Fifty-four members of (be new ' House of Commons, about one iu ! twelve, liavo written boohs. London has decided to convert into j parks and playgrounds for children i the 17:1 disused graveyards in that city. !• They liavo found out in California. | that ileach stones burn as well as coal j and give out more heat. They sell nt the rate of S3 a ton. _ .Secretary Morton shows that Great Britain is our best customer. Our ex port trade to Euglaud alone is greater than with all tho rest of the world put together. l'erbaps tho new woman is responsi- j ble for tho falling oil in marriages in England. For tho first .piarter of j this year only 10.(1 persons in 3000 ! married, which is (ho lowest rate on j record. There arc one thousand secret or ' dels ill New York City, remarks tho Observer, and they have not a singl. i woman member, and three hundred | churches, tho membership of which is three-fourths women. More than 100 canning factories j have been started in North Carolina j this year, and hereafter there will , probably be a great increase in the j number of factories with each recur ring fruit season throughout the ! whole South. In easting about for a suitable title j with which to characterize the pass ing century, it is not improbable, suggests the New York Telegram, that the "Age of Speed" will bo found to be the most comprehensive. 1 A glance at the news of tho dav shows, , iu addition to fast yachts, the trial trip of the fastest express train that has ever been run in America, a meet ing ot the three fastest four-year-olds tlmt have ever run on the American tiuck, the training of the fastest nine tear sprinters for tho international i athletic contest, tho fastest cable i message ever handled by any of the cable companies, and the attempt ol j the St. Louis, ono of tho fastest of they ocean greyhounds, to break her i own record, I'oronto, Canada, seems, to Harper's j Weekly, to bo one of the most regit- I latcd cities in the civilized world, i Sunday is kept there like a suit oi j best clothes. There are no Sunday newspapers.; the street cars don't run"; nothing goes on except interest, j Even the tides iu hake Ontario omit to ebb and flow on tho Lord's Day. ! On week days you cuu ride on the Toronto street earn for four cents a ride, and if you are going to school you can ride nt half rate, no matter how old you nro or how big. The street railwnys pay tile city a just rent for their franchises, and the rc j suiting revenue is very largo and | saves taxes. Nevertheless, it is as- : scrtcd from time to tunc that Toronto j is losing in population. The good j people don't care, for they say tliev j would rather live iu a good city than J in a big one, but covetous persons who do business or own real estate in Toronto grumble, and say the town is ; too good to succeed. the Chicago Times-Herald observes : ' "Albert Bach, who suggested 1.. [.Ti the medieo-lognl emigres- that phy- I sicians should have the right to de stroy the life of n person nfilicted with nn incurable disease and sufiuriiig in tensely from it, is not tho first to ad vance the proposition. The subject repulsive as it is to the imagination, has been discussed by more radical j European scientists, who would also dispose of the congenilally insane ' nud persons deformed from birth and liable to protracted pain. Their -ug- ! geslious have never amounted to any- ! thing more tluiu a temporary sensu- i tiou. It may be conceded that in a I tew cases, such as acute muuia or hy drophobia, where the patient is suffer* ! iug from a pitiless malady withou' I hope of relief short of death, the pir. sician has taken the responsibility o. ending the agony by administering an j overdose of opiates, it is well known ! that during the war surgeons some- i times gave the coup de grace to tor j tured victims of battle. But what a ■ responsibility these well-intending I practitioners take! What an unboh ! function to gain tho name of phi lanthropy or science! tf the prac tice is common or if physicians gener ally approvo of it they keep knowledge and approval to themselves. Their offense is murder under all laws, j human and Divine, The sanctity o! \ life is paramount to every other con sideration, and it would be indeed d plorable if the right to slay and feat \ not should be delegated to any cl t • of men, either by law or by comnio consent," THE PERPETUAL \VCO!::O. Thy dull world clamors at my feet And asL- my hand and helping sweet; And wond'-r* when the time shall he I'll leave ofC dreaming dreams of tliec. It blame* mo coining soul and time And sending minted hits of rhyme \-wooing of thee stilt, .Shall ! maK" answer? This it is: I en nip beneath thy galaxies Of starry thoughts and shining deeds; And. seeing new ones, I must needs Arouse my speech to tell thee, dear, 1 hough thou art nearer, f am near— A-wooiug of thee still. I feel thy heart-heat next mine own; Its music hath a richer lone. J rediscover in thine oyes A balmier, dewier paradise. I 'm sure thou art a rarer girl - And ho I seek thee, finest pearl A-wooiug of thee still With blood of roses on thy lips— Canst doubt ny trembling- something slips Between thy loveliness and me— So commonplace, so fond of thee. Ah, sweet, a Iciss is waiting where That last •. n • stopped thy lover's prayer— A-wooiug of thee still. When now light falls upon thy face My gladdened s >ui discerns sonic trace Of Uod, or angel, never seen In other days of shade and sheen. Ne'er may such rapture die, or loss Than joy like this my iieart confess— A-wo .dug of thee still. Go then. 0 soul of bendy, go Fioot-footed toward the heaven aglow* ' Mayhap, in following, thou sbalt see Me worthier of thy loyo and thee. Thou wouldst not have mc satisfied Until thou I'tv'st me—none beside— A-wooiug of thee still. Of spring! Now drifting flowers of snow i Bloom on the window-sills as white As gray-heard looking through love's light And holding blue-veined hands the while, 110 finds her last the sweetest smile A-wooiug of her still. Eugene Field, in ( 'hi-ago Record, NEW LAME* FOR OLD. A $ HEN Major Kar f'J \jf Vy elako came home witli an empty /f d b V' . sleeve and a Vic* (Xj.' /'A { tor in Cross society 'rv-'i was anxious to 'I '■ jf. make much of him, /'/ <' 'it vkjy x i'or the exciting ac i's* \ counts of tho little j >vai * which he j /,. \ had lost his rrm ' v ijii and performed spe- 1 fj ciai feats of valor j had not yet been ' forgotten. The halo of romance j around his liauio would probably have evaporated <>n the discovery being made that the gallant Major were spectacles and was inclined to obesity, but the returned hero did not give London lion-hunters a chance to criticism liis appearance, for ho made no stay in the metropolis, nud in a very short time the memory of his j exploits passed from the public mind. I iu tho little Devonshire village 1 where he took up his abode the won- j der of his fame had longer life, for a 1 newly made celebrity is likely to create considerable stir in a sieepv I spot, where the military element is ■ represent* 1 by u solitary lialf-pay j Colonel who never saw a battlefield, j To have been the subject of commendu- i tion 111 a printed newspaper is an awe- 1 iuspiriug circumstance iu such a I neighborhood, and callers Hocked to j Woodbower. They were bitterly <1 is- ! appointed to find that Mrs. Karslake ' was nn invalid and received no! visitors, while the claims of courtesy were met bv a return of pasteboards, , and the Major made 110 personal re sponse. All the more eagerly did j bullied curiosity welcome the next Sunday, when orthodoxy required the new comer's preseuee 111 church,! and Mr. Merrick had au unusually large congregation at morning scr- j vice. His daughter Violet, who played the organ, was guiltily cou I scions during tho psalms that her at- > t' litiou wandered from both duty nud devotion in an effort to descry the occupant of the Woodbower povr. Hhe naked forgiveness in her simple- j lienrted prayer, and imposed upon herself the penance of eyes fixed 011 \ her music book as the congregation ; dispersed. "What did you think of my new' parishioner?" inquired tho rector after dinner. "I .lid not see him, papa." Violet blushed at the evasion, knowing her thought- had been occupied with the : new arrival during the paternal ser-! mon, which was not sufliciently strik- i iug to compel attention. "Dear me, dear me! That shows Low much girls care for bravery, or heroism, or anything serious. Now, if his wife had been there iu a smart bonnet you would have noticed her, I'll be bound,"and the rector chuckled j at ilia time-worn joke. Ue was mistaken in his estimate of his daughter. Violet was a hero-wor shipper, and had thrilled to every liue of the curt war telegrams when she read the newspaper to her father. 1 Neither spectacles nor a double chin quenched her enthusiasm w hen she j saw at last the man of whose doings i she hail heard,while the tenderness of his natui" seemed doubly sweet set against a background of fame and courage. Mrs. Karslake was in broken health; her husband tended her with < >.;inordinary devotion, aided by a faithful maid. Mr. Merrick was the only visitor admitted to Woodbower, and tho only house where tho Major was seen was the rectory. Beyond the respect paid by the Army to the church was tho link of iiiKLic ; the sole regret tlmt John Kars lake over felt for the loss of his sword arm was when he looked at the case outaiuing his favorite violin, never mole to sound and siug by him again, I The rector played the 'cello with j greater feeling than execution, and ! Violet took fresh interest in practic ing accompaniments, since their neighbor had begun to come iu some- j times for an hour in the evening while j his wife was sleeping. "You bring a great pleasure into a j life that is ended, Miss Violet," lie ] would say, as tho worn and troubled look which had passed into his face | with the day's exercise of patience ' and sympathy would melt into placid peace under the influence of harmo nious sound. "Don't spoil the child with flat tery," the rector generally added. Mrs. Merrick had died at Violet's birth; her father was kind and affec tionate, but apart. Tho girl was solitary at heart, and lived more in her thoughts and dreams than in her deeds. Practical and alert in daily duties, not even the gossips of Coorabc had ever called tho rector's daughter romantic, j'et the very care she exer cised to avoid any appearance of sen timent was dictated by tho sacred uess in which she held her ideals. Natuially these tendencies seized upon congenial food, and the rever- j end regard she bestowed upon a pro saic, middle-aged gentleman was more akin to love than the innocent maiden knew. "What is Mrs. Ivarslake like?" she 1 asked one day, as her father returned j from visiting the invalid. "I suppose she was pretty once," I, answered thc'rector, not disinclined to !' talk over his neighbors, and after a pause went on, "Karslake said she had ! , a lovely complexion when ho fell in j love with her at some suburban dance, but I expect that was a sign of sick- i uess. She is a wreck now. The foolish I fellow married while still in the tutc- ■ lage of an army coach, and J fancy j they had a rough timo o? it nt first, j The children all died, except the one ; daughter, who is married. Violet sighed in responco. Mr. Merrick might have added that l the struggles of a subaltern's wife had I ! not been calculated to develop Mrs. : Knrslake'a intellectual powers, which were never large. She was hard and i ; peevish, accepted her husband's devo- ! tion as a right, and was inclined to despise him lor his limitless patience ! and attention. She vented 011 him tho disappointment of nn unsatinted crav ing for gayety, forever thwarted by ; illness, and in his great compassion 1 for her suffering lie accepted the claim 1 to martyrdom without a thought of 1 • his own voluntary sacrifice. f When her worn out frame at leuglh j | succumbed to tho complication of (lis- , j oases which had tormented it so long, j I the husband's grief was desperate. His . j daughter's flying visit gave him little j consolation. She had inherited from j her mother the blush rose skin and its j attendant drawback of delicacy, com- ] bining with it a feather brain and an | ( egotistic heart entirely occupied with I her own pretty self." "Dear papa looked after mamma so , well! He was miserable if anybody , i else did anything for her—" So ; naturally Ethel did nothing but amuse I herself, eveu before she married at j • eighteen the rich young banker who spoiled her to her utmost content. i ( j Mourning was becoming to Ethel, I I and she was considered to look "so ! \ interesting, poor dear!" at the fun- j ; I era], but she found Ooombo damp, i } therefore Itoger took her home next ; | day, and they wintered aboard on ac- ', | count of her lungs. I "I wonder Karslake did not go with 1 them," commented Mr. Merrick. "Jt j would have done him a world of \ 1 good." It did not occur to the worthy j J i clergyman, in receipt of a comfortable ; 1 •stipend, that foreign travel is cxpen- j ' sive, and that t ho Major was too proud to accept obligations from his sou-in- 1 ! law, even if the latter had made the j suggestion. Boger had displayed some inclination that way, but the idea had i ! been promptly quenched by Ethel, 1 who opposed instinctively any cxpen- i 1 j dituro other than on herself. 1 ! "It's all the better for me that he is 1 ' staying on hore," continue 1 tho reo i tor; "I should have missed him ter ribly. I cannot think how I existed before ho came. None of the people about here have any interest beyond 1 i local matters." "The Major is so'clever," returned Violet, with conviction. "There is ' nothing lie has not read or thought : about; but hois dreadfully depressed 1 now. lam afraid ho will never re- ' cover tho blow of Mrs. Karslake's! death." I, "He is a very good follow," said 1 Mr. Merrick, "but T have observed 1 . that "inconsolable widowers generally i marry again." ! It was certainly a little damp at ; Woodbower that wet autumn, and j Janet, though an excellent house- I I keeper, was not much of a companion j for an intelligent man, consequently j 1 tho Major spent more of his time at j the rectory than ever. He had made j ; some other acquaintances in the neigh- j ! borhood, but the Merricks suited him : best, besides he was by nature indo- , i lent, and the rectory was only Ave ' minutes' walk from his own low white ! house buried in trees. Violet's heart ached when, from her ■ window overlooking tho churchyard, ' she saw him often stand by the fresh green mound. Owing to the rainy weather no monument could bo ercct [ ed till spring, and the girl laid Mowers all winter long 011 tho grave which his 1 Borrow made sacred to her. Ho never ' said any word of thanks, but she felt ' 1 he knew who tended so carefully the i j spot where his heart lay buried. The ! violets she hail planted there were blossoming when the mason's men dug ■ them up to lirmiy fix the marble slab, i I which was placed iu costly com memo- ! ration of "Catharine, the beloved wife j of—etc." Major lvarslako wore a few ■ 1 violets 111 his buttonhole that night, ! ■ when 110 spent his usual musical hour at the Merrick*, but there were vio lets in tho Woodbower garden, and : indeed of every garden of mossy i Coombe. When the monument was finished the widower went away for a cbauge; ; ho had developed rheumatism in damp I Devonshire. "You'll write sometimes, Karslake?" j said the rector, heartily, in farewell. ! "Why, of course!" replied his friend, ! but he never did. It was a dull summer; Violet could nut remember one with so little sun j shine, and she found the gray skies very depressing. She instituted nota ble reforms in the clothing club, tho ! Sunday-school and the choir, of which | institutions shw was the moving spirit, and she worked so hard that the rec tor said they must take a trip to sea to bring back the color to her checks. \ iolet did not seem to care for the idea, and her lather was not ener getic ; the plan fell through; but when the Major came back and their musical evenings began again, Violet's looks improved considerably. The ; change in her was so obvious that no i one was surprised when the eugage | ment was announced, and exactly two i years after Mrs. Karslake's death Vio j ltd Merrick succeeded to that name I and title. "Bather too great a difference in age!" cavilled aunts and cousins, who wore not invited to the quiet mar riage. "Violet is old for lior years," ro j plied the rector to all objections. What a blissful year was the first. Some uuions begin with discords that time and custom soften into harmony, ' but this one opened in perfect tune. ! The Major fell into nu inversion of his I former habits, for his young wife loved to wait upon him and anticipate all his wishes. Janet was rather inclined to receive the new-comer grimly, but Violet's sweetness soou won the old servant's heart. The atmosphere of Wood bo wer changed from stagnant seclusion into cheerful life. Spring had succeeded winter. Its new mis tre is took an intelligent interest in ike topics of the day; she drew forth the thoughts and reflections which Karslake hail been wont to cherish silently, knowing they would find no iespouse in his home; for the first time iu his life he enjoyed true femi nine companionship. Sometimes in his humble soul lie would wonder how he had gained the blind adoration of a young, pretty and intellectual wo man, and then he would treat Violet with a tender respect which was touch ing, from his age to her youth. After a couple of years Violet's ecstasy had calmed into placid nlUc tion, and the Major had grown more aged and silent, but they were still happy. Mrs. Karslake hud been un avoidably drawn into some of the small festivities of the neighborhood, and her husbaud was occasionally obliged to appear with her at a dinner party, but he generally ran away from visit ors, and hid himself and his pipo un der the big cedar. Old Janet found him there one day when she came to bid him in to after noon tea. "Bring mo a cup here," he said, "and ask your mistress to excuse me. I like the quiet best." "Kb, it's not so quiet now as iu the old days, sir?" "Of course not; my poor wife was too ill for any noise," answered the Major, and he cast a glance in the di rection of the churchyard. "Well, well," said the old woman, querulously, "I'm too old for changes and I like old ways best," and she turned back to the house without waiting fur a reply or rebuke. The Major pulled away meditatively at his deep-toned meerschaum and i still looked over at the churchyard, but bis eyes saw other pictures. Ibt tlo pleasures and big troubles shared and borne together in youth, when ex perience bites deeply into the record. The memories ot his dead children flitted by, each the intangible link of the chain that held him still ; tropical skies and Eastern scenes came back, all bound up indisßolubly with the dead woman, it was his youth, it was his life that lay buried iu her grave. What was he but a ghost that walked beside the living in his new marriage? Not all Violet's love and devotion could make her part of the past, and tho past is dear with the joy of morn ing and vivid with virgin sensation when we look back upon it from the dim twilight of age. The Major let his tea grow cold and | his pipo go out. "John, John! where are you?" cried a voice. "You should not bo sitting out here with tho dew falling, | you'll have such a twinge of rheumu j tism to-morrow." ; "Oh, I'm all right, my dear," said ■ the Major, as impatiently as his amia ble habit permitted. | Jto felt very old just then. Violet clasped both hands over his j arm and began chattering about her j visitors as they went into the house. | In the drawing-room under tho brill | iant light of the lamps, Major Kars lake's face looked white and worn. | "Why, John, dear! what is the j matter? You look so ill," cried his ! wife, in alarm. j "It's nothing. Violet, don't be | troubled," he said, gently, his mo mentary irritation gone. "Only a lit tle pain in the arm 1 have lost," Woman. Scotch Sarcasm. The Hootch keeper has but litllo j consideration fur tho feelings of tho j amateur sportsman. A novice from i tho South was out on a moor in tho West Highlands tho other day, ami having in.successfully tired twice at a covey of birds that rose less than twenty yards ahead, he exclaimed ex ; citedly, "It's strange that none of ; theiu foil. I'm positive some of them must have been struck." "1 diuuu ! doot," returned the keeper, with a sarcastic grin, "that they wore struck wi' astonishment ut gettin' off siie easy."—Bealm, A DIVEIt'S EXPERIENCES. SENSATIONS FELT WHILE WORK ING IN THE SEA'S DEPTHS. The Dress That Is Worn—lireathiug Without. Effort—Method of Sig naling—A Diver's Remuneration. THE best way for any one to acquire the diver's art is to put on a diving dress, go £ down into tho depths and learn the diving business for himself. That's the way I learned it, says Cap tain Anthony Williams in the New York World. I was originally a wrecker—that is, I would purchase sunken ships, raise them and sell them. In the summer of 1863, off the Massachusetts coast, I was raising a sunken ship. The diver who was working for me seemed a very lazy, careless sort of fellow. I was paying liini by the day, and at length, when he came up on one occasion and reported very little progress in his work, after having been under water for a long time, 1 was angry and ex pressed myself strongly. He retorted with, "Try it yourself if you can do any better." "All right," said I. have your diving dress and I will try it my self." lie thought I was only joking, but I was not. Thinking to see me back out, aud that I would not dare to venture down below into Davy Jones's locker, he took off his diving dress and T put it on. Now, a diving dress is really two dresses, one within tho other, and both of india-rubber. The stockings, pants and shirt are all made together us one garment, which the diver enters at the neck, feet first. The hands are loft bare, tbe wristbands of the rubber ! shirt-sleeves tightly compressing the wrists. There is a copper breast-plate bearing upon its outer convex surface small screws, wbiob are adjusted through holes in the neck of the shirt, which, by means of nuts fastened upou the screws, is held so firmly in place ! us to render the entire dress from the ! neck downward absolutely air and water tight. Fitting with equal closeuess to this breast-plate is the helmet. It com pletely incloses the head aud is sup plied with three glasses, one in front and ono at each side, to enable the diver to look in any direction. Tho diver's feet arc incased iu a pair of very thick leather shoes, made to lace up the front and supplied with heavy leaden soles to prevent him from turn ing feet uppermost in the water. When I had donned this dress I placed across my shoulders ropes sus tain ing two leaden weights, one hang ing at my breast and the other at my back. Sometimes in very strong cur rents it is necessary to make the weights which the diver cariios ex traordinarily heavy, and such was the case with those hanging over my shoulders on the occasion of my first dive, but greatly to my surprise, though tho diving dressl wore weighed of itself nearly two hundred pounds. I did not feel the groat burden I sus tained in wearing it any more than I did that of my ordinary clothes when out of the water. It also seemed marvellous to me that though I was ten or twelve fathoms under water my breathing was wholly devoid of effort as if I had been walk ing about on dry land. Perhaps some of my readers may know that, by means of an air-pump, worked by two men, the diver is supplied with air, which passes into his helmet through a hose at its back. Near the place of j its entrance is a spring valve for its escape. This valve can be controlled by the diver, but be usually sots it be- | fore going into the water aud seldom 1 disturbs it afterward. The pressure of the air being greater than that of the water a surplus of the former readily escapes. Wheu tho valve proves insufficient to permit the escape of a superfluity of air tho diver cau open in his breast plate a similar spring valve intended only for such an emergency. He cau also regulate theamountof air pumped i ti him by signals upon the air-hose to the men engaged in pumping. One pull upon tho air-hose means "more air," two pulls, "less air." Tho signals by means of the air hose are generally used by all divers, but each ono of tho fraternity has also his own private code of signals upou tho life-line, which is always fastened to the diver's waist and by which ho is drawn up out of the water. These signals each -diver writes down very carefully and gives to tho man in charge of tho life-line. By means of these he can send for tools, material, etc. When a lengthy communication is to be made the diver sends up for a slate and writes all ho wishes to sav. It is just us easy to read and write un der water as it is out of it, all objects being greatly magnified. The only unpleasant sensation I ever experienced during my whole career as a diver —even on tho occasion of my first dive—was a drumming iu the ears. This will sometimes destroy the hearing if the diver remains too loug under water. Four hours—two in tho morning and two in the afternoon—comprise a day's work in tho diving business, and if u diver always restricts himself to | this limit thoro is little or no danger of his becoming dent', but if he goes much beyond it ho is almost sure to injure his bearing. I once remained under water for nine hours and as a consequence completely lost tho use of my lelt ear for a period of three months, during which time I suffered agony with earache. Eventually, howevor, my hearing became normal again. So far as remuneration is concerned diving is a good profession. Divers generally work by the job, and when 1 they do they sometimes make it pay I very well. A diver will go down, look at a suukeu vessel aud then state what [ lie will charge to raise her. I raised I the schooner Dauntless in two days ; and received 8750 for my time and j trouble. The steamer Mederitb, ashore at Jeremie, in Hayti, I repaired with iron plates and raised in four teen days, receiving $7500 for the work, but I had to employ two assis tants. WISE WOItDS. j Genius is the soul in blossom. | A tramp eat purrs the loudest. It is never too late to mend a boy's clothes. The proof of the pudding is in tho heating. So few of us know when we have said enough. If you explain you might ns well acknowledge. There is many a shrewd woman pos ing for a simpleton. A man likes to feel that he is loved; a woman likes to be told. Dross is a revelation not only of our tastes, but our bauk account. There is nothing better for a child than a little wholesome neglect. The woman of the world is nu April day; the sunshine successfully hides tho tears within. Oil the most cominoupluoe level nnd withiu the narrowest limits men and women love nnd suffer. Some people are so fond of butter that thoy would rather have poor but ter than none. Same with music Judge. IVhen a man seeks a woman's so ciety it is because he has need of her not because he thinks she has need of him. If it be n fine art to wear your best clothes unconsciously it is a still finer art to wear your old clothes as though they were your best ones. According to the quality of tho waters on which we cast our bread, it j returns water logged and uneatable, or spread with butter and jam. lbs Stomach Collapsed, Colonel benjamin F. Norton, well known in Chicago politics, who is at tho homo of his daughter in New York, has rallied from one of thn most re markable operations known in sur gery. Colonel Norton, when he came here, began to have intense pains in his stomach. A stricture formed in the gullet and communication between his month and stomach became im possible. Despite the best medical skill ho was slowly starving to death. Physicians were called in. An opera tion was decided upon. It was per formed July 27. A hole was cut iu his stomach about two inches above tho navel, large enough for a hand to be inserted. It was found that tho walls of the stomach had collapsed, and lay Hat ngainst tho spine. Dr. Weir pinned the forward wall to the intestines with two gold pins, each four inches iu length. The stomach was stitched to the iutestines on August 1, und tho pins wero with drawn. Then a silver tube was in serted in the wound, a piece of rubber tubing attached to it, and through this canal food was forced into the stomach. A daily wash of nitrate of silver cured tho ulcers. A sounder, consisting of a jet bulb on tho end of a whalebone rod, was inserted once a week. This operation will havo to be kept up for a year or more to keep j the passage from growing together ! again.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. An Olive Orchard, Near Guerneville, says tho Orovillo (Cal.) Mercury, is the largest olivo ! orchard in Sonoma County, and prob ably in tho State. It is owned by Dr. | Piosek. There are ouehnndrcd acres ; of orchard with 8300 trees, all iubcar [ iug. The crop last year was ten tons; ; this year it will bo about thirty. The I orchard oontaius about thirty-live I varieties, the earliest and host being ■ the Nevadollo Blanco, Rubea ami I Manzauillo, whiio the Polymorpha j produces tho largest olive and best for paekiug. Dr. I'rosek built the first olive mill in tho county in 1891. It is forty feet wide and sixty feet long, with an engine houso fourteen by twenty feet. After pickling, the olives are put in a crushor with two granite wheels weighing fifteen hnu | clred pounds each and revolving on a llat granite slab. Tho wheels are re versible and can be raised or lowered, according to tho size of the olive. The crusher has a capacity of two or three tons daily, both first aud second grinding. A hydraulic press receives tho paste, tho juice goes into a separ ator where the vegetable water is di vided from the oil. When settled and clear the oil is filtered aud bottled and is thon ready for market. How the Nose Works. In ordinary respiration the nose rec oguizos only pronounced odors, since I the filaments of the olfactory nerve are distributed only iu the upper third of tho lining membrane of its fossa?, and in ordinary breathing the air passes directly through tho lower half of these cavities. Hcuco a modified respiratory effort—a quick, forced in spiration or "snifl"—is usually neces sary in order to briug air carrying odoriferous particles to tho olfactory nerve endings. Nevertheless, whenever air mixed with odorous gases and noxious parti cles is inhaled through the nose dur ing a few successive ordinary respira atious, tho olfactory souse is awakened to a knowledge of their presence through the law of diffusion of gases, in virtue of which the odorous parti cles are conveyed to tho superior fos- Kte of the nose and hence to the ter minal filaments of the olfactory nerve. Thus to a certain extent the sense of smell is preservative of health.—Diet otic and Hygienic Gazette. HOW I LOVE HER. ITow I love her none may say- In what sweet and varied way; Loving her this way and that— For a ribbon on her hat; For her soft cheek's crimson tlyos- For a trick of her blue eyes! How I lovo her none may say, Yet I love her all tho day! How I lovo her none may know! Who can say how roses grow? How, where'er it breathes and blows, Htill tho rough wind loves tho rose? For hor lips, so honey-sweet, For the falling of her feet— Who shall all my love declare? Y'ct I love her all tho yoar! How I love her none may say- In tho winter, in the May— In all seasons, dark or bright, Love by day and lovo by night! For hor glance—her smile—the mero Prosonce of her here aud there; In my sighing, in my song. Still I love her all life long! —Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution. UU.HOK OF THE DAY. Give good, sound advice and get yourself disliked.—Judge. You may be persevering yourself, but no need for you to try to pcrso vere others.—Judge. "Some men," says the Mnuaynnk Philosopher, "never have any spirit till after death."—Philadelphia Re cord. Candidate—"l can't imagine what caused my defeat." Friend—"The election of your opponent, I should say."—Albany Journal. Possibly what makes it more annoy ing and painful is, whatever he does for man, tho mcsquito presents his bill before beginuiug work—Phila delphia Times. Fond Mother—-"Mv darling, it is bed-time. All tho littto chickens havo gone to bed." Little Philosopher— "Yes, mamma; and so has the old hen."—Judge. t Horse Dealer—"Yon had better buy the horse, Colonel. You will never find a healthier animal." Colouel Jones—"l believe it. If he hadn't been healthy all his life ho never could have lived so long."—Tammany Times. Mrs, lligbee —"I think yon had bet ter go lor the doctor, George. Johnny complains of pains in his head." Higbeo— "I guess it is nothing ser ious. He has had them before." Mrs. Higbee—"Y'es, but never on Saturday."—Brooklyn Life. He was a very brilliant nu\u; He had a master mind. In homely walks of drudgery His lofty spirit pined. Prospectuses and plans and si?hemes He could unfold to you; But somehow he had never done, But always meant to do. Thoy were telling of books that they Imd read, and the man with tho high forehead nskod what tho other thought of tho "Origin of Species." The other said ho hadn't read it. "In fact," he added, "I'm not interested in financial subjects."—Boston Tran script. Mr. Noopop—"My baby cries all night. I dou't know what to do with it.Y Mr. Knowitt "I'll tell you what I did. As soou as our baby com menced to cry I used to turn oil all tho gas. That fooled him, Ho thought it was broad daylight and went to sleep."—Pearson's Weekly. "Yes," said the inventor, "I think I see millions in it, if I can only get the thing to work." "No doubt," said tho doubting friend. "What havo yon in mind now?" "A sohemo for confining cyclones iu bicycle tires. See? There is your ideal motor, et merely the cost of capture."—lndia napolis Journal. \\ Ii sit Water Can Do. The effect of tho hydraulic motor, which is uow used for the purpose of romoving masses ot earth, well nigh passos belief. A stream of water issuing from a pipe six inches in diameter, with a fall behind it of 875 feet, will carry away a solid rock weighing a ton or move to a distance of fifty or 109 feet, g (.The velocity of the stream is terrific, and tho column of water projected is so solid that if a crowbar or other heavy object bo thrust against it tho impinging object will be hurled a con siderable distance. By this stream of water a man would bo instantly killed if he caino into contact with it, oven at a distance of 200 feet. At 200 feet from the nozzle a six inch stream, with 875 feet fall, pro jected momentarily nguinst tho trunk of a tree, will iu a second denude it of the heaviest of bark as cleanly as if it had beeu cut with nu axe. Whenever such a stream is turned against u bank it cuts and burrows it iu every direetiou, hollowing out great caves aud causing tons of earth to melt nud fall aud ha washed away in tho sluices.—Montreal Star. Signaling in a Fog. A novel arrangement for signaling nt sea during fogs has been placed in position on Winter Quarter lightship No. 40, now repairing aud refitting at Wilmington, Del. It consists of two safety oil engines, supplying com pressed air to two upright boilers, which in turu nre automatically acted upon by tirnecloeke, placed above. These open and close tho whistle valves alternately every lifty-tive seconds. No steam power is usel, the power being derived from explosions ol oil vapor. The pressure of air is regula ted at forty pounds, and gives a shrill blast at each explosion. Tho new ap pliauce is expected to prove effeotive iu maintaining and operating the fog whistlo when eoal might not be ob tainable for fuel, aud iu transmitting a clear tone for many miles,—New Orleans Times -Democrat,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers