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The United States now stands lit. the
head of the world's exporting nations.
The complete figures for the calendar
year 1900, when compared with those
of other nations, show that our ex
ports of domestic products are greater
than those of any other country. The
total exports of domestic merchandise
from the United States in the calendar
year 1900 were $1,453,013,(559; those
from the United Kingdom, which has
heretofore led in the race for this
distinction, were $1,418,348,000, and
those from Germany $1,050,611,000.
A young and lovely woman com
mitted suicide the other day under
circumstances the most heartless in
their origin, the most piteous in their
outcome. Several months ago the vic
tim's sweetheart died, and her grief
and longing, by some process incon
ceivable to normal minds, seemed tit
matter to several of her girl com
panions for a practical joke. With a
refinement of cruelty, cunningly util
izing a speaking tube, they imitated
the dead man's voice. "Come with
me!" it said to her, and she (God pity
herb did her best. Not so much in
the passing agony of her quick re
sponse as in tlie pitiful unpromise of
the life whose ending shows it might
have been so true, is there a memory :
whip for those who made an unseem- i
ly jest of a love within whose shadow
they should go bent and penitent
through their days.
Certain defects in our present meth
ods of punishing crime are pointed
out in the Nineteenth Century by the
London Assistant Commissioner of
Police. Dr. Anderson finds that the
short sentence for thieving and burg- !
lary has no deterrent effect, being |
reckoned by the offender as a regular
chance of the business. So far his
study confirms the growing favor of
the indeterminate sentence. Not en
tirely, however, for he finds no ef
fective method for checking the alarm
ing increase in the number of profes
sional criminals short of a life sen
tence on tli-* second offence, and pro
poses only this mitigation that the
few cases of assured reform should he
discharged. lie argues that we should
not try to punish crime already com
mitted, but look to the safety of so
ciety for the future, and he does not
see how this is to be assured short of
the permanent detention of the incor
rigible criminal.
Tiny Anvil*.
The anvil that rings to the sturdy
blacksmith's riledge may weigh 200,
300 or 400 pounds, but there are an
vils whose weight is counted in
ounces. These are used by jewelers,
silversmiths, and various other work
ers.
Counting shapes, sizes, styles of fin
ish. and so on, tlie.se little anvils are
made in scores of varieties, ranging
in weight from fifteen ounces up to
a number of pounds each. Some gf
these little anvils, weighing perhaps
two pounds, are shaped precisely like
the big anvils. Others have shapes
adapted to their special uses.
AH the little anvils are of the finest
steel. They are all trimly finished,
often nickel plated, and those surfaces
that are brought into use are finished
with what is called a mirror polish,
the surface being made as smooth as
glass.
These little anvils are made up to
five pounds afid some of them up to
ten pounds in weight. They are made
some in the United States and some
In Germany.—New York Sun.
Miss Gotaman Got One.
She succeeded. Miss Getamnn was
married at Oak Grove, Mo., a few
days since.
One of the most destructive earth
quakes in the world's history was that
which occurred in Yeddo iii the year
1703. when 190,000 people were killed
he Province of Auatrlas, Spain, has
no fewer than 23 centenarians in a
total population of/500.000.
England's rainfall is equal to 3,000
tons on Ike acre each year.
[ MRS. SWAN'S S2O GOLD PIECE.I
A -Y LOUISE MARTIN HOPKINS. 4
I(TT is pretty."
I Mrs. Swan lifted the end of the
1 long strip of linen which lay
across Althea's lap and looked admir
ingly at the open-work embroidery
with which it was adorned.
Althea smilled assent and went on
snipping and drawing out threads.
It was a hot June afternoon, and, for
the sake of the slight breeze, Althea
had brought her work out on the
porch. For companionship Mrs. Swan
had followed her, and sat nursing her
arms on the top step. Every few mo
ments Mrs. Swan would arise and
hurry into the kitchen to stir some
thing that was bubbling and boiling
on the stove. Every time she moved
her clean, crisp calico dress rustled.
"Althea," she gasped, as she sank
down and wiped her face on her apron
after one of these hurried journeys to
the hot kitchen. "Althea, I'm going to
ask a queer favor of you."
"Yes?" questioned Althea, in sur
prised interest. She had never known
Mrs. Swan to ask a favor of any one.
"I want you to loan mp a dollar."
Mrs.. Swan made the request with evi
dent reluctance. She went on quickly
before Althea could reply, "You c'n
take it out of your board money."
"Why, certainly," said Althea. in
amazement, "I owe you more than that.
I can let you have more than that. I
wish you—"
"No," interrupted Mrs. Swan, "one
dollar is all I shall need. I want to get
a piece of linen like this. I want to
make my sister Sue a bureau scarf
for a birthday present."
Mrs. Swan smoothedtheshlmmerlng
surface of the linen with caressing fin
gers. "Long's haven't the right kind.
I want the dollar to go to Went's and
get a piece just like this."
Althea drew out a long shining
thread and wound it around her hand.
"I know you think it strange that I
should ask you for the money instead
of Hiram," continued Mrs. Swan, look
ing suspiciously into Althea's face for
some sign of inquisitiveness. But Al
thea bent placidly over her work.
"I did ask Hiram for it last night.
But instead of giving me what I
wanted, what do you suppose he did?"
Althea bit off a thread and made a
slight negative motion of her head.
She knew Mrs. Swan's peculiarities too
well to risk a verbal reply. A word,
especially the wrong word, might have
disastrous results.
"He took a piece of money out of his
pocket, laid it on the corner of the
mantel and went off to bed without
saying a word. This morning when I
looked at the money I saw that it was
a S2O gold piece. I thought of course
that Hiram had made a mistake; you
know a S2O gold piece and a silver dol
lar aro about tue same size and heft,
and it is rather dark in the room; for,
since daylight lasts so long we hardly
ever have a light. But at noon when
I asked him about it, he said no, it
was all right; he hadn't made any mis
take, and kind of grinned, and that
Was all I could get out of him."
Mrs. Swan paused and Althea knew
that some response was expected from
her. A person unacquainted with the
intricacies of Mrs. Swan's mind would
have been sure to blunder. Althea
might have been consumed with curi
osity as to what happened next, but
she only threaded her needle with
>reat deliberation and remarked casu
ally: "Well?"
What actually did happen made Al
thea catch her breath and shrink away
from Mrs. Swan as if her friend had
struck her.
"It's just Hiram's meanness!" ex
claimed Mrs. Swan, bitterly. "And it's
just like him. He thought it was fool
ish extravagance in me getting the
linen. Ho thought if he gave me one
dollar I would spend it for something
that didn't amount to anything, but if
he gave me twenty dollars I would put
it in the bank and save it. Save, save;
I get sick and tired of saving."
Althea's eyes sparkled with indigna
tion at what she thought to be an un
just accusation. She opened her lips
to speak, but thought better of it and
closed them again.
Mrs. Swan, blind to everything but
her own grievance, went on with her
tirade, "It's just stinginess. He knew
I wouldn't break into a S2O gold piece
just to get a little piece of linen. It
wouldn't be over GO cents, and 1
counted on getting the thread besides
with the dollar. I've earn—"
A loud hissing sound, mingled with
the odor of burning fruit juice, camo
from the kitchen, warning Mrs. Swan
that her supper needed immediate at
tention.
Althea hoard her lift a basin from
the stove, empty the contents, and
carry them to the ice-box. It was
stewed cherries, and the delicious
spicy odor filled the air.
When she came back Mrs. Swan
seemed a little ashamed of her anger.
She sat silently gazing at the horizon
for a few moments with haunted, burn
ing eyes. When she spoke gain it was
with moderation.
"Now I've made such a fool of my
self," she said, "I suppose I might
as well tell you the whole story as to
the way Hiram and I fell out on money
matters. It began five years ago last
spring, when we built this house. See
that wire fence out there by the side
of the barn?"
Althea was well aware of the exist
ence of thnt fence. She skirted it twice
daily on her way to anu from school,
and moro than one rent in gown and
jacket testified not only to its exist-
ence, but to the sharpness and tenacity
of its barbs.
"Well," continued Mrs. Swan, "the
spring we built this house the 40 acres
of land enclosed ey that fence was for
sale. Hiram wanted to buy it, but I
wanted to build a house. We had
money enough to do one of these
things, but not enough for both. Hiram
thought the house might wait a year,
but If we didn't buy the land at once
Rube Thornton would.
"I had my heart set on the house.
The old shanty that we'd lived in ever
since we kept house wasn't fit to house
cattle in. It was leaky and dirty, and
the walls were full of mice and roaches
and bugs unmentionable. I didn't feel
as if I could live in it another year.
So we built, and before the summer
was out llube bought the land and run
was out Rube bought the land and run
his line fence within ten feet of tur
barn door.
"Hiram was mad, and, of course,
blamed me; although the next year,
when we got ready to buy, we got bet
ter land for less money 011 the other
side —good smooth farm land, while
while Rube's 40 will never be fit for
anything but pasture. But, somehow,
the site of that fence so near has al
ways seemed to rile Hiram.
"I said then that I'd never ask him
for another thing that I could possibly
get along without, and I never have
until I asked him for that dollar last
night. I've paid for all that we've
eaten and most that we've had to wear
with butter and poultry, and I'm six
months ahead at Long's now."
Mrs. Swan rested her chin in her
hand and relapsed into a moody si
lence. Althea folded her work and
went lip-stairs to get the money. A
great many things that had puzzled
her before were made plain by Mrs.
Swan's confidence. She had often
wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Swan
treated each other with such studied
coldness. She had also wondered at
the meager furmsnings of the house.
The house itself was a handsome and
commodious farm-house, but the fur
niture was the same that had been
used in the old log shanty. And Mrs.
Swan loved pretty things.
Althea liked both Mr. and Mrs.
Swan. In the eight months that she
had made her home with them she
had, in spite of xurs. Swan's peculiari
ties, come to esteem them highly. Mr.
Swan as director of the school district
in which she had taught, had especial
ly won her respect.
He had seemed to her almost an
ideal officer, entering heartily into ail
her schemes for the improvement of
the school, and showing no sign of the
parsimony of which his wife accused
him.
As Althea opened a drawer to get
her purse, a photograph lying face up
wards confronted her. She lifted the
velvet case and looked long into the
pictured face. The clear eyes seemed
to gaze back at her with a new signifi
cance.
It was Hugh, dear Hugh, who was
working so hard and so patiently to
prepare the little home for her com
ing. Althea saw the dear face through
the mist of an almost overwhelming
desire to see him at once. She wanted
to lay her arm around his neck and
listen to his heart beat, while they
made their vows all over again.
Would they, could she and Hugh
ever come to be to each other what Mr.
and Mrs. Swan were? The suggestion
was altogether abhorrent to Althea.
She had not presumed to hope that
their united lives could be all sun
shine; sickness would come, and
troubles and worries common to hu
mankind; aye, even death itself might
for a time separate them. But not this
other—
Althea laid the little picture down
on the bureau and bowed her face upon
it. "Not that,' she murmured; "oh,
anything but that." It was almost a
prayer.
Althea walked slowly down stairs
and laid the dollar in Mrs. Swan's
hand.
"I guess Hiram's afraid we'll all die
in the poorhouse," Mrs. Swan re
marked facetiously, as Althea re
sumed her work.
But Althea could not make a jest of
it. To her it was a very serious mat
ter. She tried to see her own future
from Mrs. Swan's point of view and it
frightened her. She looked up quickly,
almost defiantly. She must speak.
"Mrs. Swan, you are mistaken. Your
husband want's you to have that S2O
gold piece." Altliea's voice was very
stern.
"Wha-whaat did you say?" gasped
Mrs. Swan.
"He wants you to have that money
tor your very own. He's sorry that he
was cross with you about the house,
und he wants to make it up in some
way. Oh. Mrs. Swan, please forgive me
tor speaking. But you have all been so
kind to me, and I cannot bear to see
you misunderstand each other in this
cruel manner."
Althea was getting incoherent. The
instant the words had left her lips
she would have given worlds to have
recalled them. Mrs. Swan was very
angry. Her lips were set in a straight
line, and Althea was conscious-strick
en at the effect of her Interference. S.ie
knelt on the floor and slipped her
arms around Mrs. Swan's waist.
"Please forgive me," she pleaded. "I
know that Mr. Swan meant for you to
have the S2O gold piece to do with as
you liKe. He didn't say so because he
didn't know how to come at it; men
are such proud, stupid creatures. He
wouldn't care one bit if you spent
every cent of it tor bureau scarfs."
Althea laughed a little nervous laugh
at her own absurd suggestion, and the
awful lines about Mrs. Swan's lips re
laxed a little. Althea'p hopes arose.
After a long pause, during which
Mrs. Swan seemed swayed between the
two extremes of anger and remorse,
' she said abruptly: "But S2O is a great
deal of money. What could I do with
5 so much?"
Althea felt that the battle was won.
would be well. To say the right thing
in the right way was what she must
do. The S2O gold piece was a peace
1 offering, and the success of its mission
• depended upon herself. Wellington
! marshaling his hosts at Waterloo was
not more circumspect than she.
"Oh, you can get rid of it," she said
brightly, "never fear as to that part oP
' it." She picked up her work, and
\ on in the most matter-of-fact tone,
j "You can get your linen for one thing,
and you can get one of those gingham
• dress patterns that you thought so
pretty. Then you might make Mr.
' Swan a present of an arm-chair with
[ part of it. Hasn't he a birthday or an
anniversary of some sort coming soon
that vou can remind him of in thin
way ?"
Mrs. Swan vouchsafed no reply tf.
these bold suggestions. She sat stiff
and unyielding, but Althea saw that
she was interested in spite of herself,
and went bravely on.
"You ought to subscribe for a couple
of good periodicals for Rob. He needs
them. It would help keep him away
J from the saw mill. Haven't you no
ticed that he never goes the evenings
' my magazine comes?"
This last was a very adroit move on
Althea's part Mrs. Swan's life was
' made burdensome a great share of the
time by her only son's predilection for
haunting the dangerous neighborhood
of the saw mill, and by his association
with more or less disreputable char
acters who freauented the mill.
"Then there is always the library
fund," went on Althea gayly. "You
can give a dollar to that. I had
planned to solicit 50 cents from each
family. But to help you dispose ofthis
troublesome S2O gold piece, I will let
you give more. Then with the vast
sum which we expect to realize from
our grand last-day entertainment, we
will be quite rich."
Althea had planned to close her
career as a district schoolteacher by
laying the foundation of a library in
the Swan district. And lightly as she
spoke of the project its success, was
very near her heart.
"Well," admitted Mrs. Swan, after
another prolonged silence, during
which Althea vacillated between hope
and despair, "maybe I have been stub
born and blind. If I have, I've been
well punished for it. I'm going to
think it over. Anyway, Althea, you're
a good girl." And Althea was more
than satisfied with this meager ad
mission of Mrs. Swan's forgiveness.
For three days Mrs. Swan went about
her work with the jerky abstraction of
one inwardly perturbed. Every morn
ing when Althea came down to break
fast she cast a surreptitious glance at
the corner of the mantel where the S2O
gold piece lay in serene purity of
metal.
On the fourth morning she caught
her breath with a little gasp of ner
vous uncertainty when she saw that
the yellow disc was gone.
Mrs. Swan was cutting thin slices of
ham for Althea's lunch. She glanced
quickly at Althea when she came into
the room. Her cheeks were quite
pink, and her eyes were suffused with
a new, soft light.
Next Tuesday's our wedding anni
versary," she said in a low, joyous
tone. "We've been married just 15
years. I'm going to get Hiram one of
those arm-chairs at Duffey's. I'll hitch
up and come along by the sehoolhouse
this afternoon about 4 o'clock, and you
can come along and help pick it out.
Which do you suppose he'd like best,
the leather or the plush?"
"The leather, of course, you dear
little woman," said Althea, as she
walked around the table and kissed
Mrs. Swan on the forehead.—The La
dies' World.
An 1 mailt in l-'nhle.
Every one will recall the Aesopie
story of the lion and the mouse; how
| the life of the mighty monarch was
saved by the small creature whom 119
once had spared, says George S. Hill
i man in the Atlantic. To our recogni
| tion in this story of a truth universal
I in its human application is due, al
most entirely, our • interest in the
mouse and the lion. In our eyes they
are not a mouse and a lion, but two
men teaching the lessons that th
mishty shall be humbled, that nothing
is too insignificant to be of some ser
! vice, and that it is good to cast bread
upon the waters. We do not stop to
! consider whether a lion understands
J the mouse language, or whether a
mouse is given to gratitude. They ar
! merely convenient forms, essentially
j human, and they show animal chap.
I acteristics only very secondarily,
j when at all. In the Indian tales
1 { where animals figure as chief charac
j ters, the method is the same, though
i there is often the added purpose of
doctrinnl instruction, feasible because
! of the Buddhistic belief in the trans
migration of men's souls into the
bodies of beasts. The Bible shows •
i similar use; and perhaps in all litera
i tore there is not a nobler instance of
I the introduction of animals to teach
1 1 ethical truth than is to be found in the
parable of the lost sheep.
NnH'ilinl Telephones In Niirirnv.
i , The Norwegian government has pnr
: ' chased the private telephones of the
; country and the telephone service of
the kingdom is now in the hands of
1 j the government
n/luSIC FOR HAND-ORGANS-
What the Oreni Coat anil Where the
Money ie Made.
There is a little shop oil Elisabeth
street, the owner of which has a fac
tory in Brooklyn, where most of the
new hand organs are turned out, and
the old ones repaired, and this is the
season when times are busiest. "For
hand organs," said the head of the
shop, "seem never to get too old to b&
used. They can be patched and
patched again, and passed from hand
to hand and from town to town, until
every part of them has been renewed
over and over again. The voyages
and adventures of a hand-organ are
as varied as those of a tramp steamer.
They take in every side of life, from
the beginning, in the swell quarters of
the metropolis, to the end, knocking
around the country in company with a
monkey and his owner."
The choice of the music for the hand
organ lies with the manufacturers.
The publishers of songs send him the
popular song 3 as soon as they have
been marked success, and the manu
facturer uses those which he thinks
are the most popular. The particular
tunes which are chosen for any one
instrument, though, depends on the
quarter of the city through which lies
the beat of the man who turns the
crank. Every city organ-grinder has
a definite beat, and covers a certain
round of streets more or less regularly
every day.
If the beat lies through the German
or Italian quarter, then German or
Italian national characteristic airs are
added to the repertoire of the organ.
If the organ is to travel through upper
Fifth avenue in the region of the
Fifties (and this is the best beat in
New York, for if the man gets any
thing at all there he gets a good deal,
and the pay for "moving on" is higher
than elsewhere), some opera airs and
a "romance" are used. In the Bowery
region it is rag-ume and waltzes that
bring in the most money.
"If a man will tell us the beat he
wants to travel, in the city or out, up
the Harlem, back in the state, or any
where in the whole country," said
the maker of the organs, "we'll give
him the proper set of tunes to fit his
trip. Hand-organs are kept more up
to date now than in old times, and the
airs in the barrel of an instrument
can be changed easily enough to fit
the popular taste, though, of course,
not without any expense."
There are about 300 licenses issued
in New York City, mostly to Italians,
and that is a conservative estimate of
the number of performers on the
streets. The work of this particular
variety of cigale gives the lie to the
proverb, for two men on a good beat
will make as much as 11.50 apiece a
day, or ever more in the best months.
August and September are the best
months for the city, and for the coun
try too, though in that part of the
world any summer month is a profit
able one for the organ grinders. The
factory, of course, is busiest just now,
getting ready for the summer season.
Hand-organs are not cheap. A good
one will cost as much as S2OO, though
the price varies a good deal, according
to the quality of the instrument. There
are organs made with additional instru
ments, such as drums and cymbals,
and these are more expensive. Some
of them are made with arrangements
for turning the crank mechanically.
One kind in particular, which is a good
deal used by women who want to
have their hands free to do a tambour
ine act while the music is going one, is
run by a spring, which is wound up by
two or three vigorous turns of the
handle before each tune.—New York
Post.
TO MAKE LENSES LIKE EYES.
Problem of tlo Photographer Stereo
scope Not Demi.
"A curious popular delusion about
photography," remarked the proprietor
of a big Broadway studio, "is that wo
are worrying ourselves to discover a
method of color work; for—this year's
illustrated Nature-books to the con
trary. notwithstanding—k hasn't been
discovered yet. Now, very few of us
waste any thought on that at all.
When the process is originated, it will
come from some scientific laboratory.
"Frankly, we are all after the |
"stereoscope effect.' We want to make !
the lenses 'see double,' like the eyes, I
you know, so that the object photo
graphed may stand out as it does in
real vision. Our constantly having to
limit ourselves to 'seeing black and
white,' may keep us from thinking
overmuch on the potentialities, of
color; but the unified stereoscope, 'per
spective in photography'—well, we
can't help feeling that ought to be
within the range of practical optics.
Certainly, there are as many cranks
pestering us with its discovery as
there are perpetual-motion inventors
enrolled in the books of the Patent
Office. When it does come, though, it
will call for another Col. Sellars to
reckon up the "millions in it.'
"And, speaking of the stereoscope,
do you know that the sale of that dear
old standby of the front parlor what
not has really never fallen off? There
are still several firms making the
ancient yellow-mounted views of Niag
ara. the Yellowstone, and the Battle
field of Gettysburg. No blasphemous
present-day scoffing has touched them.
More curious than that. too. a young
friend of mine, who travels for a photo
supply house, has just discovered in
a little, back-country Ohio town an old
fellow who is still making the genuine
and original daguerreotype. He is put
ting that gentle old rose-tint on the
cheeks, is gilding the ladies' brooches
and earrings, and is fiaming his little
art-works in their inseparable r.atin
lined leather-eases."—New York Post.
TODAY.
"To-day" unsullied comes to thoc—
new-born,
To-morrow is not thine;
'The sun may cease to shine
For thee, ere earth shall greet its morn.
Be_earnest, then, in thought and deed.
Nor fear approaching night;
Calm comes with evening light,
And bops, ami peace. Thy duty heed
"to-day."
—John I{ushin.
HUMOROUS.
Charlie—Does she return your love?
Freddie—Ya-as; she says she has no
use for it.
Wigg—lJ'Auber, the painter, says he
is wedded to his profession. Wagg—
A bachelor of art, eh?
Muggins—There goes a fellow who
sticks up for his employer. Buggins—
Who is he? Muggins—A bill poster.
Dußrati —There goes a man who has
a good many drawbacks. Forge—Who
is he? Dußrau —A peddler of mustard
plasters.
"Do make yourselves at horns, la
dies," said the unfortunately careless
hostess one day to her visitors. "I'm
at home myself, and I wish you all
were."
Hoax—Did you ever notice that, trol
ley motormen always give funerals the
right of way. Joax—Certainly. Why
shouldn't they observe the funeral
rites?
"You have a keen sense of humor."
said the phrenologist, "and a great
reverence for old age." "What a great
joke writer I would have made," mur
mured the subject.
Smith—Say, Sappy, what's the
trouble between you and Bragg? He
says the next time he sees you he'll
knock some sense into that head of
yours. Saphead—Huh! He can't do it.
Mr. Askit—And how do you like
keeping a diary. Miss Gabbcigh—Oh,
it keeps me so busy writing about
what I have been doing that I do not
have any time to do anything to write
about.
Bluffer—Why did you pull that tooth
before I was ready? Dr. Dent —Weren't
you ready? Bluffer —Naw. I wasn't.
Dr. Dent —Oh, very well; I'll pull an
other just to give you one more
chance.
Mrs. Newrich—Now this here ball
dress o' mine must have a train to it.
Modiste—Yes, madam, what sort of a
train? Mrs. Newrich—Why, suppose
you put on one o' them vestibule trains
you read about so much in the papers.
TWO EAGLES KILL A DEER.
A Lumberman'* Story of a Flglit In tlie
Womln of Maine.
W. P. Oakes, who has just returned
to Dover, Me., from a surveying expe
dition in the Moosehead Lake region,
brings back a story of a fight between
two hungry eagles and a deer, which
was related to him by an eye witness
of the affair, S. D. Rice of Guilford, a
lumberman.
One morning Rice started from camp
with a sled. In following the tote road
he observed some distance ahead of
him a fine deer, which disappeared on
his approacht Continuing on to a bend
in the road he again saw the deer,
which again withdrew as the sled ad
vanced.'
Not more than five minutes later Mr.
Rice was astonished to see, stretched
out dying in the snow near the road
side, the identical deer that had fled
on seeing him, and perched upon its
side were two large black white-head
ed eagles. The birds flew away on
seeing Rice. He thinks they must have
weighed 40 or 50 pounds each and have
had a spread of wings of from six to
eight feet.
He thinks the eagles had been watch
ing the deer for some time and waiting
until it had reached an open spot in
the woods so they could attack it. Then
they hurled themselves upon the ani
mal with terrific force and laid him
low with blows from wings and beaks.
Mr. Rico picked the deer up and
placed it upon his sled, intending to
take it back to camp and save its life
if possible, but before he had driven
half a mile further the deer breathed
its last. The sharp beaks of the eagles
had severed a number of arteries in
the animal's neck and it bled to death
on the sled.—New York Sun.
Homo Life in Japiin.
In Japan the higher class ladies
never go to market; the market comes
to them. That is, the dealers call and
offer wares for sale at their customers'
doors. The fish merchant brings his
stock, and if any is sold prepares it
for cooking. The green grocer, the
sake dealer, and nowadays the meat,
man all go to their patrons' houses.
In the morning the ladies are frequent
ly engaged in the characteristic occu
pation of doing harimona; that is, in
starching eld clothes and spreading
them on large boards to dry in the sun
shine. This is the first stop to making
over old garments, and is done in tho
open air. Nearly all Japanese women
make their own clothes; at all events,
even the very richest embroider their
garments themselves. They are very
economical little dressmakers.—
Woman's Home Companion.
Adjimtnlili' Antlior*.
The most cheerful author —Samuel
Smiles.
The noisest —Howells.
The tallest—Longfellow.
The most flowery—Hawthorne.
The holiest—Pope.
The happiest—Gay.
The most amusing—Thomas Tiekell.
The most fiery—Burns.
The most talkative —Chatterton.
The most distressed —Akenside —
Chicago Tlmea-Herald.