Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, January 08, 1891, Image 2
THE BREAD WINNER. At set of BUM he come LI home space, With tired footstep* and with aching frame, And yet with eagerness hie eyes proclaim, The contemplation of his wife's embrace— The joy to join his bairns in romp and chase, And with them share the g'ee of childish game, Within the cheerful glow of hearthstone flume. Or out of doors in many a hiding place. Tins brawny man, fresh from his daily tusk, j With marks of honest toil still on his luce, ■ As on ho comes with dinner-puil in hund, Enjoys & surer blis* than they who bask | Within the languid warmth of wealth or I place; There is 110 happier soul in all the land. | —I Ed ward A. Oldham, in brake's Magazine. ' THE LOWEST BIDDER. BY ERNEST A. YOUNG. "Wve got her dirt cheap," said Sam Carter, a trifle enviously. "YVhy didn't ye bid under me, then? Jones didn't want ter stand there and haggle ull day in the ruin. And besides, ye needn't be afeared of my makin' any thing olf'er the gal. She broke her arm 'bout three weeks ago, and she'll make the most 'o that fer ter git outer work. That's the way with all of them paupers, they know the town's bound ter support! 'em, whether they work or not. So money in tukin' one on 'em, and I'd; never do it 'ccptin' to help the town." ' Thus protested 'Bijah Green, who had l>een the lowest bidder for the care and I support of Sarah Golding. It should be . understood, to begin with,that the town of Greenville had an aunual vendue, when j its pauper wards were sold for one year to whomsoever should offer to take one or more of them for the smallest expense to the township. 'Bijah Green had the reputation of al ways being lucky 011 these occasions. 1 During the year just ended he had se cured a boy, whom lie forced to do j a man's work, while the town paid 'Bijah | twenty-five dollars in cash for the pau per's keep. This year the lad had been j more fortunate, and it was Sarah Geld ing's turn to fall into 'Bijah Green's 1 clutches. She was nearly sixteen, and but for her recently broken arm would have been free, for she could have earned her bread and clothes, at least, in anv house hold. "I'd gin her her keep myself if I hadn't so many great, lazy gals of my own," said Jones, the auctioneer, for Sarah was the feature of the sale, she being the only one that year that could he expected to do anv work of importance. "She's a likcly-lookin gal," remarked another, "and if she was rigged up in a i decent frock some of the fellers 'round ! here'd be steppiu' up to her, fust ye'd know." "I'll look arter that," said 'Bijah, | shrewdly. "Courtin' 'll spile any gal for work, and them that lives with me has ter work onless they're sick. And not so many folks 'uld be sick if they would only work 'nough ter keep their minds from preyin' on their body, in my 'pinion." This was a favorite bit of philosophy with 'Bijah, and the bystanders winked at each other comprehendingly as lie ut tered it now. It was raining hard and the vendue had been thinly attended. Otherwise Sarah Golding might have fallen into better hands. The paupers, eight in number, wore huddled under the meeting-house shed. One by one they were taken away by the bidders, and it was not until 'Bijah's sorrel horse and ramshackle wagon drove around to the shed that Sarah knew how she was to be disposed of. For the year just past she had had a good home, and she had been given to understand that there would be plenty at the vendue willing to give her her board and clothes, and perhaps a little money besides, for her services during the com ing year. This, of course, would have made her free, she would have been a pauper slave no longer. And the hope had leut a new brightness to her eyes and brought an expectant flush to licr cheeks, which rendered them positively attractive. But circumstances were against her. The heavy rain which had kept so many bidders away from the auction, and her broken arm, which was in reality nearly well, were enough to make her a slave for another year. Iler heart gave a great rebellious throb as she saw 'Bijah Green cramp the wheel of his buggy in front of the shed and beckon to her to come out. •Come, gal," he said with a grin that showed how scattered his teeth were be coming. " It's you and us thin year. 1 hated ter see ye go where ye'd be ill used, so I made up my mind to lose money ou ye. Hurry up, for it's rain in' harder every minute, and I wanter git home in time fer dinner." Sarah advanced slowly a few paces, and then paused. She had heard much concerning 'Bijah Green's treatment of town paupers, and to find herself thrown upon his charge when she had expected to be free was more than she could tamely bear. '• What do you want of mo?" she de manded. " I've bid ye off, hope ye ain't bard of heurii.'," said Bijah. "I didn't know as I was to be sold like an ox again,"' returned Sarah. " What (I've s'posc they'd do with ye? Send ye off to boardin' school at e\ pense o' the town, hey?" " I can earn my own living, I have earned it for two years, if the truth was known. They've no right to sell me like this. And if they hud they ought to know better'n to sell me to such as you!" jried Sarah, lotting the indignant words out in a flood now that she had dared to begin. "What d'ye mean by that, hey? Bet ter be keerful, better be keerful!" snarled 'Bijah. "I ain't going with you. that's all there is about it, Mr. Green," said Sarah and she drew backward a pace. " Ain't goin' with me!" echoed the taskmaster, showing his ragged teeth in a wolfish fashion. • "No, 1 ain't goin with you, nor with anybody that 1 don't live out to on my owu account. I won't be a pauper, and be sold like a slave. 11l find a place to work and earn wages, too. So you may drive your old nag home alone, for all t I care about you!" Bi jah was in a fury. He leaped from his vcichle and made a dash toward the girl. But he was not so young or so nimble as he was once, while Sarah Gold ing could run like a deer. She darted past him 80 closely that her ragged skirts whisked against his outstretched arm, and forth from the shed. The other paupers, who were children stared at her in open-mouthed wonder'. They saw her flit around the corner of the building, strike into a footpath and disappear a moment later in the woods beyond. 'Bijah Green stared, then started in pursuit, hobbling over the wet ground to the edge of the woods, and then after a j moment's pause, retraced his steps to his i buggy. •'Might as well run arter a run away ■ ea'f, Bijah," said Sam Carter, who had ' witnessed the whole affair, and was rather pleased than otherwise at its j outcome. "I'll ketch the hussy, if I have ter; chase her with dogs, as I would a fox!" i cried the other. And he plied his whip j mercilessly to the sorrel horse, and drove ' furiously homeward. In his heart he ! believed that Sarah Golding would he j around in a more humble mood, and be ( glad enough to accept shelter in his dwelling. While 'Bijah Green drove rapidly homeward, auothcr team left the vicinity i of the shed and was driven away from the town upon another road. The driver was a young man who had come in from j a large town ten miles distant upon a business errand, and who had been a j spectator at the close of the vendue, j He had a kind, intelligent face, and ! 1 evinced his disgust at the sale. John Townsend, which was the young man's namo, had to call at a prosperous ! looking farmhouse soon after leaving the j J ' ' town and as his business was a real-es- : J tatc transaction the entire afternoon passed before it was completed. When 1 jhe started to go ou it still rained, and 1 was growing dark. j ' Away he drove down the darkening > 1 road, a*little vexed at being delayed so 1 long on his homeward journey. j 1 A mile or more of the louely road had ] j been traversed when it suddenly oc- < 1 curred to hiin that the blanket, which 1 had been flung over the horse whenever 1 he hitched, and had been folded and ! ( | placed on the seat of the vehicle when j not in use, was not then in its accus- i tomed place. ! "Just like the man to have left it in ) s the barn when he hitched up for me," j 1 he exclaimed. Then he reached down ' aud fumbled underneath the seat for the > missing article. 1 "Great Scott!" he ejaculated, sudden- , <■ ly withdrawing his hand and springing " Ito his feet. For he had touched some- 1 thing he knew he had never stowed 1 away in that place, something that 1 moved, that lived! < He drew his horse quickly down to a , ' halt, and while he was doing so, aud he | ( . was bracing his muscles for an encounter j > with a robber, the stowaway hastily 1 scrambled forth from the hiding-place. "I—l didn't mean you to find mel"i exclaimed the one who rose from the ; bottom of the carriage, and crouched j against the dashboard with a frightened, upturned face. It was the chattel which 'Bijah Green had bid off at such a low figure, Sarah j Golding, the pauper. And her eyes were \ ( moist, and her face upturned appeal- j ingly to John Townsend. lie recognized her instantly. j j "Well, if this isn't n go!" he exclaimed. ■ j "Come," he added, "get up and sit 1 ou the seat. This is the way to ride iu a j j gentleman's carriage. How in the name jof wonder did you get there? You're the—er—l mean I saw you at the vendue, j 1 and understood you were going to work : for one 'Bijah Green, wasn't that his '< name ?" "He bought me, but I ran away from him," said Sarah. "You won't carry me | back, will you?" she quickly added, i "He is a hard master, I will never stay with him, 1 will live in the woods first." j j John scratched his head. "I don't I know what else to do, I declare," he . i helplessly exclaimed. "I can work for your wife, and take j ( care of your children. lam real patient j'• with children." "Good gracious," John ejaculated, "I ! haven't any wife, much less children, and there isn't any prospect of my get- j ; ting in that fix right away. Really, now, what's your name?" "Sarah Golding," was the tremulous answer. "Really, Sarah," resumed John in his ' kindest tones, "I can't take care of you ; 1 situated as I am, and as for finding you a ; place, why, it mightn't turn out any bet- j ter than 'Bijah Green's. I'd better take you hack. The town—ch—all!" John Townsend's speech ended abrupt- i ly. The carriage wheels upon his side j ' had suddenly dropped into a dangerous j ; gully formed that day by the heavy rains. ! r He was thrown forcibly out, and as he j ■ fell an excruciating pang shot through his shoulder. He knew it meant disloca tion and perhaps weeks of idleness after ward. lie scarcely thought of the stow away then, iu the realization of his own mishap. The horse did not run, and Townsend ; soon became aware that some one was '' tugging at his uninjured arm. I "Come," said Sarah, for it was she, I "I have righted the carriage and I will drive for you if you can only manage to I get in somehow. Let mc help you. Are : ■ you much hurt?" 1; She did help him, so handily that ho secretly blessed his stars that she was j '' there. And she drove him home, by his j directions, with a coolness that he ad -1 mired heartily. "She's a capable girl, I'm sure," he ' • said to his mother the next day, "and 1 now I'm going to be laid up awhile and ; 1 make you extra work, we'd better let her 1 stay. She ought to be worth her keep." j ' So it was settled, and Sarah remained 1 in the grc.it, comfortable Townsend , farm-house, not only until John's shoul- j der was well, but until her seventeenth birthday, and all the while she strove j hard to improve her education, and above ! all to learn to be a model housekeeper. 1 She succeeded remarkably well in both, j John was a plain, practical fellow, and it was hard for him to believe that he j could get entangled in a matrimonial way. Yet he had to give up. Sarah hid grown prettier and more sensible j every day, until at last he found himself saying to her, with an eager tremor in his voice. 4 'l I've made up my mind that I'm in love with you, Sarah! Would it be pos sible for me to bid over 'BijaliGrcen and ! gain you for my own!" j "It is the lowest bidder that wins | when one is a pauper ward," she ! answered. I "I'm not bidding that way, Sarah. You will never be a pauper ward again if I cun help it " said John. "Then I am glad 'Bijnh Green was the lowest bidder then, for had it been some .0:0 else I might not have run away and found you," was Sarah's low spoken re sponge. —lYankee Blade. Knots on Trees. It is a mistake to suppose that the knots or warts which arc very common on some species of forest trees arc due to I insects, fungus, or accident, or are in any way unnatural growths. They de i velop as results neither of tiic health nor j disease of the tree, nor of such condi ' tions as special kinds of noil or situa j tions. Science Gossip thus accounts for ■ their formation: ! "In the harks of our forest trees are j contained a multitude of latent buds, I which are developed arid grow under certain favorable conditions. Borne trees possess this property in a remarkable degree, and often, when the other parts arc killed down by frost, the property of ! pushing out these latent buds into 1 growth preserves the life of the plant, j These buds huving once begun to grow, ' adhere to the woody layer at their base, and push out their points through the baik toward the light. "The buds then unfold and develop j leaves, which elaborate the sap carried up the small shoot. Once elaborated, it 1 uescends by the bark, when it reaches | the base or inner bark. Here it is ar . rested, so to speak, and deposited be ' tureen the outside and inner layer of barkens can be learned on examiningspeci ■ mens on the trees in the woods almost anywhere." [THE PENSION OFFICE. Its Work Described —Method of Pre senting Claims. It is estimated that the United States i Pension Office will consume about $140,- i 000,000 iu 1891. This includes the cost l of running the office. It is interesting, | says a writer in the New York Times, to ' take a glance at the machinery which will disburse this enormous sum of money, aud which itself costs between $4,000,000 ft"d $5,000,000 each yeai- The United States Pension Office staff is composed of about (5,000 empbyes, ex amining surgeons, who are scattered all over the couutry, and who make physical examinations of applicants for pension, reporting their findings to the headquur tevs iu Washington; pension agents who pay the pensious that are allowed; special examiners, who travel around the country making special investigations in cases where unusual complications have arisen, or where fraud is suspected, and the huge Pension Office proper, situated in Judic iary Square, Washington, just back of the rooms of the Civil Service Commis sion, and convenient to the police court us well. The work of the Pension Office is di vided among fifteen divisions. The record division takes charge of the re cording and distributing of new claims as they come iu, the law division decides legal questions that are referred to it, and the medical division passes upon the medical aspects of the case. The adjudi cating divisions are divided into several bodies, each having charge of all claims coming from a certain group of States, and one having charge of "old war and 1 navy" claims. After a claim has passed through these divisions it goes before a 1 board of review, and during Commis ! sioner Black's term it went before a board of re-review likewise, but this has 1 been recently abolished. Finally the pension certificate is issued. It can be seen from this that a claim for pension lias to go through a long aud complicated course of treatment before it reaches the stage of final adjudication. The first thing that is done upon the ar -1 rival of a declaration for pension is to 1 give it a number, and then the claimant is ordered to report before the pension | examining surgeon nearest to his home. Next, the Adjutant General of the army is called upon to furnish the military I record of the claimant. If this record fails to show that the soldier was ill, as alleged, during his service (and in i ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it does ' fail to show it), and if the claim is made under the old laws, as it may be if the claimant so elects, it must be proved: First, that the disability originated in j the service and in line of duty; second, ! that it existed at the time of disclinrge, and third, if it is ou account of disease I that the claim is made (and two-thirds of the claims filed are on account of di -1 sense) that it has existed to a greater or ! less degree continuously from the time of ! the claimaut'B discharge up to the pres ! ent time. All these things are proved I by ex parte documentary evidence fur nished by the claimant or his attorney upon requisition of the Pension Office. The dependent pension law approved ! June '27, 1890, has necessarily produced a new system for the adjudication of | claims filed under it. The proof re j quired iR, first, that the soldier or sailor I served ninety days in the army or navy ! and was honorably discharged, and sec | ond that he is suffering from "mental or ; physical disability of a permanent char | acter not the result of his own vicious j h-ibits, which incapacitates him from the ' performance of manual labor in such a j degree as to render him unable to earn a ' support." What "Burgoo'' Is. "Burgoo," explained Colonel James Orr of Covington, "is one of the oldest I Kentucky dishes we have. No one knows j , who first made 'burgoo,' nor does any j one know where or how it got its queer , ' name. 'Burgoo' is an out-of-doors cre- II ation. and pots of 'burgoo' have sim )! mercd over a hot fire in the sun at every j j big political gathering in the Btatc since I Henry Clay was a boy, and years before 3 | that, too. It is not only an extremely 5 j palatable dish, if you can call it that, | i j but it's very nourishing. 'Burgoo' is a j . 1 cross between a stew and a soup. It is ! always made in the open air. The 'bur • goo' the Blades of Grass ate to-day was very rich. How was it made? Well, I J took a big caldron, put some red-pepper i pods in tiie bottom, added some potatoes, I tomatoes and corn; then put in half a dozen prairie chickens, as many more tender 'yellow legs,' and a couple of dozen soft shell crabs. I'd have added some young squirrels, but they | could not lie obtuine I. When every- I ; thing is in readiness there is enough water put into the caldron to just make the contents float. Then it is put on the lire. It must be allowed to simmer slowly for six hours, and must be stirred constantly with a hickory stick. A hickory stick is best, aud is always used, but another might do as well. Wen it is nearly done it may be flavored to suit the taste. It is 'done 1 when the meats arc thoroughly shredded, not before. When it is done—Um!" and Colonel Orr's eyes sparkled at the prospect.— [Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette. Remarkable Insect Mimics. By far the most remarkable of all mimics are found among insects, the walking sticks and walking leaves being the most striking. One variety of the former is six inches in length and is al most exact in its resemblance to a twig. The walking leaf is equally remarkable in its similarity to a leaf, ull the ribs and j veins being seen, so that in structure and j color the protection is well nigh perfect. | Not only do the insects resemble their | surrounings, but the eggs are similarly 1 protected. This is especially noticeable in the egg cases of the common muntis, which so mimic their surroundings that it is almost impossible to distinguish them, a protection that was quite neces sary. Some remarkable instances are seen among butterflies, and those who I have studied these insects must have noticed the fact that many, while flying, arc exceedingly conspicuous, yet the moment thev alight they apparently dis appear —a change due to the protective coloring of the inner side of the wing.— I San Francisco Chronicle. THE JOKER'S BUDGET.) JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Love is Blind Rither Strange j Easily Done—ln Society, &c. t Ac. LOVE 18 BLIND. "What fools, indeed, these mortals be! | And foremost in this land Of many million mortal fools, The foolish lovers stand. Each thinks that wUh his own fair | maid None other can compare; Poor things! they do not see that mine Is twenty times as fair! -LLife. ! HIS NAME CHEAP. Miss Prettygal (soliciting subscrip- | tions for some charity)— Dear Mr. Jimp son, could 1 get your name for $0? Jake Jimpson (with ecstatic grin)— j Well, I should say so! You can get ray name for nothing and I'll pay the par son! IN SOCIETY. "Oh, Mr. Chinchilla," she twittered, j "what a sleepy looking overcoat you have on." "I beg your pardon," he gasped; "1 don't quite understand, don't you know." "Oh, Mr. Chinchilla, it has so much nap on it. Ha! Ha!" INSTEAD OF HER. Jake Jimpson—Darling, I love the very earth you walk ou. Cora Bellows—Then, of course, you ; "want the eatth." THE DOO KNEW THE FLOWER LANGUAGE, j Dogs are wouderful for their intelli- j genee, and owners of dogs arc perhaps I equally wonderful for their faith and \ versatility. Every one of them has a j new story. Here is the latest: "The] other day," says Mr. Gordon, "I forgot to give Bruuo his dinner, and in my pre occupation paid no attention to him when he began to beg for it. He went away at last and was goue for some time. Then he came in from the garden, bring ing something in hismouth. And what do you think it was? A sprig of forget-me not I"—[Youth's Companion. EASILY DONE. Jag way—l don't see how a man can get along on only two suits a year. Travels—Easy euough. For instance, I begin with my winter suit on the Ist of January, and wear it until the middle of March. Then I put on my spring suit and wear it until the Ist of June. Jag way - -Then what d 0 you do? Travers—l keep right on wearing it.— [Bazar. A PROPOSED COMPROMISE. John—l want you to marry me now. Mary —I can't for twelve months. John—Can't we compromise it? Mary—l'll meet you half way, and say six months. John—Oh, no. Don't compromise it that way. Marry me now and don't an nounce the marriage for twelve months. —[Epoch. THE LAST FACTORY. A clergyman riding on the down train from Boston to Yarraouthport the other day had his attention attracted by the j succession of factories as the train was passing through Brocton, the city of shoes. "How many factories are there here!" he asked a neighboring passenger; "has the row no end?" "That's the last factory," replied the passenger. "You are mistaken," said the clergy mau, "here is another." "I tell you that was the last factory," said the other importurbably. As there was likely to be a hot argu ment, a third persou, pacifically inter posed and explained that it was the last factory, or, in other words, the factory where lasts are made.—[Cape Cod Item. FIBII FOOD FOR TltK MANY. For the shoemaker—Sole. For the despondent—Blue fish. For the perfumer—Smelt. For the pension agent—Shark. For the bad boy—Whale. For the orator—Tongues and Sounds. For the merchant—C. (). I). For the soldier—Swordfish. For boys in winter—Skates. For the actor—Starfish. For the impecunious—Goldfish. INTERRUPTED THE STORY. Alphonso—Do you know, Miss Maud, I weally had half a mind lahst night Miss Maud —O, why didn't you call on mo last night? IN A SENSE. Shady—My reputation is very dear to me. Ontoit—Probably. Have to pay cash for everything, don't you? A CONNOISSEUR. Art Dealer—Here, now, is a genuine Mork of art by one of the old masters. It's iu perfect preservation. Customer (from St. Louis) —What's it wuth? "It's cheap at $500." "Yes, it's cheap enough, but it ain't exactly what I v.ant." ••What kind of a picture are you look ing for?" "I want one about five feet long and three feet eleven inches wide, to hang over the pianner." HE WAS RIGHT. "Are you ?" said the customer hesi- i tatingly to the haughty young woman at ; the glove counter, who kept her eyes 1 fixed 011 a spot three feet above his head. "Well?" inquired the haughty young ! woman. "Are you the proprietor of this store?" asked the customer. "No, I'm not," replied the haughty ; young woman. "Ah," continued the customer, "I ! thought as much. The proprietor would I likely try to sell me a pair of gloves, perhaps."—[Chicago Times. EQUAL TO THE OCCASION. A woman who was passing up Gratiot aveuuc the other day lost a fur collar oil her neck without seeming to notice the fact, and a boy lan after her and shouted : "Hey, lady, you have dropped your muskrat collar!" He held it mit to her, and three or four pedestrians came to a halt. She was equal to the occasion. Drawing her self up, and assuming all the dignity of a queen, she waved the hoy aside and said: "Thank you, little boy, but sonic poor woman probably dropped it. My seal skin collar is safe at home!"—[Detroit Free Press. GIVE AND TAKE. He—l'd like to see you women strug gling around a bargain counter just once, for the fun of the thing. She—And I'd like to sec you men struggling around a free lunch counter. AN ADVANTAGE. "Your new waitress is a very attract ive looking person." "Very, nu I it has added largely to our safety here. There is always a po liceman on duty in the kitchen." A DIVERSIFIED FAMILY. When George went wooing Mary Ann He was a soulful optimist, But Mary feared the tough old man And was a doleful pessimist; Her mother liked a little fun— She was a slothful socialist, But the old gent razzled with his gun He was a wrothful anarchist!" —[New York Herald. OFF COLOR. "What do you call the coloring of that picture—yellow ochref" "No; mediocre." LIKF. GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK. Bessie—Why do you persist in refer ring to George as "Grandfather's Clock?' Jessie —Because he has so little "go" in him since the old man died. "NEVER A ROSE, &C." Quoth Blow to Swift, "I cannot see How you have risen so, When thorny paths discourage me The higher up you go!" Quoth Swift, with inspiration rife, "Why, how do you suppose? By heeding not the thorns of life— That, sir, is how I rose!" REASON FOR REJOICING. "It's a good thing people are not treated nowadays as Ananias was for ly ing." "Why so?" "Why so? Why, if we were, Bagley. nobody'd be left alive but you aud 1, and you'd bo paralyzed." A CLOSE BUYER. Customer—What's the price of this overcoat? Clothier—Thirty dollars. "Is it all wool?" "Every thread of it." j "Seems to me it's awful heavy." ! "It won't weigh over fifteen pounds." "And you want $2 a pound for it when • wool is worth only thirty ceuts? Not by a big sight. Give you $4.50. A WILLING PARENT. Wool—What did your father-in-law say when he gave your bride away? ! Van Pelt—He quoted from the Bible, but I can't remember it exactly, i Wool—That's fuuny. Van Pelt—Oh yes; he said something! about it being more blessed to give than to receive. FROM DIFFERENT STANDPOINTS. Ethel—Oh, at last! It has been years, Alphouse, since I saw you." Alphonse—Oh, ray own Ethel, it has been centuries. Ethel's Father (up in the library)— Maggie, who was that you just let iu? Maggie—lt was Mr. Cumlots, sir. Ethel's Father—Great guns, this is the ninth time he's been here this week. He might as well live here.—[Boston Cour ier. LOVE LAUGHS. Sheriff—l wonder why Mrs. Blokey calls Steve "love" when she comes to sec him? Turnkey—Oh, he's up for burglary, you know—he "laughs at locksmiths." AN OBLIGING PHYSICIAN. Fanglc—Does Dr. Pillbury practice much! Curaso—W-c-cll, whenever anybody wants him, he's willing to practice on 'cm. CHARLEY WAS SLOW. Amy—Are you going to give Charley anything on his birthday, Mabel? Mabel—l'm thinking of giving him a hint. A SIMIAN ANCESTOR. "If I ever lived in the pa-.t," said Cliolly, "what epoch* do you suppose it was?" "Before man," returned the other grimly. RATHER STRANGE. "That's a handsome mantel What is that sentiment carved there?" "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry." "Ah! curious combination." "How so?" "Oak mantel; chestnut sentiment." TROUBLE AHEAD YET. "What's the prospect?" asked the gosling Of the proud and haughty turkey. And the monarch of the barnyard Gruffly answered, "Pretty murky." Religion of the Orient. The religion of the Japanese women must appear very complicated and con fused to their little giddy brains, when 1 even the most learned priests of their country lose themselves in their cosmo gonies, their symbols, their metamor phoses of gods in that millenary chaos upon which the Buddhism of India has so strangely foisted itself without de stroying anything. The most serious cult seems to be that of their deceased ancestors. These shades or familiar gods possess in each household a per fumed altar, before which the living pray long at morning and night, without, however, believing absolutely in the im mortality of the soul and in the persis tence of the human ego as understood by our Occidental religion. To the religious contradictions which baffle us must be added superstitions as old as the world, the strangest or the gloomiest, and fearful to listen to at night. Beings half gods and half ghosts haunt the black darkness; at cross ways in the woods stand ancient idols gifted with singular powers; there are miracu lous stones in the depths of forests. And to have 1111 approximate idea of the faith of these women with small oblique eyes, one must reduce to chaos all that I have just said, then try to transpose it into giddy brains that laughter prevents most of the time from thinking, and that seem at moments to have the heedless ness of the brains of birds. —[Philadel phia Times. Twenty Stories High. The new Masonic building now being erected in Chicago will be an architec tural marvel. It is to have a frontage of 170 feet, a depth of 114 feet, and will be twenty stories high, and the roof will be nearly 400 feet from the level of the street. There are to be eighteen eleva tors, arranged iu a semi circle, having a total carrying capacity of 40,000 passen gers daily. The entrance is to be forty two feet high by twenty-eight wide, and the rotunda, with an area of three thous and and seven hundred square feet, will be opened to the roof, where visitors will find a pavilion garden from which 1 to get a bird's-eye view of all creation. I A twenty-story building has been j lately proposed in London, but flic idea | of it nearly takes the breath away from the people there, and it doubtless will be half a generation before they set to I work to erect it.—[Scientific Americau. A RAINLESS REGION. A PART OF PERU WHERE RAIN NEVER FALLS. A Real Valley of Death—Amid This Arid Desolation are Alternate Spots of Fertility—An Ancient System of Irrigation. Writing from Palpa, Peru, to the Washington Star, Fannie B. War# says: 4, ()ur main object in tarrying at this out of-the-way Acadia was to make it the sturtiug point of several excursions; for the little oasis, surrounded on all sides by desert sands, is in the midst of a most interesting region. Forty miles from Palpa, over rocky hills and arid sands, lies the valley of Nasca, which descends j from the Sierras by an easy slope and j gradually widens as it approaches the j sea. This place is intoiesting on account of its peculiar mode of irrigation. Though ' covered with rich haciendas, yielding j marvelous crops of grapes, cotton, corn, j sugar cane, melons, potatoes and all kinds of fruits and vegetables, nature has provided nothing for its watering in a region where rain never falls, except a tiny river which is dry during about eleven months of the year. But for the industry and engineering skill of the ah- ! original Indians, the lovely valley would j have been no better than the surrounding dcseits. Long before the arrival of the ! destroying Spaniards they had con- j tended with the arid obstacles and exe- 1 cuted a work here which is almost un- j equaled in the history of irriga tion. Cutting deep trenches along the whole length of the valley they extended them so high up iuto the mountains that to this day the inhabitants do not know how far they were carried. The main trenches, known as puqnios in the lan guage of the Ineas, are at the upper end of the valley and each i•. about four feet deep, the sides and roof lined with ce mented stones. These descending branch oil iuto smaller puquios which ramify all over the valley in every direction, plen tifully supplying every farm with pure, cool mountain water and feeding the little ditches that irrigate and fertilize the soil. The main trenches are several feet below the surface and at intervals of about 200 yards there are ojos or small holes by which workmen may go down into the vault and clear away any obstruction. Diverging in every direc tion the puquios often cross one another and by the time they have reached the southern limit of cultivation every drop of water has been exhausted. In the valley of Nasca 110 fewer than fifteen ex tensive vineyards and cotton plantations are thus watered by artificial means, and at Aja a small mill for cleansing the cot ton is also turned from the ditches of the Incns. Going a little nearer to the sea one comes to the most profitable cotton estates in Peru, named respectively "Lucre" and "San Jose." Both contain mills propelled by water, with machinery and presses for packing the cotton. The product is all sent to Lomas, a little port that has been opened expressly for it across thirty or more miles of desert. It goes on mule back, each animal carrying two bales weighing 175 pounds apiece. The cotton is then piled on a large raft, which is launched in the heavy surf and so brought alongside the waiting vessel. The next village, across a long strip of desert, is Chilca, a collection of caue huts surrounding a line old church, in 110 way remarkable, except for being in habited by a race of Indiuns who, in this isolated oasis of the wilderness, have managed to resist oppression from every source, and to preserve intact the spirit of their ancestors. An example of their character is related by a recent explorer. His soldier escort was so unwise as to get into a wrangle with the syndic of the village, in course of which the latter barefooted dignitary received a blow in the head from the butt end of the soldier's pistol. Instantly the whole population were wild with excitement. Assembling in the plaza they demanded that the fellow should be remanded at once to Lima for trial; nor would they permit him to remain over night in the town, but sunt him off into the desert, weary as he was after a hard day's jour ney. 80 jealous are these Indians of their rights and bo suspicious of all outsiders that until within a few years there was one particular room in the Jefe's house which wns kept on purpose for the ac commodation of white travelers. All who came were put into it and well guarded, were the party large or small. The Jefc supplied them with food, but immediately informed them that on 110 account, whatever their business, would they be allowed to remain in the village more than twenty-four hours. The Chilca Indians are an industrious com munity, many of them being employed as farm hands in the neighboring valley of Mala, others working on their own account as muleteers and fishermen, while the women braid colored straws into pretty baskets and cigar cases. Such are the general characteristics of that portion of Peru between the cor dilleras and the sea, with its perpetual alternations of dreary desert and fertile valleys. High, bare rocks, frayed and crumbling, line the beach, and beyond stretches a wilderness of sand beside which Sahara would be a blooming gar den. Is is the very dominion of desola tion, strewn with bleaching skeletons left by the old-time whalers and the bones of mules and horses that starved to death by the wayside, its eternal si lence broken only by the short, quick bark of sea lions and the screams of water fowl. For the most, part the sand is hard, swept smooth by the winds, but in many places it has drifted up into mounds, called inedanos. Each heap is crescent shaped, with the bow of the crescent to ward the wind, as regular and sharp in the outline us the new moon. Whenever these medanos happen to have a core of rock they are permanent, but most of them vary in shape with the varying winds. Brave men, as well as bold, must those old conquistudores have been, when, knowing uolhing of the then un explored better country beyond the mountains, they sailed slowly along the borders of this valley of death, against prevailing winds and the great antarctic current. Surely nothing but consuming avarice and an unqucii'-buble love of j adventure could have led them on. The largest of the deserts is that called Sechuru, near Payti, in Northern Peru; and it is reported that during cloudless nights the sound of sweet, music is heard, mysteriously wafted across the sands. The climate where rain never falls is not so oppressive as might be inferred, because every night refreshing dews descend in abundance. In ancient times the beautiful valleys were even more densely populated than now, by men who exhausted the utmost capa bilities of every oasis, and then extended their citks out into the deserts, leaving many monuments of their skill and greatness. Under the pressure of pe culiar conditions and limited means they developed a social and industrial sys tem wnieh modern apostles of cconomi cal organizations might study with profit and admiration. As most of the valleys were separated from one another by Impassable moun tain walls at one end aud trackless sands at the other, their inhabitants consti tuted each an independent community, maintaining little relationship with one another. Each had its separate govern ment, and, being relatively weak, it fell an easy prey to the advancing Spaniard. And thus it was that the conquistadores encountered no more serious opposition, though collectively there were enough Indians here to have wiped from the face of the earth a force ten times as power ful. THE FAT GOOSE. How He Is Prepared for the Balti more Market. The thousands of geese which arrive in Baltimore between November 1 and j February 1 attract little attention, as but | few of them are seen iu the markets, and their many excellent qualities are little known. The geese come from different points along the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries, and they weigh from twelve to twenty-four pounds each, and bring from $1.25 to $2.25. Kent 1 Island is a famous place for raising geese. I They are shipped here usually iu large crates, but when put out on the wharf j many of them have their legs doubled | over their backs and secured, by which means they are rendered helpless and ! possible goose chases are prevented. Before the goose is brought to market 1 its rearing is simple. In fact, geese are the easiest poultry to raise when the sur -1 roundings are favorable. In early Feb- I ruary the geese begin laying. They de ! posit seven or eight eggs, but will lay several lots of eggs it the first are re- I moved when laid. They are careful of | their young, which grow fast and do not require more than a week or two of feed iug before they are ready to hustle. Gross fields around the water shores are their delight, aud they will grow and thrive while grazing like cattle. If they can get into a wheat field while the whbat is green they play havoc. Iu August, September and October they are picked, an ordinary goose yield ing about two pounds of feathers, which are worth in Baltimore fifty cents per pound. Before the universal use of metallic pens goose quills brought quite a profit to poultry raisers. About four weeks prior to the time for shipping the geese they are put up aud fattened on corn. Iu the fattening process the goose is boss. The avidity with which it ac complishes the task set is wonderful. When the geese reach market they are surprisingly heavy, and look with dis dain on other fowl which are not so fat. The largest buyers of geese are citizens of the Jewish faith. After making a purchase they put the goose in a pen and give it unlimited nutritious food. Then the goose is put iu a pen that is too small to allow any other motion than that ab solutely necessary for seizing aud swal lowing the food. At this stage men who make a profession of goose fattening play a little joke on the goose, that is, they put it through a stuffing process. The goose is taken by the head, its mouth forced open, its throat moistened, and the food stuffed iu. The goose is then left to convert the food into fat. A goose which is intended for a Jewish I family dies an aristocratic death. The owner must not kill it, as that is the function of some one of the congregation empowered by the rabbi. A Katydid Mimic. In the mountains of this State n beau tiful katydid is fouud which so mimics a leaf, with even the midribs and veins, that it is almost impossible to distinguish it. My first experience with one was in Millard's canyon, back of Pasadena, where I was wauderiug with a faithful dog for my only companion, enjoying the delights of this beautiful region, where summer reigns in winter, and the stroller can sit among the ferns and hear the voice of birds within sight of snow banks. While glancing up 1 noticed what I supposed to be a leaf from a syca more come drifting down, fluttering this way and that after the manner of leafy parachutes. I watched it until it fell in the bushes, and would have passed it by had not my companion, with more prescience or curiosity than I possessed, r ailed my attention to it, so I picked up the leaf and discovered the cunning miu ic that instead of lying down had descended, not only looking like a leaf, but resembling one in its flight. Its tint was a most delicate green, like that of a tender leaflet, while the wings were al most exact in their representation of leaves, the veins and midribs being imi tated to the life, so that when this beau tiful creature was resting on a plant in leaf no one would have suspected that it was not a natural leaf. The common mantis is equally curious as a mimic, re sembling a twig, while its slow and de liberate motions add to the deception.— [San Francisco Chronicle. In Portugal. Here a man may look about him and almost forget that the world has grown older and sadder. Here he will see the plowman and the carter guiding oxen in size and shape such as the ancient Ro mans bred, yoked to such primitive plows or cars as we can still sec on Greek and Roman coins. The rules and methods of tillage arc the same simple and often foolish ones as the aucicnts followed; the old heathen superstitious still mingle with the new religion; the peo ple's language is liker to the old one that came from Rome than any still extant; and plowman and wagoner and reaper, the shepherd in his goatskin coat, and the maiden with her distatf, might all take their places in some such rural pro cession as we see sculptured on a Roman has relief of the Augustan age. The very aspects ot nature, the genial air, the vines and olive trees, the rocks, valleys, running streams, the songs of birds, and murmuring of bees on thymy hills are all such as the sweetest of all pastoral poets used as accompaniments to his idyllic song of a happy rural life.—[Oswald Crawfurd. Pen Picture of Parnell. Kate Field gives the following pen picture of Mr. Parnell: Physically. Par nell is attractive, lie is six feet high, has a good figure, fine head, fair hair, tlark brown eyes, and a marble complex ion. When in prison, from 1881 to 1882, lie could turn the wrist of any man who wrestled with him. He has a voice of tremendous \ owcr, and, while appar ently cold, possesses a magnetic influ ence over an uudience. He makes no effort at oratory, tells a direct story, and sits down without a peroration. Glad stone says he remembers no man, not even Lord Palmerston, who equals Par nell in the art of saving just what lie wants to say, and not owe word more. Intellectually he is held high in the house.