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American bridge-builders are span- j
Eing the Atbara and moving on
triumphantly to arch the Uganda.
America does not care who makes the
ballads in Africa if she can build the
bridges.
• Only one-quarter of Scotland's lnnd
is under cultivation. Seven-tenths is !
mountain, heath and lake and the j
balance is foresjs. The finest game j
preserves in the world are said to bo I
In Scotland.
A fireman in Pennsylvania In the i
act of being married broke away at j
the sound of an alarm and ran to a
fire. Tlie blaze on Hymen's altar, how- j
ever, was fierce enough to bring him \
back in a hurry.
The Government in Simla lias pre- !
pared estimates for the new ordnance
necessary to bring the Indian army I
up to the modern standard. The pro- j
portion of guns to men at present is
considerably less than three per thou
sand; in the ease of the field army
this must he raisfed to more than four,
which will mean the expenditure of
about $15,000,000.
The "Children's Court," which is
suggested as a branch of the Charities
Department of New York City, in the |
new city charter, is a novelty adopted I
from South Australia, where it has ]
proved a great success. Under the j
South Australian law children under j
eighteen are brought before a separate
"departmental court" run by the "State
Children's Department," and in (he !
past twelve months 275 eases were |
tried before this court, with the result j
that only six of the young offenders '
were deemed fit subjects for jail sen- j
Vences.
The Philadelphia Record observes; I
"Another competitor for the honor of t
defending the America's cup may turn
up at the trial races—a ninety-foot j
sloop yacht of Boston origin and de
sign. Boston capital and yachting j
ability have already figured conspieu- j
ously in earlier races for the 'blue rib- |
bon of the sea,' and the public have j
not yet forgotten the stirring and !
splendid performances of the Puritan, ;
tho Mayflower and the Volunteer. J
Should the new boat be constructed I
the trial races next July would be '
worth crossing the continent to see." j
Queen Amelle of Portugal, who re- j
cently distinguished herself by saving !
tlie life of a ilrownlug fisherman at [
Cascaes, has a good record for heroic j
deeds. Five years ago she rescued two j
drowning children at a Portuguese I
seaside resort at the risk of losing her j
own life, and some time ago she saved |
her husband from being thrown over a j
high embankment by his horse, which, J
slipping on some hot ashes, took fright 1
and bolted. Queen Amelle's superior j
horsemanship and licr athletic skll' j
stopped both horse and rider from
plunging over the embankment to eer- j
tain death.
Tlio VVnrlil'K Grant Good Men.
Tlie world has had on the whole a
generous crop of great men. Two
classes include them all. There have
been those who followed the bent of
their genius, seeking their own good and
glory TLII-(ill urli the development of their i
power Oil lines indicated by personal de
sire and ambition. These have done
great things for the world as well as
lor themselves; because mankind in
herits whatever any man is or lias.
I'. ;f tliev have done good to others in
ei.leh'uli.v and because they could not
help ii: ihey have not aimed to do
good Kr have been most poets,
orate .linen, generals, artists,
noli , .Ills. A much smaller class
has of men of grci/l powers
for their feliow-men. They
„re . i oof cv. rv age and
• usually been
lino o| i ~ n-'IMI'H, prophets,
phi! or ■ . mars.
T •'i for gold,<ll j much
uati . out iillle.
%.-%/%/vv% ■%.•%. VJ
5 THEIR WEDDING DAY. J
£ BY A. M. CAMERON. A
Such a bare little place! ccld and
dark and comfortless as a room well
nigh innocent of furniture must be,
yet sweet and clean and orderly, and
above all—home to old sick Molly and
Timothy, her husband.
"Bring her over at once, then, and
the sooner the better; perhaps this
will make the journey easier," said
the doctor, as he laid a shilling on the
table and breathed a sigh of relief.
He had come ready prepared to meet
the hundred and one difficulties and ob
jections usually put forward in such a
case, but the convincing arguments
had been all unneeded, for .Molly had
risen to the occasion bravely and had
consented to become an in-patient at
the big hospital across the park that
very day. So, his task successfully
accomplished, the doctor turned to
eave the room.
"Might it be tonight?" It was Tim
tithy who spoke. "I'll bring her for
lertain tonight, but we'd like to have
.list this one day together first." *
"No, bring her at ones as I told you;
Ahy, the sooner she is in the sooner
the will he out again, you know; what
bbjections can you have?"
Timothy hesitated, but a glance at
Molly's thin face and a certain eager,
wistfulness upon it gave him couarge.
"It's only this, sir, and it may seem
i poor sort of reason to you, but this
Is our wedding day, we've never spent
It apart yet—and—"
The old voice faltered, and the sen
tence was never finished for the young
mail himself interrupted it —
"Reason! why it's the very best of
reason, if you lmd only said so at once!
Bring her tonight then by all moa'le;
good-by till then."
Lett with Ills wife, Timothy seated
himself beside her and patted her hand
encouragingly.
"Hospitals are such fine places,
Moll."
"Very fine, dear," and slio looked at.
him with the smile whoso sunshine
had maue life bright to him for so
long.
"Such splendid food and nursing.
Moll; and the rooms! why, I'm only
afraid you'll he looking down on this
poor little place when you come back
to it after a hit so well and strong;
for it's wonderful how well folks uo
get in those hospitals, Moll, quite won
derful."
"Yes, Timothy, so they do, very of
ten."
Her lips trembled, but only for a mo
ment. Then, with a brave attempt at
cheerfulness, she continued—
"But Tim, my man. it's getting on,
and we're wasting precious time,
shan't we begin?"
And drawing nearer still, Timothy
began. It was ail old. old custom with
them now. Year after year in the
same simple fashion, though never be
fore in such a room or with so little to
help the keeping. Formerly the little
anniversary festival had been as a
sort of happy duet between them, each
In turn reviving some sweet old mem
ory or cherished recollection.
Today, however, Timothy had it all
Ms own way for Molly said little
only lay back and srailled contentedly
or shook her head gently as the ease
demanded, while she listened one more
to the old familiar story that time only
seemed to make more dear.
And Timothy told of the happy
courting days, happy though wise folks
had shaken their heads and had au
gured 111 of this foolish marriage; of
a certain April morning when a dull
Did London church had seemed so still
and solemn, anod yet so strangely
bright; of tho friends—and he named
them one by one—who had collected
at her home near by to wish them
well; and at last of that real homc
joming, the settling down In the poor
little attic rooms which his love and
thought had made so swfcet and snug
and cosoy,
"And the violets," she put in quick
ly, "don't forget the violets, Tim."
potatoes, fried potatoes—and I don't
"Ay, the violets, I pinned them on
myself, didn't I ? The sweetest breast
knot I could find for the sweetest lass
In all the world to me."
He paused again and she watched
him keenly, anxiously.
"Yes, Moll," he resumed presently,
"don't let us shirk it, old girl; then—"
but his voice sounded strange, and she
could barely catch tho words, "then
came that grand first dinner party of
ours; you and me for guests, and fish
—fried fish it was, with potatoes—fried
potatoes —and I don't know what be
sides; and you laughed so because I
couldn't help to cook them, do you
remember, Moll? T)o you remember?"
and throwing back his head, Timothy
burst suddenly into a laugh so strange
and wild that It well-nigh tore poor
Molly's heart in two. Then, as sud
denly ceasing, he buried his face In his
hands and sobbed as though his heart
must break, while the quiet tears ran
down her old cheeks too, and what
could she say to comfort him?
For nine and thirty years that little
anniversary feast had been celebrated
so worthily, every item of that, happy
first meal together repeated, and now!
"Oh. my Moll, my Moll," he sobbed,
"you must go without it today. I've
no money left, not oven a penny; poor
girl, my poor, old girl."
She dared not trust hcrkelf to speak,
only stroked the gray head softly,
tenderly.
Suddenly he raised it, and looking
not at her hut at the doctor's shilling,
he pointed eagerly to it.
"Moll!"
But she shook her head sadly.
"It was for tho cab, Tim. There Is
neither train nor 'bus to help me, and
I must go in, you know." *
He sat still once more lost in
thought. Then jumping up excitedly
he stood before her and spoke fast and
eagerly.
"Moil! think! You know the park,
.quite near? Could you with my arm,
my strong arm, dear, could you walk
10 its gates? You could? Then listen,
Moll; I'll carry you through, it's not
far, and then, why then, it's but a step
011 the other side to the hospital door,
do you see, old. woman, do you see?"
Moil nodded, but looked confused.
The nod, however, apparently satisfied
him, for he offered no further explana
tion, only asked if she minded being
left by herself for a bit, and then,
smiling mysteriously, disappeared.
Left alone, Molly lay still, too tired
and weak to wonder much at anything,
while her mind wandered dreamily
back again over the pages of that old
life story whose joys and sorrows
seemed today to have become so
strangely merged in one; tiil at last
she remembered no more, the tired
eyes closed wearily, and calmly and
peacefully old Mollie slept.
Timothy's re-entrance awakened her
and she smiled a welcome.
He came forward eagerly, his old
face Hushed and glad, his little body
1' lit. half double over the covered tray
his shaking arms were carrying so
proudly; a tray from which there is
sued forth the all-pevading smell, ap
petizing or sickening as the case may
be, of—fried fish!
"Shut your eyes tight, old girl, just
for a few moments," he cried out; and
still beaming from ear to ear, Tim
brought forward a little round table,
placed it near Molly's chair, and softly
and quickly proceeded to lay it. Fish
potatoes! bread! butter! tea! milk;
Why, what more could king or queen
desire? And all from the marvellous
possibilities of one bright shilling;
Then, diving into the mysterious
depths of a back pocket. Timothy pro
duced therefrom a little bunch of vio
lets, crushed indeed and faded, but
sweet still, and bending softly over
Moll lie gently fastened thorn on her
breast. Then seating himself opposite
to her he told her eagerly she might
"look."
Her unaffected surprise was rich re
ward indeed.
"It's your cab, dear heart," he cried.
"Your cab! you couldn't use it and a
riding horse too, could you? and here's
your horse all saddled anil ready. It's
quite right and square, Moll," he
added, quickly, as he caught sight of
an expression of doubt on her honest
face. "Didn't the doctor say it was to
make the journey easier and won't It,
old girl, won't It? Ah, I thought that
would settle it.'
Whatever she may have felt, Molly
had not the heart to object any fur
ther, and so the wedding feast pro
ceeded.
Timothy picked out the daintiest
and most tempting morsels ho could
find, and for his sake she did her best
bravely, hut it was hard work. Every
thing tasted so strangely today; even
that blessed cup of tea seemed to have
lost the magic of its strengthening
and reviving powers ;and at length,
all further effort impossible, she waved
off tlie last proffered morsel and lying
back wearily, shook her head.
"Eat it yourself, you don't cheat
fair, my man; and, ah, Tim," she
added sadly, "you've forgotten some
thing after all, for that day you drank
our health in a glass of beer."
Timothy expected this, and was not
to be taken unawares.
"Beer!" he answered unblushingly,
"ah, yes, to be sure, so I did; and I
was just thinking as I came along how
tastes change. Why, there's a some
thing almost unpleasant to me in the
very idea now! So today if you please,
my lass, I'll just drink your health in
tea."
Molly said nothing. Only for a few
minutes the room seemed dim and
misty, and lite was very sweet.
And so once more that wedding
feast was kept.
A little later, just as the short sprinr
day was drawing to a close, the iew
pedestrians hurriedly wending their
homeward way across that quiet bit of
the park, paused for a moment to gaze
at a somewhat unusual sight. It was
that of a little old man, weak and tot
tering himself, but pushing bravely
and steadily on with eyes firmly fixed
on the still far distant gates, and car
rying on his back, her thin arms
clasped about his Leek, her hands firm
ly grasped in his, an old sick woman,
Molly, his wife.
Hearts are kind, and more than one
friendly oiler of help had been made
to Timothy, but though grateful for the
offers he had seemed almost Impatient
at the delay, and declining all assist
ance had plodded quietly on again.
He could hardly have told how often
he had stopped to rest since first that
strange journey had been begun; cet
t.ainly each time that the shelter of a
friendly seat had been gained, often of
necessity when there had been no such
help ht hand. Somehow he had fan
cied himself so much stronger than
had proved to be the case, for it sure
ly could not be that Molly was heavier
than he had imagined, and she EO Weak
and ill!
At first her cough had been terribly
bad and it had torn and hurt him so
to hear it; but of late it had seemed
to gel better and at last it had ceased
altogether, and very gratefully Tim
othy had thanked God for that. A few
moments ago they had stopped to rest
again for th 6 last tljM and he had
questioned her tenderly as to how shs
did. Her face looked paler he thought,
but she seemed easy and happy, and
she hnd smiled so sweetly at him as
she answered rather drowsily, "Quite
comfortable, Timothy, only very
sleepy; good night, my man," and he
had kissed her lips tenderly and rever
ently as he always did, and then
cheered and comforted had once more
pushed on.
Ah! there were the park gates al
most reached at last; and indeed it
was time, for his old arms ached ter
ribly and his old knees threatened to
fail him altogether. He spoke encour
agingly to her from time to time, but
she had evidently fallen asleep for sae
did not answer him. It was better so,
he thought, for now she could not guess
how tired he was, and it would have
hurt and vexed her sorely had she
known it; his good old loving Moll!
Only a few more weary steps and the
gates were really gained. Passing
through them on they went, theße two
strange travelers, and the little band
of urchins in their wake noticed that
just before the great door of the hospi
tal came in sight the old man panted
more and more and his poor little
stock of strength seemed almost ex
hausted.
Yes, the labor of love was all but
over now; one more effort and the goal
was reached. Worn and weary, and
spent with fatigue, but still clasping
tight that precious burden, Timothy
stumbled up the last steep steps, and
as friendly arms drew him into the
sate shelter of that fire-lit hall, and
kindly faces looked pityingly into his,
the place seemed suddenly to become
confused ana misty, the voices to re
cede further and further away, till at
last, wrapped in a mericful uncon
sciousness, he remembered no more.
Faithful unto death; his task was
done; that kiss in the park had indeed
sealed their last good-hy, and his lov
ing old arms had held her to the end.
For,as they gently unclasped her arms
from about his neck, they saw that
Molly was dead.
They would so willingly have kept
him on, at least a day or two, till he
should have recovered somewhat from
the shock of that first sad awakening,
but the old man was firm. The little
attic room was his for a week or two
longer and then—why, then there was
the "House," he said; the dreaded law
of separation had lost all power to
hurt him now; he would just take one
more look at her and then go home.
They went with him to where she
lay, the matron and a doctor; not the
friendly young doctor of the morning,
hut another whose face looked unsat
isfied and tired. Something had gone
amiss with his life-springs of late, and
since then he had ceased to believe in
the possibility of good, either human
or divine, and now he eyed Timothy
with n half curious, half pitying gaze.
The latter shed no tears, had shed
none indeed since first they broke the
news to him; the comfort of them
might conic later, perhaps, and there
was time enough.
lie stood by her now, perfectly com
posed and calm, scanning earnestly
each still feature and though to learn
it the better by heart. Then it laid his
honest, old, work-worn hand on hers
and kept It there for a moment.
"The ring," whispered the doctor
to the matron, "It may buy him a drop
of comfort <at least. Let him have it."
She hesitated; then touching Tim
othy gently on the arm she pointed to
it.
"You will like to have it, perhaps?"
she asked softly.
He glanced down at it, such a poor
little line of gold, worn thin in long
and lr.ying service for him, and shook
his head.
"Thank you, ma'am," he answered
gratefully. "You're very kind, but I'd
rather not. Come good or ill, my old
woman would never part with that,
and I won't take it from her now."
He hesitated for a moment, then
gaining courage as he looked into the
matron's sympathetic face, he contin
ued —
"If 1 might make so bold, ma'am,
would you let me have my dear girl's
bonnet?"
Very tenderly sne gave it to him,
such a poor, rusty thing, and he re
ceived it reverently as we do some
thing that is sacred and very precious;
then with a grateful "Thank you,
ma'am," he turned to leave the room.
He glanced towards the doctor as
though to bid him good-by too, but he
had moved oft from them and seemed
busy over something at the further
end of the ward. So Timothy went
away.
He had almost reached the great
outer hall when he heard the sound of
hurrying footsteps behind him and his
own nante spoken, and turning round
he saw the doctor.
The latter looked at him silently for
a moment, and there was an expres
sion on his face that had been wanting
there of late.
"Will you shake hands with me?"
said the doctor.—Waverly Magazine.
Ito.valty in the Hcnlee.
The Cri de Paris has put all the sov
ereigns and rulers of Europe into the
scales and weighed them—not politi
cally, but physically. The heaviest
ruler in Europe is Carlos of Portugal,
who weighs 202 pounds. The second
in heaviness Is Ferdinand of Bulgaria,
with 192; the third is Oscar of Sweden
whose weight is 176. Kaiser Wilhelm
of Germany weighs nearly 176 pounds;
Kaiser Franz Josef of Austria-Hun
gary, 154 pounds; l.eopold of Belgium,
143. The Russian Czar Is very light;
has lost 14 pounds during the last two
years. The "little" Queen of
Holland weighs 171 pounds, and the
of Hollanw weighs 171 pounds, and the
still smaller King of Spain only 99
pounds. President Loubet weighs 180
pounds.
! INDIAN CHILDHOOD.
I .
HOW LITTLE REDSKINS ON THE
j RESERVATIONS ARE TRAINED.
Compared witYi the Papoose, the Miner
able Urchin* Who Play in a lilt; City'*
i tin nor* Have, a 1-ukuriotiM liiuo—There
!• No Dandling and No Coddling.
| Compared with the lives led by the
full-blooded Indian children of the
Northwestern reservations, the miser
able urchins who play in a city's gut
ters dwell in a paradise of joys. The
gutter snipe is almost certain to have
some marbles or a top in his clothes;
he can earn a few pennies for him
self upon occasion; he is quick-wit
ted and brimming with nervous ener
gy; of mirth-provoking expedients, he
is as full as an egg is of meat, and
j at repartee he has no equal.
Indian children, on the other hand,
are born grave and solemn and stolid.
The art of self-repression practised
for centuries by their ancestors has
become a second nature to them—
i inherited—with the result of trans
forming what should be their golden
age into mere existence, joyless and
apathetic.
In babyhood their training comp?l3
them to endure without whimpering
discomforts and hardships which
would destroy children of the white
race. Strapped tightly to the back of
a squaw or left to themselves so tied
in a blanket that use of their limbs
is denied them, they arc mere silent
bundles, voiceless, without will or
power. There is no dandling, no cod
dling. no one to teach them to smile,
no effort to develop the softer side
of their natures. The squaw is too busy
hewing wood or carrying water or pro
paring food for her buck and brood,
or in making beaded wares to sell to
the trader for that.
And when they are old enough to
be trusted upon their legs alone and
unfettered they are left to themselves,
with less care than a litter of pigs
receives from the sow mother--until
such time as the squaw perceives
that she may lighten her own labors
by compelling the papoose to share in
them.
There is no running "to meet papa,"
no clinging to his legs as he walks,
no riding "cock-horse" on his fee).
Until they have shown character in
some unexpected way or performed
some unexpected deed the buck father
will bestow upon them less attention
than he gives to his pony, or his
herd of ponies, if he is rich.
Gene, the 8-year-old son of Standing
F. I k on the Cheyenne reservation at
Lame Deer. Montana, crawled out of
his blankets one dark night, and
guided by the beating of tomtoms and
the lci-yi-ing that usually accompan
ies such an affair, made his way
alone to the Rosebud, where White
Bull's bucks were having a "ghost
dance." He did not dare to mingle
with the dancers, so he hid in the
bunch grass near by and watched the
bucks as they stamped and chanted
round the fire.
Gone had unsuspected powers of
mimicry. The dancing made a strong
Impression on him. Next morning
when Standing Elk darted out of his
wickiup to chastise the noisy young
ster, he was astonished at what he
saw and heard. There was Gene
stamping about with the grace and
vigor of a practiced dancer, to no
other accompaniment than his own
ki-yi-ing. He twisted and contorted
and stamped like an old-timer, and he
had the steps down so pat that his
genius for that sort of thing was
Lome in on Standing Elk in a flash.
Calling to his squaw, Standing Elk
bade her find bells and headdress and
fallals of the conventional sort for the
boy, and when the youngster was thus
togged out his father bade him dance
before the chiefs of the tribe. Genq
acquitted himself so well that he won
the approval of the chiefs, and is
now the most envied boy on the reser
vation. Little Indian maidens would
walk miles just to have him say
"How" to them.
Sometimes this recognition is won
for the Indian boy by skill in the
chase, or in breaking ponies, or in
doing what Eastern children would
call "stunts" on horseback. But until
it is won the Indian boy is a non
entity, and few obtain it so early in
life as Standing Elk's papoose.
It is In that period when the white
boy of the same age is suffering the
pangs of puppy love that the young
buck Indian begins to get something
out of life. He grows vain after recog
nition and becomes ambitious to do
more and better, after the Indian
fashion, than the others who have
found favor. He engages with these
others in pony races, and strives to
outdo them in skill and in mischief.
This is the danger period for whites
living near the reservations, for the
theft of cattle, the intimidation of
women, and sometimes unprovoked
murder all make for the reputation
and glory of the young buck who can
do these things and avoid detection
or punishment.
Indian females, except in rare in
stances, are doomed from earliest
childhood to a life of drudgery, almost
of slavery. The cares of the tribe are
packed upon their shoulders—except
ing only such troubles as call for the
shedding of blood. All of the physical
labor falls to their lot.
In the adjoining reservation it is
the Crow woman who till the fields
where farming is done. There is no
farming worth speaking of on the
Cheyenne reservation, although the
government keeps a hired man on tne
ground to teach farming to those
Indians who care to learn. It is also
the squaw who hows and carries in
the winter's supply of firewood, who
performs all the labor of moving
camp, who gives the buck everything
she can, and who gets little in re-
turn, except it be a strip of calico
now and again at remote periods, or
a blanket. She expects and she r<l 4
ceives almost nothing in the way o.W
kindness, but she is content —or pre
tends to be. There is no appeal from
the will of her lord and master;
j there is 110 woman's rights orator to
j stir her to revolt; no new woman to
! show her how she might "go it alone."
| If she sells beaded ornaments to the
| post trador or to transient visitors,
| the buck pockets the cash, and when
he spends it he does so without re
gard for her needs, wishes or whims.
And it is this sort of an existence
that the Indian female looks forward
to from the time when she begins to
think.—Chicago Tribune.
COLORADO'S WISE FISH.
A Trout Which Soemn to Lead Ilia Com
panions Whither They should <o.
There is one fish owned by the
state of Colorado which will, in ail i, ?
probability, never dangle at the end
of a line to make sport for some an
gler. Instead it will subsist peace
fully on ground liver and be petted
and cared for at Brighton fish hatch
ery, of which E. L. Hagar is superin
tendent. For this fish is the guiding -
spirit among all the small fry and
leads them not only in the paths of
righteousness, hut into the pools
where Mr. Hagar desires that they
should stay.
The fish at the hatcheries are kept
in several small pools in order that
they may be separated according to
their kind and cared for properly. Oc
casionally it was desired to clean
these pools or make some alteration
to them. This used to cause a great
deal of trouble for tho superintend
ent. It was almost impossible to get
all the fish out of the pools without
killing many of them. They were so
small that they could easily slip
through the meshes of an ordinary net
and many of them were crushed in
tho net. Unless the pool was cleaned
every so often the fish would die. •!
During Mr. Hagar's superintend- j
ency he has made an especial pet of |
one of the largest trout in the hatch
eries. Whenever he fed this fish this
trout was always among the first
to come to him and finally grew so
daring that It would snap at pieces
of the liver which he held in his
hand. Whenever he appeared on the
walks surrounding the pool this
trout would always come to him and
as ho walked around the pool it would
follow him. The other fish in the
pool learned that the big trout al
ways got most of the good things to
eat and consequently there finally
grew a good sized procession when
ever the big trout assumed the role
of leader.
Finally Mr. Hagar had an inspira
tion. One day when ho wanted to
clean the pool which was the big
trout's home he opened the inlet lead
ing into another pool and got his pro
cession started by holding out a
handful of ground liver toward the
big trout, which thereupon was willing
to follow him anywhere. In this way
Mr. Hagar conducted all the fish into
the other pool without the slightest
difficulty and without losing any of
them. Since then whenever he has
wished to clean any of the pools he
lias first secured tho big trout and
then, with It for a leader, he has had
no difficulty in getting tho rest of the
funny population out of the way.—
Denver Republican.
GUAINT AND CURIOU&
On the big steamer Oceanic there
is no seat at table marked No. 13,
nor any cabin bearing that number.
This is a concession to superstition.
In a notice recently posted in a
church at West Kensington (London),
prospective pew purchasers were in
formed that certain pews were
cially desirable." because "the contri
bution plate is not passed to them."
Near Worms, Germany, a few days
ago a number of prehistoric tombs
were laid bare containing skeletons
of what must have been an exceed
ingly tall race of people, all buried
in a stopping posture. The relics are
assigned to a period 4000 years ago.
Rats in the mines of Colorado have
bushy tails, like squirrels. They are
petted by the minors, and sit on their
haunches beside the workmen while
the latter eat their meals, waiting for
scraps to be thrown to them. Min
ers always share their meals with
them and never try to harm them.
While an old Paris hawker named
Mme. Jean Jacques was trying the
other day to dislodge a mouse which
had sought refuge in the chimney *
she disturbed some bricks and discov
ered a hiding place containing bills
to the value of SBOOO, which had be
longed to a former tenant of miserly
habits.
A curious old method of letting
church and town lands which pre
vails at Corby, near Kettering, Eng
land, was put In force recently. Tho
parishioners having assembled in the
vestry, with the rector in the chair, a
candle was lit with a pin stuck in the
wax. Bidding then proceeded until
the pin dropped, when the last bidder
was declared the purchaser.
Experiment 3 with worms have been
tried by Mrs. W. H. Pinney of Spring
field, Mass. She took 12 earthworms,
divided each in two parts, and placed
each part in a spcarate glass. A tail
grew to the head part of each worm,
and a head grew to the tail part of
each of 10 worms. Two tail parts
failed to grow heads. The result of
this experiment wai 22 perfect worxng.