Socialism is said to rnako rapid
progress in Spain.
Ordinarily when a European says
"America" ho means "tho United
States."
Tho Pleasant Sunday Afternoon
movement in England has enrolled
sonio hundred thousand members, and
is steadily advancing.
The census of 1805 shows that tho
German Empire now has a population
of 51,758,000, despito emigration, an
increase oi 2,330,000 in four and a
half years.
They are raising a row in Wisconsin
over tho Stato university. It is
charged that it is beiug converted into
an institution for tho sons of rich
mon, and that poor men have no show
there.
"Rarely does tho death of a public
man call forth such generous, almost
unqualified, and practically universal
tributes of esteem both for the man
and the political leader," notes Public
Opinion, "as have been accorded tho
late ex-Senator Thnrman."
By tho official census of 1811, taken
in the year preceding tho beginning
of hostilities with tho United States,
the population of England was 10,-
200,000, of Scotland 1,800,000, and of
Ireland 0,000,000, a total of 18,000,-
000. The census of the United States
taken in 1310 showed tho total popu
lation of this country to be. States
and Territories, 7,230,000. Tho last
official census of Great Britain, taken
in 1891, showed tho population to
have been 37,585,000, and tho census
of tho United Stater, taken tho year
previous, showed tho population of
this country to be G2,022,000.
Br. H. K. Carroll, iu tho Independ
ent, says that the aggregate of colored
church members iu tho United States
is, in round numbers, 2,G7i,030, dis
tributed ns follows: Baptists, 1,103,-
059; Methodists, 1,190,G35; Presby
terians, 30,000; Disciples of Christ,
18,578, and Protestant Episcopal and
Deformed Episcopal together, some
what loss than 5000. According to
tho census figures, there has been an
increase of 1,150,000 colored church
members during the last thirty years,
which Dr. Carroll thinks is unparal -
leled in the history of tho Christian
Church. Tho value of colored church
property is $2G,G20,000, and tho num
ber of edifices is 23,770.
An Australian agriculturist, Mr.
Kriehauff, has called attention to the
fact that the potato will celebrato tho
3Coth anniversary of its introduction
into England this year. It was in 1590
that Sir Waiter Baleigh returned to
England from America with tho first
tobacco nnd potatoes, which originally
grew in Peru. Although the potato,
it is estimated, now furnishes one
sixth of the nourishment of tho human
race, for a long time it was a delicacy
for tho rich alone. Even nt the be
ginning of the seventeenth century
noblemen paid two shillings a pound
for potatoes and seasoned them with
st erry. People often visited the gar
dens of the botanist Gerard at llol
born to see the plants in bloom.
There is talk of a celebration in honor
of tho anniversary.
Tho American Cultivator remarks:
Tho firo fiend is an enemy to forcstrv.
Moro stringent measures are necessary
to prevent forest firos. Tho forests
are becoming too valuable to be neg
lected. Their destruction by firo
means not only tho loss of property,
but tho serious lo9s of employment to
woodsmen, teamsters, sawyers, wood
workers and all tho kindred trades.
Ordinary cutting of trees need not
destroy a forest, but a heavy firo
works destruction. I)r. Rothrock, of
tho Pennsylvania forestry commission,
thinks it an outrago that wbilo a man
under onr laws cannot set firo to a
hen coop without severe punishment,
he may carelessly or willfully set fire
to a forest and burn up many thou
sand dollars' worth of property with
out being molested. Pennsylvania
loses 31,000,000 annually through
forest fires, and 350,000,000 would
not cover the annual loss to the coun
try from this cause. It is found in
many cases that when a man is pur
sued by one holding a mortgage on
his woodland ho sets fire to it to spito
tho man who forecloses. It is very
difficult to convict such a man. Care
lessness and ignorance nro responsible
for many fires, yet thousands of dol
lars' worth arc burned every year from
this cause without anybody ever
being punished. Why ono kind of
property can bo burned up with im
punity when other kinds nro protected
by tho severest fines is ono of tho
curiosities of legal administration that
jo beginning to bo looked after none
too early,
WHILE JENNY WAITS,
The cows arc coming homo, Jonny—l hear
their clanking bells:
White Face
Aud Bright Face:
Coming, coming, coming from the olovor in
tho dolls;
Coming, Jenny girl!
And what caro they for a curl,
Or that rod rose that you wonr in your hair,
Jonny girl?
The cows are coming homo, Jenny, tho cows
arc coming home:
Lazy Bull
Au 1 Daisy Boll:
Coming, coming, coining from tho fields
where dais es foam;
Coming, Jenny dear.
And I wonder why you wear
Such ribbons and such rosea in your hair,
Jennie dear?
Tho cows are coining home, Jenny; by tho
lowing calves they're led—
White Face
And Brignt Face:
Coming, coming, coming; but beware that
rose of red!
Or do the cattle enro
For a woman's ribboned hnir?
Nay! there's some ono watching, watching
for your coming, Jenny dear!
The cows are coming homo. Jenny; but littlo
do you care
For Lazy Bell.
Or Daisy Bell,
From fragrant fields of clove, while in all
tho twilight air
A sweeter music swells
Than tho riuging of their bolls,
From lips that cry for kisses from your red
lips, Jenny dear?
Tho cows are coraing noma, Jenny, and surely
I have heard
With White Face
And Bright Face,
Tho calling, calling, culling of that merry
whistling bird
That savs us plain as any:
"Arc you coming to me, Jenny?
With your ribbons and your roso3—are you
coming, coming, Jenny?"
Ne'er mind the cattie, Jenny—they'll come
for all tho girls;
Daisy Belt
And Lazy Belt—
Tho ealvcs'tl call thorn homeward spite of
ribbons and of curls!
Think you tho cattle enro
I'or the rose that's in your hair?
Nay! but one there is who loves you. and ho's
waiting, Jenny dear!
—F. L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution.
An Unsentimental Man.
f"® tho Morning Post
. a) of August 27, 1892:
. BOWLISV RAWLINS.
\ w \(yy& August 21, at Booklev. De
rlA O. vou . by •1"' Bov. Henry
S3 \Z3t Bawlins, brother of the
bride, nssistoil by the Rev.
n If Prank Bowloy, eoustu of tho
v bridegroom, Charles Mad
don Bowloy, otWuppitoogu,
N. S. W., to Ethel Emily, youngest daughter
of tho late Emilius Bawlins, Eio., of Beoklev
Hall, Devon.
I read that aunouuceinont with a
rather contempuous smile. It closed
at last and forever (I was relieved to
think) tho only foolish passage in my
past life. Except for that I had always
been a model of sound sense.
I saw a good deal of Edith Rawlins
whon I fir-t came down from Oxford.
Aud I liked her, simply because she
was so rational and sensible. There
was no sentiment about it. Any one
with half an eyo could see that. She
made mo one present. It was a pocket
Encyclopaedia. I also made her a
present—"Jevons's Logic." That in
itself is, I think, a sullioieut refutation
of what my sister vulgarly called
"spooniness" between us.
I admit that on one occasion I did
something—quite unintentionally—
which was nearly giving color to tliese
silly rumors. It was at a gnrden party.
I took Ethel Rawlins for a stroll
through tUe conservatories. Wo were
both of us rather interested in botany,
and our hostess had some rare speci
mens of tho pitcher plant which wo
were anxious to inspect. Ethel aud I
stood looking at ono of those. A slight
discussion aroso between us about a
wasp which had been caught in one of
tho plant's peculiar receptacles. I
maintained that it was a wasp. Ethel
thought that it was a bee. Wo both
put our heads down to cxamiuo tho
thing (at tho same moment as it hap
pened) and our cheeks chanced to
touch. It was the most purely acci
dental circumstance. But, ut that very
instuut, tho door opened, aud Mary
and another fellow eamo walking in.
I noticed Mary's face as she passed us.
It woro that horrid, insinuating ex
pression which sho is so fond of put
ting on. I must say Ido hate girls to
do that sort of thing. It is shocking
ly bad taste. 1 saw that Ethel thought
the same, for sho colored (simply with
vexation) and seemed quito annoyed
about it. I determined to give Mary
a pieco of my mind when wo got home.
But Mary—with hor inexcusable
lack of truthfulness—had already put
me in a false position before I had tho
opportunity of setting things straight.
"Oh !" exclaimed all my sisters, in
a breath, whon I began to administer
to Mary her deserved rebuke: "Don't
pretend you didn't; wo know you did.
Mary saw you."
".Saw mo what?" I demanded in a
justly exasperated tone.
"daw you aud Ethel Rawlins kiss
ono another, of course," they said, nil
sniggering in tho most vulgar man
ner.
Now, of course, this was downright
absurd; and I told them so. Wi*t
should I want to kiss Ethel Rawlins
for? When a fellow has six sisters,
every one of whomfinsists on kissing
liirn every morning and night of his
life, ho soon has a sickener of that sort
of thing, and I gave 'em to understand,
protty plainly, that I didn't oaro if 1
was never kissed by a girl again dur
ing tho rest of my natural Ufa. As
for Mary's soapdalous falsehood
I oottmesded that U> bu otatQitim.
I told her tbftf, if she were at nil a de
cent sort of a girl, the memory of it
ought to keep her awake for many
nights. This did not appear to im
press her in tho least. She only
laughed. I very much doubt whether
Mary has a conscience.
Things went on pretty quietly, until
Ethel Rawlins took that journey to
Australia. She bail a married sister
living in New South Wales, who, beiug
rather out of health, hail asked Ethel
to como and stay for six months or so,
and help her with her household
duties. Ethel accepted tho iuvitation.
I don't deny that I felt a bit sorry at
tho prospect of losing her. She was
my most sensible companion, and the
girl whoso rational conversation so
often soothed mo when I had been
nearly irritated to madness by tho
brainless vaporing® of my sister. Of
course, it was not for mo to interfere
with her movements. I did, however,
take the opportunity of having a con
versation—an almost fatherly conver
sation—with her, on the day before
she sailed.
I told her plainly that she was tho
most sensible and companionable girl
I had ever come across. I said that
it. was on account of tbeso qualities
that I entertained for her so high a
regard us 1 did. 1 ventured to ex
press a hope that she would always
continue in the samo path, anil would
not 2>ermit herself to bo drawn aside
therefrom by any sentimental com
panions whom sho might cliauco to
meet. I pointed out to her, iu this
connection, tho perils of a sea voyage.
Thero was a subtle sentimentality
about the sea that was fearfully in
sidious. And then those Australian
sheep stations. Sho mightn't think
it, but they were downright hotbeds
of sentiment. Australia was nearly as
bad as India in that way. It wauted
uu unusually strong-minded girl to
visit either the ono or tho other, and
to come back homo without having
been let in. She, however, was un
usually strong-minded. And I thought
I could trust her to be truo to her
colors.
She was very humble. She took my
advice gratefully. I believe she would
have liked some more of it. At least,
she seemed as though she expected mo
to say more. But I didn't. I thought
that was enough. So X simply be
stowed my blessing upon her, uud we
said good-by. Was I deceived? Were
those tears shining in her eyes, ns 1
pressed her hand? I hoped I was mis
taken. A girl who could he betrayed
into a sentimental exhibition, upon so
trifling a cause, was scarcely fit to bo
trusted in the insiduous surroundings
of a sea voyage and a sheep farm.
I had not asked Ethel to write to
me; and I did not write to her. Prob
ably I should have corresponded with
her, but I did not wish to lav myself
open to misconstruction. When n fel
low has a lot of sisters who overhuul
his letters before ho comes down in
tho morning, and examino tho hand
writings nnd postmarks, to seo whom
they are from, he is bound to be very
careful. It tho sisters are decent girls
it doesn't so much matter. But when
there is a Mary among them, with a
gossiping tongue and a flippant disre
gard for veracity, too much caution
oanuot bo exercise:!. So I heard noth
iug direct from Ethel. But a.s she
wrote pretty frequently to my eldest
sister Katie, I was kept tolerably well
informed of her movements and occu
pations.
It was not long before the contents
of these letters to Kutio began to
awaken in me a serious apprehension.
There was a fellow named Bowloy who
had gone out iu the same ship with
Ethel, and whose destination hap
pened to lie the farm adjacent to
Ethel's brother-in-law's. He was Mr.
Bowley during the voyage. For the
first month on the sheep farm he was
Oharley Bowloy. After that he became
Charlie. 1 am bound to say that
Ethel's modo of alluding to him in her
letters caused mo decided annoyance.
It is such bad form for girls to call
comparatively strange men by their
Christian names. I should have ex
pected it of Mary, or indeed of most
other girls of my acquaintance. But
Ethel—who had always been the per
sonification of form—well, it wa3 a
falliug off for her. Of that there could
bo no doubt.
But it was not meroly this that vexed
mo. Apart from tho question of form,
there was a tone in Ethel's letters—a
dreadfully sickly, senlimcntnl tono—
which showed mo clearly that her
sound sense aud hor practical charac
ter had become seriously uudermined.
It occurred to mo that something must
bo done to stop it. An ordinary fel
low in my position would have written
her a lofty rebuke, i am n man of
deeper resource than that. I bit upou
a much moro effective way of bringing
home her folly to her. it is a matter
of common knowledge that sinners in
whom any spark of better fooling re
mains wili pause and turn from their
downward career when they see that
thoy are dragging with them to their
ruin ono for whom thoy entertain a
true regard. I determined to coun
terfeit ; to make Ethel liolieve that her
falling away into tho evils of senti
mentality had exercised a debasing in
fluence on myself. If that would not
pull her up nothing would.
With this end in view, I went to my
dressing case one night and fished out
acertaiu diamond ring, which together
with certain other effects had como to
rao under my godmother's will a few
years ago. I then Bat down and per
petrated—with well-feigned hypocrisy
—that last and lowest act of which
your love sick fool is oapable. 1 in
dited a copy of verses to Ethol.
I wrapped these verses round tho
diamond ring. I packed them up. I
addressed the enso to Ethel Rawlins.
It was my settled purpose to post them
to hor next morning.
_ But I never sent thorn, after all.
Nest morning, when I oame down, I
obsomd my sitter regarding nja with
!tln cl oomptwion, ffftttl
vras ss'tdios a lelis: mtHUn o: foreign
paper.
"Ob, Jack," she said, "here is some
news for you which I am afraid will
not he very welcome. Ethel is en
gaged to Mr. Bowley."
"Poor Jack," added my odious sis
ter Mary.
"tVhy do you say 'Poor Jack* iu
that pitying way?" I demauded, with
reasonable irritation, "if you had
said 'Poor Ethel,' it would have beoa
moro to the point."
"Because yon look so green over
it," retorted Mary. Mary certainly i
has the vulgarest way of talking of
any girl 1 know.
I turned upon her a look of lofty
and dignified reproof. But I did not
utteinpt to reason with her. Reason I
and sound senso would have been
qnito wasted oa Mary. She had a
moral twist iu her which was past rco- '
titieation.
Of course, the news was a shook.
Ethel Bawlins had sunk lower than I
should have thought possible. It was
a sad, pitiable deeliue. 1 was deeply ;
disappointed in her. I sold the ring
to a jeweler for twenty guinea?. Tho
verses went to a magazine, and fetched
one guinea more. They wero memen
toes of my disgust at Ethel's fall. I
was glad to get rid of them at any
price.
From the Morning Post, September
17, 181)3:
Suddenly, nt Wappitooga, N. S. W., on tho
■ll ult., Charles Madden Bowloy, aged
thirly-ttve. Friends please accept this inti
mation.
When I first read this announce
ment it gave me quite a turn. Ino
longer retained that regard and re
spect for Ethel which I had felt before
her fall. Still, one cannot utterly
break the ties which bind ono to old
friends, even if they bavo disgraced
themselves; and I really was sorry for
tho poor, weak girl in this afilietion.
There was another thing. I had i
been feeling ill and miserable for somo I
time myself. My nervous system had
gone wrong. And tho nows of Bow
loy's death—snch a halo and hearty
beggar ho had seemed, too---set my
thoughts rnnuing in a morbid train, j
f went to my doctor at once. I told
him just how I felt.
lie suiil I wanted change of air and 1
scene. A sea voyage, now. Could I !
find tima for a sea voyage? 1 said I 1
could find time for anything that j
would restore my health. To what j
country had I better mako my j
sea voyage? Oh, it didn't much mat
ter ; only the longer the voyage the 1
better—-to Australia, for instance. I ;
said, resignedly, that Australia was
as good a3 auy othor place. So it wus
settled that I should go to Australia, j
I booked my passage to the Auti- j
podes in tho very next liner that
sailed. The day boforo I went, I hap- |
pened to pass the shop of tho jeweler, j
to whom I had sold my golmother's
diamond ring. Glancing in at tho ■
window, I saw—with somo surprise—
that it was still exposed for sale there, j
When a man feels ill, and, as it were, j
nearly shaking hands with death, it I
make 3 him think more seriously of his |
duties, obligations and such like. It
was borne upon mo now that I had
behaved most uudutifnlly in parting
with that diamond ring of my dear ]
godmother's, which sho had bequathed
to me as a keepsake. I was thankful
that the jewoler had not Bold it. I j
obeyed the dictates of my awakened
conscience. I went in and repurchased I
the ring.
From tho Moruing Post, October 1,
1891:
KENDIUC"BOWI.BY.— September 20. at St.
James's. Piccadilly, Jobe Kendrlc, of Back
ley, Devon, to Fallot Emily, widow ot the
late Charles Maiden Bowioy, of Wappitooga,
N.B. W.
John Kendric, the writer. I could
not help it. There was no othor way.
Ethel, having ouoe tasted tho insidi
ous sweets of seutiment, was like a
lion who bad tasted human ilesli. Sho
was iucurabie. Under theso circum
stances I could not loavo lier at the
mercy of the first sentimental idiot
who might cross her path. To savo
her from sinking into further folly, I
married her. Of coarse, I have, in
this matter, been more or less bound
by an absurd convention. I liuvo bed
lo do some love-making, It has been
a tremendous effort—a heroic endeav
or. But the sense of duty has always
been strong within roe. And I have
rieen to tho occasion.—London Truth.
A Remarkable Country Home.
Tho remarkable country home of
Mrs. Elliott F. Shopard, ut Scarboro,
is just now in tho bauds of experienced
landscape gardeners. Large ilower
pots and bay trees, which have been
brought from Venice, Italy, will adorn
and beautify the Italian garden in
front of the baronial munsion. A
largo corps of workmen is now en
gaged in the leveling of the hill in the
roar of the house. Boots of foreign
plants and young bay trees are also
being planted in tho ilower gardens.
It is the intention of Mrs. Sbepard to
devote nenrly all the vast estate to tho
one unifying scheme of park garden
ing. So fur over $2,OUO,OOl) has been
laid out in building tho mansion,
decorating and furnishing the same,
tho laying out of tho Italian garden
and the landscaping of tho grounds
New York Advertiser.
Finnish Trotting Horse.-:.
Horsemen in this vicinity are taking
more than ordinary interest in Will
iam Matron, a farmer and horse
breeder of Wass, Gamla Ivanleby,
Finland, ' who has brought to this
oountry six Finnish trotting hoises,
three mares and three stallions. Tfie
horses nro smaller than our trotters,
averaging about 14J hands high, but
it is claimed for them that they have
unusual endurance nndaronot affected
by tho cold. They are now at Fleet,
wood Park nod have uttraotod nutch
attention frutn loots) hyiwuu'U.'—N'ew
York \dtf?tttt?t,
THE FIELD OF ADVENTURE.
THRILLING INCIDENTS AND DAR
ING DEEDS ON LAND AND SEA.
I'lic Battle or tlie Horses—Minister
ami Mnilninu—ltats Attack Chil
dren— A TUree-Ycar-Old Ilcro.
JUST at sundown, and whilo we
wero at supper, a drovo of wild
horses numbering eighty-eight
suddenly emerged from Thatch
er's Pass and deployed ou the level
ground of the valley. They had made
use of the pass to cross from Climax
Valley, where grass and water might
have failed them, or horso hunters had
appeared to give them a fright. They
emerged from tho pass in single file,
led by a spotted stallion whoso mauo
reached almost to his knees, and
whoso tail touched the ground when
he was at rest. He wasn't as hand
some as sorno of the drovo leaders to
bo met with in tho days of the wild
horse, but he was yet a king among
horses. Of the remainder of the herd
about thirty were fine animals. Tho
others would hardly bo worth the
catching. Three or four were recog
nized as cavalry horses abandoned on
tho march, and twice that number had
collar marks to provo thut they had
stampeded from some immigrant train.
When clear of the pass they formed
in lino and advanced upon us to with
in a quarter of a mile. We had sev
enty-fivo horses at tho lariat pins, and
for half an hour wo had all we could
do to prevent a stampede. Tho wild
horses were finally driven down the
valley by two mounted men, but thoy
did not seem to have much fear of us.
On the contrary, tho leader of the
drove exhibited such temper that the
men feared they would have to shoot
him. It was an hour before our cav
alry horses calmed down in tho slight
est. Every animal seemed enraged at
tho sight of the freo herd, and the
captain's Kentucky stallion acted as if
possessed by a fiend. He had been
doubly fastened at the beginning of
tho excitement, and later on this
proved a fortunate thing. Ho made
the most tremendous efforts to get
free, and when at length he realized
the futility of further efforts in that
direction ho uttered shrill screams of
rage and lashed out with his heels till
no ono dared approach him. All night
long he stood on his feet pawing and
snorting, and the camp sentinels re
ported tho wild horses as hanging
about wilhin half a mile of us.
Daylight had come, and tho senti
nels of the night were coming into
camp, when the will horses rushed in
to view a mile below us. On tho in
stant we discovered them, and while
four-fifths of tho men wero yet under
their blankets, tho captain's horse ut
tered a Boream which must have been
taken as a signal. He rearod up,shook
liis head like an angry lion and
freed himself of his halter. In tho
same instunt every other horso in tho
command secured his liberty; somo
pulled up tho pins, some worked their
heads clear of tho straps, and away
went the whole drove down the valley.
It was not a stampede, as we naturally
feared. Even had our animals desired
to join the ranks of tho free they
would have been rebuffed. Our horses
wero bunched, and in a solid bunch
thoy drovo right through the lines of
tho wild horses and left four of them
lying crippled on tho grass as thoy
passed. The prairie drovo retreated
up the valley half a mile and thon
wheeled about in a siuglo line. When
our drovo halted and turned there was
a distance of three-quarters of a mile
between tho combatants. Wo wero
ordered to fall in, with a view of ad
vancing upon tho wild horses and
driving them off, but beforo wo had
gotten into lino it was too late.
Tho sight was a wonderful one. The
two leaders advanced ns if they meant
to decide tho issue by a fight between
them, but when within forty yards of
each other thoy wheeled and roturned
to their respective lines. Then we wit
nessed something which only a cavalry
man will credit. Our horses fell into
double lino and dressed to tho right as
perfectly as if a trooper had ocoupied
each saddle, and whilo wo looked tho
lines suddenly moved forward on a
charge. When they swept past us tho
uligment was absolutely perfect, with
tho captain's horso on the right and
leading by about twenty feet. The lino
of wild horses bent and wavered, but
did not break until struck. It was
like striking a drumhead with a sledge
hammer. I believe that fully forty
horses went down under tho shook,
but nil except four were speedily on
their feet again. From this on it was
a melee, the whole drovo circling
around, and each horso biting and
kicking anil displaying such ferocity
as to astonish ns. Tho mob fought
past us down the valloy and back, and
right in front of the camp the climax
came. The battle had been raging
half an hour, when tho spotted stal
lion hobbled out of it on three logs
and bleediug from half ndozou wounds,
and that seemed to talco tho pluck out
of his followers. Some ran up the val
ley and somo down, but of tho eighty
oiglit only fifty-seven got away. When
tho hottest of it was over wo dashed in
und Becured u horse hero and there,
and in this manner we finally got hold
of tho lust one, which wus tho cap
tain's.
Of the seventy-five only five had es
caped scot free. Every ono of the
others had been bitten and kicked,
and twelve of them were so crippled
as to bo worthless. In almost every
instance our horses had kicked off
both hind shoos, and in some cases
tho front ones were gone as well.
There were seven dead and thirty-six
crippled horses on that battlo field
whon hostilities censed, and of tho
fifty-seven wild horses which made
their escape many were limping badly.
Before breaking onmp we turned to
and pnt an end to the sufferings of the
oripplot, and wo woro not yet In the
anddlM when & hundred gmtjbua
zards and n dozen wolves were feast
ing on tlio bodies. Free
Press.
Spurgeon anil a Madman
A volume of reminiscences of Spur
geou, the celebrated English pulpit
orator, contains tho following anec
dote: ■ • >
One day a visitor called at Nighten
gale lane with a request that he might
bo allowed to seo Mr. Spurgeon at
once on urgent business. He was told
that an interview could not be had
just then, but persistently prevailed.
On entering the study tho stranger
closed the door, stood with his back
to it and began : ".What's this you'vo
been telling the people at tho taber
nacle about me?"--"Why, nothing,
my friend."
"Oh, yes, you have, and I'vo come
to havo it out with you. I'm not go
ing to have this sort of thing." See
ing that tho man was Btout and strong
and that ho carried a stick liko him
self, Mr. Spurgeon adopted a soothing,
matter-of-fact, reasoning tone: -•
"Well, my friend-, you are a strang
er to mo. I don't think I ever saw
you before, and certainly I don't
know you. If I know nothing about
you, 1 cun't tell anything, can I?"
"No," said the man, "I suppose you
cau't;" and then, after a pause, asked :
"Have you a brother?" "Yes." "Is
ho muoh liko you?',' "No, I cau't say
hois." Then camo a furious burst:
"No, it wasn't your brother; it was
you, and 1 menu to sottlo the matter.
Do you know that I have boon in an
asylum?" "Have you? lam sorry to
hear that." "Yes; and when I was there
I was so strung that it took ton men
to hold mo." Tho man began to flour
ish his stick, and, making threaten
ing advances, from which there seemed
no possibilty of escape, then asked:
"Aro you strong?" This was the
preacher's opportunity, and power of
will ovor brute strength at onco as
serted itself. "Yes, I am, terrifically."
"What! ns strong as ten men?"
Mr. Spurgeon sprung to his feet, and,
assuming a tragio tone, shouted:
"Yes, I'm stronger than a hundred
men, and if you don't get out of this
room I'll crush every bono in yonr
wretched little body 1" Tho man
trembled with fear, turned to the
door, throw it aside and rushed down
the stairs, out through tho doorway
along the road ns if pursued by furios,
leaving his stick behind as a memento
of his visit.
Hats Attack Children
Tbo past summer saw a greater
plague of rats iu largo English towns
than has been known for many years.
The most striking instaneo of their
numbers and boldness was shown in
tho caso in wliioh they nttackod u
family of children in Paisley during
the great heat in tho middlo of Sep
tember. Tho accounts which appeared
in tho papers at tho timo wero some
what exaggerated, but tho following
notes, communicated to tho writer by
tho sonior house surgeon of tho Pais
loy Infirmary, do not diminish the in
terest of the story: "The family,
named Weaver, lived in nil old house,
between which and a stablo next dooi
there was free communication. Near
tho houso there was also a brewrv.
About U. 30 on tho morning of
bcr 18 Mrs. Weaver, hearing screams,
got up and found that her children-
Patrick, uino years old; John, four
years old, and Michael, two years old
—were being attacked by a swarm of
rats. Tho mother had somo difficulty
in driving off the rats, which were
largo brown ones. Putriok was bitteu
on tho arms, fingors, and nose; John
on both hauds, the right being badly
bitten, and Michaol on tho cheek.
Tho wounds were scratchos aud bites,
the mnrks of teeth being in some
places quite distinct, but none of tho
children was so badly hurt as to be de
tained in tho infirmary. Excopt that
iu ono case thoro wus inflammation
and swelling round tho wounds, nono
of the children sufforod any ill results."
There is not tho least doubt that tho
rats intended to ent those children,
aud would have guawod aud mauglod
them to death, just as thoy do fowls
and rabbits, aud if help had not beeu
at hand to drive them oil when tho
pain made the children scream they
would probably liuvo succeeded in
killing tho baby. Tho most curious
fact of tho story is that they deferred
their attack until after suarise, aud
that they wero not afraid of tho elder
boy. Asallthroo children probably
occupied ouo bed, tho rats may have
failed to distinguish tho difference in
size between tho boy of uiuo and the
baby. Iu other respects tho outer
prise was conducted iu tho usual rat
fashion when a raid is made ou living
animals, those attacked being bitten
on all the exposed part", and treated
rather as food roady to bo eateu thau
live creatures which need artistic kill
ing.—Tho Spectator.
A Tliroe-Year-Oltl Ilero,
France, as well as England, has her
deooratious for thoso who save human
lives. The other day at the Troea
dero, tho Sauveteurs awarded their
medal to Eugene Poiret, u baby three
years old. A few months ago, when
the boy was playing with his younger
brother, in tho yard ol his home at
Marv-la Ville, the latter, aged two,
fell headforemost into a tub of water.
Eugene, a big fellow of three, rushed
to the resoue, but suocoeded only in
holding his brother by his clothes.
His loud cries for 'Mlamma" were not
heard, and the little fists could hardly
hold their heavy burden any longer.
Then he fell upon the idea of calling
"Julie," the uamo by which his fath
er called liis mother. This brought
the mother upon the scene; in anoth
er moment she had her two children
in her arms, and a few hours afterward
tho little ones had forgotten their ad
yeniure,
The Chinese wonted paper 170
8, Oi • - - ■
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
GOOD WAY TO CLEAN DOTTLES.
Tho housokoepor should know that
a good way to clean bottles is to take
a number of pieces of soft paper, roll
each of them lengthwise and put them
into the bottlo with somo good hot
suds. Let stand until the paper is
thoroughly moistened. Then shako
well for a few moments and tho bottlo
will bo thoroughly clean. In empty
ing tho bottlo, caro should bo taken
uot to hold it over a bottlor's tray or
wash basin, as tho paper would
probably oause a stoppage. A little
house sand put in hot suds and shaken
noil will cloan bottles effectively.—
New York Telegram.
SCIENTIFIC Disn WASntNG.
Many housekeepers spend half a
lifotimo at the work boforo thoy learn
that thcro is an easy, soiontitio, me
chanical and cleanly way to wash
dishes. It is not an unoommon thing,
if ono can get a peep into tho average
kitchen during this operation, to see a
pan of water, not very warm, lint very
greasy, with particles of food floating
on tho top of it, niul a pile of disheß
covered with bits and scraps standing
ready for a bath in this not very iu
vitiug liquid.
Tho scientific dish wnshcr either
scrapes off or rinses off all loose par
ticles from her dishes boforo 8110 puts
them into tho water. Sho begins with
tho largest plates, putting thom into
tho pan first, then adding thom by
sizes until tho pnu is full. Cups and
other artiolos are placed around, then
over all is poured hot soapsuds, not
boiling hot, but quite as warm as the
hands can be put into comfortably,
Tho cups anil sauces are, of course,
the cleanest things. These are washed
first, and by the timo she has reached
tho plates that may be greasy, thoy
are warmed through and are cleaned
with much more easo than ns though
they wero suddenly put into tho water
and washed off. At this stage it is a
good plan to put into the water, in
addition to soap, a tcaspoonful ol
washing soda, which should bo kept
in a convenient vessel over the sink.
It takes scarcely more thm halt of tho
time to wash dishes in this way.
Ono good housekeeper has u dish
pan almost doublo tho usual size. In
it every dish is put—silver and all
then the hot water is poured on, a
large quantity being used, aud this is
really nn economy in time and
strength, provided water is plenty. As
for greasy dish water, good house
keepers should never havo it. An
abundance of hot water, good soap, a
little soda and dishes properly scraped
off before beginning are all that is
required. Dish cloths are among the
nogleoted items in kitchen economy.
As a rule, it takes a good deal of nerve
to touch [tho average dishe'oth. It
should bo one of tho first lessons
taught to tho young housekeeper that
her dish cloths should be immaculate.
"I never hang my dish cloths up) until
they are so clean that 1 could use them
as napkins, were it necessary," was
the instruction of a noted teacher ol
household science. It pays to take
time to put the dish pan, kitchen sink
and cooking utensils in excellent or
der. If souse aud soda aro used, but
tittle additional time is rcquirod, aud
the satisfaction of it is ample compen
sation.—New York Ledger.
Ragont oE Pork Tenderloins and
Corn—Cut into small pieces n pound
of frasli pork t,enderloius; put into a
saucepan with enough butter to pre
vent burning aud brown over a hot
fire. When well browned add a half
can of swoet coru an I a seasoning of
salt and pepper and enough boiling
water to moisten ; st : r over tho fire
until thoroughly hot und serve at once.
Fish Omelet—Cook together one
level tablespoon!'nl of flour and one of
butter ; add gradually half-cup of hot
milk and a little pepper. Pour boiling
water on a half-cup of shredded cod
fish, drain and mix with tho thickened
milk, then add two cups of cold boiled
potatoes chopped line. Melt table
spoonful butter in a spider; when
hot turn in fish and cook slowly until
a thick crust has formed ; then fold
over aud serve on hot platter.
Mutton Rechauffe—To one cup of
cold roast or boiled mutton, chopped
fine, add a half-cup of tine bread
crumbs with enough gravy or soup
stock to moisten well, season with salt,
pepper and a tableapoonful of some
turt jelly. Placo in frying-pan over
the fire and when well warmed through
remove to back of the range and stir
in the well-beaten yolk of an egg.
Pour mixture in deep bakiug tiu, covei
an inch deep with highly seasoned
mashed potato, brush over tho top
with the white of an egg and brown in
the oven.
Tomato Honey—To every pound of
ripe tomatoes allow sir fresh peach
loaves—if you can got them—ard the
grated rind of one lemon. Cut tho to
matoes into small pieces, and leaves
and rind, and stew slowly until well
done. Press through a fine sieve and
add for every pint of juico one pound
sugar aud the juice of one lemon, lie
turn to the fire and cook till thick like
aoney. I f cooked quickly without a
covor it will be a muoh lighter color.
It can be kept in cans or bottled and
sealed, and will be much relished by
the little folk.
King William Puddiug—Two apples
chopped tine, two ounces each of
,rated bread, sugar and currants; two
eggs and the rind of a lemon, grated,
aud just enough of the juice to give a
perceptible acid, aspriuido of salt and
a little mustard. Stir all together and
pour into a small, buttered bowl.
Cover with a plate and steam for an
hour and a half; servo with lomon
sauce mado ns follows; Boil together
a half cupful of sugar and half cup of
water for llftuuu m<uutoa j remove from
lire ttnd when cooled a little add the
juice remaining ffo'u lemon used in
pudding!