermist in
■ most life-like attitudes gathered about
| the pool. The animals were secured
! by Mr. Hornaday in his famous hunt
j w for the last of the buffalo." The
scenic accessories down to the last
| little tuft of prairie grass were ar
] ranged by Mr. Hornaday, and the buf
falo were mounted by him, all in faith
ful conformity with nature, which he
had ample opportunity for studying.
Soon there will be placed near tills
buffalo group another of equal size
and importance. It will tell as well
as one such collection can the life liis
' torv of tho moose. The moose group
will bo made up in part of trophies of
Col. Cecil Clay's. The scene to be rep
resented lias been all planned and
. sketched in black and white by Mr.
1 Hornaday. Joseph Palmer, the tax
• iderniist, is mounting the moose in the
various attitudes they will assume in
3 the complete group. Col. Clay, who
i has taken much interest in the work
and has given personal direction to
i many of the details, has gone on a trip
i to Canadian wilds, portly for tho pur
poso of securing right from tho spot
where the moose were shot tho trees,
shrubbery, stumps, and grass required
6 2 5
J^oom
to make the scene a truthful repre
sentation of what a stealthy hunter
who could got near enough to such a
group of moose might actually have
seen.
The larger of the rooms occupied by
the taxidermist is now devoted almost
entirely to the moose. In fact, there
is room on tho floor for little else, but
the shelves are covered with casts,
drawings, skies, antlers, and the many
materials used by tho taxidermist. On
one shelf is a cast made from the head
of a big moose, showing the great de
velopment of the flexible nose a pro
vision of nature which enables tho ani
mal to plow beneath the surface of tho
crusted snow in winter in search of tho
foliage of bushos upon which it feeds
at that season, and also aids as a horn
to give volume and effect to its pecul
iar and prolonged bellow when calling
to its mate.
On low platforms on tlio floor .stand
the moose already mounted or in pro
cess of mounting. The largest of the
group is a cow, and the taxidermist
has about completed work upon this
aiaimal. This is the huge creature
fiom the province of Ontario shot for
the museum hv Col. ('lay and which
measured ( feet 1 inches in height at
the withers. It is as largo as a big
horse and weighed 1,500 pounds. It
is represented with legs somewhat
spread and its short neck and long
head stretched at an angle upward,
as if reaching out to seize with its
tongue and overhanging upper lip a
leaf or twig from the branch of a tree.
The shortness of the neck, the size of
the head, and length of the awkward
1< eking limbs give the creature a some
what ungainly aspect, lmt the taxider
mist has stuck to the lines laid down
by nature's handiwork. The neck is
sc. short that it is with difficulty the
Putting' on "ttje Goat
animal gets its noso to the ground, and
instead of grazing as common cattle or
deer do it feeds upon leaves from the
tops of bushes or 011 the lower limbs of
4rees.
A recent visit to the work-room
showed Joseph L'almer and his assist
ant, A. H. Forney, giving the sem
blance of life to the legs of a yearling
moose which is to form one* of the
group. Near by stood another cow,
about completed, ami the calf secured
by Colonel Clay with the big cow was
off in a corner by itself ready to take
part in the moose tableau. The calf,l
which was a very young one, is dis
tinguished, like its mother, by the]
length of its legs. A hull shot in|
Maine stood on the ways near by, not!
yet ready to he launched. It was the
most interesting object in the room to
one who wanted to see how a mooso
is made—that is, a moose made by a
taxidermist. It had not had its coat
put 011 yot. The head was there, a
genuine moose skull with branching
antlers and some deficiencies in the
honv structuro supplied by tlio skill
of the taxidermist. The body, well
rounded out and made in tlio per
fect imago of a moose, was composed,
so far as tlio cyo could sec, of
lino "excelsior," wound, and packed,
and padded, and molded, and wired
'into the form of muscles and flesh.
There wore the shoulders, and the
joints, and the line (J the backbone all
brought out and well defined. The legs
had for their foundation or base the
leg bones of the moose rearticnlated by
the taxidermist and strengthened anil
supported by slender hut strong iron
rods bent into nrouer shane. About
these hones were twined the muscles
and tendons of "excelsior." The taxi-
Yearling ■
dermist, by utilizing the skull and
bones of the animal, secures outlines ]
and dimensions for which nature is
responsible aud cannot be questioned.
This half-made bull is almost as largo
as tho great cow. Colonel Clay is not
satisfied with its size, however, and
hopes to secure one to substitute for it
—a monarch of its race, which will
represent fully tho height and size at
tained by the full-grown old moose
bull. This bull is represented stand
ing quietly and naturally in its tracks,
with its head about the level of its
hump. On the floor lay the leg bones
of another moose shot by Colonel
Clay, and which soon will have to
perform service as part of the
skeleton of a moose, whose heart and
vitals, circulatory system, muscles
and flesh will be excelsior. When the
body and limbs have been modeled to
accord perfectly with measurements,
sketches and casts taken from the
animal before it was dismembered tho
skin lias to be put on, and in this the
skill of tho taxidermist is severely
tested. The skin has in the first place
to he removed with much earo from
the animal after it is shot. Then it
has to be treated carefully so as to pre
serve all the natural color and aspect
of the coat, and be kept in a flexible
condition without either shrinking 01
stretching. Nature's tailorings done
with much nicety, and even when the
taxidermist has nature's own materi
als, it is not an easy task to securo the
same exactness of tit in one place 01
the soft fold in another as that which
characterized the eoat of the live ani
mal. Tho workman has to study his
subject thoroughly in order to have
bis reproduction of nature look com
fortable in its skin.
The group, when mounted, will bo
represented feeding in a clump of trees,
birch and ash, such as might be found
in the moose country in Northern
Maine or Ontario in the autumn.
*""a*hg
Tho glass-case in which tlioy will lie
placed will bo of tho same size as that
inclosing the buffalo group-—l 2by Hi.
In tlie foreground the big cow will
stand, reaching up and grasping at a
twig with its tongue and lip. lly it
will stand the calf, and the yeaiiing
moose will be standing by with its
head down and tongue protruding,
licking the calf's forehead. Tho other
moose will be feeding near by. The
bull moose, still to be mounted in the
workshop, will lie postured in what is
perhaps the most characteristic atti
tude. Tho moose, when it cannot con
veniently feed upon the leaves of a
sapling by reaching upward,will throw
its weight against tho stem of the
sapling, bend it down,and walk astride
of it. It will then feed at ease upon
the succulent twigs and leaves. This
performance is called in moose-hunters'
parlance "riding down" a tree, and the
moose yet to be rehabilitated will bo
represented in the act of feeding on a
sapling which it has ridden down.
The (lame of Information.
The nowest game for winter even
ings takes tho form of an information
party, and is begun by passing to each
boy a card and to the girls small pieces
of paper, which should bo numbered
from one up to the number of girls in
tlie gante. Tho boys then write a nnm
her on their cards, and those who dis
cover the same number on their card
and paper are partners for tho game.
Each couple must think of a qiies
tion, sensible or ridiculous, historical
or in regard to the weather, to he writ
ten 011 cards, after which the cards are
to be gathered together, and tho loader
reads eacli in turn, giving a few mo
ments for tho partners to consider the
subject and write the answer, which
should be read aloud in turn.
This is where the fun of tho game
begins, as many of the answers nre ex
ceedingly queer.
Those having a correct answer mark
their card 10; a wrong answer 0; and
if the answer is anywhere near right it
is counted. When all are added, prizes
may he distributed as in progressive
games for the best and the poorest
record.
This is an amusing game because of
the misinformation it elicits. A great
many people will ho surprised nt their
own ignorance in regard to such ques
tions as to tho number of States and
Territories, the location of cities in
Europe, the names of well-known rul
ers, and so forth.
()f course it is not fair to ask for ox
act dates in history, but outside of that,
there is plenty of chance to trip some
body who thinks ho "knews it all."—
(JolUen Days.
The Cook's Revenge.
A very curious caso has just been de
cided in a Frankfort police court. It
appears that a cook, no longer quite
young, was courted by a tailor some
what younger than she. On Sundays,
und occasionally during tho week, tho
gallant lover was in the hahitof taking
his lady for extended promenades and
visits to restaurants, whore the latter
always paid the expense. She also pro
vided him regularly with his supper.
Presently, however, tho awful truth
was brought homo to tho cook that she
was not the only "friend" on whom the
man of scissors and tho needle lavished
his affections. Nothing loath, slio wont
to the nearest police court, suing tho
faithless one for tho expenses of all the
clandestine meals provided by her, and
all tlse money spent when "walkiug
out" with him.— iierlin letter.
THE SPEARING OF FISH.
BIKTHODS OF rPItSVINU THIS PISCA
TOKIAL SPOKT.
The Kerosene Torch HON Superseded the
Old-FaHhlolied Pine Knots aiul Wire
Hark lliilills el' Oifl'eronl Kinds el Finh
and (he Dilllciilty in Successfully Im
paling Tlieiu.
SPEAR WAS
/ at Ono til,ie ro S arJeil
|H honorable and
i|j J effective implement
war ut lIOW * s
|klonly 1 only used by bar-
NL barians and sports
men. Our inland
rivers and coast
creeks are lit up
every night with the torches of fishermen
in quest of the silver eel or the pickerel.
Fish spears have long been laid away, for
spearing fish duHug the spawning season
is a crime that should call down all the
thunders of the piscatorial Jove. Yet,
such fish slayers do exist.
Visitors along the bays of our coast and
inland streams may now see, when they
aro walking abroad in the calm evenings,
light-like enlarged will-o'-the-wisps float
ing from poiut to point among the shal
lows. They investigate them, to (lud t : e
mystery resolve itself into a boat with two
men, 0110 to pole the boat and one to
spear the fish. The light proceeds from
an upright about three feet high, from
which projects an arm of about the same
length, the and of which is loosoly
wrapped around with tow or cotton
waste. On the top ot the upright is a
two-quart can fitted with a faucet and
holding kerosene, which flows fast or slow
as desire J along the arm, 'which is hollow,
and saturates the bundle of tow, and this
being lighted attracts the fish and shows
them plainly to the spearer.
In the old (lays an open-work cresset of
iron was filled with dry pine-knots, which
the hoys collected from the woods. The
fault of this was that it could only be
used in the how of the boat, and so as to
cast the strongest light in an awkward
place. The dense smoke also came
straight back over the boat, much to tho
discomfiture of the sportsmen. Thon the
lamp with a reflector was tried. This was
dark at tho back and was fixed on a pivot
allowing to l>e thrown from side to side,
but even with this the strongest light fell
too far ahead, so the upright and arm
came in use, and is more gonerally used
than any other.
The duties of the man with the pole
are not easy, and hut few people can pole
a boat to suit an old spearer. He must
not striko the bottom hard with his pole,
for sound is much increased under water,
und tho mere concussion of the pole on a
rock bottom will scare fish twenty yards
away. Then ho must pole the boat just
so, neither too fast nor too slow, and in a
direction to keep the smoke from crossing
tho boat. When a fish is struck the boat
must ho staid aud held still, or a sudden
lifting of tho spear will enable the ilsk to
get away. In using tho spear consider
able skill is required, as will soon be found
out by the repeated misses scored at first
trying.
One must alkw for in mak
ing a strike. A perfectly straight stick
held upright in a depth of three feet of
water will appear to be bent at an angle
of SJO degrees, and this angle will decrease
when tho water becomes shallow, and in
crease as it deepens. Consequently the first
tliiug to learn is to judge the depth at which
the fish lies; at the depth of three feet
strike fully a foot behind hiiu if he is com
ing toward you, und a trifle more if going
from you. The best way is to try first at
fish going against tho stream, as in strik
ing with tho current the slightest thing
varies the accuracy and nothing more sa
than grasping the spear more firmly at
ono time than another. These few hints
should enable any one soon to become
fairly proficient.
Homo y< ars ago quite a sensation was
created in Spain owing to the fact that
most of the rivers where fish had been
carefully preserved for years had been
almost cleared of their occupants by
poachers at night. A peasant and a boy
would leave the village after dark. One
would carry a rude, reed-woven basket
on his back, like a haversack, and a small
torch in his hand, which was surrounded
by a piece oi bright tin held in
place by wires and capable of being
slid downward as the torch burned; the
other, freo from all incumbrances, carried
the spear. Thus equipped they waded
knee-deep through the snallows, avoiding
the deepest pools aud the extreme shal
lows. A likely hole was found aud both
stood still. Then the man with the basket
pitched a stone down stream, just ou the
other side. The fish rushed out of their
hiding-places into the circle of light, and
weee fascinated by it until the spear se
cured more than one of their number.
The rivers of Belgium and the famous
dykes of Holland are thickly populated
with lampreys. We use them as bait for
black bass, and in this country they sel
dom grow to any size, but the Belgians
consider them a great delicacy and export
them to England in large quantities for
table purposes.
In the spring months they are speared
in great quantities in a rather novel mea
ner. The rivers there are crossed by a
succession of small dams or weirs, over
which the water canes tumbling only a
few inches in depth. The spoarers have
a lantern strapped on the crown of their
head by an arrangement of wire, and a
baskot strapped at their backs. This
baskot. has a top shaped like our eel pots,
with a hole through which the fish can lo
dropped, but can not crawl out again. 110
takes his station at the foot of the dam or
where the light from htg lantern falls on
the water above. The lampreys at night
hold on to the stonos with their mouths
like our suckers, and when they sec the
light thoy lot go their hold and drift
lazily, tail first, to the dam and over it,
as the/ slip down the incline they hang to
the first pro jection, and quick as a Hash
the spear strikes them and they are trans
ferred to the basket.
V isi tors crossing the bridges see these
lights scattered over the rivor, blending
with the lights on shore, rendering it diffi
cult to define the houses and the river;
a baited float: j
they think it the lamp or some vessel lying
at anchor or at a wharf, and go home to
bed never dreaming of the strange indus
try going on just under their noses.
His (Juulitleations.
Alexander H. Stephens, the Georgia
utatesmnn and historian, was distin
guished for many unique traits of
character. He was a man whose
brain was too powerful for his bodv,
and its active forces kept his body
wt>ak and frail. He never weighed
over eighty-five pounds, and had
to bo wheeled to his place in the
House of Congress in an invalid's
chair. He was, among his many other
superlative qualities, a rough customer
to run against in debate, and his quick
wit and keen sarcasm struck terror to
all members who opjiosed him.
A new member from Maine opposed
the diminutive Georgian one day, and,
with that confidence in himself usual
to the new member who is fresh from
some place where he has been consid
ered the lion of his tribe, ho under
took to annihilate Mr. Stephens. An
gered by the coolness and native po
liteness of the Southerner, the Maine
man becarao angry, and reflected on
Mr. Stephens' smalluess, intimating
that the gentleman was small of brain
and of character. Every old member
became interested, knowing that there
would be some fun. And there was.
Mr. Stephens had a page wheel him
into the aisle, and in that loud, piping
voice which always drew the attention
of the Houso and gallery, ho ex
claimed :
"Mr. Speaker, the gentleman from
Maine says that I am so small of bodv,
brain and character that he could
swullow me whole. I simply wish to
say, sir, that for the good of himself
and his constituents it would be well
if he were to do so. He would then
have more brains and morals in his
stomach than lie ever had in his head
and soul."
This settled that member. Another
new member from the then new State
of Kansas crossed swords with him one
day, and said that Mr. Stephens
should bo on a farm. Mr. Stephens
never began a personal debato, but ho
never let another make him a personal
target without teaching him a losson
never to ho forgotten. So ho had his
chair wheeled into the aisle, and his
piping voice caused all to listen while
ho ex claimed:
"I would likoto remark that I do not
think the gentloman from Kansas is fit
to feed swill to swine, and should uot
bo on a farm, but at a school of higli
morals and manners."
The Kansas man felt insulted, and
demanded the words taken down on a
question of personal privilege. Mr.
Stephens repliod:
"Mr. Speaker, I will make that un
necessary by apologizing for the lan
guage if it ho unparliamentary. I will
withdraw the remark, and say that I
think the gentleman is eminently and
superlatively qualified for feeding swill
to swine—hut I know of no other
qualification he possesses."— Chicago
Ltdoer.
KEPT 1118 VOW.
"Hello, Mickey, is dat you? I
heard you swear once dat you would
never do a bit of work as long as ye
lived."
"So I did; dat's de reason I'm ou do
force." — Chicago Ledger.
A C01D DEAD.
"Say, Jimmy, what do ye t'ink of a
man mean enuf for that? He might
a let us come in and asked, anyhow."
ain mini roeiry.
His darling—George, dear, how sad
and solemn are the thoughts connected
with the close of the year. The beau
tiful summer is dead. The boughs of
the trees, stripped of their foliage beud
and sway in the chill autum breeze?
that sough through their—their
"Whiskers?" suggested Georgo him
self.
"No; branches, dearest. And lister
to the melancholy chirping of the toad
stools "
"Those are not toadstools; they art
orickets, dear."
"Oh, is that so? I knew it was
something to sit on."— Judge.
lie Wouldn't Do.
"You advertised for a waiter, sir; 1
should like the position."
"Have you had experience?"
"About five years, sir."
"In what hotel?"
"In no hotel, sir. I am a collector
in the subscription department of a
newspaper, and I have been waiting
übout live years for you to pay your
subscription."
"You won't do; you are too slow.
Call with that bill to morrow."
A'TRAGEDY IN HIGH LIFE.
BY A. C. (IKIHSOM.
fEIiCY was hanging
on the front gate at
the home of his only
love, softly whists
ling to her to come
forth and chin him
happy, for he hat]
just given his rival,
Jamison Tough, the
cold shake around
the corner, and he
was fondly antici
pating the sweet
ness of the coming chat with his dar
ling Belinda.
He did not know that Jamison
Tough was approaching stealthily oa
the opposite side of the street, clasp
ing a suspicious-looking something in
his right hand, and wearing on liisj
ghoulish face, as a sort of mask, a sav
age scowl.
Now Belinda was very swell, and
would never have come forth to the
gate to meet Percy, but Percy was
boycotted by Belinda's pa, and theil
meetings were therefore clandestine.
As Percy whistled, the door of the
mansion softly opened and Belinda
came tripping out.
Percy was in raptures.
The ferocious Jamison Tough, on the
opposite side of the street, was stirred
to madness. With a horrible imprecai
tion he raised his arm, aimed at Percy's
head
Percy heard a loud report, and Be
linda staggered, covered her face with
her hands, and shrieked. "I am shot!
I am shot !"
Jamison Tough, after his deed, dis
appeared iu the darkness.
Percy would have run to the aid oi
his only love, but her papa suddenly
arrived on the scene and he was forced
to hastily decamp. He was in an agony
to know the extent of her injury and
who was the dastard who had perpe
trated the crime.
The solution of the mystery was not
reached by him until a few days after
ward, when Belinda's little brother
suffered himself to he bribed.
Belinda had received the bad egg
inteuded for Percy.
Cornfield Philosophy.
i mn at dni'
[ c"Js4a, ho in, too,
$ lot- lio in eat-
I Wafcv / ///'. ig wild.
JM ,ho ° tlu!ra
T,ic roaJ
55 %\ to 11 ma "' a
)ia j*\'A s heart is
through Ilia
stomach;
l>ut in tlia
case of tlio Alderman it is a broad
road.
"Ho to the ant, thou sluggard," said
the preacher. Nothing will more ef
fectually euro a sluggard of laziness
for a time than a lively ant. This
teaches us how much good tho weak
can accomplish.
You may trust tho sugar liowl with
the boy who is always whistling.
Light hearts are always honest.
The sweetest flowers are always
among thorns. This is why a man
gets stuck on a pretty feminine flower.
The man who is always wishing ho
had what his neighbor has worked to
got never has anything himself.
The limn of fertile brain and small
finauciul resource can always make a
scanty meal seem a feast, 'this shows
that limn wants lint little here below,
but wants that little cheerfully given.
It is said that the early bird catches
the worm, but it seems to have escaped
the author that this is tough ou the
worm. He would not have been gob
bled up had he stayed in bed a little
later.
Tho old proverb maker said that a
setting hen never gets fat. This may
he true, hut she makes it mighty conn
fortable for tho littlo chickens on a
cold day. Even an inactive person
may do some good.
"Nothing is so strong as gentleness,"
says the old saw. Hut this was writ
ten before llio hornet had evoluted
from n buzz-saw.
It will be noticed that the man who
buys a thing on tho strength of what
he is going to do is generally looking
for a man to indorso his noto. Never
grind your wheat until you have har
vested your crop.
If we could all read each other's
secret thoughts ou our foreheads, peo
ple would all stay in their houses until
after dark. It is better to keep your
troubles to yourself aud not try to pry
into other people's affairs.
For the sake of one good crop of
wheat on it piece of ground we forget
the centuries it produced nothing hut
weeds. One good deed will cover a
world of defects.— Chicago Ledger.
ller Definition of "Tom Cat."
A little Wobitrn girl who had no
brothers or sisters for associates was
given a pretty kitten, of which slio was
very fond and proud. A member of
tho family ventured to suggest in hor
presence one day, probably to plague
licr a hit, that she would uot think so
much of it when it got to lie a great
big torn cat, to which she quickly and
indignantly replied: "Well, I guess
my little kitten never will he a torn
cat!" "Do you know what a torn oat
is?" was asked. "Yes, I do," she re
plied, manifesting all tho scorn and
contempt for t lio creature she could
command, "it is one that climbs trees
and acts like a hoy."— Woburil City
Press.
He Took No Chalices.
She—Speak out, Mr. Prudence, if
you have anything to say.
He—No, thank you. There's a pho
nograph hid under tho center (able,
your littlo brother's under the sofa, tha
hired girl is listening al the keyhole and;
your mother is looking over tho trail
com. The only thing that restrains me
is my doubts as to the whereabouts of
your father.— Chicago Mail.
An Appropriate Kpitupli.
f First Citizen—So poor old Joe is
dead'!
Second ditto—Yes; and sonio of tliel
boys have clubbed together to get a'
monument for him. All we want is toj
decide ou an appropriate inscription;
for it.
"Why don't you put that line: 'Can!
storied urn or animated bust ' " !
"Animated bust I Tlio very tiling.!
That will remind everybody of tho poor!
old oliap."
And once more they drained the
half-emptied glasHen standing round!
aud tiled sadly out of their favorite I
drink {