The French press is fuming glori.
ously.against the United States, and
is furious against England, which has
blocked, once for all, tho chances of a
European coalition against tho United
States.
The Swiss canton of Ncuenburg has
sanctioned a plan for a universal life
insurance in which all the natives
over eighteen years old may partici
pate. In case of death, a sum vary
ing from 1000 to 5000 francs is to be
paid to the heirs.
The Hong Kong Press tells of a
professional beggar who has built
quite a fine three-story tea-house just
outside the South Gate. As the ouly
three-story building in the city, it is
an object of great pride to the natives,
whose charity helped so largely in its
erection.
A Berlin paper has ascertained that
intoxication by means of ether has be- I
come almost epidemic in Lithuania, !
owing to the fact that ether is cheaper
than brandy and less of it is needed
to get drunk on. Many families have !
beeu ruined by the habit, which has '
also found victims even among school 1
children.
=
Fifty years ago there were few per- i
sons employed or gaining a livelihood j
by the utilization of electric energy. !
Now in Europe and America there are
more than a million—very likely two
millions in the world. In 1827 George
Stephenson started his first railway
train possibly with a dozen employes.
Now in the United States there are
nearly 800,000 railroad workers.
Amherst, Mass., with a population
of 4800 has a public library of 70,000 ,
volumes, which is open to all comers 1
for thirteen hours every day. In ad
dition, the citizens have also access
to the college library, of 19,000 vol
umes, and to two other free libraries,
containing 7600 and 2300 volumes re
spectively. Only ton towns in tho
State of Massachusetts are now with
out free public libraries.
Little John Victor Thompson was
born under a whole constellation of
Ineky stars. His first pieoe of good
fortune was in being horn in Chicago.
He could not have made a wiser
hoice of a birthplace. His second
morsel, or, rather, large mouthful, of
good fortune came when he was adop
ted by the Thursday Club. Thirty
nine young ladies, each of whom has
piu money to spare, were looking
about for some charitable work to do.
They saw young Thompson and
adopted him. They will send him to
school, perhaps to college, and start
him on an honorable career. Thirty
nine mothers! That is a privilege
which very few hoys enjoy, and John
Victor knows it.
According to the Boston Traveler
recent events point to the falling be
hind of the Latin races in the march
of civilization. Old abuses with them
seem to linger, abuses which have
been stamped out long since by their
sturdier Saxon brethren. Franco in
the Zola trial has shown the world
defects in her judicial and administra
tion systems that the English trial by
jury would not have permitted even
two centuries ago. Spain, in attempt
ing to crush Cuba, shows the same
crude methods which disgraced Alva
in the Netherlands. In the desire for
better observance of international law
and freedom of trade, too, our Latin
brothers seem to be sadly lacking. If
recent events count for anything, they
seem to point to the future supremacy
of the Anglo-Saxon.
There is a common notion that Amer
ica is tho only country in which there
has been a vapid growth of cities.
The Americans are so accustomed to
consider that their country is in al]
respects vastly superior to all others
that they give very little attention to
what is done elsewhere. Bat the de"
sire of human beings to crowd together
in cities is one of the striking pecular
ities of the present age, and, as a re.
suit, there has beeu au enormous
growth of cities in every country.
Take, for instance, the city of Berlin.
In 1858 it had about 440,900 popula
tion. In 1898 its jropulation is 1,500,-
000. In 1861 the population of Liver
pool, including Birkenhead, on the
opposite side of the river Mersey, was
about 550,000. In ISB9 it was 940,-
000 and to-day is over one million
souls. The city of London is another
interesting example. In 1861 the
population embraced in the registrar
general's district was 2,000,000 and n
little over. In the same district, in
1896, the census showed 4,411,000.
It would bo difficult, even in the
United States, to find more rapid
growth of the population of cities than
tba* stated above; but it is more the
taie than the exception.
JT.cv nro slaves •who fonr to speak
For the fallen and the weak.
They are slaves who will not chocsb
Hatred, scoffing and abuse
Father than in silence shrink
From the truth they need must think;
They are slaves who dare not bo
In tiie light with two or throe.
I A LAWYER'S SECRET. 1
© ®
33y G. MANVILLE FENN.
Of cases in
II my pr ofession?
I*l I wM| J- Oh, yes, plenty. I
' I j often smile to my-
K —V self whon I find
the novelist taking
ffc&L f u ? °' c^fami| ? ' n_
in |w 1i( | ing them up into
I ill /V J stories ; then
X. I jet "| I think of what
KJ Ci 111 1 yVv,. plots I could have
ill if they
t|j\ had not been fam
(Vl t ily secrets of a
JV, private and tlior-
IX I oughlyconfidential
\ - ' character.
I remember one
~~ J rase that, changing
C'~ thenames,itwillbe
no particular breach of confidence to
mention, and I tell it the more frankly
because it is a little against myself,
and I must own that I did not act
qnite upon what is called the square.
In fact, I played a part—a negative
kind of part—for I did nothiug else
but hold my tongue. If I bad spoken,
it| would have fifty thousand
pounds or so out of a truly honest
man's pocket and into a roguo's; so,
somehow, I let my feelings get the
better of my professional conscience,
and I said not a word.
I was old John Hendricks's solicitor,
and looked after bis property, for I
bad known him when he was a strug
gling man and I was a young lawyer
with none too much practice. Then
I lost sight of him for twenty years, at
the end of which time I was still
plodding along respectably, just hold
ing my own and nothing more, when,
going into one of the city taverns for
my regular daily chop, which I ate at
the same table for so many years that
I had become one of the institutions
of the place, I found myself opposite
to a yellow-looking, thin, gray-haired
man, who kept on looking up from his
plate to stare at me very rudely I
thought.
I did not reseut his stare at first,
but at last it became so unpleasant
that I determined to look him down,
and I gazed firmly into his eyes.
"Why, it is!" he exclaimed. "Dick,
old boy, don't you know me?"
"That's Jack Hendricks's voice," I
exclaimed, nearly upsetting my plate;
and the next moment we were sitting
there, hand clasped in hand, and with
the tears in our eyes, looking very
foolish and weak, I dare say, to the
other occupants of the room; but that
did not trouble us, for we had too
much to say to each other.
John Hendricks told me that he had
been in the north of India, close to
Nepaul, for over twenty years. He
had gone out as a factor to an indigo
grower, and bad become a grower
himself.
"And now," he said, "I have oomo
to look after my dead sister's sons and
—to die."
"Well, old fellow,"I said, "the first
part's right enough, but as to the dy
ing, I think it's as well to leave that
alone. It will be all settled for you.
The only thing with respect to that,
speaking as a professional man, is to
make your will, if you have anything
to leave, and then make the most of
your span."
"Have you made yours, Dick?" he
said sharply.
"I? No," I said laughing. "I've
nothing to leave, Jack;" and then we
went into mutual tonfidences; and
after I had told him of my own hard
working life, he gave me to under
stand that he had made a very large
fortune in indigo, and spent very little
on himself.
"Mine's been too hard-working a
life, Dick," he said, "for mo to be
much of a spender; but it will be a
fine thing for Jenny's two boys if—if
I like them," he added sharply. And
then, with a quiet, subdued look,
"Poor Jenny! I should have liked to
see her again."
John Hendricks was fifteen years
my senior, but we became once more
the closest of friends, for ho seemed
to resume his old protective way over
me, hut trusting me most fully in
every point.
It was all done in a quiet, unosten
tatious way, but from the day of John
Hendricks's return the world began
to smile on me. I had a great deal of
professional business to do for him,
and as ho had most extensive connec
tions among old indigo planters, I
found them coming to me, right and
left, by bis recommendation; so that
very soon, in place of finding it hard
work to keep one clerk, I bad very
bard work for four, and a big balance
at my bank.
But I am getting on too fast.
Before long I met the two nephews
at their uncle's quiet little house at
Chelsea, and as we sat at dinner I
could not help thinking how kindly
fortune was behaving to the young
men to place them in the way of such
expectations; and before I left it was
plain enough to me which was the un
cle's favorite.
This was Philip, a frank-faced
young fellow of two or three-and-
I twenty, very gentlemanly in his ways,
and decidedly good-looking, while he
FREEDOM.
Is true freodon but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts, forget
That we owomankind a debt?
No! true freedom is to share
All the chains our brothers wear,
And with heart and hand to be
.. Earnest to make others free.
—James liusseil Low®
was full of anecdote, aud, without
seeming to be toadying, full of atten
tion to the old man, to the old man,
to whose dogmatic speeches he list
ened with the greatest deference.
For old John had grown terribly
dogmatic. He had had the management
of hundreds of poor ryots for so many
years that ho felt quite a king in his
way, and would bully aud snub ovory
one whon his liver was a little worse
than usual—everyone, that is, except
me, for whenever he was out of tem
per he never would speak to mo, but
nod and shako his head, and smoke
his chillum till ho felt more at ease.
Samuel was the very opposite of his
brother, being a short, thiok-set,
plain fellow, with only one good fea
ture —or ought that to bo two?—iu
his face, and that his eyes, which
wero, for a man, beautiful, and, best
of all, in their steady, honest look,
which never seemed to blanch or
have anything to fear.
Time went on, and at John Hen
drioks's wish I took Philip a a articled
clerk.
"Let him be a lawyer," said my
old friend; "not a barrister, but a
lawyer, a family solicitor, who knows
the value of property and how to
manage it, for —iu confidence, Dick,
do you hear?"
I nodded.
"You may charge for it, if you
like; I mean to make that boy my
heir, but don't tell him."
"I don't tell what my clients say to
me," I said.
"No, you dry, old wooden box," he
said, chuckling; "I never met with
such a snuffy, reticent old humbug as
you've grown."
"Well, if I had not, you wouldn't
have made me your solicitor," I said,
grimly.
"Perhaps not, Dick; perhaps not,
old fellow; but we should have beeu
friends all the same; hut dou't give
Phil the slightest hint of what I
mean to do for him. Let him work,
and get to be a clever, shrewd man of
business. I hate an empty dandy.
Let him learn the worth of money be
fore he gets it. God bless him! he's
exactly like poor Jenny."
"Aud how about Sam?" I said in
my gruff, repellent way.
"Let him stop where he is, and sell
tea and tea-dust, and make his money
out of tho chests," he said, in a hard,
harsh manner that I did not like.
"But you'll leave him as much as
you leave his brother?" I said.
"That I won't, Dick. He's my sis
ter's boy, bat 1 don't like him. He's
his father over again—the father who
behaved badly to poor Jenny,andbroke
her heart. He was a gambler, and
thought only of himself. Poor girl!
she made a sad mistake, but let that
rest."
"Well, I don't know," I said. "I
think you are misjudgiug Sam. I be
liovo him to ho a very frank, honest
fellow."
"Bosh! Don't tell me, sir. I can
read character. I haven't lived to
sixty-eight for nothing, sir. The fel
low never shows me a bit of deferenefe.
He's rough and independent, and bul
lies bis brother just as that scoundrel,
his father, did my poor sister Jenny.
I don't like him."
Now I, too, had studied character a
little, and I knew enough of John
Hendricks to see that I should be
doing uo good by fighting ou Samuel's
behalf, but I made it my business a
few days later to ask him to call upon
me; aud during the interview the
opiuion I had already formed was
strengthened.
"No, Mr. Brown," he said warmly,
"I can't do it. I don't say but what
if my uncle left me some money I
should be glad of it, for—for I am
thinking of getting married, sir; but
my uuele does not like me. He has
taken a prejudice against mo because
lie says I am exactly like my dead
father, aud I cau't help that, of course."
"But you might try to humor him a
little, and let him see that you don't
deserve his—l am sure—wrong opin
ion."
"Thank you for that, Mr. Brown,"
ho exclaimed, and his eyes looked soft
and subdued; "but I could not do it,
sir. I never would toady to any one
for the sake of the money that might
come, and if I were to go there trying
to please my uuele, be would only de
spise me for it. My poor mother
taught me, Mr. Brown, and I have
never forgotten her teachings."
I found before long that John Hen
dricks was thoroughly in earnest, for
he sent for me one day to take instruc
tions to make his will; but I eoulil not
help laying down my pen when I
found that he intended to leave the
whole of his property, save some
trilling legacies to servants and others,
to his younger nephew, Philip Hems
ley.
"Now," I said, "is this fair?"
"Sir," ho said, "you are now my
professional man."
"Adviser," I said, correcting] him;
"and I advise you to do your duty by
your nephews by leaving them equal
shares."
"I'll do nothing of the kind," he
said. "I'll leave it all to Philip."
I argued and fought, and the result
wr.s tliat lie let me put down two thou
sand pounds for Sam; but the great
property of a hundred and odd thou
sand pounds, well invested, was loft
to Phil.
"Now, Dielc," said the old fellow
chuckling, "those hoys will be sure to
ask you if you have any will of mine,and
I want to humbug them; so we'll de
posit this at the banker's, and then if
they ask yon if you have my will, you
can say 'No.'"
Everything was done as he wished,
and the will placed at the banker's;
And though, during the next five years
I tried hard to get the old man to make
a fresh one, he grew more obstinate
than ever, shutting his eyes blindly to
the character of his nephews; and all I
could do was to let matters take their
coarse.
It was a bad course for Philip Hems
lcy, who was, in a quiet,secretive way,
a regular scamp—his father over
again. He was very clever and shrewd
as a lawyer, and got on well when he
stuck to it, and this pleased the old
man, to whom he was devotedly atten
tive; while poor Sam seemed to be
come more and more estranged, though
a better and truer-hearted fellow never
married a pure, sweet little woman
like an angel, who poured out tea for
a grim old fellow.
I was often at his snug little home,
and, after trying in vain to make
things better for him with his rich
uncle, I came to the conclusion that
they would be no happier for the
money, so I let matters slide.
'Two thousand will be a nice nest
egg for them," I thought, "so per
haps all is for the best."
As I have said, Phil became a
shrewdish fellow in the law, and
passed his examination pretty well, so
that he knew what he was about in
legal matters; and one day he proved
the truth of his uncle's prophecy by
saying to me suddenly.
"My uncle is far from well, Mr.
Brown. Have you got his will?"
"No," I said, so shortly that he
turned upon his heel and went away.
About a month later I wa3 with my
old friend, and felt shocked at the
change, for it was evident that he was
not much longer for this world.
He had sent for me, and I was in
hopes that he meant to alter his will,
and I was right.
"What a while you have been com
ing," he said querulously. "I
wanted you so badly, Hick."
"I came on directly, old fellow," I
said, kindly. "Here, let me put you
a little more easy."
"Thank ye, Hick," he said, "but
it's all over. That boy has killed me.
Hid ho ask you if you had my will?"
"Yes, about a month since, and I
said 'No."'
"I knew it, Hick; I knew it," he
said, pitifully; "and ever since he has
been worrying me to let him make my
will. Hick, old friend, I've made a
big mistake, There, there, don't jump
upon me. I—l confess it all. I
thought he was his mother's boy, he
was so like her; but—but he has his
father's spirit and his ways to the very
bone."
"I am glad you have awakened to
the truth," I said.
"You should have advised me bet
ter," he retorted querulously,
"Should I, Jack?"
"No, no; you did, Hick. I've only
just found out wliat an old fool I am,
my dear boy. M'e have quarrelled
terribly, that boy and 1, for I have
found him out, in spite of his smooth
tongue. He's a scamp, l villain—a
gambler, and in debt terribly. He
has half killed me, Hick, and—
and——"
I tore at the bell, as the poor old
fellow seemed about to have a fit, for
the terrible emotion he had suffered
at what must have been the rooting
up of his most cherished belief in his
sister's child had proved, in his weak
state, to be more than ho could bear.
The doctor was sent for, and at the
end of an hour John Hendricks was
so far reoovercd that he whispered
my name, and I, sitting down beside
him, heard him in a whisper say,—
"Hraw up my will quickly. A just
one."
"I don't think ho will ever recover
sufficiently to sign," said the doctor,
"He has driven it too late, Mr.
Brown."
The doctor was right, for my poor old
friend never recovered his senses, but
quietly breathed his last a few hours
later.
The funeral followed in due form,
and I was there, both as old friend
and solicitor, to meet the very small
party who went to the grave.
Sam was there, of course, making
no indecorous show of sorrow, while
his brother sobbed aloud over the
grave; but he had a good deal recov
ered when we assembled afterward in
the dining-room of my old frien.l's
house, his fow friends wondering
whether he had remembered them in
his will, nbout which subject I heard a
whisper going round tliat none had
been left,
I suppose that it was from a feeling
of importance, perhaps moro from an
unwillingness to wound poor Sam
Hemsley and his young wife by letting
them hear the unjust will, that I did
not hurry myself to produce it, though
I don't think they anticipated much.
But all at once, to my utter astonish
ment, Philip rose, coughed to clear
his husky voice, and said quietly:
"1 presume you all know how much I
have of late been in my uncle's con
fidence, so that you will not be sur
prised that, as I was by his wish a
solicitor, lie should have entrusted to
me the making of his will."
I am a man of the world, but for the
j moment I was knocked off my balance.
! Then I was about to exclaim, as I saw
him bring forth the document:
"Why, yon scoundrel, you have
forged a will!"
Fortunately for Sam, I recovered
myself, and sat with my old friend's
genuine will buttoned up beneath my
coat, while, with the calmest audacity.
the rascal road out the document that,
as a lawyer, he had cleverly forged.
I saw it nil now. He had asked mo
if I had his uncle's will, and I bad said
no. He must have searched the old
man's papers and found none, and, feel
ing safe, Philip had forged a will in
his own favor, and artfully, too, mak
ing one about which tbeie could be no
dispute; for he provided legacies to
friends, and the residue, which proved
to be over a hundred thousand pounds,
in equal moieties to his nephews,
Samuel and Philip Hemsley.
I sat and laughed to myself as I
heard him read this piece of forgery,
which was all in due form, clever from
the man's cunning in contenting him
self with half, knowing that if the will
were otherwise it might have been dis
puted, when now it would be taken a9
perfection; and there, all the time, I
sat with the genuine will in my pocket,
from which he was cutting himself oij
by this act, while I rejoiced to think
how the villain wa3 being forced as it
were by fate to do justice to his brother
Sam.
What would you have done—given
the scoundrel iu.o custody as a forger,
made a terrible upset, aud caused no
end of trouble about the property?
Perhaps you would. I did not, for' I
went home, after satisfying myself
that the false will was in due form, and
destroyed the real one.
Yes, I know what you will say—that
it was a felonious act, and that 1
ought to have been struck off the rolls.
Perhaps I ought to have been, but I
pondered on the fact that, instead of
the whole hundred thousand pounds
going to a villain who would stoop to
forge, half of it went to a truly deserv
ing man; so I left the punishment to
higher powers thau those of man, and
kept my secret, which is a secret still,
for I have ouly given fictitious names,
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
A bar of soft metal is used on Bres
den electric lines instead of the trollej
wheel, and is claimed to wear the wir"
less aud to be more convenient.
A remarkable object that "rather
resembles some obscuring medium
than a nebula," is the unique discov
ery in the constellation of Perseus
lately made by Bev. T. E. Espin.
It has been discovered that the de
posits of gilsonite—a species of asphalt
—found in Utah will yield a substance
which can be used to paint ships' bot
toms, and which will protect them
from corrosion, seaweed, and bar
nacles in a remarkable degree.
The Medical Hepartment of the
French War Office has just published
some medical statistics of the army
during the year 1895. The total num
ber of admissions to infirmary and
hospital is given as 313,579, answer
ing to a general sickness-rate of 631
per 1000 efficients.
German figures credit various woodJ
with the following heating capacities:
Einden, 1; fir, 0.99; elm and pine,
0.98; willow, che3tuut'aud larch, 0.97;
maple and spruce, 0.90; black poplar,
0.95; alder and white birch, 0.94; oak,
0.92; locust aud white beech, 0.91;
and red beech, 0.90. Modern scien
tific research gives us another sur
prise in the showing that the soft
woods have greater heating power than
the hard.
The mud from coal washing is util
ized by a Friedrichsthal engineer. He
finds the mud to consist of two por
tions—one being chiefly clay and jthe
other particles of coal—an?t he sepa
rates them by drying and sifting, the
clay passing through as flue dust,
while the fine coal is retained by the
sieve. The coal contains little ash
aud is adapted for various purposes,
while the separated dust has proven
not wholly useless.
Tho new form of incandescent elec
tric lamp recently devised by Pro
fessor Nernst, in which magnesium
oxide is used instead of a carbon fila
ment, requires that the conductor
should first be heated by either a Bun
seu flame or the spark from an induc
tion coil. Professor Nernst proposes
to embod a certain filament in the rod
of magnesium oxide which will afford
a path for the current when the rod is
cold and communicate heat to the sur
rounding material so as to raise it to
the conducting temperature at which
light is emitted.
First Ma;> to ltrnr "Alaska."
The map of James Cook, 1778, was
the first to bear the name "Alaska,"
which was a corruption of the India
Al-ak-shack, or "Endless Land." The
United States began to treat with
Russia for the acquisition of Alaska
under Presidents Polk (1845 to 1849)
and Buchanan (1857 to 1801), and the
matter was opened again in 1860 by
Seward, who was then Secretary of
State, and closed the transaction on
March 31, 1807, Russia ceding all
claim to Alaska for the consideration
of $7,200,000.
A Pupil'* Impurirnt Impromptu.
In a public school of Olympia,
Wash., where pupils are asked occa
. sionally for impromptu poetical reci
tations, one reluctant boy recently
ordered to show his ability at rhym
ing for the benefit of the School
Board's visitors astounded all pres
ent, and secured punishment for him
self later by declaiming:
God, 01 God, supremo on high,
Look down on tills committee,
Who chose such fools to teach our schools
In this our capital city.
Speaker Heed's Little Joke.
Speaker lteed recently wished to
see a political friend on some very im
portant business and telegraphed him
to come at once to Washington. The
friend took the first train, but a wash
out on tho road soon stopped him.
Going to a telegraph office he sent this
message: "Washout on tho line; can't
come," to which in due time he re
ceived the following reply from the
Maine statesman: "Buy a new shirt
and oorne anyway."
AGRICULTURAL TO?;CC.
Tim Broody Hon.
| When the hen is broody, remove
i her to a new and clean nest at night
| fall, and put someehiua nest eggs un
der her, tind darken the nest by plac
ing a cloth or board in front of lier.
If she sits quietly r.ll day, it will bo
safe enough to put tho clutch of eggs
I under her the next night.
Feed her only dry food while sit
ting, and always have fresh water
where she can get it when she comes
off. While she is off, see that the
I eggs are all right, and if any have been
I broken in the nest, it may be neces
sary to wash the others, as anything
which closes the pores kill:: the
chicken.
The Life of Bench Tree*.
It is an almost universal complaint
that peach trees do not last as long as
they used to do. Wc do not believe
that this is on account of the weather,
because late wiuters Certainly havo
not been so destructive as many that
occurred thirty to forty years ago.
Tne increase of borers and of fungous
diseases, in which we include the yel
! lows, are, we think, mainly responsi
j l)le for the change. By keeping
j borers out an.l dressing heavily with
I potash manures, peach trees may be
1 made much longer lived than they
j used to be. One of the secrets of the
longevity of old-time peach trees was
that they were never severely pruned,
and never produced heavy crops. The
old-time thirty-year-old peach trees
had a tall trunk with very little top.—
Boston Cultivator.
Tho Gladioli!o.
I Y*bftt the geranium is to the living
! room window-garden, the gladiolus is
| to the outdoor garden. Such a display
j us I have had of this flower this sea
| son! I planted several hundred bulbs
among the border plants, and for a
| month past people have been stop
ping to stare at and admire my free
i flower show. And it has been worth
1 coming a long way to see, I assure
you! It seems as if every bulb has
put up from two to four flower stalks,
: and such colors! Scarlets, crimsons,
1 pinks, lilacs, mauves, cherries, eai
i mines, violets, yellows, in endless
I shades and combinations. Xo two
stalks seem to give flowers alike. I
; can't help wondering if the milliners
did not get some ideas here for their
! daring color combinations for hate and
| bonnets. Xo two plauts were just
alike as to flower, it seemed. We cut
the great stalks laden with gorgeous
i bloom for tall vases in the house, for
church decoration, and for gifts to
friends, but the supply seemed inex
haustible.—Eben E. Kexford, in How
to Grow Flowers.
Ventilating a Burn Basement.
Luther Hoffman, of New Jersey,
writes: I have a basement that covers
32x85 feet. This winter I have forty
eight head of cows in it that I aui
milking aud feeding. I have no trou
ble concerning ventilation. Basement
is eight feet high. The north side is
banked nearly to top of wall. There
are two driveways and at the end of
each I have small windows which I
can drop from the top. When I laid
, the foundation I used three-inch round
| tile pipe every six to eight feet just
' under the sill. These need not bo
! closed except in case of a blizzard.
On the west end there are large win
-1 flows, but I seldom open them, the
pipes furnishing enough air.
On the south I have double sash
: windows. The top sash is hung with
I weights so I can drop them from one
inch to two feet, according to the
I weather. Tho front is all windows
! except the spaoo occupied by doors. I
also have three hay chutes, which ex
i tend from stables out through tho
j roof. These I open or close according
to weather. When cattle can bo out
all day, I often leave all ventilators
! open and sprinkle the wet spots with
. fresh slaked lime.
The Bell Glußft In tho Garden,
j The advantage gained by the use ot
j bell glasses over melon and cucumber
! vines is gradually gaining recognition
| in this country, where it bids fair to
be of greater service even than in
foreign countries where it hns long
been practiced. To ripen a niusk
j melon in August in our northern
states is a feat not often accomplished,
|or even in early September. How
ever this has and can be done if na
i ture is thus assisted: A twelve-inch
bell glass placed directly over the hill
| at planting time has a two-fold advau
! tage; that of hastening germination
j and preventing the rotting of seeds in
1 rainy weather. As soon as tho seed-
I lings appeal' the glass must bo raised
I gradually; those which I have in mind
I ultimately resting upon common
! bricks turned on edges. These form
aa excellent support. Three bricks to
a glass leave ample space for the vinos
;to run out—a privilege quickly availed
| of. Daily watering is of course in
order save in cloudy weather.
An idea of the difference in growth
may perhaps bo best obtained by notes
taken July 15, '97. Side by side aro
four hills of cucumbers planted on the
same date. Twelve-inch bell glasses
were placed over two of the hills and
gradually raised as described. A
growth of two feet only had been
made by the open air plants against
five in tho glass capped hills. With
such strong sun-stored root-growth
melons can but steal a march on the
ordinary cantaloupe calendar. Other
glass devices may perhaps be less ex
pensive and answer the purpose a3
well.—G. A. Woolson, of Vermont.
Clothes More Important Than Benutj
A straugo girl recently came to
Atchison as a bride. "Is sho good
looking?" we asked au Atchison wom
an who had seen her. "I didn't
notice," the woman replied, "but she
is well dressed."—Atchison Globe.
An act of Congress in 1572 abol
ished hogging in the navy.
THE MEBEY SIDE OF LIFE.
STORIES THAT ARE TOLD CY THE
FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS.
riio A?e of Germ—Oatlaßsrd—Most
Acute—A Wiihto of MonoyComforts
Cost—Open to Doubt— I'tipnrdonublc—
Equal to tlio Oceuslon—l'roolf Lie.
Little Miss Muffot
But ou a tuffet,
Latins of curds nu.l whey;
A microbe espied her
And slipped down inside her,
And she had influenza next day.
—Cincinnati Enquirer.
A Woinnn'o lleason.
"Poor Mollie has lost her reason."
"That oughtn't to worry a woman.
She can say 'because.' " —lndianapolis
Journal.
Most Acute.
She—"Yes, it is tho province of
woman to suffer in silence."
He—"ln silence? That must be
suffering, indeed."—Cincinnati En
quirer.
Outclassed.
Tho Rejected One—"l have a rival,
then?"
The Girl—"Hardly that. I have
promised to marry him."—Philadel
phia North American.
Geography Up to Date.
"Tell the class what an island is,
Sammy."
"Yes'm; an island is a body of land
surrounded by United States battle
ships."—Chicago Record.
Open to Doubt.
Simpkius—"l thought you said
Breezy was wedded to the truth?"
Timkins—"So I always thought."
Simkins—"Well, if he ever was,
he's a widower now." —Tit-Bits.
Comforts Cunt.
"Wouldn't you prefer to live in an
apartment with an elevator; it raises
one so quickly?"
"Yes, but not nearly so quickly as
it raises the rent."—Brooklyn Life.
ImpitMHlonetl.
First Deaf-Mnte— "Ho wasn't so
very angry, was he?"
Second Deaf-Muto—"He was so
mad that the words lie used almost
blistered his lingers."—lndianapolis
Journal.
Imaginary Danger*.
Nervous Old Lady (to deck hand) —
"Mr. Steamboatmau, is there any fear
of danger?"
Deck Hand (carelessly)—" Plenty of
fear ma'am, but not a bit of dunger."
—Harlem Life.
Energy.
Jobson—"Just see how hard Dob
son is working r.t beating that carpet."
Mrs. Jobson—"l'es. Mrs. Dobson
sets him at work at something of the
kind just after he reads the war news
in the paper."—Brooklyn Life.
l'oHge*Beil.
Mr. Dukaue—"l couldn't sleep a
wink last night."
Mr. Gaswell—"You had insomnia, I
suppose?"
Mr. Dukane—"Xo; insomnia had
me." —Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.
Proof.
Minnie—"What frauds these beg
gars are. I met a 'blind' man who
said, 'Pler.se give mo a peuuy, beauti
ful lady.' "
Mamie—"Yes, he said that to make
you think he really was blind."—ln
dianapolis Journal.
A Wntte of Money*
Mrs. Homespuu—"What did the
doctor say was the matter with you,
Silas?"
Silas—"l fergit what he called it."
Mrs. Homespun—"D'ye mean to
•ay you paid him $- and didn't git no
good out of it?"— Truth.
U npartlonable.
"My wife and her neighbor nsod to
be inseparable, bat they don't speak
now."
"What's the trouble?"
"She persuaded my wife to buy a
silk gown that turned out to bo part
cotton."—Detroit Free Press.
Equal to tho Oceanian.
He—"They say dreams go by con
traries. Do yon believe it?"
She—"Yes, I think they do."
He—"Alas, I dreamed last night
that you had promised to be my wife."
She—"And I dreamod that I had
refused you."—Chicago News,
Woman's Wiles.
"What a hold Maud seems to have/
on all her rejected suitors."
"Why shouldn't she, tho artful
thing? She always tells a man. when
she refuses him, that she is afraid to
marry a handsome man, because she
would be so jealous."—Cincinnati En
quirer.
Ills Memory Sure to Live.
Beagle—"Old Foxlcy ia dead. He'll
be long remembered by tho people of
this town."
Splits—"Why, did ho leave many
publio bequests?"
Beagle—"He left debts to the
amount of $50,000." —Boston Tran
script.
An Eve to Itiiiluess.
Optioiau—"My dear sir, your case
is hopeless."
Customer—"And am I doomed to
blindness?"
Optician—"lt is inevitable. I think
you'd better look at my beautiful line
of artificial eyes at oueo."—Jowclers'
Weekly.
Justice Without Mercy.
"Seems to me I've seen your face
before," said the Judge, peering
through his spectacles.
"Yes, your Honor; you have," re
plied the prisoner. "I am the pro
fessor who gives the young lady next
door to you lessons on the piano."
"Seven years I" came from thf
Judge, quickly.