AN ANCIENT KIDDLE. Adam, God umde out of dust, But thought it hcHt to make me firet. Bo I vi as mad® before the man, To answer God's most holy plan. My body God did make complete, But. without arms, or legs, or feet; My ways and acts he did control, put to my body gave no soul. A living being I became. And Adam g&vo to me my nAmc ; J from his presence then withdrew, And more of Adam never knew. I did my Maker's law obey, Nor from it ever went astray; Thousands of miles 1 go in fear, But seldom on the earth appear. For purpose wise, which God did see. He put a living soul iu me; A soul from me my God did claim. And took from me that soul again ; For, when from mo that soul had fled. 1 \\ as the Baine as when iirst made; And, without hands or feet or soul, 1 travel on from pole to pole. 1 labor hard by day and night, To fulleri man I give great light, Thousands of people, young and old, Will by my death great light behold; No right or wrong can I conceivo, The Scriptures I cannot believe ; Although my name in them is found, They are to me an empty sound. No /ear of death doth trouble mo, Ileal happiness I shall never see, To henvm 1 shall never go, Nor to the grave or hell bolow. Now. when these lines you slowly read, Go. search your Bible with all speed, For that my name's recorded there, 1 honestly to you declare. THE EXHAUSTED POET. BY DWIGHT BALDWIN. MY vitality is ex j This, in disheart- | ened, almost de spairing tones, pro faced, rather intel lect u a 1-1 ook ing young man who had walled basement room in the heart oi metropolitan Ch i 1 %)| fj{- He paused and turned liis back to the open fire-place, where were burn ing, in lieu of coal, the last fragment? of a board partition which had once divided the apartment in twain, am 1 looked searohingly around. Excent for a rough table, three wood en chairs and a lounge, all venerable with age and rickety from usage, th room was unfurnished. It was not untenanted, though; fai from it. Each chair had an occupant; three more were seated on the lounge, while a seventh was reclining upon the table among a mass of papers, ciga stubs, ink-bottles and pipes. Not wishing to invade the domain oi j the inquiry column ami propound conundrums, we will explain the situa tion. The dismal place was a verita ble literary don. Two of thoso present —the one on tlie table and the occu pant of one of the chairs—edited a publication, and did all manner of hack-writing there, while, with the ex ception of a gray-bearded limn, an ex banker, the remainder were genuine literary Bohemians. "Yes, Mr. Jacob." the pale-faced young man proceeded, seeing that no attention had been paid either to his announcement or himself, "my vitality is exhausted!" "No?" responded the senior member of the firm, that paid the rent of the den, or "stood the agent off," which amounted to the same thing, so far as concerned the happy-go-lucky assem blage that rendezvoused there. "l'es, Mr. Jacob. Adverse circum stances have formed an offensive coali tion with the natural weakness of my physical constitution, and collapse, total, overwhelming collapse, threat ens all the functions of ray overtaxed body. Last night, in the deathlike solitude of my chamber garret, I should say—moved by a breath of that divine afflatus which, whatever scorn-, ers may say, still pervades the earth, I flung my inspiration into verse, ragged you will no doubt say, but a true soul-fruit: "For days my heart did mcditato a song—" "Four days from now we will listen to it," interrupted the man on the ta ble, rising to a sitting posture; "that is if your vitality holds out so long." "Have you tried moxie ?" asked Ja cob, with a serious face. "And asafcetida?" spoke up the ex banker; "that's the Btuff for you, Gall. Not very toothsome, but a wonderful bracer for the nerves" "Bah!" cried the poet, a look of in tense disgust sweeping his mobile feat ures. "How little you know how far you arc from understanding my needs and yearnings." "How about Browning and How ells?" queried one of the occupants of the lounge. "Bah, again ! My vital forces have retreated to tlieir last citadel." He paused and laid his hand upon his "MY VITALIIY IS EXHAUSTED." heart. "They will never again emerge to engage in conflict with an unappre cintive world, unless " "Unless what?" asked Jacob, as tlio poet paused. "Unless my system receives proper treatment 1 I must have beefsteak !" "Come, nowl" cried Jacob, with some warmth. "Haven't J given loaned you, 1 mean—a dollar every day for a week past, and that for the express purpose of getting you into condition V" "True, Mr. Jacob, but it has barely sufficed to keep me alive, and left nothing to restore the ravages which weeks of fasting have wrought in my naturally delicate system." "A dollar a day will buy four good meals, Gall," declared the ex-hanker, with a vehemence that attested his knowledge of the subject of cheap eating. "Meals!" repeated the poet, scorn fully. "Could I, a graduate of Yale, the son of the poetess laureate of the great State of Khode Island, enter a lunch-room? Would you expect to see seated before a di-Ji of that mysterious compound, vulgarly denominated hash, one whose great thoughts need only vitality to project them upon an ex pectant world in the form of meshes of wild song; a man who, by reason of his published verses, is entitled, among the living poets of his native land, to a front rank ? "The moon, ■with cold and silvery beams " "Hold on!" rudely interrupted Jacob. "We'll concede tlieir rankness. What "AND I'LL DIVIDE THE FOURTEEN DOLLARS WITH you." disposition have you made of the silver case-dollars I have loaned you from day today?" "A porter-house with mushrooms, 60 cents; coffee, 10 cents; glass of wine, 15 cents; cigar, ditto." "Whew!" cried the seven auditors in a breath. "To your sordid souls, 4121 miser able little grains of dross seem a vast sum to pay for a meal in which may lurk the nucleus of a second 'Paradise Lost' or the still unwritten 'Great American Novel.' I am, happily, cast in a different mold. My soul rebels at the thought of free lunch, my stomach revolts at the sight of red hots, while what little gorge there is within me rises up at the bare men tion of bologna sausage." "And have you subsisted upon one meal a day?" asked Jacob. "Except for a few trifles specially prepared for me by the woman whore I room, and which I sometimes eat ■with veal relish." "She has been trying to build you I up, that you might pay the bill you j owe her, I suppose ?" "I trust poor human nature is not so debased. No, sir. She has provided | me with a few inexpensive dainties be cause she repects genius, admires true poetic fancy!" "Then she shall not remain unre warded. You have often expressed a desire to earn your bread—beefsteak, I mean, by writing." "I yearn to do it." "At some little trouble I have se cured you work. Mr. Samuels wants an article of two thousand words on the drainage question, for which he j will pay six dollars, while the Broad- Axe will give eight dollars for three j columns on the dock saloons." "They are low and vulgar subjects, Jacob, and will lead me " i "To your room. At an expense of half a day's time 1 have collected all the necessary points. You can write them up by to-morrow evening and got your fourteen dollars the next morn ing. They will keep you until then." "They" proved to be a pair of silver dollars, which Gall hastened to pocket, while he looked in a hesitating way at the memoranda which had accompanied them. "Well?" queried Jacob. "The fact is that my vitality " "Oh, bother your vitality! Go along ; and get to work, and when you're through with that, I'll iiud you some more." "Time may restore my shattered vi tality, but at present I have a proposition to make you, Jacob." "Well?" "You take the memoranda and write up the articles and I'll divide the four teen dollars with you." There was a roar of laughter, during which the vitality-exhausted poet vau ished from the Bohemian den. Jealousy. An anecdote which shows to what lengths jealousy may be carried is re lated by T. A. Trollope: We took, one morning, a iittlo excursion to Tuscu luru, on which my wife rode a donkey belonging to a very competent guide. This man knew every point w here it was desirable to draw rein in order to enjoy the lovely and varied views. The donkey, who, no doubt, knew all these halting places as well as his master, once turned aside from the path, in a very business-like fashion, and planted himself before a gate from which a I specially pleasing outlook was to be j seen. My wife, thinking to please the | man, said: | "How well your donkey knows his business. He enme of himself to this J lovely view, just as if he enjoyed it." But the effect of her words was very startling. The man became suddenly and furiously angry. "No, not he! I—l know how to make ladies and gentlemen see the views, and all that is to be seen. He!—he i an ass, and knows nothing. I—l am the guide!" he cried, again and again. | "The beast is an ass, I tell you! He ' knows nothing I" In short, he was furiously jealous of his donkey, and bitterly resented the compliments paid to the beast's saga city as so much taken from his own praises. This is an extreme case, but jealousy in its mildest form is a mad, unreasoning impulse which should be strangled at its birth. A Chance for llis Fat Iter. ! "Pop, I know how you can make a thousand dollars and beuelit me be sides." "You know how, Bobby? Well, I'd like to know." " How much do you weigh ?" "About 125," "Just the figure. Well, there's a fellow in Boston who will tight any man of that weight for $1.(10(1, and I [ thought since you don't win anvthing J whaling mo you might like to close with him." — Philadelphia Times. Nice Mathematics, j "And now, children," remarked Professor Hailes in one of the public schools the other day, "if a family con sisting of father and mother and seveu children should have a pie for dinner, 1 how much would each one Receive V" | "Why," remarked the bright boy, each would get an eighth." I "But there are nine persons, you 1 must remember." | "Ohl I know that; but the mother i wouldn't get any. There wouldn't be enough to go around."— Albany Jour | nal SOMETIMES we find cross roads in the J midst of a smiling landscape. BRIDGES OF CHICAGO. THEY ARE NUMEROUS, BUT THERE IS NO BRIDGE OF SIZE. Tli* Peril to Life and Limb WMcli Tliey Involve—People Who lluve Walked Into th* Open Draw—What Is to Ite the Remedy?—An Op|>ort unity for Inventors A lagged Ital ian fruit vender was pushing be fore him a hand cart well filled with bananas, ap ples, and oranges, | for the most part in a somewhat doubtful state of preservation. He was near the abut rnent of one oi _ Chicago's swing ing; bridges, and -/fill thinking perhaps j/jj of the blue skies °f hut own sunny land, was trudg //\ ing along, all un- I mindful of the cir eumstauce that, since he last raised his eyes, the ])on §s derous bridge had N. opened to admit ° le assa^e 3i cried the police —————————J officer whose duty it was to guard the approaches to the enormous swinging structure. Upon the briuk of the abyss the thoughtless fruit peddler paused and looked back, lint the warning had come too late, the wheels of the cart had begun to descend. The man might have saved himself at the ex pense of his cart and stock in trade. He did not stop to reason, he had no time for that, but with the instinctive love of property clung to the handle of his truck and went down with it into the dark, ill-smelling waters of the Chicago River. Thanks to a tug-boat which was in the act of passing and the bridge-ten der, the unfortunate man was rescued and resuscitated. The matter was briefly mentioned in the daily papers the next morning and the event for gotten. The occurrence, however, ▲ DASH TO DESTRUCTION. j suggests tlio dangers and nuisances peculiar to cities intersected by a river provided with movable bridges. Few of the large cities of the conn try are altogether exempt from this difficulty. As, however, the nuisance varies with the frequency that a bridge is opened, it follows that Chicago, with its enormous lake commerce, must be tho most alltictcd of all. | |The present metropolis of the West, and, as most of her citizens and many outsiders as well lirmly believe, the prospective metropolis of America, was originally founded at the mouth of a small and exceedingly sluggish creek, which was crossed by its few inliabit i ants on a single plank that could bo | removed to admit of the passage of an \ occasional canoe or skiff, tho only kind of craft then plying upon tho Chicago ltiver. I As tho embryotic "Queen of the j West" giew in population and impor* I tance, the value of the river began to i be more and more appreciated by hei j enterprising inhabitants. Gradually ! it was broadened, straightened and deepened to allow of the passage ol ' vessels of larger and still larger ton : nage. When tho west and north divi | sions of the city began to be quite ; largely settled, the river was no longer regarded as an unadulterated bless ing, and complaints were numerous and bitter. As emigration from Eu rope and the older Eastern States was attracted by the marvelous reports from the city by tho lake, the nuisance became more pronounced, the mur murs and protests louder and deeper. The "city fathers," wisely conclud ing that business was desirable, even at tho expense of inconvenience on the part of tho people, discriminated in favor of commerce, and gave vessels the right of way, compelling teams and foot-passengers to wait for vessels to pass the bridges. With a view to lessening the pressure and diminishing the difficulty, additional bridges were constructed. These merely had the effect of preventing the trouble from greatly increasing, since tho city, known now throughout the world as a synonym for push and progress, more than kept pace with the improve ments, and crowded them, as fast as completed, to their maximum capacity. The panacea for tho growing evil was believed to have been struck in the idea of tunneling the river. This was soon acted upon, and at an enormous expense two tunnels, each for wagons and pedestrians, were constructed un der the river, connecting the South with the North and West Sides. At iirst these were very popular; but before long the people wearied of them and returned their patronage to the bridges. Then an ordinance was passed regulating the opening of the bridges and limiting the time for them to remain open to ten minutes. At present, much to the disgust of tug men and vessel owners, still further restrictions are imposed, and during the time —morning and evening—when the great mass of clerks, laborers, artisans, and business people gener ally are going to and from their work, no bridge is allowed to swing. Many schemes for the abolition of the "bridge nuisance," as it is popular ly called, have been and are still be ing proposed. The most feasible of tliem seems td he the one which vi'o poses to build docks, protected by breakwaters, along the lake shore, and close up the river entirely. Emptied of its foul water, the channel could be filled np, thus adding a large acreage ▲ CLOB:: CALL. to the city in its most crowded por tions. Or it could be used as an ap proach for railroads, thus rendering possible one enormous union passen ger-depot in lieu of the half score now in existence. The great objection to this plan is the enormous damage the property owners who have vested rights in the way of dockage along the entire length of the river would sustain. The World's Fair may give Chicago such an impetus —"boom" is perhaps the better word as to bring this about; otherwise it will bo a long time before we see it ac ooniplinhed. In the meantime, as stated in the outset, the swinging bridges are a con tinuing menace to the lives of most of those who are compelled to cross them. Patrons of North aud West Side street cars, except of those which pass through the La Salle street tunnel, seem in peculiar danger. Of late, on most lines crossing the river, the con ductors are compelled, after a certain hour in the evening, to run forward and ascertain from a personal inspec tion that everything is right, after which they signal the drivers to come ahead. ltailroad tracks run on the north and west sides of the river in the down tow u portion of the city. These are, in all cases, crossed by viaducts. In some instances the top of the viaduct is ■ higher than the bridge and quite a sharp descent must be made to reach the latter. It is hero that there is the greatest danger of accidents. Not j many weeks ago a street car ap proached the Clark street bridge, the horses on a keen run to acquire the momentum necessary to carry the heavily loaded vehicle up the sharp incline. Like a number of others, this bridge is swung by an elevated steam engine, and opens with extreme rapidi ty. The driver did not observe that it was already in motion until within n few yards of the precipitous wall of stone. By a miracle almost he was enabled to stop the car and save his half hundred passengers from a fearful plunge, which would have meant death to the majority of them. His strong muscles and rare presence of mind saved them, but it was a close call. Not many years ago a carriage con taining three children, who wore being driven to a South Side depot to meet an expected relative, was driven over the approach to the Harrison street bridge, which unfortunately was open, and all three perished. While the vehicle was upon the long viaduct which crosses the numerous railroad tracks a locomotive whistle beneath SAVED IIY THE BHIDOK-TKNDEU. sounded shrilly, the spirited horses took fright, became unmanageable, and, despite the best efforts of the coachman, who narrowly escaped with his life, dashed 011 to death and des truction. Fires are not the only dangers that menace the men whoso business it is to extinguish them. The open bridges are their constant dread. The horses are driven at the highest possible speed attainable, and are given, universally, the right of way. Dashing along, fre quently in the dead of the night, with a storm raging overhead and icy pav ing-stones beneath, what wonder that accidents frequently happen. Many a "fire laddie" has found his way into the river, and it is miraculous that many lives are not lost through those gateways of death, the open bridges. Not long since a hose-cart was driven where a North Side bridge was sup posed to have been, and the horses were drowned. But not runaways, darkness or icy ' pavements are to be chai geable with ail the disasters and losses of life by rea son of open bridges. During a busy time of the day, or when a 1 rssel is Ituck in the channel so that the bridge cannot be closed for some time, quite a throng is certain to collect upon the approaches. Curiosity is about the strongest of human motives, aud many people under such circumstances will stand upon the extreme verge of the abyss, the better to command a view of the river, that they may see and announce to those loss favorably situ ated what is going on, and the chance? for the closing of the bridge. In suck cases, a sudden quarrel, a fright, or u pickpocket may cause a commotio j | and a movement on the part of the 1 closely packed throng which will crowd I the adventurous ones upon the abut- j ment over iuto the river. This lias frequently happened in Chicago, but, although the occurrence is reported iu ; the papers, 110 one seems to profit by the example, and the very next day icores of people expose themselves to sxactly the same fate. Many people become so absorbed in their thoughts as to reach a state of oblivion as to their surroundings. Such persons are always in danger iu a largo city, hut at no time is their peril so great as when approaching an open bridge. The fact that they have crossed there many times in safety re Lieves their minds of all anxiety, and tliey frequently walk straight into the river, many feet below. By far the greater portion of such disasters have occurred during the sight, and since the bridges were lighted by electricity they have nota blv diminished. The list of fatalities chargeable to open bridges is by no means so large as might reasonably be expected. This is due to the fact that the bridge tenders are always on the watch for catastrophes, and are thus able to ef fect a rescue. Many of them are pro vided with long poles, armed at one end with a steel hook with which to catch and draw people from the water. It is to the disgrace of Chicago that the dangerous condition of the bridges ■K not obviated. That this could readily oe done, no one with the smallest por tion of mechanical knowledge can doubt for a moment. Many plans, some of them no doubt feasible, have been sug gested ; but so far none of them have ever been adopted. What is wanted is an appliance which, as the bridge swings open, will automatically close, and that securely, the open gateway to death which at present menaces hu THE ABSENT-MINDED I'KItKS I 111 AN. man life. The inventors of the West ought to think of and solve this prob lem. In doing it successfully, they would not only receive an ample re ward in money but confer a lasting benefit U]>ou humanity.—Dwightßald i win in Chicago Ledger. Tlevii's bake. Devil's Lake is the name of a body of water in North Dakota which has from time immemorial bqen held in awe by the copper-colored aborigines whc live in the vicinity. The Indians be lieve that the lake is inhabited by the evil spirits and the name Minnewakan (Devil's lake) was given it hundreds of years ago. Weird tales of the doing? of supernatural beings supposed to people it are numerous aud the truth of many fictitious stories told about it have until late years never once becD doubted. Civilization is, however, get ting in its work in the neighborhood and is rapidly dispelling the feeling of awe in which the lake has been held by the Indians. There is a modern story of Devil's Lake, however, which vies in super stitious fancy with those of abnormal times. Not alone the Indians, but tli€ soldiers at Fort Totten, which is situ ated on the northern border of the lake, have a firm belief in the existence of a 2>hantom steamboat which is said tc ply the waters of Minnewakan. Some weird tales are told of how this airy creation goes pufling up and down the silent lake in the darkness of snmmei nights, its spectral fires gleaming on the black water and the beat of its screw keeping up a rhythmic motion that bo comes suddenly silent on the approach of a mortal. The first appearance of the phantom steamboat was early in the 'Bo's when it was witnessed one night by a party of soldiers who were crossing the lake. Many people have since claimed to have seen it go pulling up and down the lake in tlie darkness of moonless nights, its fires making trails of light 011 the water, while the throbs of the ghostly engine weie distinctly heard. Luxurious Spider. The New York Ledger tells how a spider provided for his comfort on the road. The insect cannot be suspected of having taken a hint from Pullman, but it seems as though some ingenious j person might contrive to apply the spider's plan to the lessening of human fatigue while making long journeys. [ A doctor desired to send a fine speci men of the spider tribe to a medical friend who was exceedingly curious in the study of such matters. As the readiest means of transit, he inclosed it in a common wooden box, and dis patched the tiny traveler by express. The box, however, was too roomy for the spider's wants, and as he seems to have disliked the jolting incident to traveling, he h id recourse to a very in genious remedy. When the box reached its destination and the consignee opened it, he was equally surprised and delighted to find that liis insect charge had spun for himself a superb hammock, securely hung from the four corners of his prison house, in whiffh he had couched, 111 sailor-fashion, as softly as he does in his native lair UlTief Mllie. A lady who, by the perversity of fortune, is forced to live at the top of an uptown apartment house where communication with the surface of the earth is chiefly through a speaking tube, was not long ago called to the tube by an energetic ang. She was greeted, in answer to her intimation that she was listening, by the ques tion : "Are this the top flat?" "Yes," she answered. "Put," persisted the voice of her un seen interlocutor, "isn't there another suite above you?" "No," was the instant answer, "none but the sweet by-and-by." There was a confused and mumbling ■ound from beneath as of one overcome, and then the caller Bpoke no more that day. The Appropriate Costume. Mrs. Brown—lsn't that Mrs. Dasher going down the street? Mrs. Bobi 11 son—Why, I thought it was she, and it is. Mrs. B.—Mercy me, I was told that her husband died last week! Mrs. 11.—So he did. Mrs. B.—But don't you see she's in second moaning. Mrs. It.—"Well, he's her second hus band. LITERARY WORKERS. NEW YOIIK WRITERS WHO HAVE ACHIEVED FAME. Literary Clubs In tlie City and the Rela tions Wlilcli Exist Detween the Various Organizations—Personal (iossip Concern ing Well-Known People ami a Glimpse Into Their Sanctums and Libraries. Mrs. Mary M. Dodge, the conductor of St. Nicholas and the author of I t"H an s Br inker," | does not go verv often to the office,but does her work in her own library, in her fine flat on Fifty ninth street,says the New York Herald. Mrs. Dodge gives some of the largest > literary receptions in Jfi-s Ne w York. George Wil 1 i a m Curtis, who has the ideal literary man's home in New Brighton, S. 1., is genial as man can be during the social hour. He is a capital host, and in conversation, as in his writings, has an allegorical way frequently of putting things which has a decided charm. All the children round about know him, and many a kind word and pat on the head he has for the little folk as they run after him while he is on his way home in the afternoon. Itichard Watson Gilder is one of the youngest men to be classed among the literary notables. Yet he has not done Vvv'*' ~ much work, and A none whatever that fSw itr I know outside of Unf his verse. But his N-. verse has a flavor 4L as distinctively itsfflnitr-. own as the honey /Mi has that is gathered //Yv^k/Ky on the thyme slopes '/p \ Wi of Hvmettus. Some,. , A[/, I of his lyrics are RlcV>,vi "arsouGiUen very beautiful. It is as chief editor of the Century Magazine that Mr. Gilder is most popular. Henry M. Alden, the successful ed itor of Harper's Magazine, lives at Metuchen, N. J., where lie has a tine house, with woods and iields about him. Here he has collected a number of art treasures, valuable books, and all that sort of bric-a-brac with which a cultivated man likes to indulge him self. Here he' brings the hundreds upon hundreds of manuscripts which are constantly pouring in from all parts of the globe. He reads and pronounces upon all matter for the magazine, sometimes conferring with another per son upon a manuscript which he may not he sure about. Sir. Alden is genial, lint like the other Harpers' editors he has no room to entertain callers at his office. There is barely room for him self, his desk, and his manuscripts. John l'oord, editor of Harper's Weekly, combines with the best lit erary tastes a quality but too rare among literary men, namely, a thor ough journalistic sense. Mr. l'oord is a Scotchman and a member of a very old and aristocratic family. W. 1). Howells gets, it is said, SIO,OOO a year from Harpers for his depart ment in the Magazine. Charles Dud ley Warner still grinds out his monthly allowance for Harper's, for which he is handsomely paid, but the oritics all say that his old-time humor has put on wings and flown away. The man best V— known to the liter f ~ ary student is E. C. /Ty Stedman, who has been called the jjßjSsr*'Tja, "banker-poet," be jEnjlgßf cause he has con tinned his banking affairs while busy