CUR LANGUAGE. Now, wore n man fought in a slouch, Do you suppose he'd cut up rough— Or through the mire stoutly plough And 'scape, nor even cast a slough? 'Another tiling; suppose, although He pushed his way most bravely through. Do you suppose he'd have a ehough Iu case u sudden tempest blough? Then take a man who would at eight Go hence to some ideal height— He could not take a lowly freight—_ The last express had gone that ncight! His indignation knows no bounds! Heart-faint, do you suppose he'd swound? Or do you think he'd work up grounds On which to have the railroad pround? Cecil Thome's Masterpiece. [5 THE ROMANCE OF A PAINTING. NINETTE'S eyes bespoke an approaching storm. "A fuir woman again!" she muttered (, half audibly as she gathered up ilie cards impatiently, to throw for the last time which should decide if she were right to doubt Cecil's loyalty, v'eariug to learn the worst, yet deter mined to know the truth fit any cost, Ninette, the dark-eyed artist's model, spread out tho fortune-telling cards on the pedestal before her, while alio awsitcd the coming of Cecil Thome, master of llie studio and of her heart. 'Ah! This is better"—with a smile of satisfaction—^"why, here Is good luck again! Perhaps, after all, Cecil Is true. If I could only understand their language! But he never speaks to her iu French. Courage, Ninette! the last card tells your story. Is it a fair lady or a dark girl who is loved by Cecil? Dleu!" The "fair lady's card" had turned agniu, and Ninette burst into a fresh deluge of tears just as the false Cecil swung open tlie studio door, mid, with out observing the crouching figure of Ninette began to whistle a merry air. "How can you whistle when I nm so miserable?" said Ninette between her sobs. "Why, bless my soul, Ninette, I never saw you!" "You have no eyes for me. You would have seen another if she had been here." "Another would not have kept so sileut, perhaps—and tears, too! Now this is very tiresome, when I have had such a turn of good luck. Listen, Ninette, and dry your tears. My pic ture " "Of mo?" "No, no—tlie groat one, 'The Dawn,' will lie exhibited. Then if luck comes our way, as is sure to happen, we can be—you know what!" Cecil drew Ninette to liim in affec tionate eOiraee, too elated with his own hope of prosperity to question further tho cause of tears. Ninette's doubts vanished somewhat as the ten der avowals of love fell from the lips of her lover. She could not believe liim quite false, and yet—why did he not exhibit her portrait in the Salon? Could not "Dawn" have black hair as well as golden? and surely tlie fair lady was not otherwise more beautiful than she. Cecil interrupted the unpleasant rev erie with, "Ninette, do you know I believe my love for you lias made me a better painter! Monsieur ile Thales was here this morning and said the warmth and soul of 'The Dawn' were extraordinary." The announcement that love for hot had aided liim in putting warmth and soul iuto the eyes of another woman was not very comforting to Ninette, and she dashed out of tho studio, and shut herself in lier own little chamber, which was on tlie ground floor. "The little vixen!" laughed Cecil. "I suppose old Gretha gave lier a bad breakfast this morning. She did not seem properly pleased with tlie possi bility of our being soon—Ah, Julia! I am glad you have come. Tlie picture Is nearly finished—and such good news! Do Thales was here tills morning, and was delighted. Why do you look at the door—are you afraid of ghosts fol lowing you in?" "No, Cecil, hut do you know I have a strange feeling of fear sometimes when I see Ninette! She peered at me to-day as I came tip tho stairs, and her black eyes looked like those of a tigress. Cecil, that girl is dangerous! 1 hope she isn't too fond of you; you know that is easily possible with these French creatures of impulse." "Oh, that is just like you women," replied lightly that excellent judge of feminine emotion—"always suspicious of another woman's love. Well. 1 can tell you one tiling. Julia. Ninette's love Is less dangerous than lier hale, al though I should not like to trifle with either. But I, who so thoroughly un derstand Ninette, shall take care that co danger attends licr love for me." Ninette had crept from her chamber mid was listening at the keyhole of the studio with hot breath and angry eyes. How tender liis voice! Almost tlie obly English word Hint Ninette knew was "dear," and she heard him apply It to Julia—the fair-haired. Klie felt she could hurst with jealous passion, but at tills moment she heard familiar voices on the steps and several com rades stood before lier. "Good morning, Nina!" exclaimed the foremost on beholding the model, whom all knew to be a favorite with Cecil, nml locking his arm familiarly la hers they entered the studio, fol lowed by the oiliers. "Hello, Thornc —just heard of your luck, my boy! Give us a shake of the hand, old chap, before you get too high up In the world to recognize old friends. Let's linve a holiday now in celebration. Come out of the studio after to-morrow you will be too grand for frivolities." Julia rose and smiled assent. "Do, Cecil, you work mueb too hard. Now, take a lamb led to tlie slaughter- Has lie the least excuse for laughter? Or should he sob, as good lambs aughter, And think him on the long hereaughter? And should a starving person plead , Or go to battle for his bread? Or mining, when you strike a lead. What portion of the ore is lead'/ Alas! from this theme I must tear, Tho' you may shed a bitter tear, And let the muse pall-bcarors bear The tattered remnants to the rear. From what I've said no lesson pours ? To useful make your idle hours; In fact, the subject only bours — This wondrous spcllingness of ours! -—Baltimore News. It will do you good. Good morning, gentlemen; good-by, Cecil—Ninette!" Tlie last was an exclamation, not a greeting. Ninette was glaring from her dark eyes, and Julia involuntarily shuddered as she lifted her rich silken gown and swept down the stairs. "Oh, if I knew how to speak French I Would let that little French demon know she must not stare at me so In solently. Poor Ninette! I hope her love for Cecil will not interfere with his work, but I am the last person in the world who ought to blame her for lovlDg him." Careless and free as are only the pleasure loving English artists who al ternate the study of art with that of "La Vie" in the Eden of both, Cecil Thome and his companions made the cafes in the Latin Quarter of Paris ring with their merriment until n late hour, when Cecil returned to his lodg ing, intoxicated with the thought of the morrow. He spent a half hour or so In his studio, and after making a few tinal arrangements started for his attic bedroom. As he passed the door of Ninette's apartments he wondered if she slept. Then, at a sudden recol lection of his hopes, and all they meant to him, ho broke into a merry whistle, and mounted light-heartedly to his own door. His hurst of merriment was llie 'last straw. "To-morrow," she thought, "I will not forget that I have helped you to put warmth and soul into her eyes! You think you shall find fame to-mor row, and that the falr-lialred, cold hearted English girl will help you to rejoice; but you do not know Ninette!" Springing from her couch she felt for matches, but could ilnd none. "No matter," slie said, "I know tlio easel well. Have I not watched him bond ing over it as though lie loved the canvas itself? Dleu! you should have exhibited Ninette." Noiselessly, vin dictively, she groped her way along the dark passage into the stuulo. Not even a moonbeam to assist her feet over llic cold stone floor. "Ha—the easel!" she gave a little cry of pain as her tender foot eaiuo in contact with the sharp edge. Then, seizing a wet brush, with delirious joy she drew it again and again across the picture, smear ing beyond recognition every corner of the canvas. "There!" she said, as she threw down the brush and started to leave the studio. "There! Mademois elle Yellow Ilair—l hate golden hair— at least, I should hate it if Cecil had not golden hair." Tlie thought of Cecil's fair hair, which she hail so often covered with ardent kisses, recalled her io a moment of sudden reproach. What had slie done? She who pretended to love Cecil had destroyed the result of a whole half year's toil and his hope of fortune, and perhaps—yes, tlmt scltish "perhaps," swept over her with over whelming force, and the little criminal crept back to her chamber, threw her self upon her coueli, and there re mained till her restless slumber was disturbed by tlie sound of Cecil's foot steps entering the sludio. She awoke wiili n start. He was walking toward the easel. She dared not go (o him: she would wait till the lirst outburst of his passion bail passed. For a long time there was absolute silence in tho stuillo. At last, unable longer to hear (lie suspense, she tim idly opened tlie studio door and looked in. All trace of the defiant insolence which made her so bewitching had vanished, and slie paused submissively, awaiting tlie volley of reproof which she felt she so richly deserved. In dead of tills, Cecil smiled at beholding licr and advanced lo meet licr, and she felt half afraid. "Ah, there you are, ma eherie. Come and see what some villainous hand has done." "No, no," answered Ninette, still questioning his sanity. "I cannot look upon it. Oil, Cecil, you have driven me mad with jealousy!" "Jealousy, ma eherie? What on envtli are you talking about? Do you not believe that I love you fondly— devotedly " "Stop! You called her 'dear.' Cecil, answer me this—do you love the fair Julia who sits for 'The Dawn?' " "Love her—of course I do—but not as I love you." "There, you confess! I will not share your love with her. I was sorry I did it. but now I am glad—glad! You would he famous with her por trait. and she would be glad with yon. Is It not so?—you dare not deny It!" "Why, Ninette, how strangely you talk! Would slie not be an unnatural woman not to he glad of her brother's success?" "Brother!" almost shrieked Ninette— "Brother? She is your sister, Cecil!" "My dear child, do you mean to toll me yoit have not known that?" "Why have you uever told me that before?" "Why, Ninette, I never dreamed lhat you did not know it. Every one else knows it, and you have never spoken of this before." "No, I could not bear to speak of her, and I heard nothing of your talk— I do not understand your English talk. And now—ob, Cecil! Cecil! the picture —the villainous hand " "Oil, yes! to be sure; I nearly forgot the picture with your wild talk. I say, Ninette, what a good thing 'Tlie Dawn' bad been removed from the easel!" Ninette burst into a loud laugh. "Removed? Bay It again, Cecil! It was removed, and it was not her pic ture tbat I Oh, what would you have done?" Then the painter realized for the first time what she had iutended to do. "You little vixen!" he said seriously! "did you do It, and did you mean to spoil 'The Dawn?' Ah, black indeed would have been the dawn for me, my little madcap! I came In late last night and packed up 'The Dawn' to send away, and set this head on the easel the last thing before leaving the studio. Ah, Ninette, you are really too bad!" But she was not listening. She lenew how to make her peace with him.— New York News. The Beginning of Ostrich Farms. Fifty years ago the domestication of tlio ostrich was an idea Ecouted by most of tlie zoologists who bad given time and thought to the subject Their young, it was believed, could not be raised In a state of captivity. The great demand for ostrich feathers was tbeu met by hunting and killlug wild birds, and there were indications that the species would soon become extinct. But, in the early sixties, a French scientist named Gosse Issued a pamph let in which he argued that the domes tication of the ostrich was feasible and practicable, and not long afterward a brood of ostriches was reared in the city of Algiers. Gosse's pamphlet nnd news of the experiment In Algiers bc enme familinr to two farmers in Cape Colony, who determined to undertake the domestication of ostriches in South Africa. Beginning with two birds, which they caught and planed in an ln closure, In a twelvemonth tlicy had a brood of eighty, which marked the birth of a new Industry which has played n potential part in the develop ment and commerce of a vast region. Barge tracts of land in South Africa, which could not be profitably used for any other purpose, are now devoted to this business, and feathers to the value of $6,000,000, from nearly 400,000 do mesticated birds, are now annually sent abroad from Cape Colony'.—Sue oess. Cat Heaps Four Stories. A cat named Troubles, possessed by Francis Bane, a political worker in the Eighth Ward, has made numerous friends. One morning Troubles was purring on the window sill of the fourth floor of Its home when It ob served Kane on the sidewalk below. Espying its piaster, the feline uttered a faint "meow" and made the awful leap. Somersault after somersault it turned until It landed on terra firma. The hard asphalt pavement was too much for the kitten's feet, and Its right foreleg was broken at the knee. When Kane noticed what hud happened to his pet he couldn't conceive that tho cat had made the frightful leap. He hurriedly ascended tho stairs to ascer tain if any of his servants had beeD cruel enough to throw the ent out of the window. Upon learning that the cat had made the jump he carefully conveyed It to the Jefferson Hospital, where the feline had its broken limb put In splints. Since then the cat hgs been carefully nursed aud foudlcd.- Fhlladelphia Telegraph. A llaby Klrd Ten Feet From Tip to Tip. George L. Stillwell, who has just returned from a trip to Sunta Barbara County, luis brought back with him a young bird of the giant condor family, the largest species of birds in existence. The bird was captured after a most thrilling nnd dangerous experience. Stillwell nnd a companion scaled n lofty crag and engaged in a battle with the mother bird. The parent bird measured fifteen feet from tip to tip of Its wings, and both men suffered many bruises. The young bird has never learned to fly, and its wings are not yet strong enough to hear the weight of Its body. It measures ten feet from tip to tip and is developing well in captivity. The parent of this bird is the only one of tlie species known to exist in the State, lis home Is oue of the wild est spots in Santa Barbara County, a crag lu the heart of tlie mountains, fifly-six miles east of Santa Maria and midway between Bakersflcld and Santa Barbara.—San Francisco Chron icle, An lixpert Talks on The "Colored Waiters' Chesterfield" is a book ou the duties aud responsi bilities of waiters. The author is John IS. Goins, an old-time Chicago waiter. "A waiter should never place himself in the position of expectancy in tho matter of receiving a tip," says Goins, "and should avoid approaching a guest if lie sees him in the act of drawing change from his pocket. A waiter should never pose as an object of oily with a view to securing a tip. If he deserves a tip, he should let the guest feel within himself that he deserves it. Should a waiter receive a tip previous to waltlug on the guest, he should leave it lying on the table nnd then do his level best to earn it. A waiter should never make any demonstration of grat itude when receiving a tip beyond a polite acknowledgment."—New Y'ork World. Ctienp Ships. The United Kingdom builds her war vessels both more cheaply nnd more 1 rapidly than any other country in the world, according to the Seoltlsh-Ameri ! can. jJ padded and otherwise arranged make her trip comfortable. Her sou. Henry Bind, went to Nor way two months ago to visit his birth place. He there decided to bring his mother home with him to Ballard, where she will pass the remainder of her days. As she could not travel in the ordinary way lie hit upon the plan of making a Norwegian coffin serve as a conveyance in which she could bo carried aboard trains aud steamers. 111 London this arrangement attracted much attention. Bind re mained by his mother's side day and night during the trip of seven thou sand lnlleß, personally feeding her at every meal.—Now York World. A Fog Horn Twelve Feel T.ong. A fog horn twelve feet long and 1 four feet across tlie mouth is to be placed on a cliff on the St. Lawrence River. The sound will be a deep l'oar. followed by a shriek every two min utes, and will lie produced by sirens and compressed air. The horn is to be mounted 011 a revolving track, so that the sound may he directed to any point.