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Ah Englishman of distinction mak
ing his first visit in the United States
brought it to a close in Washington,
and called at the White House in com
pany with an American friend. A pub
lic reception was in pi ogress, and,
falling into line, he paid his respects
to the president first in that way, and
subsequently met him for a few mo
ments in a private audience Ho
laughingly explained to the president
that being in America he wanted to do
as Hie Americans did. As they walked
away together, the American asked
the Englishman what had impressed
him most in our free government.
"Tlio accessibility of the chief magis
trate, and the absence of all arms and
forco from his official residence," was
the Englishman's reply.
"Links with the past" has been a
standard headline in the English news
papers ever since the new century be
gan. The theme is an old one, but
many of the examples cited have been
most interesting. It would seem impos
sible, for example, if it were not proved
that Miss Courtenay, who signs her
self an octogenarian, could havo talked
with the boatman who took out Mr.
Alexander Pope for his constitutional
row at Richmond. From Paris an even
more striking instance i 3 reported. A
gray-haired prisoner was brought be
fore the police justice for some trifling
misdemeanor. "Have you no rela
tives?" asked the judge. "No. My
parents are long since dead, and my
only biotfier also died a hundred and
thirty years ago." "A hundred and
thirty years! No trilling with tha
court," cried the outraged justice. "But
I'm not joking, your honor," said tha
prisoner. "Just listen. Mr father
married young, at 13, and within a
year had a child born who died short
ly after birth. After the death of his
first wife, he married again, at the
age of 7(1, and I am the offspring of
that marriage. I am now nearly 73
years old. Reckon up, if you please,
and eve if my only brother did not die
120 years ago." The'justlce could only
admit this apparently incredible link
with the past.
ENGLAND'S MEW SWORD.
Made to Thrust, Because the Old One
Would Not Cut.
That the rifle is mightier than the
sword is an uncontrovertible fact; hut
that the sword will be finally sheathed
as an unusable weapon in modern war
is not true, despite the endeavor of
the pen to prove the worthlcssness of
it. As a shook weapon the sword
holds no place with the lance, but its
handincss in pursuit is undeniable if
the sword be of the right kind. In
South Africa our weapons, made os
tensibly to cut. were used by our
troopers to belabor fugitive Boers in
vain efforts to make a cut, and cess
that flagellation would appear to be
the proper term to apply. Recogniz
ing this, the war office is going to
arm the hussars with a new sword,
whose chief use will lie to thrust. Tbo
edge of a sword cannot be maintained
upon prolonged service, but General
Grant, the inspector general of cav
alry, in recommending a new sword,
suggests the preservation of a cer
tain degree of sharpness by the use of
leather scabbards. The new sword
will be modeled on the pattern now in
use, which was Introduced in 1833.
but with certain modifications, con
forming with tho Italian school. The
hilt will he broader, to give freedom
to tho thryst, and the point will taper
more, making the weight about a
pound less. The new sword will In
troduce more thoroughly the Floren
tine system of fencing, to which tho
Inspector of gymnastics, Colonel Mal
colm Fox. lias for so many years pin
ned hi 3 faith, and whose value its
chief exponents, Captain Edgeworth-
Johnston. Sergeant Major Betts and
ex-Staff Sergeant Foerstcr, have so
ofien demonstrated in open competi
tion. Swordmakers believe in ths
thrusting weapon, provided it is heavy
enough to i.u-i f the rough usage of
a campaign. This Is just what the
new sword will lie -an unbreakable
rapier of the broad kir.d.
It has been decided to hold a carni
val In Sydney, No > Scotia, next sum
mer to Include tic sports, rowing
and j ,t raclr
; An Affair of Honor.
When I was last in Paris I had a
letter of introduction to the Countess
de Clairmont, who lived in a venera
ble mansion in the Faubourg St. Ger
main, near the ancient abbey church.
I found her to be an aged lady of a
very old family, a very devout church
goer, and a bigoted legitimist, believ
ing in "divine right" and the Count
de Chanibord, and fully expecting that
he and his white flag would rale the
destinies of France when Orleanists,
t'onapartists and Republicans would
be forgotten. Apart from dogma and
politics she was, however, a very
charming and interesting person. She
had evidently been very handsome in
her youth, and even in her old age
retained a little coquetry and much
spirit. At the recital of some deed
of daring and heroism her black eyes
would flash and sparkle and her lips
tremble with emotion. It was like
going back to the past century to sit
in her dint drawing room, with its
quaint old furniture, rich and relig
iously preserved, hung with portraits
of her ancestors, and hear her talk ot
warriors, priests and nobles, whose
mitres and swords had decayed, and
whose moldy and moth-eaten banners,
waving in church and chapel, are hut
tattered rags with the blazonry illegi
ble.
One day I was looking at the por
trait of a lady so lovely, with a sweet
and melancholy beauty, that even the
disfiguring co3tume of the last cen
tury, especially the abominable high
head dress, could not mar its effect,
for you looked only on the face and
forgot the accessories. It was from
the pencil of Mine. Lebrun, the fa
vorite artist of Marie Antoinette, who
has left us such touching souvenirs
of the unhappy queen.
"That lady, I am sure, had a story,"
I said. "I need not ask if the original
was a relative of yours, Madame, for
1 see a family likeness in the head."
"You are right," she said. "That
portrait might pass for my own like
ness as I looked HO years ago. I have
a miniature taken at tho same age
which looks like a reduced copy of
Mme. Lebrun's charming picture."
"And the lady was —?"
"Pardon me," said the old countess;
"I will tell you her story at full length,
rt. is an old family history, hut it
is thought to have some of the ele
ments of romance. Perhaps it may he
of some future use to you as a story
teller in your own country. So arm
yourself with patience, cousin, and
hear with an old woman's garrulity."
The old lady called me cousin be
cause at some far away period there
wan a matrimonial alliance between
our families, long before my grand
father emigrated to America
I will not attempt to relate the nar
rative in the language of my hostess,
but condense it and tell it in my own
way.
The original of Mme. Lebrun's pic
ture, then. Was Victorine do Grantier,
wife of Hector de Grantier, a gentle
man of wealth and family. The mar
riage was an exception to the general
rule of French marriages, being a love
match. The- parents of the lady had
permitted her to eliooso a husband for
herself; and though among her many
suitors were some more eliglb'e in
point of fortune and opportunities for
lising in the world than Hector, she
gave him her hand because she could
bestow her heart with it.
t>e Grantier was handsonte, gentle
/nil warm hearted. He had no vices,
and hut little ambition. He was a poet
and a painter, though not a profession
al ono, and lie was in easy eircum
! stances, although not reckoned a man
j of wealth.
Never was thero a happier couple,
| end When flic bride's father and motli
| or, who died within a few days of each
1 other, left the world almost hand in
i hand, tho certainty of leaving their
daughter the partner of a man devoted
to her. heart and soul, soothed tticir
last moments.
I There was a shade of melancholy in
i Vlotorine's nature, and she often
! thought to herself that her married
| life was too happy—that it was like a
j still, bright, summer day, so perfect-
I so full of sunshine, so heavenly, that
. weather seers pronounce it too lovely
; to last, and regard it, with shaking
heads, as the precursor of a devastat
j ing storm.
| And the storm that wrecked the
iiappiness of Victorine was near nt
hand. Among her rejected suitors was
a wild, boid man, named Raoul Mal
| travers, an ensign in the royal navy
of a very distinguished family high
in power at court, who might well
look forward to the prospect of Feeing
the broad pennant of an admiral float
ever his own quarter deck. But, with
all the qualities of a noble race, he was
| stained with many vices. He was a
i gamester, a duellist and a libertine;
j prodigal with his gold, cruel with his
I sword and fatal in his hates.
\ Although his rejection was couched
i in the most respectful terms, it roused
| his worst passions, and he swore to
I wreak a deadly vengeance on the rival
I who prospered where he had • failed.
: The hand he could not win himself
I should never be clasped in wedlock
by another. In this temper of mind
he went to sea.
i It must be liorue In mind that this
project of vengeance was a secret
locked In his own heart, to be di
vulged in action, not in words. There
fore, when, some months after the
marriage, the ensign returned from his
cruise, (he incident did not create any
alarm in the breast of Mme. Victorine
de Grantier.
Coe morning when she awoke she
missed her husband from her side, but
this caused her no surprise, for he
was in the habit of rising without
disturbing her, dressing, and then tak
ing a rids on horseback. But he al
ways returned to breakfast, which was
served punctually at 11 o'clock in the
forenoon. When, therefore, it came to
be nearly noon, and he did not make
his appearance, she was naturally un
easy His horso was very spirited anil
might possibly have thrown him, she
thought But, on inquiry, it appeared
that the animal was in his stall, and
that M. de Granthler had left the house
on foot
Mme. de Granthler ordered the
breakfast things removed, after mak
ing a slight repast and then took up
a book to while away the time until
her husband's return. At 1 o'clock a
visitor was announced —Capt. Paul
Beauregard, an officer in tho French
Guards. He was an intimate friend of
De Grantier, as well as of the lady,
and scarcely a day passed without
their seeing him.
"My husband. Have you seen any
thing of him?" she asked.
"I have been with him all the morn
ing, madame."
"Where is he? Why did he not re
turn with you? How has he been en
gaged?"
Capt. Beauregard replied to the last
question:
"In an affair of honor, madame."
"A duel?"
"Yes; and he has been wounded. I
thought it best to prepare you lor the
accident."
"He is dead," shrieked the unhappy
lady, as she fell back in convulsions,
for she had read the truth in the cap
tain's face.
Beauregard rang the bell and left
her in charge of her maid, while he
went into another room. It was agony
bitter as the pangs of death to listen
to her wails and sobs and shrieks; but
in an hour Plorette, the waiting maid,
pale, frightened, with swollen eyes,
for she, too, had been weeping bitter
ly, came to say that Madame de Gran
tier was calmer and desired to speak
with tho captain.
The officer found the lady white as
marble, but strangely quiet and col
lected.
"Hector is dead?" she half asked
half asserted.
Her friend drooped his eyes. The
answer was sufficient.
"Now tell me how this happened."
said the lady. "Hector was kind and
gentle and courteous. He had no ene
my—how could he have, for he never
wronged a human being."
"That did not prevent his having an
enemy—a mortal foo—who last night
publicly Insulted him and thus forced
a challenge from your husband."
"Ay, honor compelled Hector to draw
(lie sword. But the name of that vil
lain—the murderer?"
"Raoul Maltravers."
"He, the man whose hand I rejected?
Oh, my poor, dear murdered Hector.
Why did we ever meet? Fatal was the
hour in which you saw and loved me.
Often have your lip® told me that I
had made you the happiest of men.
Little did you dream that I would giv
you death as well as love."
"I implore you, madam," said the
captain, "not to view this tragedy in
that light. An unforeseen calamity
has fallen on you, and my heart bleeds
at sight of your distress. But I can
do more than pity; I can and will
avenge Hector. Itaoul Maitravers dies
by my hand."
"Hold!" cried tho widow, with sud
den and startling energy. "I forbid
you to espouse this quarrel. I have
my own purpose of vengeance, and no
man, not even you, shall be permitted
to stand between me and my predes
tined victim. He has robbed me of
more than life, but 1 will requite him
I was a fond, weak, gentle, loving,
happy girl. They who know me hence
forth will know me as a tig:ess thirst
ing for human blood. But no word of
this to others. Bo my friend in this
extremity, as you were his true and
loyal friend to the last moment, ami
conduct the funeral rites. You see how
calm I am when I can speak these
words without convulsions."
When \ictorine was alono with her
dead she had a wild outburst of pas
sionate grief, but it rapidly gave place
to a calmness so stem that it would
have appalled an observer bad there
been witneseos in the chamber of
death.
"Heetor de Grantier," she said, ad
dressing the cold clay, "if my Creator
spares my life, your son, whom your
eyes were never to behold, shall bo
your avenger. I will rear him strong,
valiant, skillful, and teach him to look
for no happiness, no rost, no employ
ment, until he ha® slain the man who
has robbed you of life, me of a hus
band and himself of a father."
Two months after the funeral the
friends of the family were apprised
that the widow lady was the mother of
a—daughter. Shortly after this event
she retired with her infant child to an
estate in Brittany.
Sixteen years passed away and then
Mine, de Grantier, still wearing wid
ow's weeds, again resumed ner resi
dence in Paris. She lived in a fashion
able quarter, but in great privacy, re
ceiving only relatives, making no ac
quaintances. Her daughter, Claudine,
had grown up a beautiful girl, the pic
turo of health—a bright flower to
bloom In the almost conventual gloom
of her mother's house.
The only frequent visitor was the
young Chevalier de Hauteville, a cou
sin of Claudine, and strange to say, a
perfect image of the girl—the same
height, features and complexion. The
gossips of the neighborhood said they
were born for each other and predicted
a marriage between the parties. But
the servants of the iamily asserted that
the old lady would never, for some rea
son of her own, probably that of near
ness of blood, permit the alliance, and
that the young people rarely, if ever,
met It was observed that whenever
Claudine had gone to church the che
valier was sure to make his appearance
and when he was in the drawing room
she was always absent. Whether this
was arranged by the mother or wheth
er this young woman and this young
man, so strangely alike, cherished an
antipathy equally strange, was a mys
tery, like almost everything else in
this mysterious household.
Had the widow, foiled in her plan of
vengeance by the sex of her offspring,
forgotten or forgivon Raoul Maltra
vere? No one knew, but no one ever
heard her pronounce his name.
Meanwhile Raoul Maltravers had left
the sea, not being particularly fond of
the nvuaic of heavy guns, for though
brave enough on tho due! ground, be
cause he was the best blade in France,
and always sure of victory, he was
really a poltroon. He had married a
very beautiful heiress, and lived in
groat splendor. He had more than one
affair of honor after his marriage,
with a fatal result to his antagonists.
One day the Chevalier do Hautoville
made a morning call on Mme. de Gran
tier. He found her in her boudoir,
which was draped with black, and
lighted with wax tapers.
"You know this is a sad anniversa
ry," she said. Then she added, with
a sharp look of inquiry: "Raoul Vlal
travers."
"Dead," was the reply.
"Come to my heart," cried Victorine.
"Claudine, you have avenged your fa
ther."
"Claudine!" I exclaimed, in utter
astonishment, when the old countess
had come to this point of her narra
tive.
"Yes," she replied, "the Chevalier
de Hauteviile and Claudine de Grant.ier
were one and the same person. Mme.
de Grantier had reared her daughter
like a man and trained her to arms in
the solitude of her old provincial man
or house, where a woiulrously skilled
professor of tho sword, an. Italian, gave
her lessons daily. You must not think
too harshly of the memory of Victorine
de Grantier. I am now positively cer
tain that the death of her husband
turned her brain, and that during all
the years of her widowhood she was
a monomania-c. That she inspired her
daughter with her fanatical idea of
vengeance is natural —the mother lived
for no other purpose."
"But what became of Claudine?"
"She is still living at an advanced
age, a .widow," replied tho countess.
"Doubtless harrowed by remorse for
having shed human blood?"
"It caused her great suffering for
years, but the clergy whom slio con
sulted told her that the circumstances
absolved her from ail moral guilt. She
was an irresponsiole agent of lier
mother —lier judgment deliberately
perverted by one wno bad herself lost
the power of reason. Yet were many
hours of bitter sorrow and penitence
passed by that unhappy woman. And
now let me show you a sad relic."
The old lady rose, walked to an
ebony cabinet and unlocking it took
out a long, old-fashioned rapier and
bade me draw It I took forth the
blade and remarked that it was cov
ered with rust.
"Those darker stains are the life
blood of a man," said the old lady,
with a heavy sigh—"for that was the
sword with which I killed Raoul Mal
travers."
"Y'ou?" I cried.
"Yes; for before I became Countess
de Clairmont, I was Claude de Gran
tier."—New York News.
FIJIAN FIRE CEREMONY.
Natives WltolVnlked Over licit Hot StonoV
with Impunity.
Two New Zealand medical men, Drs.
llocken and Colquohoun, recently vis
ited Fiji, where tliey bail an opportu
nity of witnessing the now rare fire
ceremony of the natives. It is so rare
that the power is now confined to a
single family living on an islet 20
miles from the Fijian metropolis,
Suva. These people are able to walk,
nude and with bare feet, across the
white-hot, stony pavement of a huge
oven.
An attempt was made on this occa
sion to register the heat, but when the
thermometer had been placed for a
few seconds about five feet from the
oven it had to he withdrawn, as the
solder of the covering began to melt.
The thermometer then registered 252
degrees, and Dr. Hoeken estimates
tnat the range was over 400 degrees.
The fire walkers then approached,
seven in number, and In single filo
walked leisurely across and around tho
oven. Heaps of hibiscus leaves were
then thrown into the oven, causing
clouds of steam, and upon the leaves
and within the steam the natives sat
or stood. The men were carefully ex
amined by the doctors before and af
ter the ceremony.
The soles of their feet were not thick
or leathery, and were not in the least
blistered. The men showed no symp
toms of distress, and their pulse was
unaffected. Preliminary tests failed
to show that there had been any spe
cial preparation. Both doctors, while
denying that thero was anything mi
raculous about the experiment, ex
pressed themselves as unable to give
any scientific explanation.—London
Chronicle.
Twenty years ago kerosene oil was
practically unknown in China. In 189 C
more than 100,000,000 gallons were im
ported.
WHAT FISH EAT.
Most Deulzenn of tho Deep Live on Anl
innl sti balance*.
There are many thousand species
of fishes, and naturally there is a
great diversity in their food. Never
theless, it is possible to divide it into
seven distinct classes. Now, all the
animal life rests on a foundation of
vegetables. Plants store up the vital
forces in the air and sunshine and
pass them on to the great army of
vegetarians, who in their turn yield
them up to the animals which live on
flesh. One or two additional steps
may sometimes be interposed, but tho
result is the same. A caterpillar eats
a cabbage, an ichneumon fly quarters
her brood on the caterpillar, an in
sect-eating bird snaps up the fly, and
a bird of prey pounces upon the fly
catcher and finishes the story. The
inevitable order is plant, vegetarian,
flesh-eater.
The vast majority of fishes feed
on fishes or other animals found in
the sea. Probably, however, the vege
tarians are more numerous than ar-a
generally supposed. For instance, all
the text books declare that the gray
mullet feeds on the living matter ob
tained by straining sand or mud in its
mouth, which doubtless is true, but
they go on to explain that owing to
the peculiar construction of its throat
larger bodies are prevented from
passing into the stomach, which is not
true. No amount of letter press will
persuade a Land's End fisherman that
a gray mullet cannot or does not eat
seaweed; he is convinced from a life
long observation of its habits that it
does, and the fact that the fish's
stomach is often found full of sea
weed proves that the fisherman is
right. Fishes which undoubtedly
catch and swallow living prey are
wont on occasion to treat themselves
to a dish of vegetables. I have just
assisted at the post-mortem examina
tion of a bream, which contained in
addition to a crab large helpings of
two kinds of seaweed in different
stages of digestion.
But doubtless it Is a fact that fishes
live for the most part on animal diet,
and it is obvious that this must con
sist largely of somo other class than
their own. If fishes ate fishes only
the race woulo *oon become extinct.
Fortunately the sea is full of life, aud
for those which cannot or will not eat
seaweed there are worms innumer
able, jelly fishes, star fishes and sea
urchins, the great host living in
shells from the oyster to the periwin
kle and the limpet, crabs and all oth
er kindred, and lastly other fishes.
The appetite must, he capricious, in
deed, which cannot find something to
tempt it among all this vast array.—
Newport News Herald.
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
Japan is the country where the
cremation of corpses is practiced on the
largest scale. The custom dates hack
about 1200 years.
Among the British peers who have
inherited barren titles is the young
Earl of Srafleld, who at the age of 12
succeeded to an earldom, two viscoun
ties and two baronies, without so much
as a single acre of land to maintain
his dignities.
At no point is the River Jordan nav
igable for any considerable distance,
c\en by small craft, and during its
course it fall over 1200 foet. In addi
tion to these drawbacks it presents the
unique spectacle of a river flowing into
a sea in which there cannot be found
one living creature.
Barbaric African tribes hold the um
brella in high honor. In King Coffee
of Ashanti's reign the greatest mark of
regal favor that could bo conferred
011 a distinguished guest was the gilt
of a sunshade adorned in savago style
with the teeth of animals, the claws
of birds, human jawbones and rough
lumps of gold. The medicine men of
these African tribes are invariably at
tended by an umbrella hearer.
Slot machines providing meals have
been introduced in London. The re
freshments are arranged on a long buf
fet behind a glass screen. On putting
four pennies one after another into the
slot the screen rises and a tray hold
ing a teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl and
cup ana saucer comes within reach.
The teapot contains tea leaves and hot
water can be drawn from a public
tank. Two pennies produce a roll with
butter, or sandwiches, or bath buns,
and other slots yield temperance drinks
and confoctionery.
"Speaking of curious wills," said a
Georgian, "the will of Col. W. H.
Jackson of Athens, Ga, a member of
ono of the best known families in our
states, provided that a massive oak
tree that he owned, around which he
had played and which he had been
taught to love as a child and later as
a man. should, in the language of the
document, 'have entire possession of
itself and of all land within eight feet
of it on all sides.' No one ever con
tested his will, and the oak still stands
as its own owner."
Exploration has now revealed relics
of Mencs, the founder of the Egyptian
monarchy, fashioned more than 0500
years ago. Of Zer, the suceossor to
Menes, it is astonishing to find the
forearm of his queen still in its wrap
pings, with four splendid bracelets In
tact. Tills brilliant and exquisltely
finished group of jewelry is 2000 years
older than the jewelry of Dahshur, the
oldest up to then known. The arm of
the queen had been broken off by the
first plunderers and had lain in a hole
In the wall of the tomb.
PERILS OF BANK 3 FISHERMEN.
About Once In Two Days Two Men in A
Dory Are Lout from the Ships.
The present season, owing to the
prevalence of fogs on the Great Banks
or fishing ledges, the sentinel of the
Newfoundland coast, has been remark
able for more driftaway fishermen
than any year during tho past decade.
The shipping records of the colony
show a total of 04 of these men landed
in colonial ports up to July 31. the
first three months of tho fishing pe
riod. They are always in pairs, two
men to a dory, a fiat bottomed, light
riding boat, especially built to br.ast
the surges on the Banks.
This represents 47 boats, and that
is roughly one for every two days of
the fishing. Besides these there is the
great number who never arc heard of
again, their dories being swamped. 1
This is the chief disaster which threat
ens them, and it leaves them no salva
tion. A dory never swamps when she .
is light, that is, empty; when she is
heavy (laden with fish) a comber will
strike her and boat and men will go
down like stones. Sometimes, how
ever, the boat is merely capsized, and ▼
then the occupants, if they can, clam
ber on the bottom and remain there
till rescued, or till the relentless sea
claims them for its own.
A remarkable case was reported re
cently. William Johnson and David
Hawkins of the schooner Nenr? had
their dory capsized and got on her bot
tom. There they remained all evening
and night, but next morning Hawkins
was stricken and slid into the water.
It is a dangerous business to get on
and off these boats in mid ocean, but
Johnson contrived to place Hawkins
once more in comparative safety. But
it was only for a short time. Within
an hour tue poor fellow rolled off
again, crying "Save me." His mate
saw he was beyond saving, for ho died
almost as he was swept into the sea,
but he determined to.save the body. He
fastened it to the boat's head rope, and
there it remained until he was res
cued at eventide by a boat from an
other vessel, when ho insisted that tho
body be taken with him, where it wa/
preserved with ice and salt until the
ship reached land and he could give it
burial.
These bankmen are most daring and
venture north into Belle Islo strait al
most before the winter ice floes are
broken up. Two other fishers, -Henry
Davis and Joseph Carroll of the
schooner Petunia, fishing in that lo
eality were brought to shore a fort
night ago, having been five days adrift
without food or water. They were at
tending to their trawls or lines some
distance from their ship when they
got enmeshed in the floes. Fog also
enveloped them, and tho decomposing
ice masses caused greater danger than
the seas. For their frail craft would
be helpless against a blow from tho
jagged, unruly fragments tossing about \
and in the icy tumble of seas lay no ,W~
hope of safety.
They drew their little boat onto the
surface of the largest mass within
reach, and on this they floated about
for three days. They had not a mor
sel to eat and the ice was so saturated
with salt spray that they dared not
use it to cool their thirst. They
gnawed their leather belts, and on the
fourth day, being carried toward the
land launched the hoat again and
tried to reach it. They did get part
way, hut the wind fell, their sail was
worthless, and they were too weak to
row. The fourth day they lay help
less and almost dying in the bottom of
the hoat, but during the afternoon were
descried and rescued by a passing ves
sel bound for Labrador, which landed
them at the most convenient harbor
as she passed by.
Two others, Daly and Clarens from
the schooner Niagara, losing their ves
sel in. a storm on the outer edge of the
Banks, and Knowing that she was driv- "
en south beyond their reach, resolute
ly determined to make for tlio shore.
Having no sail they had to row the
whole distance, 120 miles. They spent
three days and nights doing it, during
which time they had nothing to cat but
a few fresh flsh lying in the boat's
bottom, their only drink being a quart
of water in two bottles.
Many other cases like this could ho
cited, but the most hazardous ventures
with the sea are merely daily routine
with these people.—Chicago Record-
Herald.
To the I'ole by Wire.
The conditions surrounding Arctic
travel are such that the principal diffi
culty is found in maintaining com
munication with a base of supplies.'
It is believed that wireless telegraphy
has now reached a point where at least ~
it promises such development that fu
ture exploring parties will be able to
carry along apparatus and keep con
stantly in touch with their base camps.
If this proves to be the case much of
the terror of tne Arctic will he re- *
moved, and exploration will be made
both easier and safer, with the possi
bility that this added Instrumentality
will enable the discovery of the polo
at no far distant date.—Electrical Re
view.
How to Detect a Cheap Shoe.
"It takes a rainy spell to show up
a cheap shoe dealer. "It can he spot
ted by an observer on a rainy day.
though it may have come within an
hour from the store. Watch the feet
of people the next time it rains and
you can pick out the inexpensive shoes.
A cheap shoe always slips when the
pavements are wet. Artificial stone
pavements, especially shew them up.
A ne sole of a cheap, common shoe is
made of imitation leather, composed ■,
of pressed paper, and water softens V
it and makes the wearer slide along
while walking. You can always tell a
cheap shoe in this way."—lndianapo
lis Hews.