MERRY CHRIS I'M AS. Be ye merry, De ye merry, On this Christmas dn.*| Do not borrow Core or sorrow-* Drive them far away. Eet not trouble bike a babble To the surface rise; bove well founded. Faith well grounded— Look, then, towards tlie skies! Joy is springing, Hope is singing In our home to-day; Christmas cheering Now iB ncaring— Bail thee, happy day! MISS MARIAS SANTA CLAPS "Well, I must say!" Mr. Joseph Bascom stood in the kitchen door and looked about him with much disgust. "Ironing, too. I thought it was regu larly understood. Maria, that you were a boarder here?" "Well, I ani, brother," Miss Maria rejoined, in all good l'aitli. "I pay my $0 every Saturday night of my life." "Yes, I guess that's about what there is of it." Mr. Bascom hid a smile in his handkerchief. "Don't these Conways ever do any work, Maria? I suppose*you took a hand in the washing Monday, didn't you?" To his astonishment his sister began a voluble excuse:— "It was the first time, Joseph; upon my word. Of course I've hung them out, ye know—mild weather, an' like - that; just to get th* tilings out o' th' way. But, this week Miss Conway and com pany comiu'—an' I'd just as lieve. There , really weren't no reason " 4 'Maria Bascom ain't overly smart," i the neighbors used to say, in cruel, : country bluntuess; but that any human being could impose upon sueli docile i trust and childlike innocence, hud never entered her brother's brain to believe. He stood staring at licr in grieved sur-. prise for a moment, and then, with the air of a man used to his own way ancl to much management, announced his de cision : " I'll tell you this, Maria:—You go up stairs and pack your trunk, and to-night we go back to New York together. I guess our honsc is big enough to hold my sister, and you won't have to do any washing there. Coon!" Ho waved her to the door. " I'll settle with the Con wajs, and they'll learn a little wisdom before they're many days older, I reckon." , Poor Miss Maria used always to obedi ence to some stronger will, scarcely knew how it came about—this sudden transplanting from her old home and its dear associations to Joseph's awe-inspir ing city house. Probably Mrs. Bascom, who was some what her husband's superior, and the Misses Bascom, who went a little further up the 'social ladder, did not welcome this addition to the family with a great enthusiasm. But, being the best hearted folks in the world, they made Aunt Maria as comfortable as possible, gave her a pretty room, and, perhaps—as busy people, and only human, too—did not very much regret that shb stayed a good deal in the room they gave her. Indeed, the newcomer found herself sadly at a loss in an establishment where everything went by clockwork, where her own service was iu uo way needed, and where there were no children—the little Conways had been many. She was most at ease with the servants, and soon made great friends with Molly, the second girl, who was from what Miss Maria called "over our way," and whose acuteness had not been long in gauging the little old woman's capacity aright. "Th' folks upstairs," she said to the cook, "act like they thought their aunt was same as them. What she wants is to be treated childish, and it only fius trates 'er, their makin' out she's grown up as anybody. 'Taint right; they ought to understand." The cook assented to this. "What d'ye s'pose she's frcttin' about now?" Molly queried, flourishing a dish- ; cloth. "She says t' me this mornin'— 1 'Why,' says she, 'here 'tis th' middle o' | November, an' I ain't heard a word o' i Chris'muss yet! Don't they make much o' Chris'muss in Now York, Molly?" "What did yer tell 'cr?" asked the cook. "0, I sez, th' Boscoms wa'nt in th' way o' doin' much; jus'plum puddin' fer dinner, an' a turkey, an' a couple o' dollars a picee t' you an 1 mc, 'n' th' rest. They don't make no presents, sez I; an' she looked all took back. 1 declare I was corry fer th' old lady. Says she, 1 'Why, t' th' Con ways there was always a 1 1 great time; all them children atalkin' about Santa Clans, an' hangin' up their stockin's. We all hung up our stockin's t' th' Con ways,' sez she, 'it was real ' pleasant, too. Things seem dill'runt ' some way, that come outo' a stockin' o' ' course'—an' then she drawed 'erself up | 1 and tried to look very dignified. 'Of 1 course,' sez she, 'all such talk cz Scnty j 1 Clans is foolish, an' I don't know cz children ought t' be encouraged in it. j ' hut it sounds kind o' good, too, t' have 1 'em goin' on about the reindeers. I like j ' t' hear it.' " j i "Poor ole soul'." mused the cook. "I 1 got a soft spot in my heart for Miss 1 Maria since she made that mustard phis- I 1 ter for me, as if I were her own flesh V 1 blood. She's worth all the rest of 'em i 1 put together." "O' course she is." Molly thought 1 there were no two opinions as to that. ' "Do ye mind how she dusted th' parlors ' that time I had the run around? I say, | she d ought to have a Chris'muss tree ef i ( she wants one, an' it's my opinion Senty I C'laus is ez much t' her ez ever he was t' ; them Conway children." But Miss Maria came up from break fast a few mornings later with a very ! troubled face. She found the chamber maid making-her bed, and, sittingdowu j by the open fire, began dolefully enough: "Why, Molly," and there was a sua-' picion of tears in her voice, "do you 1 know Joseph's folks ain't plottin't' do a single thing ferChris'mus—not a thing! Why, 1 tell'em t' th' Con ways, we uset t' give half our winter clo'cs, that way; tippets an' rubbers an' all. Last year him 11 mc put together 'n' got her a blanket shawl a reel nice one. O' course"—with a foolish smile—"that couldn't go in no stocking't ever was made; we jus' put it on th' hearth, un derncath. We often put things on th" 1 hearth. It seemed just as nice." "An' what'd they say to that, Miss Mario?" asked Molly, in a fashion she had of recalling the simple soul from her long, rambling reminiscences. "Oh, the girls tliey didn't sav nothin' uoryct Celia. Joseph he jis' * laughed, ! and sez he, 'We got all out o' tli' way o' makin' presents 't this house; there don't seem Ao cause fer it,' sez he. 'Wife 'n th' girls an'you all has your allowances, an' can buy jus 1 wot yc want, cz ye wa: t it. I don't VJicve in a man keepin' all his money to himself 'n' makin' a great show in th' fam'ly at Chris'rauss time,' scz he. It sounds kind o' reasonable, too, don't it?" She look over wistfully at Molly, shaking up the pillows. "I don' know." The second girl thought for a minute, "ev'rybody has a I chance t' be his own Seuty Claus, then, ef they all git their due, I suppose he means. Yes, that docs sound good. Ef we was meant to be independent o' each other, that is." Miss Maria heard only part of this speech, and that part haunted her long I after she was left alone. Everybody his own Santa Claus, Molly had said. It would not go out of her mind. Horn of the despair which had seized upon her weak spirit when she found they were to know, here, no Christmas, and no good fairy—a despair which in turn was a part of the great ' wave of homesickness creeping up to her heart—she began to build up a crazy plan, and formed it on the servant's careless speech, "What did you buy, Aunt Maria?" ! asked Sarnli, the pretty daughter, with j I ati attempt at small talk, one afternoon | when the two elder women had paused I in the parlor to rest before going up- I stairs with the wraps. "Your lap is ( ! piled with bundles. Arc you going to ; have a new dress?" Miss Maria looked disconcerted. "Mebbc," she replied briefly, gather | ing her parcels together, "I got some, stun colored cashmere, 'n'—'u' some little things. She rose to her feet hug- ] g'ug up her load. One twist of paper | fell to the ground. Mary, the plain I daughter with the nice eyes, ran to pick j it up. "It fcels like gloves,'' she said for want of a happier thought, handing it to her aunt. .Miss Maria seized the parcel almost rudely. "1 don't remember." Color rose to her cheeks; her eyes fell. "1 got a lot of little things. Mebbe I didn't buy no gloves. I—l ain't sure." The door closed upon her suddenly iu what seemed very like guilty flight. ! 44 Why, mother!" cried all the girls to gether. " what has gone wrong? Aunt .Maria is always as voluble as a child over , every paper of pins!" "I do believe," added Bella, "tint, goin' down street and doin' a little tradin' is all that reconciles her to New ! York." Meanwhile upstairs Miss Maria was hurriedly thrusting her purchases into a deep drawer she had emptied for the purpose. # | " I don't believe," she thought with a prick from her tender conscience, "I don't remember ef I bought them gloves or not. They was other things 1 was i lookirg at, too—l ain't sure." She paused a moment to consider something else. 44 Anyway," her face cleared anu j b umcd. 41 1 don't skursely know how i that apron looked. I think 'twas cross bar, but 1 wouldn't bo sure for nothin'. | An' them mufflers; Celia, sho cbcse fer i me, an' I didn't look t' see ef she got th' ' red one or that dark blue. I hope," she gazed down into the drawer— 44 1 hope I 'twas the red one, but I won't know till ' Cbris'muss." Day after day Miss Maria added to the contents of the drawer. 4 4 Whether or no," as she phrased it, she meant to j give some little present to each member I of the family, from Joseph down to the j errand boy. But with these weightier I matters her own preparations went on. ! "The girls" coulu not understand why their aunt wore those shabby shoes when Sarah had helped her to buy a new pair, I or why she made such a mystery of even 1 a couple of hat pins which their mother carelessly bestowed on her one day, and which disappeared and were no more seen, though her bonnet hung awry upon the good gray head as usual. Poor Miss Maria! She found it hard work, but she never relaxed her ardor, i now that this idea was hers. Her winter 1 plenishing was bought in an offhand, careless manner which puzzled Mrs. Joseph, used already to the country woman's love of detail and a trifling ex citement. So Christmas eve came 'round. After the six o'clock dinners, through whose courses she hurried her way, Mis Maria shut herself in her own room and began at once her work for the night, llcr withered cheeks were a dull red j with excitement; her faded eyes glowed i like youth again. All the family pres ents had to be re-sorted and tied up, • with lavish expenditure of paper and twine. "It's such fun openin' 'em!" she | thought. Then came the only private pleasure. Back and forth tripped Miss Maria, back and forth between bureau and chimney, till the long, dangling, gray stocking was stuffed, rigid and the floor beneath piled up with packages. It was only eight o'clock, but she was used to early hours. "I'll be up before th' light," she thought, with her simplest look, as she went to bed straightaway and very soon to sleep. Now it happened that the Conways had not only been generally remembered by their late boarder at this holiday time, but, strange to say, they had re membered her. Every one, from "him" down to next to the baby, had helped to fill a good sized box, with which the expressman came banging on the dcor about nine o'clock. The Bascoms were j genuinely pleased and a little ashamed | when they took in this token of good j will. Bella said, after a little talk j "Can't I run up to Aunt Maria's room with it right away? She'll be as happy as a child, and it seems too good to keep till morning." The rest approved and Bella tugged bravely at her load to the door, where only a glimmer of tire-light met her eyes as she groped her way in. Aunt Maria was unconscious of her knock and of her entrance. But some one on the hearth rug started guiltily and turned to meet ! the young girl's face with a very shame j faced air. | "Molly I" cried Miss Bella. Molly had a long, plump stocking in ' her hand. Mistress and maid stood to j gether before each other. The maid was first to speak. I "Sec,'' she said huskily, "what that I poor soul's done for 'erself an' gone t' 1 sleep, like th' baby she is. Been her own Scnty C'aus, she Ims, an 1 me 'n' cook makin' up this," shading the strange thing she held, with a superior smile, "so as she shouldn't quite miss a Christmas." The ready tears sprang to her mis tress' eyes. "Oh, I never dreamed it was like that to her," she gasped. "You make mc so —so shamed, Molly. We must dosoine thing, too." j She bustled about the room desposit , ing the Con Aay box at one side of the . : grate and helping Molly suspend her . own tribute. | "This shall be the sweetest surprise . the dear thing ever knew," whispered ' I Miss Bella, with a catch in her whisper. ; "I hope it isn't too late to make her very happy yet." l \ And the others were much astonished ( |at sight a little later of the youngest t1 Miss Bascom, in furs and dainty toque, j equipped for a walk. Not less aston ished when, as in response to their in quiries, she burst into tears, and turning to her mother caught her around the waist in a gale of kisses. "Suppose it had beau you," she said, "stranded among a set of heathen, who never expected you to do anything but live upon pictures and drink, you dar ling!" "Bella, are you daft?" asked Sarah, in some scorn. "No, but Aunt Maria is, and we didn't care, and let her till her own Christmas stockiug." They were sympathetic enough now, and Bella told the whole story. Every body offered, in much good humored contrition, to accompany this last Santa Claus on her tour, till Mrs. Bascoin set tled the matter, in her comfortable way, by announcing: "We'll all go out and make an occa sion of it, ana perhaps papa 'll take us into Caramel's for soda water." Of course Mr. Joseph did. It was the gayest time imaginable, running along over the brilliantly light ed pavements, jostling busy people, heavily laden, in and out of the Christ mas spirits. They spread out their buying over as | much space as the late hour would al low, for the very joy of it. They tried , to remember every fancy Miss Martha had expressed and to anticipate every want. The girls giggled and so did their mother. Mr. Joseph was preter natural ly solemn us a man is wont to do in a new position. When they at last turned homeward Sarah called from behind tlieir two par- j cuts:— "Doesn't candy come iu Christmas stockings? I've a faint memory of it, and surely these tilings should be sweet ened, father!" "Oh, let's do the whole thing!" cried the good man desperately, and ran into Fountain's. As they waited by the gayly trimmed windows:— 4, 1 wonder." Mary reflected—she wrote poetry sometimes and had been in print—"if it's because it is such a sweet, wholesome thing to be as little children that the world clings so to Christmas Day? Perhaps that is one sight of the kingdom of heaven into which wecauuot enter unless we are like to them." "If 4 thc kingdom of heaven is within,'" quoted Bella, softly, "perhapsit is." Before the Bascom household rested that night two pendant stockings flanked Miss Maria's own at the mantelpiece, up on the right and upon the left, and with a remembrance of Mis Conway's blanket shawl last year, a little trail of buudles began at the hearth rug and drifted far out into the room. So, in the dim light of the lire they | hung before those closed eyes and waited | for the day. And thus it was because she was not discouraged, but kept up a good heart, j Santa Claus came to Miss Maria.— j [Drake's Magazine. The Empress of Japan. At excessive heights above all Japan ' esc women, the invisible Empress, till i within recent years, was enthroned like a goddess. But she, the sovereign, has descended little by little from her em pyrean; she shows herself at present,she receives, she speaks, and she even lunches ! —with the tips of ner lips, it is true. She | has abandoned her magnificent enraails strewn with strange blazons, her wide 1 headdress that looked like an idol's, and her enormous fans; she sends, alas! to Paris or London for her corsets, her dresses, and her bonnets. 1 Five years have passed over the clirys ! anthemums bincc, on one of these very ! rare solemnities, where a few privileged ones are admitted to her presence, I had the honor of seeing her in the gardens. She was ideally charming, passing like a fairy among her parterres, flowered in profusion with the sad flowers of au tumn; then coming to sit beneath her I canopy of violet crcpon (the imperial i color) in the hieratic stifTuess of her ! robes, tinted like tlie wings of a hum ming-bird. All the deliciously quaint pageantry with which she then surround ed herself gave her the charm of an unrca creature. Upon her painted lips hov ered a ceremonial smile, disdainful and ' vague. Beneath the powder her exqui site face preserved an impenetrable ex pression, and notwithstanding the grace of her greeting, one felt her offended by our presence, which according to the . new customs she was forced to tolerate —she, the holy Empress, invisible of yore : like a religious myth.—[Harper's Maga- I ziue. Acidity of the Stomach. | This condition is due to germs, and the cure lies in getting rid of the germs. Germs of fermentation in the stomach produce first alcohol,then carbonic acid, and then acetic acid. A p rson troubled with this form of dyspepsia should bo careful to take only such articles of food I as do not favor the development of germs, ami tlms starve them out. Another thing to do is to wash the germs out of the stomach by drinking freely of hot water before meals. If food is put into a stomach already sour,of course fermen tation will be set up immediately. Some persons notice that as soon as they eat their stomachs become sour. The third important thing to do is to stimulate the stomach to make more gastric juice, which is a natural antiseptic, and prevents fer mentation and also hastens absorption. The glands may be stimulated by apply ing hot fomentations to the stomacn for half an hour immediately after the close of a meal, or, easier still, by wearing a rubber bag filled with hot water directly over the stomach for half an hour or an hour. Heat is a natural stimulant, and there are no possible ill effects from its use in this way.—[Good Health. One Idea, of Fun. I have heard different versions of what constitutes fun, but I had the pleasure of having an old soldier's idea of it recent ly. "At Gettysburg, about the time of Pickett's charge," began the old veteran, "I was stationed down toward the of the wheat field, and was sent out m charge of a squad to relieve the picket in a copse. On meeting the sergeant I was about to relieve he asked mo what my orders were. I informed him, and I among other orders, the pickets were not to fire. 'Why,' said the sergeant, 'they are firing right now. Why don't you stop them?' 'Oh, well, they are just I having a little fun in there. The "Con | feds" nave got possession of a stretch of i stone wall, and our boys swear they are going to take it from them.' I went and I joined in with the boys, and soon the I other sergeant and his boys were as deep | in the 'fun' as my men, notwithstanding I their orders not to fire. They kept it up, I dodging behind trees and working around the woods until they got a good flank fire, ran in on the stone wall and captured it. They had their 'fun' and accomplished their object."—[New York Star. | THE JOKER'S BUDGET. TESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. : Constancy—A Serious Lack —Grace and Cake He WasJNot In It. Etc., | Etc. CONSTANCY. J love (1 her well, My Antoinette; Misfortunes fell, I loved her yet. She was not true— Inconstant grew; Bade me forget. Dost love her yet, Fair Antoinette? i This much I'll tell— Since on her soil i tike's now struck oil— I love lier well. m NfRIWW f.AdT. Young Mr. Forundred (in Squash Center) —Aw, my good man, do you ev ah have fox-hunts heah? Native—Nope. "What is the mattah? No foxes?" "Plenty o 1 foxes." "No dogs?" "Plenty o' dogs." "No horses?" "Plenty o' horses." "Then—aw—what is the mattah?" "No fools."—[New York Weekly. WHERE MOST OF TIIE.M OCCUR. Pedestrian (excitedly)—By heavens! j if that wasn't a close shave! Bystander—Where? Pedestrian —At the barber shop.— [Binglinmton Republican. IN A GOTHAM FLAT. Mrs. Rentem (examining the flat) — Where docs this passageway lead, my man? Janitor (indignantly)— That isn't a passageway, ma'am; that's the dining room. -[Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. ONE OF THOSE PARADOXES. Explain it any way you can, The facts are seemingly disjointed, But the speeches of the bluntest man, Are apt to be most sharply pointed. UTILITY. Dealer—These carpets can't be beat, j mun\. I Customer—lluli! Catch me buying 1 carpets that can't be beat. What d'ye 'spose I keep a husban' for? TIME'S CHANGES. Brown—So you could never under stand a woman? Cobwigger—No. Before marriage I occupied my time in making myself out worse than I was; now it takes me every minute of my time to make myself out better than I am.—[Epoch. STRUCK AGAINST HIM. "Ilello, McCorkle, how did you get your head broken like that?" "Labor troubles, McCrackle." "Labor troubles?" "Yes; my wife went on a strike." — [Epoch. RUFFLED MAJESTY. Lord Salisbury—Your Majesty seems, if I may be permitted to say so, to be ruffled this morning. Queen Victoria—l am, my lord. A little incident occurred this morning that has had quite a nervous effect upon me. Lord Salisbury—Did you lose your collar button? IMPRUDENT. Cholly—Do you know I met Jack on the street and lie was wrapped in thought? Ethel—Oh dear! I Tow unfortunate! I aui sure lie caught cold. BUT HE DIDN'T. Jimpson —One thing I'd like to know. C'ara Bellows—Yes, you ought to know one thing at least. HE WAS "NOT IN IT." A man from the West at a feast, Met a charming young girl from the East. He asked for her hand, She scorned his demand, Fori he poor fellow's pants were not creased. —[Clothier and Furnisher. SYMPATHETIC. Simpson—l always pay as I go. Cora Bellows (yawning)—Ah! Your creditors have my sympathy. A BLEAK PROSPECT. Husband —My dear, we will have to begin to economize right off. Wife—Dear me! What has happened." Husband—Cigars have gone up.— [New York Weekly. PROFESSOR KOCH OUTDONE. Johnny St. George (aged nine) lias just been completely cured of a consump tion of six jam tarts daily, which had j already lasted more than a year. LOST. "I have just been reading an interest ing story of two men who were lost in the Adirondacks while hunting," said the beautiful Miss Hickins. "Were you ever lost, Mr. Tubbs?" "Once." "When?" "When I first saw you I was lost in ad miration, and I may add that I have not since been found." —[Bazar. ANOTHER OBJECTION. "There is one objection to the new tariff bill that I huve not seen men tioned." "What is that?" "It doesn't remove the taeks from car pets."—[Bazar. WORTHY OK A DIRECTOR'S PLACE. Strawber —That was a pretty good trick that was played ou a gas company in Chicago. A fellow out there discon nected his meter, put a rubber tube around it, and for months they didn't discover that he had been robbing them. Smgerly—What did they do with him then ? Strawber —They made him one of the directors of the company.—[Life. HE WANTED THEM BACK. "Sir," he said, haughtily, "leave my preseucc!" "I'll be blessed if I do," he answered. "I want them back before we cry quits." MIXING HIM UP. A boy about ten years old entered a hardware store on Gratiot street and asked if they kept nails. "No, sir," promptly replied the clerk. "You'll find 'em next door in the milli nery store." "That's funny," said the boy, as he looked around. "I was in there the other day to ask if they kept bonnets, and they told me to come in here for 'em. I guess I'll have to go to a butcher shop."—[Detroit Free Press. SPECIAL PLEADING. ' She—And you really love met lie —Yes, my angel. She —Oil, but I can't marry you. I feel certain I couldn't make you happy. He—Oh, but, dear, I'm of the most con tented disposition—you don't know how easily pleased I am.—[Epoch. A BAD SIGN. Patieut—Tlow do you dare to adver tise "Teeth extracted without pain?" Dentist-—Why, I didn't hurt you while extracting that tooth. You were under the influence of gas. Patient—l know. It is your bill that pains me. IN "SOCIETY." There was a little social gathering the residence of Judge Pcterby, and Colonel Yerger, who was present, ob served the ladies, who were all together in the parlor, were not very talkative, so he said to Judge Peterby: "How little those ladies have to say to each other." •Must wait until one of them goes away, and then listen to what the rest have to say about licr. You don't un derstand the fair sex, Colonel Yerger." —[Texas Sittings. GRACE AND CAKE. Mr. Bingo—Well, Tommy, what did you learn at Sunday-school to-day? Tommy—l learned how to say grace. Mr. Bingo—Let's hear it. Tommy (meekly)—lt only goes with two pieces of cake. A LUCKY MAN. Patrick—Be jabers. Oi waz boom lucky. Jist afthcr lcavin' th' house this mornin' Oi was knocked down boi a , cab; wan block bevand that Oi were ' I caught in a pavement explosion; a block I beyant agin < )i were mistook for a thafc I an' cloobed boi a polacemon; an' phinl j (>i got to won uk, a big stone from th' j build in' fell an' cracked inc shoulder. ! Bystander Where does the luck ! come in? Patrick Faitli! Ain't Oi aloive j yet?—|New York Weekly. TWICE HE WEPT. Wife—Oh, George! Willie got liis little hand caught in the folding doors to-day, and crushed his fingers horribly, j lie cried and cried until 1 was really frightened. George Poor little chap! I hear him crying yet; where is he? Wife—Oh, he's crying now because 1 won't let him do it again.—[Christmas Puck. HIS OPPORTUNITY. lie—They tell me you are very smart, Miss Modesta. Miss Modesta—Oh, no! I think lam one of the foolish virgins. He—Well, then—perhaps—you would —marry mc? MENTAL ARITHMETIC. Tramp—My paid says ye jist guv him ten cents fer bavin' one leg. B. Nevolent—Yes, I did. Tramp—Gimmie twenty won't yer? I've got two. —[Good News. FLATTERY OVERDONE. "Madam," said the tramp, suavely, to the woman of the house, "you will have no objections, I hope, to my remaining on your back porch a few moments to rest myself and inhale the odor of that delicious young prairie chicken you are , cooking." "How do you know it's a young prai rie chicken?" she demanded. ; "Why, I " "How do you know it isn't quail, or . venison, or Rocky Mountain sheep?" "Madam, I assure you " <4 llow do you know it isn't cnnvasback duck, or Carolina ricebirds, or bluc wingcd teal, or diamond-backed terra pin?" "It seems good enough to be any of them, I am sure, and " "If you've got any use of that red nose of yours," retorted the woman, "you know well enough it's a leathery old barnyard hen. She's been cooking for six mortal hours and ain't done yet, and I've got no time to waste on a sneak ing, hypocritical, llattcring, cold vituals ; loafer. You git." The tramp lost no time in obeying. | "The next house I tackle," he said savagely to himself a* he trudged on, "I'll ask 'em for some of their fried livei scraps, by gosh!"—[Chicago Tribune. The Queen of Italy. Of the beauty of Queen Marghcrita all ' the world has heard. Without having perfect features, she has been and is still beautiful, thanks to the delicacy of hci complexion, the giace of her outlines, the sweetness of her expressions. Earl? in life she, too, was very delicate, and so thin as to be almost transparent; but in the course of years she has grown stouter, j and now may be said to be too stout for beauty. Her German mother was care ful to give the daughter a thorough cdu- j cation, superior to that enjoyed in those days by Italian women. Queen Mar-! gherita knows both German and Italian literature well, is fond of music, and ! sings herself with taste and feeling. She 1 has a pronounced affect ion for the Ger-1 man school of melody, but she also up preciates the Italian. She is fond of the' society of men of thought and letters,! and at her intimate evening teas may be met some of the leading men of the land, j who drop in to chat away an hour with out ceremony. Indeed, the absence of ceremony, destructive to all reasonable intercourse is a distinctive and charm ing feature of the Italian court life. Among those whom the queen loved to receive was the late Minister Minghetti, a simple gentlemanly burgher, who was well versed in questions of art and let ters. Another of her well-liked habitues is Bonghi, the statesman and man of let ters; also Professor Villari, senator and historian. She has even known how to gain over to her Italy's greatest living poet, Giosue Carducci, who began life as a violent republican and hater of royalty. —[Chicago Herald. Bats in Cold Weather. At the beginning of cold weather bats begin to huddle together in regulat bunches, in hollow trees, dark corners in deserted houses, or in caves in the rocks. They gradually lose all sensibib ity and continue in a drowsy state until the return of genuine warm weather. The little hooks at the end of the joints of each wing of a bat are what the bat hangs itself up by when it goes to sleep. When the bats arc clustering for their winter's sleep, one of the number hangi itself in this way, head downward, and the others cling 10 it. It is said that sixty bats have been found in one cluster, the entire weight of the lot being sus tained by the one bat with his hooks clinging to whatever he fastened them j to at the start. Bats that have obtained the outside positiou in bunches of thil kind have been fouud so badly frozen j that their wings could be broken liku i brittle candy, yet on putting them in a warm place they soon "thawed out" and came to life as if nothing had happened to them. PAPER MONEY. WHAT UNCLE SAM GAINED BY FRACTIONAL CURRENCY. Much of it is Burned op Destroyed by Other Accidents— Identify ing Pieces. "The parlor stove is a considerable cource of income to the United States treasury at this time of year, though the contributors to the fund accumulated by its means are invariably most unwilling ones," said a treasury official to a writer for the Washington Star. "Of all ways of hoarding paper money none appears to be in such universal favor as that of hidiDg it away in au unused sitting-room stove during the summer time. When the fire is lighted in the autumn the cash goes up in smoke, and then the owner makes application to have the ashes redeemed. The chief of the redemption division said yesterday that not less than 100 such cases were submitted to him every fall. Sometimes the remuines are not too far consumed i for identification, but as a rule this method of destroying money is found to be singularly effective and hopeless. There was received yesterday at the treasury ski2o in the shape of a small j quantity of ashes packed in a thimble. \ from Texas. The woman who owned i the $l2O had drawn the sum from bank I and deposited it in the stove for safer keeping, with the usual result. Unfor tunately, the ashes were indistinguish able from any other ashes, and so she will lose the amount. "It Is a most interesting fact that near ly all the paper money destroyed by accident meets its fate on the rail. Whenever a railway disaster occurs fire usually ensues, and the express car is j burned. Now an express car almost : invariably carries a safe with more or j less money in it, among other valuables, j The safe, unless It is one for trans- j porting government money, is apt to be , of the portable kind aud not fire-proof. 1 Thus, it is an almost every-day occur-j renco for one of these safes to arrive at j the treasury here with its cash contents i in the shape of more or less hopeless ashes. "For example, take the accident that occured in Kentucky only the other day. Two trains met in a tunnel, one of ! them loaded with passengers and the ; other n freight, carrying coal and iron, j For thirty hours the wreck burned aud | such was the heat generated that the | iron was melted and flowed like water, j In the express car of the passenger train j was a safe with SI,OOO cash in it, be | sides a lot of jewelry. It was all paper : money and was reduced to ashes. {Sev en hundred dollars is all that the re demption division has been able to get i out of it in condition for purchase with fresh United States notes. This, the authorities say, is the worst ordeal through which an express safe has ever passed." "You would be astonished to see how little in the way of remains is required, when passed under the hands of the treasury experts, to procure the identifi cation and redemption of burned paper 1 money. A few bits, so hopelessly j charred as to seem to the ordinary eye but a small accumulation of ashes, may be redeemed for thousands of dollars in bright new bills at the paying teller's desk. All that is required is sufficient evidence that the originals of the notes have been really destroyed. Morsels no bigger than your finger nail are every day redeemed for the face value of the bills they represent. As to this it is | largely a matter of chance. If the mor ' sel were merely a corner, it would not j be likely to suffice for the identification of the note. Supposing that the case is that of a bank note, it is absolutely es- I sential that the bank should be deter ! mined, else payment cannot be made. But let the bit presented show the nuu-i] of the bank, its number, or even a p. r- j tion of one of the officers' signature, and it goes. Until very recently portions of 1 notes sent in have been redeemed on the j discount principle—nine-tenths of a dol lar bill bringing SO, and so on but now the law is the smallest portion is redeem able at full face value, if only it is ac companied with satisfactory affidavits as to the loss of the remainder. Some few attempts have beeu made to swindle the treasury in this way by false affidavits, but the department believes that it has always discovered them. I "Uncle Sain has made a good deal of : money by his paper cash that has been accideutly destroyed. Of course, •every penny of it that is not handed in at the treasury for redemption is so much in his pocket, in this way he has found his issue of fractional currency most profit able. These small notes—for 5 cents, 10 , cents, 25 cents and 50 cents—were easily ! destroyed, especially during war i times. "The first issue was made in 18013, ami of the live-cent notes then put forth, nearly one-half—more than 45 percent., accurately speaking has never been asked payment for. The same thing is true of 510 per cent, of the 10 cent notes, 20 per cent, of the 25-ccnt notes and 11 per cent, of the 50-ccut notes. It is shown by the figured treasury total that of the $20,000 worth of these little notes first issued more than $4,000,000 still remains in the clothes of the government. There were four more subsequent issues of fractional currency—some of their output in 3 and 15-cent notes—aggregat ing about $447,000,000, and of this lump sum more than $11,000,000 has not been called for. This leaves Uncle Sam 'on velvet' to the extent of $15,000,000, so far as his fractional notes are concerned. In other words, he seems to have made that amount of money clear on the five issues. "Now, what has become of all this small change? In 1879 a treasury com mission, not appointed by law in any proper form, made up its mind that $8,000,000 hid been lost or destroyed and Congress accordingly turned that amount out of the $10,000,000 originally appropriated for the redemption of the fractional notes over for the payment of pensions. Since then three experts in the department, making their calcula tions independently—one of them Ac countant Lentz of the natioual banking division—have arrived approximately at the same conclusion that not more than $1,000,000 of the fractional currency has been destroyed or lost and that 514,000,000 yet remains outstanding. According to their estimates this great sum is at present entirely in the hands of collectors, large and small. It re quires nearly $3,000,000 of each frac tional issue to sutisfy their appetite for curiosities. Not merely do deulcrshold considerable stocks of these notes, but nearly every private individual has one or more of them just for fun. "As for the gain of the government on its notes of larger deuominatiou through their loss or destruction, the treasury is only able to make a guess, estimating it at considerably less than 1 per cent. While the discounting of pa per currency by paying proportionately for fractions of bills was legal the treasury cleared $350,000 through the industry. A good deal of money in paper is hoarded every year by persons who die without revealing its wherea bouts and much of it is never found. Sums in this shape are often dug up on the persons of corpses exhumed for othec purposes. Only the other day the body of a murdered man was discovered in the woods near an Ohio town badly decom posed and with a pocketbook tilled with greenbacks. The latter was sent to the treasury here for redemption, which did not prove in this instance a pleasant task. " AN INFANTILE ESCULAPIUS. A Five-Year-Old Boy with a Re markable Knowledge of Anatomy. Talk about your boy preachers, infan tile linguists and baby musicians! We have right heje, in our own fair city, a youth who will probably in time become tbe most celebrated phy sicians and surgeons in the world. At the regular meeting of the Southern Medical Society last Saturday evening, Master Albert Vcrner Fensch, of Fort i McPherson, was unanimously elected to honorary membership in that organiza tion, as the youngest medical student knowu to the profession. Dr. J. E. Price, of Virginia. President |of the Society, who introduced this ! young gentleman, stated that though he i had barely attained the age of five year 9, ! he was possessed of a knowledge of an atomy, especially of osteology, equal to that of many graduates of medicine. In his exhibition before the Society, the child was üble not only to give the technical and scientific names of each of the two hundred and odd bones of the human skeleton, but to describe their | various functions, divisions, tuberosities, tubercles, Ac, The little fellow prefers to amuse him self by fitting together and adjusting the bones of the human body (with which he has been presented a complete set) to playing with blocks, drums and whistles, and delights iu tracing on an atomical charts and cuts the various blood vessels of the human anatomy rather than amusing himself with pic ture books. lie intelligently listens to and appreciates a scientific lecture on anatomy, while scorning Mother Goose's melodies, and chooses his friends and acquaintances among physicians and medical students rather than from chil ren of his own age. This little anatomist is a favorite with the professors and a pet of the students of the Southern Medical College, where he rarely fails to be in attendance upon Professor Nicholson's lectures on his favorite branch—anatomy. Mexican Burden Bearers. Two legged beasts of burden arc very plentiful iu Mexico. In ancient times, : before the coming of the Spaniards, the only possible means of transportation j away from the few watercourses, was on the backs of men; for many years after ! the Conquest, while oxen, mules, and | horses yet were few, this primitive method of burden-bearing was continued; and | even now, as the traveller in a Pullman car may see where the railway parallels a high-road, freight carriage on man back is a recognized institution in the land. The loads which these pack ani mals carry uncomplainingly frequently are of such a weight that an able-bodied mule would twitch his tail viciously | should they be imposed upon him; yet the human bearer will stride along be | ueath' them with a steady, easy gait,and even in a long journey will make but ! few halts. The method of carriage, when 1 the weight is great, always is the same: a broad strap, the mecapal , goes across the forehead and divides with the broad back the strain of the load.—[Harper's Weekly. _____ Bridges and Civilization. The chemist Licbig proposes to moos* urc the grade of culture by the amount of soap used by each million of a coun try's population; Kduioud About thought that the use of writing paper would be a fairer test, and Colonel Shelley of the R. British engineers suggests that the rate of progress should be estimated by the construction of bridges. Of all the j large rivers in Kurope the Loire and the j Kibe are bridged at shortest intervals; in North America the Ohio, though the endless Missouri exceeds it in the total number of bridges of all kinds. Africa übouuds in biidge less streams, and the large rivers of South America are crossed only by footlogs neat their headwaters. .Judging from the number of ruined bridgeheads even the Elbe was once surpassed by the Guadal ' quivir, thanks to the industry of the Spanish Moors, whose Caliphs spent a large portion of the public revenues on the improvement of canals and highways. —[New York Voice. Indians as Judges. At Standing ltock, South Dukota, the | Court of Indian OlTences holds bi-weekly | sessions at the agency, where all Indians committing offences arc brought for I trial. Eighty-three cases were heard 1 and adjudicated by this court during the | last year, and all the decisions have been intelligently and impartially rendered upon the evidence adduced. Offenders were punished by fines of rifles, shotguns, revolvers, etc., also by imprisonment at hard labor, and some times by close confinement. In every instance the decision of the Court has been sustained by public sentiment, and not a single appeal to a higher authority was asked. The three judges of the court are John Grass, head chief of the Blackfeet Sioux band; Chief Gull, of the Hunkapnpa band, leader of the progressive element of the late hostile Sioux, and Standing Soldier of the Yanktonais; all of whom are full-blooded Indians, eminent among and respected by their people. The Soko. Dr. Livingstone, writing from the tableland country we9t of Lake Tangan zika, frequently mentions the existence of an animal called a "Soko," which he describes as a species of gorilla, and the most repulsive of all the large African apes. "Other animals of that kind," he says, "are graceful, and it is pleasant to see them, either at rest or in motion; the natives also are well mado, lithe and comely to behold; but the Soko would do well to stand for a picture of the devil. He takes away my appetite by his disgusting bestiality of appearance. Naturalists were long puzzled by the paradox of a forest-loving gorilla exist ing on an almost treeless tableland, and recent explorations of the region in ques tion have established the fact that itl list of qtiadruinana includes no apes at all, but three varieties of dog-faced ba boons, some of which the illustrious mis sionary may have mistaken for gorillas. —[New York Voice.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers