Newspaper Page Text
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What Not to Lo*e.
Don’t lose courage; uplrit breve
Carry with you to the grave.
Don’t lose time in vain distress;
Work, not worry, brings «uc<**s.
Don t oae hope; who let* her stay
Goes forlornly all the way.
Don’t ioee patience, come what will;
Patience outline* outruns skill.
Don t lose gladness; every hour
Blooms for you some happy flower.
though he foiled your dearest plan
Don’t lose faith in God and man.
JANE.
I
•‘I ain’t got nothin’ fur you to eat!”
A woman said it, a* she leaned a
tired head on her hand, and looked
down at the rough pine fable, by
which she sat. .‘jho was a young
woman mid a worn-out woman, but
there was still in her face a good
♦leal of beauty that years before had
fiialo her the belle of Sweetwater
couni y.
“Yer ain’t got nothin’ fur me to
oat?'’ repealed the man, in a dazed
“ort of way, as he turned around from
•ho pioco of broken looking-glass
banging on tho wall, before which he
bad been combing his beard, “why—
what’s the mutter, Jane?”
“There’s lots the matter,” said the
woman, biting Iter lip; “but the main
thing is, Pete Miller, that hereafter yer
has got to make yer own livin’; and
if yer wants to live with mo, yer got
to make mine, too. I’m tired—I’m
tired of everything. I’m tired of
work, and I’m tired of hopin’, and”—
there wa* a cold look in her eyes that
ho had never seen before as she spoke
— “I’m tired of you!”
She poured tho words forth as
angrily us tho foaming Popo-Agie did
down below in the canon where it was
narrowest.
“Yer promised to lake care of mo
when yer married me,” she continued.
“Y’or promised all sorts of things, and
yor haven’t kept a promise. Fur six
years, Pete, I’ve kep’ you. Yer
havou’t worked a fifth of tho time, an’
I’ve scon precious little of yer money
when yer did work. I’ve taken care
of you fur six years,|do you hear? I’ve
worked with my hands and arms over
that waahtub—my hands and arms
ns used to be as white as any gal’s in
tho county, to got you somethin’ to
eat. But I’ll do it no more, I tell yer.
I bore’s food in the house, but it’s
mine. Yc can have no more of it.
Ef yor want to cat, go to work an’
earn it. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
• Tho man sat down in a rough clmir,
and looked at her stupidly. The
tough hands that In? had just washed
In the tin basin were clasped behind
him, and the fingers woro moving to¬
gether clumsily and nervously.
“Yer don’t mean it, Jane?” he
said; “I've never heerd ye talk like
this before. There’s somethin’ the
matter with yer, gal. Tell me what it
is.”
' “I do monn it!” she answered,
hoarsely, and with effort; “yoti'vo
got to work, and that’s the end of it.
You don’t get another meal uutil you
pay for it.”
“Work!” said the man; “there ain’t
no work, Jane. Y'or knows I’d work
if that* was any. But till the mines
gets agoiu’ ag’in, tliar won’t bo no
work fur me. I ain’t tho only one.
Thai’s three hundred an’ more of us
here in the sumo fix, and thar usod to
be more’n a thousand. The young
fellers can go away, but a married
man can’t. Don’t yor see, Jane, a mar¬
ried man can’t, lie’s got a home. An’
all lie can do is lo stay here till they
run the mills ag’in. An’ that’s the
reason I can’t git no work, gal; I’m
a married man, an’ I got a home—
leastways I tho’t I lied.”
She turned her head away from
him. The red light of the fire shown
through the untrained hair that hung
over her ears in a fuzzy cloud. He
could not see her face, but that did
not matter. He could always see it
In his imagination, and it was always
the laughing face of the young gh-]
he had married years before, If he
had loved her less, perhaps he would
have noticed how time and trial and
work had changed it. But 6he was
always the same to him, and he had
•upposed that he was always the same
to her. She was not a woman who
talked much. Ho had never heard
her complain before, Perhaps
that wa* the reason why,
when she did complain, she uttered
such bitter words. He would have
liked to go toller and throw his strong
arms about her and kiss her, the way
ho had seen other men treat their
wives when a little temporary annoy¬
ance made them cross. But he had
never been able to take such liberties
with her. They seemed liberties to
him. She was something wonderful,
in his eyes, and, with his dull con
sciousness, he was perfectly satisfied
to sit and watch her, day after clay,
and not help her oven so much as to
make the fire for her.
Presently she spoke.
“Y'er can git work if ye want to,”
she said.
He began to notice the coldness in
her voice, the strangeness of her man¬
ner, which was unaccouutable to him,
even though he appreciated the fact
that she was angry.
“Whar?” he asked, wondering what
,*he meant.
THE MONROE ADVERTISER. FORSYTH, GA„ TUESDAY", AUGUST 9. 1892.-EIGHT PAGES.
She hesitated a moment. Then she
said:
‘•I heerd of a prosperin' oxpedislnm
that was to start loinorry and thet
wanted men.”
“Yer don’t mean ter say, Jane,” be
said, after waiting a moment, as
though he expect' d her to take tho
words back—“yer don’t mean ter say
thet yer want me to go on thet thar
prospectin’ expedisliun?’’
“It’s work,” she answered, evas
ively.
“But it’* to be gone for a year,
Jane, an’ maybe two, an’ maybe for¬
ever, an’ God knows ef I’d ever see
yer ag'iu or not. Y'ou don’t mean
thet. My wife don’t want me to go
on thet—mo a married man, with a—
with a—home. Why, the young
fellers won’t go on thet. Why, yer
don’t w nt rue to go on thet, Jane,
surely.”
“It’s work,” she said again, coldly.
He sat stupefied and silent for a
long time. It was tDo first time he
had ever attempted to adjust his own
ideas to those of his wife. Naturally,
tho only way by which the adjust¬
ment could be accomplished was the
total substitution of his wife’s ideas
for his own.
“I’ll go! ” he said suddenly. “They
start tomorry, an’ ef I’m to git the
job I’ve got ter go now.”
lie rather expected her to cry. He
hoped that at the last moment she
would protest. She did neither. He
wanted to say something more. He
did not know how to say gooa-bye;
he had never done it before.
“Kin yer take care of verself ?’’ he
asked.
“1’vo done it pretty near ever since
wo wuz married,” she answered.
“I ain’t got much to leave yer,” he
continued.
“I know it,” she answered.
“Here’s this yerc pocket book,” he
went on, drawing from a capacious
pocket an article of that description,
that was quite large enough to hold
at any one time all the money he
would ever make in his life. “It
won’t be no use to me. Maybe it won’t
be much to you, but yer might as woll
have it.” He throw it down on the
table. “Fact is,” ho continued, “I
don’t want anythin’ but what I got on.
Yer might as well keep the revolver.
Maybe some man’ll come trampin’
round yere,” (ho did not see her
wince) “an’ ye’ll need it to defend
yerself. ’Tany rate, yo kin sell it, ef
yer get hard up.”
Ho stood over her. He wanted to
kiss her but she did not move.
“Good-bye,” ho said again, as lie
closd the door quickly, so that he could
believe that she had replied, after all.
Then he began the winding descent of
hill.
She was motionless for a minute
after he had gone. Then she rose and
looked for a mere moment triumph¬
ant. She drew from the bosom
of her dress a tintype and looked at
it smilingly. She kissed it, and then
slio sat again at tho table and looked
at it intently in tho light of the wood
lire, repeating monotonously a dozen
times die words: “I won’t have to
work—I won’t have to work—I won’t
hnvo to work.”
Suddenly her eyes fell on the great
pocket-book lying on the table. She
laughed aloud. What could have pos¬
sessed him to leave such a thing as
that? Had there ever been any money
in it’ She could not remember the
time. She opened it curiously and
looked through all tlie compartments.
Empty—empty—empty—every one of
them, until the last. There was a
piece of soiled paper in that. She
drew it forth and saw that it was a
letter. It took her quite a minute to
realize that the letter was in her own
handwriting, and that it was the only
letter she had ever written to him. It
was written iu reply to his proposal
of marriage. “Dear Pete,” it began,
and it ended: “I w r ill love you al¬
ways.”
She felt as though some one had
struck her a terrible blow, as she read
the words. She could hardly breathe.
It seemed as though her heart had
stopped beating. She picked up the
tintype with her right hand and placed
it beside the letter. For a moment
she looked at them with a steady
glance. Then the tears came. Brush
ing them a-ido with her arm, she
threw the tintype into tho blazing
fire. Half blinded by those that fol¬
lowed, she ran to the door and rushed
out. In the moonlight she could sec
the road he had just gone down to the
camp. He was out of sight and out
of hearing—out of sight and out of
hearing, but she sank down on a rock
and beat on it with her hands.
“Pete—Pete—” she cried, “come
back—come back J”
She did not know how it happened,
but it seemed to her as though he
must have flown back to her straight
through the air from the prospector’s
camp down in the valley, for a mo
ment lat j r she felt herself lifted in his
strong arms and carried into the
house. He placed her in a chair and
gave her a drink of water (the only
medicine he knew) and then said half
apologetically:
‘•I came back, Jane, because I for¬
got the only thing I wanted to take
with me. It’s in the pocket-book—not
money—not mouey, dear. Ef I had
any money I’d leave it with you. It’s
only a letter. And now I must go,
gal, or 111 he late. Good-bye—’*
‘•No—no— no-—!’* she cried, fling
j ing her arms about him, “I will not let
yet- go. I’m afraid to stay here alone,
I’m afraid of everything—of myself,
You must not go!”
"Yer don’t mean it?” he said, won
j , deringiy and delightedly, “Yer don’t
mean it, Jane, It can’t be true?”
••Slay,” she said, “dear Pete, and I
J will Ledger. love you always.” —[New York
j In Faror of Hard Money.
The two small girls of the family
threw themselves violently upon the
papa of the family as he entered tho
hall door.
“Auntie is going to take us to the
fair,” they shouted.
“Good!” exclaimed papa, in the
cheerful tone papas affect when con¬
versing with their olive branches.
“Splendid! I wish she would take
me, tool”
“Perhaps she would if I asked her,
papa,” suggested literal Grace, pulling
the papa’s mustache sideways.
“Oil, never mind,” said papa, hast¬
ily. “Y'ou can bring me home some¬
thing pretty instead.”
“That’s it,” cried eager Helen.
*‘That's what we want, papa—some
money to buy things.”
“Oh, you do, do you? Well, I hap¬
pen to feel rich tonight” The papa
drew a roil of bills out of his pocket,
and put a dollar bill into the baud of
each astonished little girl.
“Oh, papa,” exclaimed Helen, “a
whole dollar! YVe can buy every¬
thing we want! How lovely, Grace!”
But Grace, looking at her tieasure,
began to cry. “I wanted some
money,” she sobbed.
“Well, there it is, Grade,” said
papa.
“Oh, no, no!” moaned Grade, “I
wanted some money; some money
like you give me sometimes. I can’t
do anything with that. I don’t know
what to do with that long thing, papa.
I just wanted a little money.” — [Har¬
per’s Young People.
A Famous Feat.
Not all the heroes who deserve
medals from Uncle Sam get them.
None lias ever been asked for or ob¬
tained by tho life saving crew at Ship
Canal, Lake Michigan, which per¬
formed the famous feat of November
17, 1886. Night had fallen when tho
telegram came from Marquette, 110
miles away, saying, “Two vessels
ashore here; many on board; unless
aid soon had all must perish. Can
you help us?” Swift came the an.
swer back, “We will come.”
With incredible speed the apparatus
was loaded upon a special train and,
TP’lp “ p< from the crowd
ami a scream of defiance from the en¬
gine, away dashed the brave crew ou
its splendid errand at the rate of a
mile a minute. Before the stroke of
midnight they had arrived and work
was begun in the midst of the worst
snowstorm of the season. After eight
hours of indomitable effort 24 peoplo
were saved, and over the wires in all
directions sped the message, “Not a
life lost.”—[Washington Star.
An Ever-Rising Lake.
One of the natural curiosities in
this county is Lone Lake, which lies
in a butte, or mound, in the Simcoe
foothills, six miles northwest of this
city. This butte looks as though the
top had caved in, as the trees are lying
dead all over tho bottom and years
ago were growing where the lake now
lies. This lake cannot be seen until
one reaches the summit of the butte,
as it is circular in form, and sur¬
rounded by a wall or bank of earth
which is covered with trees. The
bank itself is more than 100 feet
wide. The early settlers tell of cut¬
ting hay on the ground which this
body of water now covers, a good
many years ago. There is no doubt,
the waters steadily rising, trees have
been covered, have fallen, and now
lie slowly decaying beneath the
waters. It is fairly possible that the
lake will one day fill the entire cavity
in the but e and overflow the banks.
A few years ago the lake was stocked
with carp, and its waters are fairly
alive with them now. Last season a
great many catfish were put into the
lake. They will likely do well there
and soon exterminate the other fish.
The lake affords excellent boating,
and is becoming a pleasure resort.—
[Goldendale (Ore.) Sentinel.
Loom Weaving by Electricity.
The experiment of weaving by elec
‘ tricity has just been tried for the first
time in England, ami with perfect
success at the loom works of Mr.
Henry Livesey, limited, Greenbank,
Blackburn, Tiie works are iilumi
nated by electric light, the electricity
being generated by a large dynamo;
and takiug advantage of this installa¬
tion a motor lias been fixed in one of
the upper rooms, and drives the ident¬
ical loom which secured to Mr. Live
scy the medal at the Paris exhibition.
This loom, of which there are hun¬
dreds of fac similes running in Black¬
burn mills, has what is kn own as a
44-inch reed space, and with the elec¬
tric power is being worked at the
rate of 210 picks per minute.
Horse Power.
One—That horse kicked his attend¬
ant into insensibility.
Two—Now I know what his owner
meant by calling him a “stunning*
animal. —fRider and Driver.
PUTVp^p 1 WFnm\ T fX
*
'
Queer Connubial Customs of the
Pig-Tailed Celestials.
The Groom's Presence Not
Necessary During Marriage.
Love and romance play little part in
the marriages of China, according to
the Ostasiatischer Lloyd. The China¬
man who enters the harbor of matri
mony looks upou the matter as a ful¬
filment of a duty which he owes to his
aYicestors.
The custom of the Chinese, continues
the journal, to marry off their sons
and daughters at an early age does not
seem advisable to the Europeans. It
is also the rule in China that unions
only take place between families of
equal social and financial standing.
Disregard of this rule would cau»o
subsequent trouble invariably. Tho
custom of early marriages is founded,
moreover, on principles incomprehen¬
sible to the Western mind. The boy
and girl joined in wedlock do not
form a new family, but rather the
youngest branch of the family tree,
upon which they are henceforth de¬
pendent.
The duty of parents towards their
sons does not end with their marriage;
they are obliged to care for them
after that time also. There is a great
disadvantage in this system. The
son, being under the eye3 of the
parents as long as they are alive,
really never becomes independent.
All members of the family live, when
possible, under one roof, and even
after the death of the parents the sons
continue, as a rule, together in the
family home. When the father dies
the oldest brother assumes his place
as the head of the family, and when
the mother dies the wife of the oldest
brother takes her place. But, again,
the system has many advantages. As
the girls are married very young, they
are unacquainted as a rule with the
duties of a housewife. But in enter¬
ing the households of their fathers-in
law they learn the needful lessons in
family economy.
It is nothing rare, adds the paper,
for boys twelve to fourteen years old
to marry. The physical, moral and
intellectual development of the con¬
trasting parties has nothing whatever
to do with the matter. Other consid¬
erations entirely regulate the affair.
An old Chinese aphorism says that the
great business of life is ended when
the sons and daughters are married.
The Chinese parents do not care to
run the danger of postp oni ng the mar¬
riage of their children, especially of
their eons, until after their own death.
A Chinese engagement dates its be¬
ginning from the exchange of red
cards between the parents of the con¬
tracting parties. These cards in many
districts are immense documents
almost the size of a horse blanket.
They are important for the reason that
they are used as evidence in case of
disagreements in the future. We sel¬
dom hear in China of broken engage¬
ments. Yet if a quarrel cannot be
settled peacefully recourse is had to
tho law, and the judge usually imposes
a fine upon the party who has broken
the contract.
The chief incident in a Chinese mar¬
riage is the arrival of the bride in In r
bridal clothes before the house of her
chosen one. That is a de facto ful
fill meat of the contract, The wed
ding day is determined by the parents
of the groom. The Imperial calendar
names the lucky days, and on such
days the so-called ‘red celebrations’
take place, both iii the ci'ies and
country, The same bridal clothes
may be used several times.
That the chief part of a Chinese
marriage is the arrival of the bride at
the house of the groom is illustrated
again by the fact that the sons are
often married without being present
at their own weddings. It is not be¬
lieved to be fortunate to change th
wedding day when once decided. If
the future husband, therefore, happens
to be called away on the wedding day
the marriage takes place by sending
the bride to his house.
How Shot is Made.
Shot is made of a mixture of lead
aiul some form of arsenic. The ef¬
fect of this arsenic is to render the
lead less brittle and of a better con¬
sistency for taking the round form.
The lead is melted in a large vessel
and the arsenic compound is intro¬
duced into the middle of the molten
mass and stirred in. The vessel is
then covered and left for some hours,
during which time the arsenic becomes
thoroughly combined with the lead,
and the mixture is then tested by
dropping a little of it through a colan¬
der into water. If the drops assume
a long form, or are flattened on one
side or in the middle, or are other¬
wise imperfect, it is understood that
the proportion of arsenic was not cor¬
rect.
YIThen the entire mass of lead has
thus been brought to the proper con¬
sistency it is run into bars, and these
are taken to the top of a high tower.
They are again melted and poured
t nto large vessels of tin with holes in
he bottom, all perfectly smooth and
of uniform size. The drops of molten
lead falling through these holes from
the top to the base of the tower are
acted upon by currents of air, nud f
thus assume a perfectly round form, 1
so by the time they reach the bottom
tlier ll5V1! lj, - col “» i*ard enough by
L 'T tb0shocli ot slliki " g
the surface of a large vessel of water
placed to receive them without alter¬
ing their shape at ill.
The larger the shot to be made the
higher must be the tower. Usually
spuikiug, the shot tower is about 100
feet high, though it is sometimes 150
feet and upwards, aiul the highest
s 1 101 towers in the world are in Eu
rope, where there are two as high as
250 feet. When the shot are taken
out of the water into which they fall, j
they are dried and sorted according to
their size by sifting them through a
revolving cylinder, perforated 1
with
holes. These holes increase in size
toward the lower end of the cylinder,
the small shot dropping through above
and the larger lower down, and each
size is received into its own box. The
shot are then taken and put into a cyl¬
inder with pulverized lead, and kept
to'atiog for a short time, so that all
are slightly coated with this substance,
and then they put up in tin tins or
other vessels for use.—[Boston Culti¬
vator.
The Zebra’s Stripes Make It Vanish.
Almost every writer who treats of
the colors of animals refers toGaltou’s
observations that in the bright star¬
light of an African night zebras are
practically invisible even at a short
distance; but there can be no doubt
that their peculiar striped appearance
is also of great protective value in
broad daylight. On a recent zebra
hunt near Cradock, in which I took
p .rt, several members of our party
commented on the difficulty of seeing
zebras even at moderate distances, al¬
though there was nothing to hide
them, the black and white siripes
blending so completely that the ani¬
mals assume a dull brown appearance,
quite in harmony with the general
color of the locality in which they are
found, and in which, for instance,
RioiRehbok (Pelea capreolata) is also
well protected on account of its pecu¬
liar brownish coat.
A member of our party, who on
another occasion gave proof that he is
possessed of excellent eyesight, and
who has frequently hunted in similar
localities, saw a zebra which wa*
wounded in one of the front legs at a
distance of about 400 yards, and,
strange to say, he mistook it for a big
baboon. In a letter which I received
from him a few days ago he said, “’t
galloped like a baboon from me, and
I could only see that the color was
grayish brown. At about 500 yards
from me it ran cn to a little krs.nl*,
and, mounting the highest rock, drew
its body together just as a baboon does
when its four feet are all together on
the summit of a little rock.” His re¬
mark as to the grayish brown color of
the animal is the more valuable, as I
believe this gentleman, Mr. Wrench,
A.R.M., of Cradock is quite unpreju¬
diced. In my own letters to him,
which drew forth these remarks, I
had only asked him for the distance
at which he saw the zebra, and I did
not ask him how it was that he mis¬
took a black and white zebra for a
brown baboon on a perfectly clear
South African day.— [London Nature.
Chief Uses of Mica.
The chief use of mica is in the form
of thin sheets for stoves and furnaces.
For this purpose it must be clear and
free from bad spots, cracks, or blem¬
ishes of any kind. The most desir¬
able color is stated to be wine red. Of
late years there has arisen a consider¬
able demand for mica in the form oi
strips some eight inches long by one
inch wide for insulating purposes in
the manufacture of electrical appar
tus. The qualities essential for these
purposes are toughness and freedom
from iron. There is a considerable
and increasing demand for ground
mica, which allows of the utilization
of the scraps, which must otherwise
go to wasie. At present eight grades
are prepared, the coarsest being used
to give a spangled eflect to fancy
grades of wa.l paper, while the finest
i3 used in producing a uniform metal¬
lic white surface on the same. The
intermediate varieties are used mainly
in the manufacture of lubricants for
heavy machinery.— [Scientific Ameri
can.
B onders of the Human Heart.
The workings of the human heart
have been computed by a celebrated
physiologist, and he has demonstrated
that it is equal to the lifting of 120
tons in twenty-four hours, Presutn
ing that the blood is thrown out of
the heart at each pulsation in the pro¬
portion of sixty-nine strokes per miu
ute, and at the assumed force of nine
feet, the mileage of the blood through
the body might be taken at 207 yards
per minute, seven miles per hour, 168
miles per day, 61,320 miles per year,
or 5,150,880 miles in a life time of 84
vears. In the same period of time the
heart must beat 2,869,776,000 times.
— [Philadelphia Press.
Her Accomplishment.
Young Perkins—You have charm¬
ing daughters, Mr. de Peyster. What
a delightful voice Miss Clara has, and
how divinely Miss Eugenia ^lays the
piano! Has Miss Carolyn any accom¬
plishment?
De Peyster—Certainly; she’* a
summer girl.—[Puck.
HAWAII.
p u t ure Importance of the
Sandwich Islands. .
Their Advantageous Position
in the Pathway of Nations.
The Sandwich Islands, which com¬
pose the Hawaiian kingdom, write*
Miss L - Badenoch, in the Asiatio
Quarterly, lie perfectly isolated in
mid-Pacific ocean, in lattitude from
18 degrees 50 minutes to 22 degrees 20
minutes north of the equator, while
their lougitudo is from 150 degrees to
160 Agrees ' ve9t from Greenwich,
Tlius (Ilc .v are almost equidistant
from China and Japan on the one
hand, from California and Mexico on
the other; and they are tho most
northerly, as they' are the only impor¬
tant, island cluster of the Polynesian
Archipelago. They are thirteen in
number, eight being of considerable
size and the rest but insignificant is¬
lets—Hawaii, Maui, Oahu, Kawai,
Molokai, Lanai, Nunau and Kahool
awo. All are inhabited, except Ka
hoolawe, which was abandoned a few
years ago.
To reach Hawaii nowadays is, says
Miss Badenoch, no very difficult task,
since it lies on the direct line of route
taken by tho splendid steamers of the
most rapid mail service which exists
between Australia and London. Hav¬
ing crossed tho Atlantic and found
our way to San Francisco, “tho Queen
City of the Golden West,” we re-em
bark there in one of the steamships of
the Oceanic or Union Company, and,
after a run of 2100 miles, arrive in a
week's time at Honolulu, on Oahu,
the capital of the islands.
The traveller from Australia ships
at Sydney or Auckland, as the case
may be. From the first, Honolulu ii
distant 5181 miles, a voyage of little
more than a fortnight; Auckland
being nearer by 1281 miles, tho time
between ports i* from four to five day*
shorter.
The advantages enjoyed by these
islands as regards position must be
plainly evident. Were they nothing
but a set of barren rocks they would
3tiil assume an importance, lying as
they do in the very pathway of trade
between the United States and
Australasia, and the great empires of
China and Japan.
The completion of the Canadian
trans-continental railway has revealed
to them a fresh vista of prosperity.
Were the Isthmus of Panama opened
up, or, better agaiu, the Nicaragua
Canal, and were the proposed Ameri
onblo, o.. a British one. to the
colonies laid, which is to touch at
Honolulu, there can be no doubt they
would increase the opportunities and
inestimable value of Hawaii to the
trading nations at large.
When, in addition to this, to say
that, for exceeding beauty and grand¬
eur of scenery, for fertility of soil
and salubrity and equability of
climate, it is a very paradise upon
earth, is but to state the simple truth,
it will be seen that the possibilities in
the future of this little kingdom are
almost illimitable.
The setting of the gem is grand,
but the intrinsic value of the jewels
is beyond compare. Had its situation
as regards commerce been nil, its own
wondrous gifts alone must assuredly
have secured for it a sufficiency of ad¬
miration and regard. I say nothing
of its situation from the strategic
point of view, though this points it
out as the future “Gibraltar of the
Pacific.”
The Cost of Keeping an Elephant.
All the elephants used in the Indian
army as draft animals in the artillery
or commisariat or baggage animals in
the tranport department, are very
carefully attend to, and in every
way treated with the greatest consider¬
ation. Their keep is rather expen¬
sive, being about thirty rupees, oi
seventeen dollars per day, including,
of course, the wages of their mahout
and grass-cutter. They are fed prin¬
cipally on uiihusked rice and grass;
of the former they get about two hun¬
dred and fifty pounds and of the latter
about four hundred pounds per diem,
The very large female eats, after the
I first day or two, about seven hundred
and fifty pounds of green fodder in
eighteen hours; this is exceeded ofien
by large tuskers, so that about eight
hundred pounds Is about the right
amount to placed before a full-grown
elephant, with a margin to allow for
waste. As a good load for an elephant
is about eight hundred pounds, it will
be seen that the amount he will eat per
day will be as much a3 he can carry',
and this will be ibe right proportion
f->r the smaller ones. — [Harper’*
Magazine.
A Promising Genius.
The boy had been sitting for three
hours watching the bob on his fish
line when the man came along.
“What arc you doing there?” said
the man.
“Fiehin’,” said the boy.
“Got anything?” 6aid the man.
“Yep,” said the boy.
“YVhat?” said the man.
“Patience,” said tho boy, and th<
man offered him $4 a week to come
down lo the railroad ticket office and
answer questions. — [Detroit Free
P| ( *4
The Listening Wood*.
I went to the leafy forest;
Not a leaf, not a flower was stirred;
Still, in its nook, was the dreaming brook,
Still was the nesting bird.
I looked at the shadowed mosses*
I looked at the nests o’efhead,
I looked at the small brook dreaming
Alone in its sandy bed.
I listened long in the stillness;
I listened and looked In vain ;
It seemed that the silent forest
Never would wake again.
At last, like a gentle breathing*
A wind of the Southland blew.
And it whispered, ’The folk of the forest
Are listening, child, like you !
-[Ida \Y. Ben ham, in Youth’s Companion.
HUMOROUS.
A regular bore—Tho anger.
Women are wedded 10 fashion, and
they love, honor and obey it cheer¬
fully.
The dishonest butcher is always
willing to meat his customers half¬
weigh.
Tubbs—1 llaltcr myself that honcstv
i- printed on my face, Grubs—Well—
ci—ves, perhaps—with some allow¬
ance for typographical errors.
Clara, patronizingly—It is a good
plan for a person in society to try, at
least, to look wise, Debut ante—True
lint don’t you sometimes find it hard
to do so?
Caraway—You’re crazy, man. In
fact, you remind tno of the prodigal
son when his father went to meet him.
Hooks —Eh? Caraway — You’re a
great way off.
Now doth the busy summer girl
Imprpve each shining minute,
And mends her last year’s landing net
To cutch a husband in it.
Sympathy', dear friend, is sweet,
but the best brand of sympathy does
not consist in going to see a sick per¬
son and cheering him up by bragging
that you never felt so well in all your
life.
i < Willie,” said mamma, “tell Mary
Ann not to forget to order sweetbread
for lunch.” “Very well,” said Wil¬
lie, and then he went down stairs and
told the cook that his mamma wanted
plenty of cake at the midday meal.
“I suppose you two young pcoplo
would as lief I’d retire,” said Scudds,
facetiously, after Mr. Kissam came
into tho parlor. “Weil papa,” re¬
plied Sue, “you know when you were
talking politics a while ago you said
you were opposed to a third party
yourself.”
“So you enjoyed your visit to the
Zoological Gardens, did you?” in¬
quired a young man of his adored
J ( one’s little Bister. “Oh, camel yes! there And that do
you know, we saw a
screwed its mouth and eyes around
awfully, and sister said it looked
exactly like you when you are reciting
poetry at evening parties.”
Down East Indians.
The largest tribe of Indians cast of
the Mississippi in this country are the
Penobscots, having headquarters on
the islands in a river of tho same
name, twelve miles above Bangor,
Me., and the Passamaquoddys, the
latter living along the Pasnamaquoddy
Bay and the St. Croix River, which
form the boundary line for 100 miles
between the United States and Lower
Canada.
It is difficult to computo with ac¬
curacy tho number in the two tribes,
as many of them have married with
Canadian French and half-breeds,
while others have joined the St. Fiau
ci8 and Tobique tribes of New-Bruns
wick, but they probably can muster
10C0 men and boys and 700 women,
girls and infants. YVhilo the Penob
scots are still much given to woodcraft,
canoe making, suowshoe and elegant
basket work, the more easterly tribe
is but a tribe of basket makers and
shrewd merchants.— [New York
Times.
A Neglected Food.
The people of this country do not
yet know how to u«e the banana. Iu
the tropical climates, where the
banana furnishes the principal article
of diet, the inhabitants have found
numerous methods of utilizing this
delicious fruit, which renders it at
once nutritious and palatable. They
boil it, they bake it, as we do sweet
potatoes, they peel it, cut it in slices
and fry it in a batter, they smash it
into a paste and dry it in the sun, as
we do apples and peaches. They
make it into puddings, pies, comfits
and preserves, and even smother it in
sugar until it is a candied fruit. In
every one of these ways it is both
pleasant to the taste and wholesome as
an article of food.— [New Y r ork Jour¬
nal.
What Opium Is.
Opium is the juice of the seed-ves¬
sels of the white poppy. This species
of poppy grows wild in England and
in the south of Europe, though it is
supposed to be a native of Asia. It is
cultivated for its opium in Hindustan,
Persia, Asia Minor and Egypt, also in
various parts of Europe. The juice is
obtained by making incisions in the
seed-vessel before it is quite ripe,
when the juice exudes and forms in
tears on the edges of the cuts. This
is left twenty-four hours, when it is
scraped off in brownish lumps with a
blunt knife. It then undergoes a
process to prepare it for the market.—*
fPetroit Free Press.