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.