The History of Our Flag:.
One of the moat interesting pieces of
history connected with the American
flag remains to be told. For eighty
nine years after the Stars and Stripes
■were adopted, they were made of for
eign goods. All through the War of
1812 and Civil War, no American sol
dier or sailor ever fought under a yard
of American bunting. No bunting
was made in this country for two rea
sons; first, because nobody knew how
to make it, and second, because no
body could make it and compete with
England. General Butler induced
Congress in 18G5 to put a tariff of forty
per cent, on bunting, and a man was
sent to England to learn how to make
it, and when he returned twelve looms
were put in operation, and then on
February 24, 1860, a notable event oc
curred in Washingtou. The first
American flag, made of American
bunting, was hoisted over the National
Capitol. The flag was twenty-one
feet by twelve feet, and was the gift of
General Ben Butler.
We said there were twelve looms en
gaged in making bunting in 18G5;
well, that was a good many then, but
in twelve years nfterward there were
13,000 looms making the same article.
Under free trade in bunting we paid
from $25 to $35 a bale for the goods,
and under a protective tariff the price
fell to $lB for a iirst-class article.—
Fond du Lac (Wis.) Commonwealth.
This Is the singer whom Antonio Ter
ry, the wealthy Cuban, has frequently
announced his intention to marry as
soon as the divorce court released liini
from Mrs. Terry. As tills event has |
come to pass in the shape of a decree I
issued by the French courts uo legal
barrier now stands in the way. Miss
Sanderson has won distinction on the ,
operatic stage, and is at present sing
ing in St. Petersburg, where rumor j
says she is receiving much attention j
from the Czar. When she becomes >
Mrs. Terry she will not need to sing, as
her husband to be is reputed to l>e j
worth between $-1,000,000 and $5,000,-
900.
Sliake Into Your Shoes
Allen's Foot-Ease, a powder for the feet. It
cures painful, swollen, smarting feet, aud in
stantly takes the sting out of corns and bun- i
ions. It's the greatest comfort discovery of \
the age. Allen's Foot-Ease makes tight-fit- j
ting or new shoes feel easy. It is a certain ;
cure for sweating, callous and hot, tired, ach- i
lug feet. Try it to-day. Sold by all druggists
and shoe stores. By mail for 35c. in stuntps. ,
Trial package FREE. Address, Allen S. Olm
sted, Lo Roy, N. Y.
Few people are aware of the variety j
of goods shipped from the South to all j
parts of the world. The steamer Geor- i
gia. of the Old Hay Line, plying on the ;
Chesapeake Hay between Baltimore |
and Norfolk, recently brought into !
Baltimore for shipment consignments !
of Southern goods to Cape Town Africa !
Kingston. Jamaica. Shanghai. China,
and London. England. A part of the
Chinese consignment was cigarettes ;
made ln North Carolina.
Fits permanently curod. No fits or nervous
ness after first day's use of Dr. Kline's Greut i
Nerve Restorer, %'i trial bottle and treatise free :
Du. R. 11. KLINE, Ltd.. Ull Arch St.,Phila.,Pa.
Albert Burch, West Toledo. Ohio, says: i
"Hall's Catarrh Cure saved my life." Write
him for particulars. Sold by Druggists, Toe.
There la a Claaa of People
Who are In lured by the use of coffee. Re
cently there has been placed in all the grocery
stores a new preparation called Gruin-O.niads
of pure grains, that takes the place of coffee.
The most delicate stomach receives it without
distress, aud but few can tell it from coffee.
It does not cost over one-quarter as much.
Children may drink it with great benefit. 16
cts. aud 25 els. per package. Try It. Ask for
Qrala-O.
DULL ACHING PAINS
Palpitation of the Heart-All Cared by
Hood's Narßuparllla.
"I was troubled with a dull aching pain
ln my right kidney, and I also had palpita
tion of the heart. I began taking Hood's
Sarsaparilla and since then I have never
been troubled with either of these com
plaints. Hood's Sarsaparilla is also help
ing my wife very much." H. B. SCOTT,
Marlboro, New York. Remember
Hood's Sarsaparilla
Is the best—ln fact the One True Blood
Hood's Pills cure indigestion. 25 cents.
f*\ The Rocker Washer
hu provtd th most astiaf acfory
any Waahar avar plocod upon
th msrkot. It i* warranted to
MafiiSfiSKHM Tf M i oop ie£ es' iVox E
HO IT R. aa clean aa can U
war hod on the wuhheard Wnto
for prieei and full deacription.
V ROCKER WASHER CO.
FT. WIY.II, llfU
Liberal inducements to liva acnn'>-
SHREWD INVENTORS!
w Patent Agencies advertising pri7.es, medals,"No
patent no pay." etc. We do a regular patent bus
iness. Low fee*. No charge tor ltd vice. Highest
references. Write us. WATSON K. COLESIAN,
Solicitor of Patents, yoa F. St.. Washington, D.C.
Wanted-An Idea £53
W EC U™R ldens ; thoy may bring you wealth.
Write JOHN WEDDERBURN & CO.. Patent Attor- I
neya. Waahlnrton. L. c., for their SI.BUO prize offor
aud now list or one thousand inventions wanted.
AT TWILIGHT.
Out of the dusk, wind-blown and thin,
The shadowy wood-bouts gather in.
And twilight hushes the harbor's din-
Sleep, little head, on my shoulder!
The gold lights wako through the evening
gray
In the little village beside the bay.
And u few cold stars gleam far away—
Sleep, little head, on my shoulder!
The sailor turns his face once more
Where his sweetheart waits at the ooened
door;
The lone light washes the wave-swept
shore-
Sleep, little head, on my shoulder!
Here where the dancing shadows swarm
Our driftwood lire is bright and warm;
Beyond our window wakes the storm-
Then sleep, little head, on my shoulder!
—William Carman Roberts, in Century.
| A DAUGHTER
I OF THE GODS. |
ft G 1~3 . fej HY is it a law of
I ./ nature that tall
Mi womeu iu us t
m ar ry a ho r^t
c ~ ' feet nine? I
refuse to marry anything under six
feet, so I shall have to die an old
maid. It's very hard."
"You will scarcely be measuring the
man's inches when you fall iu love
Auun," said her friend.
Perhaps the heavy-figured, plain
featured woman of nine-and-twenty
would not have been averse to chang
ing places with the tall, supple-limbed
young Amazon who bemoaned her ill
luck from the long deck chair on the
sunny vicarage lawn, and would have
taken Fate's ttno of a possibly short
husband kindly enough.
"I shall measure his inches before,
and so I shall not fall iu love, wise Lu
—don't you see?"
"And you would rather marry a man
like Charlie Langley, six feet of well
built stupidity, than, we will say, Mr.
Boyce, who is clever and—"
"Handsome, aud almost a pygmy.
I allow Mr. Royee to be the miniature
model of what a man should be—but I
do not wish to marry a model, I want
the man. Some big men are hand
some and clever as well; but big men
like little wives, and so I must go lius
bandless. Charlie Langley worships
little Flossie Cressold. Heigh ho!
What am Ito do? I must be off, Lu,
or I shall be late for dinner."
On the other side of the thick quick
set hedge stood Owen Koyce, the clev
er little artist, of whose future great
things were predicted. Walking care
lessly beside the overhanging haw
thorn and wild-rose, he had been
caught and held by a straggling thorn;
while impatiently unfastening the de
taining bramble the words spoken in
the garden had fallen on his ear. He
was clear of the thorns at last; he was
standing erect and still in the meadow,
his eyes on the low summer sun, and
with a thorn in his heart piercing and
hurting as no mere physical pain could
do. He had walked carelessly through
the summer, as he had walked through
the brambles—to find himself sudden
ly caught. Two months of tennis,
riding aud boating with Anna Way
moor had not left him heart whole.
Heart whole! He bit his lip, and put
a hand across his eyes; he could see
her mentally, tall oven among the tall
women of the day, beautiful in her
strong grace. Like many small men,
the artist was wonderfully active and
wiry; neat-handed, and quick of eye,
lie was an expert in all he did; during
his two mouths' stay at Greyland
Manor he had good-naturedly coached
Miss Waymoor in her drawing, at
tenuis, and had taught her to ride
with some of the knowledge which he
himself possessed. 'J(hat teaching had
been a dangerous pastime; particu
larly dangerous were their loug read
ings and talks together; perhaps it
was then that the artist had fallen
headlong in love with his beautiful
pupil, when the "Amazon" had been
laid aside, when the gracious, gentle
woinau had sat beside him with her
tender, deep gray eyes, and with color
coming and going had learned to love
Beatrice and Juliet, and to know,
through him, her Hkakespenre and
Dante by heart. And all the time she
had thought of him merely as what he
was—"almost a pygmy." He saw
himself suddenly as little more than a
dwarf—a laughable atom! He envied
the dull booby Langley his broad
shoulders and great frame; what beau
tiful woman—such a woman as Anna
Waymoor—could care for such a scrap
of humanity as himself? Yet ho had
dared to love her, to love her as in
tensely as any six-foot Hercules could
do, though he learned to know it only
when he learned that he—the Pygmy
—scarcely ranked iu her eyes as a man
at all.
Anna stood armed with her golf
clubs on the Manor terrace; Louisa
stood beside her, a study in drabs, a
foil to the fresh, brilliant coloring of
her friend.
"Now, Mr. Maxwell is what I call a
man, Lu," the girl was sayiug.
"He is big aud well-made. Icannot
speak as to his head-piece. And he
appears to have no dislike to a tall
woman, my dear;" said Louisa drily.
Anna twirled her club.
"No, I do not think ho dislikes me.
Jack has asked him to stay on for the
cub-hunting."
"Has your brother persuaded Mr.
Royce to remain as well?"
"Yes; his picture will give him
quite another mouth's work. He has
grown very stupid lately. I cannot
think what has come to him; he paints
cud paints, and is as dull as an owl,"
and she moved off to join the stalwart
yu-mg Maxwell, who was patiently
awaiting her pleasure at the park
gate.
Louisa went back to the house to
speak with Mrs. Waymoor, the window
lady of the Manor. At the door she
came on the artist, who stood watching
Anna and her companion crossing the
park, watching so intently that he was
unaware of her neighborhood until she
spoke. He turned with an apology.
"I was watching the golfers; they
make a handsome pair, do they not,
Miss Blackston?"
She followed his gaze; when she
looked back at the inau, two queer lit
tle upright furrows marked her fore
head.
"You admire her?"
"I am an artist. I must admire
her."
Her eyelids were lowered as she
weut by him into the hall; she was
shivering, though the September after
noon was warm and bright.
That evening, after the choir prac
tice, she said abruptly to Anna:
"My dear, I think why Mr. Royce
has grown stupid is because he loves
you."
The girl leant against the garden
gate, and laughed till the tears ran
down her cheeks—the notion was so
funny. Louisa's notions often were.
"Love me! Mr. Royce! Why, if
he wore elevators in his boots he would
barely reach to my shoulder. It never
occurred to me that the little manikin
cojild fall in love. How absurd!"
Louisa turned, almost angrily.
"Though it has not occurred to you
it might to him. And you are such a
fool that you cannot see the man in
him! You make me impatient, Anna.
Flirt with Gerald Maxwell by all
means; it is all you are fit for."
"Why are you cross, Lu? Mr.
Royce is clever and I like him; he i 3
very kind. Poor little scrap! I like
him very much. But he is in love
with his Academy picture, uot with
me."
So, through the glorious September
days Anna golfed, hunted and cycled
with Gerald, and the artist painted,
trying to forget the pain which held
him in its grasp. He sought in his
bruised soul to rejoice that the man
on whom her choice would probably
fall was at least a healthy-minded,
honest country gentleman; he only
asked humbly that she might bo hap
py. He stuck doggedly to his picture
—he said he was too busy to play—
and be kept Lis pain, lie believed,
locked in his own breast; but the
queer, upright furrows were on his
forehead as on Louisa's, and they
deepened as the days went by.
He had been painting hard down by
the wood until, the afternoon suu was
low. At last he put up his brushes
and started on his two-mile walk back
to the Manor. Gerald Maxwell over
took him and the two men went on
together. The stopped at the foot of
the railway embankment, lounging
against the rail, to watch the express
pass. They could hear her thunder
ing in the distance and waited to see
her sweep round the bond to the left,
dash across the straight piece of line
before them and then take the curve
to the right. Gerald was in high spir
its, whistling carelessly in the pauses
cf his talk. The artist stood silent,
content to listen. Then, to their
right, along the lino, came the beat
of flying hoofs; both men turned to
see and both gave a simultaneous ex
clamation of horror, as round the bend,
out of all control, galloped headlong
beside the metals Anna's bay mare,
tearing furiously on toward the rush
ing train, then rounding the opposite
curve. Anna sat back in her saddle,
white as death, trying to stay the run
away, but powerless against the crea
ture's mad fright.
"She may pass safely on one side,"
gasped Gerald.
Even as he spoke the mad brute
plunged into the centre of the iron
road. She seemed for the first time
to sight the train whistling and soreani
ing out its warning, but powerless to
check iu time. She reared straight
up, and then stood planted and im
movable in the centre of the metals,
staring, paralyzed with terror, at the
advancing monster. It had all hap
pened in a second or so, leaving but I
scant time for thought or action. Both !
men shouted to the girl to fling herself 1
off, but she, too, seemed turned to
stone. She sat dumb, looking before
her with agonized eyes, though her
trembling hands yet mechanically
strove to turn the horse. In hall a
minute it would be too late. Gerald
flung up his arms, shouting his warn
ing. He stood there alone, the artist
was gone; he had scaled the steep em
bankment, bis small, lithe figure
springing up it like a cat; one hand,
strong as steel with dumb-bell exer
cise, was on the horse's bridle, back
ing her a step to the side, the other
was on the girl, pressing her from the
saddle, telling her to fall—to trust him
and fall. Thank heaven! She under
stood and obeyed. Amid the thunder
and crash of the train he knew that she
had swung clear of the metals. There
was a blow and be was down, and all
was dark.
It was a miraculous escape. Max
well wiped the moisture from his
brow as he told the story; Royce had
rushed iu with the train almost on
him, when it seemed that horse, man
and girl must all be cut to pieces;
nothing but his wonderful quickness
had saved Anna, who, bruised aud
shaken, had yet fallen clear of worse
harm. Poor "Black Bess" was cut to
bits. Royce's face was terribly cut by
the blow which had felled him, yet,
mercifully, he had fallen, stunned, in
the hollow between the rails, and so
had escaped with his life; but he
would never paint more, his right arm
had been frightfully crushed; amputa
tion had had to follow as his only hope
of life.
The Manor people nursed him de
votedly through his illness; nothing
they could do could, tliey felt, repay
what they owed to him. He was very
grateful for tlieir care and intention. j
He made no allusion to liis ruined j
career, though his eye sometimes rest- j
ed on the half-finished picture which ,
stood in his room. He looked reso
lutely at the reflection of his scarred
face, at the empty right sleeve. He f
had all his life looked at trouble be
tween the eyes; he had never shirked
or quailed before it. The man's spirit,
at least, was no small one. But as
Christmas neared and he grew fairly
convalescent he began to grow restless.
In spite of protest, he declared him- j
self well enough to return to his rooms
in town. He had stayed at the Manor
to paint, now he must trespass no
longer.
"Dear old chap, why go?" said Jack.
"The mater worships you. Can we
not amuse you here? Anna will try
to; she will read to you, sing to you.
Surely you might stay for Christmas !
with us?"
He smiled, but repeated that he
must go.
He lay very still when Jack left him.
looking out at the red winter sun and
the wheeling rooks in the Park elms. ,
Yes, Anna would be good to him; he
knew that. She had been kind—so
kind, that to stay on would be worse
torture that the loss of his arm! When
Maxwell returned, as of course he
would, his suffering would become un- ■ i
bearable. He was not so strong as he ,
had been, and things cut deeper; he ;
would be better away in town.
Then Anna learned their guest ,
meant to quit them. Anna had
changed of late; she professed to be :
tired of dancing, she said she 110 long- 1
er cared to hunt, that she liked best to
be quiet at home. She had grown
very gentle, very womanly, and her !
gray eyes would become wonderfully
soft and tender when they rested on ;
Owen Itoyce's disfigured face and poor
maimed body. They became strangely
wistful now as she said softly: : 1
"Put we would rather you stayed." j 1
"Still I must go," he answered,pick- i
ing up his book with unsteady fingers. 1
She was behind his couch, and stood :
looking at him in silence with an oddly 1
frightened expression; then she blushed i
hotly over cheek and brow as she said <
inconsequently, j 1
"I did not want Gerald Maxwell to
come for Christmas. I told Jack not 1
to ask him; but—l did want you here." i
There was a pause. The man on the ]
sofa drew his breath quickly, and from ' :
somewhere far above his head a tear j 1
splashed down. It lay on the scarlet
silk cushion, a round, dark stain. He 1
raised himself quickly and looked at •
her. Yes, the tears were raining down
her face. With his left hand he caught I
her dress. 1
"Anna," he said, hoarsely, "did you j <
guess then, that I loved you?" I 1
"Yes," she said in a whisper. "I
read it in your eyes when you caught I
my horse's head on that awful day. t
Louisa had guessed it before, and told i
me, but I had not believed." 1
lie was lying back again on the I
cushions, watching her with quiet, I
hopeless eyes. t
"Yes, heaven knows I loved you," ,
he answered. Then he told her what I
on that summer's day he had over- 1
heard in the vicarage garden. "You
did not love me then, Anna. Now, I £
am disfigured and a cripple. You are t
kind and good—l understand—but it t
is only pity you can have for me. You c
would not marry me, save in pity." I
She was on her knees beside him, c
half laughing, half crying. 1
"In pity! In pride and joy. Did I c
not say, 'a tall woman must marry a 5
small man'? Are you too proud to take i
a tall wife, Owen? Must I die an old }
maid because lam overgrown. Don't i
you know that to me you stand high I
among men; that your scarred face is 1
your V. C., that your empty sleeve is \
your badge of glory? Don't you know \
that had you died under the train, I f
should have had no wish to live? I t
knew whom I loved then. If you are f
too proud to marry me because of your .
poor arm, because of my heedless, [
stupid speech—then lam not too proud I
to say that your pride will make one c
wretched woman. And, Owen, lam I
not too proud to accept your pity— (
but the pity is yours, not mine, to i
give."—Household Words. 3
New York's Pinnacled Sky-Line. t
The sky-line of New York is chang- 1
ing so rapidly that the American trav- 1
eller who goes abroad can recognize fc
with more certainty the profiles cf the !
foreign cities he approaches than that 1
of his own metropolis as he sees it I
from the deck of the steamer on his f
return. It may be his first visit to 1
Europe; he may know Loudon, Rome,
and Paris only from views of them in
old prints. But, if he has an eye for (
such things, his first glimse of St. ,
Paul's, St. Peter's, or Notre Dame will
tell him to what place he is coming,
for all the world knows these pinna
cles, has known them for centuries.
They are as conspicuous and charac- ]
teristic in the silhouettes of their cities \
as they were when they were built. ,
One of the Dutoh Governors of New
Amsterdam, seeking in spirit some j
familiar earthly habitation, might find ,
old Amsterdam, for it cuts the same ,
figure in the sky to-day that it did
when he left it, but the last dead boss ]
of New York, if by any chance be j
should get away from where he ought ]
to be, would search the horizon in vain ]
for the face of his city. The features ]
his eye would seek are there: Old \
Trinity still stands, its steeple, like
the spires of the old cathedrals, up
lifted high above the earth; but its
solitary prominence is gone. The
modern office building has risen higher
than the head of the cross, and the
church has lost its distinction. The j
enterprise of business has surpassed
tlie aspiration of religion.—From "The
Modern Business Building," by J. Lin
coln Steffens, in Scribner's.
i'•<'::■ *■i' . \i• ■" ! •••!' |h! .' ... ! , tho
acre in France is 102 bushels; in Ger
many, 121; in Italy, 104; in Holland,
177; in the United States. 75.
A BAG OF BIG GAME.
; Iloyal Sport Enjoyed by the Guests of an
Indian Prince.
1 In the Century there is an article
entitled "After Big Game in Africa
and India," written by H. W. Setou-
I Karr. Mr. Karr was a guest of the
Maharaja of Kuch Behar in the latter
country, and he describes an exciting
i hunt from elephant back. He says:
The Maharaja of Kuch Behar ever
Since his youth has always had a large
stud of elephants, and hunted in this
! way; and since big game is now com
paratively scarce even in Assam, we
should not have made any bag worth
speaking of if we had not had the ben
efit of his experience. Not more than
three or four beats could be accom
plished in one day. Considerable dis
tances had often to be traversed from
one jungle to another, and tho inter
vals were often long and tedious un
der an Indian sun; but most of us car
ried books and papers to read while
the elephants were getting infc> posi
tion. When the beat had once begun,
however, all one's senses were 011 the
alert. By the men's turbans, or the
white sunshade of one of the aides-de
camp bobbing up and down, one could
generally distinguish over the tops of
the reeds the position of the beatiug
line in the far distance, and hear an
occasional shout and the shrill trumpet
of an elephant.
111 the midday stillness, broken only
by the constant flapping and fanning
of the elephant's huge ears, oue can
distinguish the approach and mark
the path of most of the wild animals
by the rustling in the grass and reeds.
But the approach of the panther and
the tiger is heralded by 110 such sign.
By experience one's eye becomes
trained to discriminate between the
swaying of the reeds caused by tho
wind and that due to the cautious ad
vanco of an unseen beast., whether
deer, boar, bear, or something bigger
still. When tiger or "rhino" are
known to be at home, such small fry as
these are allowed to pass unharmed,
for fear of turning the object of pur
suit; but when the larger game are
advancing at full speed, it needs no
expert to distinguish their appalling
crashes from the whispering of a breeze.
Will be break cover in front, or will
the next gun get the shot? Standing
in expectation, with guns loaded and
heart beating, this is the most exciting
moment of the day. The howdali
elephants being thus placed at inter
vals, and usually out of sight of one
another, one was not always able to
judge by tlie shots fired as to what
was going on; but I was unusually for
tunate in the number of animals
breaking cover at a point immediately
opposite to me, and consequently in
the chances I obtained.
I took leave of the Maharaja shortly
before the breaking up of the second
shooting camp, which took place about
a month later, in his own country;
but the total bag included seventeen
tigers, seven rhinoceroses, and nearly
forty buffaloes, besides bison, bear
and panther.
How to Prolong Life.
"Intemperance anticipates age," bo
said the late Sir Benjamin Ward Rich
ardson. The more the social causes of
mental and physieial orgauic diseases
are investigated, the more closely the
origin of degenerative organic changes
leading to premature degeneration and
decay are questioned, the more closely
does it come out that intemperanoe,
often not expected by the person him
self who is implicated in it, so subtle is
its influence, is at the root of tho evil.
When old age lias really commenced,
its march toward final decay is best de
layed by attention to those rules of
conservation by which life is sustained
with the least friction uud the least
waste. The prime rules for this pur
pose are—to subsist on light but nutri
tious diet, with milk as the standard
Food, but varied according to season.
To take food in moderate quantities
four times in the day, including a
light meal before going to bed; to
Dlothe warmly, but lightly, so that the
body may in all seasons maintain its
equat to keep the body
in fair exercise, and the mind active
and oheerful; to maintain an interest
in what is going on in the world, and
to take part in reasonable labors and
pleasures, as though old age were not
present; to take plenty of sleep during
sleeping hours; to spend nine hours in
bed at the least, and to take care dur
ing the cold weather that the tem
perature of the bedroom is maintained
at sixty degrees Fahrenheit; to avoid
passion, excitement and luxury.
Two Uses for Money.
Money is what it will do. A piece
of money was seen "doing" what it
was never made for, in front of the
Mail and Express office this morning.
A smoker had a cigar and a match, but
no convenient place to strike a light.
The sole of his shoe was damp, and
he may have had an esthetio reluc
tance to join that ignoble army that
marks buildings with saltpetre scars.
He fumbled iu his change pocket,
found a half dollar, struck his match
upon it, and walked away serenely
puffing the cigar of the Havana.
Not every wearer of eyeglasses
knows that a piece of paper money is
the best thing with which to polish dull
lenses. Sometimes the clean, soft
handkerchief carried for the purpose
fails to remove that blur on the glass
that so vexes the wearer. A bill of
any denomination, but not too new,
will, if used in place of the linen,
make the lens like crystal iu a moment.
The action may look like vulgar os
tentation of wealth, but it costs noth
iug after all.—New York Mail and Ex
press.
Two liljj Garden Parties.
Sheffield's Mayor is the Duke of
Norfolk. On occasion of Queen Vic
toria's visit he gave a feast to 50,0)0
sohool children and their 1800 teach
ers at his country house near by,
where he subjoqur ntly gave a tef "jc
8000 persons over sixty yews of age.
ANT HOUSES IN AUSTRALIA.
: Mounds in Which Millions of the In
sects Live in Perfect Amity.
One mound in particular, a groined
columnar structure, was eighteen feet
high. This was not far from Port
j Darwin. The discoverer believes that
originally the mound was conical in I
shape. The sides were smooth. It has
I evidently been in use for many years
j and the columnar effect noticeable, he
j believes, is due to the fact that the
j ants incessantly traveling the path
i ways up and down the mound produc- 1
! ed the grooves that are seen and re- j
| suited in giving the effect of a colum- j
j uar formation. The entrance to the !
; mound, examination showed, had var
■ ied in location, for there was distinct
I evidence that apertures of this sort j
had been walled up in several in- I
1 stances.
' The interior of the mound referred !
to showed as much as anything the re
markable instinct of the nuts. It was
divided up very much after the fash
ion of the tall buildings which are now
| becoming so common, with an immense !
court within the structure itself—that
is, there were hundreds of tiny cells
built in from galleries which were ter
raced one above the other. The gal
leries were connected by paths or stair
ways, each of these being constructed
with architectural exactness. The
cells were almost uniform in size, and |
reminded one, the explorer said, of the
cell of a monk. The earth in each in- j
stance was as hard and smooth as
marble and bore evidence of long-eon- j
tinned usage. A portion of the grouml
lioor, or basement, of the mound had j
been divided up into storerooms, and |
here it was evident the ants had care- i
fully packed away the provender
which they had secured from various i
points about.
While naturalists and st udents of the j
intelligence of insects and animals j
have long been inclined to believe that j
the ant exceeded in at least keenness |
of instinct ail other creaturea of its |
kind, it has never been conclusively
shown until demonstrated by tl>e just- j
made announcement of Mr. Saville* I
Kent.—San Francisco Call.
Historic.
"I hear Miss Evan gate's new play is j
a historic one."
"Why not? She's getting somewhat !
historic herself."—Cincinnati Enquirer, j
The Philadelphia Inquirer cites an |
instance of a man who "was struck by
lightniug and rendered unconscious in
Pennsylvania over twenty years ago."
Wei), he'll probably stay in that State
forever.
After six rears' suffering I was cured by Pl
so's Cure. MAKV THOMSON, 'MX Ohio Ave.,
Alleghany, Pa., March It), 181)4.
Mrs. Window's Soothing Syrup for children
teething, softens the gurns.roduHng intla muni
tion, allays pain, cures wind colic. 25c a bottle.
If afflicted withsoreeyesuse Dr. IsaacThomp
sou's Eve-water. Druggists sell at 25c. uer Dot tie.
Ileal Rest and Comfort.
There is a powder to be shaken into the
shot S called Allen - invented by I
Allen 8. Olmsted, Le Hoy, N. Y., which j
druggists ami shoe dealers say is the best
thing they have ever sold to cure sore and
tender or aching feet. Some dealers clAim
that it makes tight or new shoes feel easy.
It certainly will cure corns and bunions and
relieve instantly sweating, hot or smarting
feet. It costs only a quarter, and the invent
or will send a sample free to any address.
BUCKINGHAM'S
DYE
For the Whiskers,
Mustache, and Eyebrows.
In one preparation. Easy to
apply at home. Colors brown
or black. The Gentlemen's I
favorite, because satisfactory.
R. r. HALL & Co., Proprietor., Nniliua, N. 11.
Sold by all Druggists.
rtKT RICH quickly: Mnrt for "30d luvenilong !
V* Wanted.' £DUAII TATS & Co., 246 D'wity, N. Y.
n n B ■ ABB# AItDH can hs aaved with
ll P I I U U °An.i^ r . k uS 0 S
2 I n I I |HC H% cure for the drink habit. I
U IB BJB IV 11 Write Itenuvu Chemical
rT. Co.. 6 Broadway. N. Y. I
I ull information (in plain wrapper) mulled free.
EVERYMAN HfSOWN DOCTOR
By J. Hamilton Ayers, A. M., If. D.
H/Tr This is a most Valuable Book for
P the Household, teaching as it does
NVH w fjllf j/f the easily-distinguished Symptoms ,
&©nffi| oC ( liffrenfc Diseases, the Causes,
! \'lAs- \T<_ an<l anß Preventing such Dis-
jT/lT eases, and the Simplest Reinodiej
""" *W&T~- will alleviate or cure.
598 PACES,
fft- PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED.
. Book is written in pldn every
\ JfWyji *f d*y English, and is free from the
ranfQr Doctor Books so valueless to tbo
pTjWJi gX/'i Tfig generality of readers. This Book la
fj/ Family, and is so worded as to be
I II readily understood by all. Only
1 11 ' 60 CTS. POST-PAID.
M i?e/or and After Taking (Th e j ow price on |y l>eing made
possible by the immense edition printed). Not ouly does this Book contain so
much Information Relative to Diseases, but very properly gives a Complete
Analysis of everything pertaining to Courtship, Marriage an I the Production
and Rearing of Healthy Families; together with Valuable Recipes an 1 Pre
scriptions, Explanations of Botanical Practico, Correct use of Ordinary Herbs.
New Edition, Revised anl Enlarged with Complete Index. With this Book in
the house there is no excuse for not knowing what to do in an emergency. Don't
wait until you have illness in vour family before vou order, but. 3en I at once
for this valuable volume. ONLY GO CENTS POST-PAID. Send postal
notes or postage stamps of any denomination not larger than 5 cents.
BOOK PUBLISHING HOUSE 134 Leonard Streot, N. Y. City.
"Better Work Wisely Than Work Hard.'' Sreat Effort?
are Unnecessary in HousecleaninQ f You Use
SAPOLIC
1 10 MOTHERS OF_L4RGE FAMILIES.
Mrs. Pinkham's Advice Free.
In this workaday world few wom3H
ire so placed that physical exertion
is not constantly demanded of them in
their daily life.
Mrs. Pinkham makes a special appeal
to mothers of large families whose work
s never done, and many of whom suffer
adJ suffer for lack of intelU
die first approach of weakness, may
, ill your future years with healthy joy.
Mrs. A. C. Buiiler, 1123 North Al
bany avenue, near Humboldt Park,
! Chicago, 111., says: 44 1 am fifty-one
♦*ears old anrl have had twelve children,
ind my youngest is eight years old. I
I :iave been suffering for some time with
i terrible weakness; that bearing-down
; feeling was dreadful, and I could not
valk any distance. I began the use
jf Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable
Compound and Sanative Wash and they
I have cured me. 1 cannot jjraise your
medicine enough."
Sof Hires Rootbeer
on a sweltering hot
day is highly essen
tial to comfort and
health. It cools the
blood, reduces your
temperature, toues
Rootbeer
should be in every
drink, more health
ful than ice water,
A GREAT CHANGE!
| We want an agent 'n every town in the TT. 8. and
Canada. No experience required. J.adieu make
most successful agents. We pay .salary or liberal
commission. You ran work all tne time or leismre
hours, and can earn from Kit. Il l' TO TWKLTH
DOLLARS PER DAY. Ue shall give
5 COTTAGE LOTS FREE
To our A most successful agents. These lots axe
worth * l,00<) eucli now, will be worth 93,000
when times improve. They are located at
I'ETIT .MANAN, the queeu of the .Maine
SHHFORYOU
Write v . once for full particulars to the
P. .11. L. A I. COMPANY, - - Belfast, We-
UNIVERSITY 5 NOTRE DAME
Notre Dame, Indiana.
ClrtMim, Lettern. Science, Law, Civil, Ma
| -ltnnicul and Fleet i leal Fiigiiiecrlng.
Thorough Preparatory and Commercial
bourses. Ecclesiastical students at special
I Kuomß Free, Junior or Senior Year, I'oUe
<iute Courses, st K<hvnrd'n Hall for l>oya
inder 13. •
I Thi) 107 th Term will open September Tth,
1897. Catalogue sent Free on application to
ltev. A. Morrissey, C. S. C., I'resident.
M S/LOS
CgcJ HOW TO BUILD ask
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1 j