Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

WORDS OF WISDOM. He that gets out of debt grows rich. A hovel well kept is a palace to the inmates. Much learning shows how little mortal knows. Better go round about than fall into the ditch. A pleasant tone and a sweet smile cost nothing. Virtue and a trade are the best por tions for children. Any one may do a casual act of good nature, but a continuation of them shows it to be a part of the tempera ment. Useful knowledge can have no enemies except the ignorant-, it cherishes youth, delights the aged, is an ornament in prosperity, and yields comfort in ad versity. As they who, for every slight infirmity take physic to repair their health, do rather impair it; so they who, for every trifle, are eager to vindicate their char acter, do rather weaken it. Gastronomical Jumble. A traveller relates in Lippincott's Mag azine, the following story of the cuisine of Sweden: “The habit of lunchingin the very presence of dinner, of going to a side table and eating your fill of an chovies, raw herrings, smoked beef and cold eel-pic while dinner is on the very table, still prevails, and is hardly condu cive to health. It is said that the habit of taking ‘a sup,’ as the Swedes call it, arose from the scarcity of delicacies. It was hard to get enough of any one nice thing to make a meal of, so you were first delicately innuendoed off to the brandy table (as it is called), and then allowed to sit down to dinner. The prac tice is universal in Sweden. Private houses, hotels, and boarding houses all feed you on preliminary scraps, and woe be to you if you innocently turn away from the proffered luncheon! You fare like an ascetic and feed yourself on odors. The ordinary routine of dining seems in Sweden to be in wild confusion. Soup sometimes ends instead of begin ning the dinner. Iced soups and cold fish are dainties to the Scandinavian pal ate. Much of the soup ’8 nauseously sweet, flavored with cherries, raspberries, and gooseberries, often with macaroon cakes and spikes of cinnamon floating wildly about in it. This is eaten as a sort of dessert, and is cold and often beautifully clear. If Heine bitterly reviled the English for bringing vege tables on the table au naturcl, there is no such complaint to be made here. Heaven, earth, and Satan’s dominion are eaten with sauce - sauces red, white, and blue, green, yellow, and black— sauce celestial and sauces infernal. Strange combinations of ice cream heaped over delicious apple-tarts, or strange dishes of berry juice boiled down and mixed with farina, sugar, and al monds, then cooled, molded, and turned out into basins of cream, to be eaten with crushed sugar and wine, appear at the end of dinner. The Swedes share with the Danes and Arabs a passionate fondness for sweetmeats. Everything is slightly sweet; even green peas are sugared, as well as the innumerable tea and coffee cakes, so that long before the unhappy tourist has finished his tour he is a hopeless dyspeptic or a raging Swe dophobe.” An Oregon Sturgeon’s Sagacity. Many remarkable stories have been told concerning the sagacity of the stur geon, some of which are hard to believe. That these lish are endowed with a heap of savey is shown by the following; Yesterday afternoon a number of repre sentatives from the fish markets of this city, embarked on the steamer, “Calliope” to see the launch of the “Multnomah.” They were standing in a row along the rail when a philosophical looking old sturgeon leaped out of the river on the guard of the boat, as if to get a better view of the launch. Happening to look up he saw a row of fish dealers with their eyes fixed upon him, evidently cal culating how much he would weigh when made into sea bass. With a fright ened snort the astute fish leaped back into his native element, went down, and a minute later came to the surface half a mile off, looking back to see if he was pursued. Seeing the fishermen still standing in a row and looking disconso late. he put his tail to the end of his nose and gently waved it, like a long, bony hand, at them, and then went be low to resume his regular business of catching suckers. — Portland Oregonian. Heard Through th? Earth. Reports collected since the memorable eruption of Krakatoa, in August, 1883, have shown that the explosions were heard over a circle of thirty degrees radi us. A more astonishing announcement still is now made by Dr. F. A. Forel, the well known Swiss physicist. He has learned that on the day of the great eruption startling subterranean noises re sembling the rolling of distant thunder were heard in Caiman-Brae, a small island in the Caribbean Sea, near the antipodes of the volcano of Sunda Strait. These sounds can not readily be attrib uted to any neighboring volcanic dis turbance, and Dr. Fore'is forced to infer that they may have been propogated through the entire diameter of the earth- Natures Transformation. A tadpole, the larva of a frog, has a tail and n<> legs, gills instead of lungs, a heart precisely like that of a fish, a horny beak for eating vegetable food, and a spiral intestine to digest it. With the approach of maturity the hind legs appe.v, then the front pair: the beak . falls off ; the tai! and gill- waste away • L the lungs are created- the digestive ap • paratus is changed t s. ■ the -roimal diet; the heart become- reptilian in type by the addition of another auricle; in fact, skin, muscles, nerves and blood- 1 vessels vanish, being absorbed atom by atom, and a new set is substituted. ©alette. VOL. XII. NASTV WEATHER. On a day like this, when the streets are wet, When the skies are gray and the rain is falling, Tow can you binder an old regret For a joy long dead, and a hope long set, From rising out of its grave and calling— Calling to you, with a voice so shrill, That it scares the reason and stuns the will’ On a day like this, when the sun is hid, And you and .your heart are housed to gather, 11 memories come to you all unbid. And something suddenly wets your lid, Like a gust of the outdoor weather, IV hy, who is in fault, but the dim old day, Too dark for labor, too dull for play? On a day like this, that is blurred and gray, When the rain drips down in a ceaseless fashion, If a dream, that you banished and put away, I omes back to stare in your face and say Mute eloquent words of passion; If the whole vast universe seems amiss, Why, who can help it, a day like this? —Ella Wheeler Wilcox.. THE PURSER'S STORY. BY LI KE SHARP. I don’t know that 1 should tell this story. When the purser told it to me I know it was his intention to write it out for a magazine. In fact he had written it, and I understand that a noted American magazine had offered to publish it, bu 1 have watched that magazine for over three years and 1 have not yet seen the purser's story in it. lam sorry that I did not write the story at the time, then perhaps I should have caught the ex quisite peculiarities of the purser’s way of tellingit. I find myself gradually for getting the story and I write it now for fear I shall forget it, and then be har rassed all through after life by the re membrance of the forgetting. Perhaps after you read this story you will say there is nothing in it after all. Well, that will be my fault, then, and I can only regret, that I did not write down the story when it was told to me, for as Isatin the purser’s room that day if seemed to me that I had never heard any thing more graphic. The purser's room was well forward on the Atlantic teamship. From one. of the little red curtained windows you could look down to where the steerage passen gers were gathered on the deck. When the bow of the great vessel dove down into the big Atlantic waves, the smother of foam that shot upward would be borne along with the wind and spat ter like rain against the purser’s window. Something about this intermittent patter on the pane reminded the purser of the story and so he told it to me: There w ere a great many steerage pas sengers getting on at Queenstown, he said, and as you saw when we were there it is quite a burry getting them aboard. Two officers stand at each side of the gangway and take up the tickets as the people crowd forward. They generally have theif tickets in their hands and there Is no trouble. I stood there and watched them coming on. Suddenly there was a fuss and a jam. "What is it?” I asked the officer. “Two girls, sir, say they have lost their tickets.” I took the girls aside and the stream of humanity poured in. One was about 14 and the other, perhaps, 8 years old. The little one had a firm grip of the elder’s hand and she was crying. The larger girl looked me straight in the eye as I questioned her. “Where’s your tickets?” “We lost thim, sur.” “Where?’' “I dunno, sur.” “Do you think you have them about you or in your luggage?” “We've no luggage, sur.” “Is this your sister?" “She is, sur.” “Are your parents abroad?” “They are not, sur. ' “Are you all alone?” “We are, sur.” “You can't go without your tickets.” The younger one began to cry the more and the elder answered: “Mabbe we can foind them, sur.” They were bright-looking, intelligent children, and the larger girl gave me such quick, straightforward answers, and it seemed so impossible that children so young should attempt to cross the ocean without tickets that I concluded to let them come, and resolved to get at the truth on the way over. Next day I told the deck steward to bring the children to my room. They came in just as I saw- them the day before, the elder with a light grip on the hand of the younger, whose eyes j never caught sight of. She kept them resolutely on the floor while the other looked straight at me with her big, blue eyes. “Well, have you found your tickets.'’ “No. sur.” “What is your name?” “Bridget, sur." “Bridget what. “Bridget Mulligan, sur. “Where did you live?” “In Kildormey, sur." “Where did you get your tickets?” “From Mr. O’Grady, sur.” Now I knew Kii-iormey as well as I know this ship and I knew O’Grady wa f our agent there. I wculd have given a good deal at that moment for a few words with him, But I knew* of no SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING. AUGUST 19,1885. Mulligans there, although, of course, there might be. I was born myself only a few miles from Kildormey. Now, thinks Ito myself, if these two children can baffle a purser that’s been twenty years on the Atlantic when they say they came from his own town, almost, by the powers they deserve their passage over the ocean. I had often seen grown peo ple try to cheat their way across, and I may say none of them succeeded on mv ships. “Where’s your father and mother?” “Both dead, sur.” “Who was your father?” “He was a pinshoner, sur.” “Where did he draw his pension?’ “I donno, sur.” “Where did you get the money to buy your tickets?” “The neighbors, sur, and Mr. O’Grady helped, sur.” “What neighbors? Name tlv"n.” She unhesitatingly named a number, many of whom I knew, and as that had frequently been done before I saw no I reason to doubt the girl’s word. “Now,” I said, “I want to speak with your sister. T oil may go.” The little one held on to her sister' 8 hand and cried bitterly. When the other was gone, I drew the child toward me and questioned her but could not get a word in reply. For the next day or two I was bothered somewhat by a big Irishman named O’Donnell, who was a firebrand among the steerage passengers. As we had many English and German passengers, as well as many peaceable Irishmen, who complained of the constant ructions O’Donnell was kicking up, I was forced to ask him to keep quiet. He became ; very abusive one day and tried to strike me. 1 had him locked up until he came to his senses. While I was in my room, after this little excitement, Mrs. O'Donnell came to and pleaded for her rascally husband. I had noticed her before. She was a poor, weak, broken-hearted woman whom her husband made a slave of, and 1 have no doubt beat her when he had the chance. She was evidently mortally afraid of him, and a look from him seemed enough to take the life out of her. “Well, Mrs. O’Donnell,” I said, “I’ll let your husband go, but he will have to keep a civil tongue in his head and keep his hands off people. I’ve seen men for less put in irons during a voyage aud handed over to the authorities when they landed. And now I want you to do me a favor. There ate two children on board without tickets. 1. don't believe they ever had tickets, and I want to find out. You’re a kind hearted woman, Mrs. O’Donnell, and perhaps the children will answer you." I had the two called in, and they came hand in hand as usual. Th elder looked at me as if she couldn’t take her eyes oil my face. “Look nt this woman," I said to her; “she wants to speak to you. Ask her some questions about herself,” I whis pered to Mrs. O’Donnell. “Acushla,” said Mrs. O’Donnell with 'nfinite tenderness, taking the disengaged hand of the elder girl. “Tell me, dar lint, where yee are from.” I suppose I had spoken rather harsh ly to them before, although I had not intended to do so, but however that may i e at the first word of kindness from the lips of their countrywoman both girls broke down and cried as if their hearts would break. The poor woman drew them toward her, and stroking the fair hair of the elder girl, tried to com fort her while the tears streamed down her own cheeks. “Hush, acushla, hush, durlints, allure the gentlemiu’s not goin’ to be hard wid two poor childher going to a strange country.” Os course it would never do to admi that the companj' could carry emigrants free through any matter of sympathy, and I must have appeared rather hard hearted when I told Mrs. O’Donnell thae I would have to take them back with in to Cork. I sent the children away, and then arranged with Mrs. O’Donnell to see after them during the vayage, to which she agreed if her husband would let her. I could get nothing from the girl ex cept that she had lost her ticket, and when we sighted New Y ork I took them to the steerage and asked the passengers if any one would assume charge of the children and pay their passage. No one would do so. ■■Then,” 1 said, “these children wil go back with me to Cork, and if I find they never bought tickets they will have to go to jail.” There were groans and hisses at that, and I gave the children in charge of the cabin stewardess with orders to see that they did not leave the ship. I was at last convinced that they had no friends among the steerage passengers. I in tended to take them ashore myself be fore we sailed, and I knew of good hands in New York who would see to the little waifs, although I did not propose that any of the emigrants should know that an old bachelor purser was fool enough to pay for the passage of a couple of un known Irish children. We landed our cabin passengers and the tender came alongside to take the Peerage passengers to Castle Garden. I got the stewardess to bring out the children, and the two stood and watched ■ everyone get aboard the tender. Just as the tender moved away there j was a wild shriek among the crowded j passengers, and'Mrs. O’Donnell flung her arms above her head and cried in the I most heart-rending tone I ever heard: “Oh, my babies, my babies ’ “Rapequiet,” hissed O’Donnell.grasp- i ing her by the arm. The terrible ten ■ days attain had given way at last, and I the poor woman sank in a heap at his ‘ feet. “ Bring back that boat,” I shouted- j and the tender came back. “Come aboard here, O’Donnell.” “I’ll notl” he yelled, shaking his fist j at me. “Bring that man aboard.” They soon brought him back and I j gave his wife over to the care of the I stewardess. She speedily rallied, and j hugged and kissed her children as if she j would never part with them. “So, O’Donnell, these are your chil. j dren?” “Yis, they are; an’ I’d have ye know* ■ I’m in a frae country, bedad, and I dare I ' ye to ’ay a finger on me.” “Don’t, dare too much,” I said, “or I’P I show you what can be done in a free ! country. Now if I let the children go j will you send their passage money to the | company when you get it?” “I will,” he answered, althoughl know he lied. “Well,” I said, “for Mrs. O’Donnell’s sake I’ll let them go, and I must con gratulate any free country that gets a citizen like you.” Os course I never heard from O’Donnell since.— Detroit Free Press. Greeley’s Wakeful Sleep. On another occasion, says Oliver John son, I went with him (Horace Greeley) j to hear a discourse from Bev. William j 1 Henry Channing. It was Sunday morn ing, and the topic announced was one in . which ho felt a special interest. Mr. ■ Channing was then, in fact, ministering 1 to a congregation of which Mr. Greeley was a prominent member. It was in a \ hull on the west side of Broadway, above j Canal street, where Dr. Dewey had I preached aforetime. On the way thither i Mr. Greeley begged mo to keep him awake. We occupied a settee within I 1 six feet of the platform, and right under ! 1 the eye of the preacher. I tried to keep i ' him awake by frequent tuggings at. his elbow and playing a by no means soft tattoo upon his ribs. But it was of no use. - lie was “nid nodding” through the whole discourse, not a little to Mr. Channing’s j annoyance, who observed my unsuccessful j efforts to keep his great auditor awake. | But now comes the wonderful part of my j story. Mr. Greeley and I, when the I service was over, went back to the Trib ■ unr, office together. He sat down to hi , desk at once, and made an abstract o Mr. Channing’s discourse, filling some I what less than a column, which appeared i in the Tribune next morning. Mr. Chnn- | ning was utterly amazed when he saw it, I and afterward asked me if it was possi- j bio Mr. Greeley had made the report j When I told him that 1 saw him whil he was preparing it, and could certify thnf it went to Ihe compositor in his own handwriting, and that, moreover, 1 had myself read the proof, he expressed tha greatest astonishment. “Why,” said he, •‘I could not myself have made so accu- . rate an abstract of my discourse, which, j though premeditated, was extemporane i ous. He has not only given the sub- • siance of what I said : he has followed i my line of thought, and remembered not ; a little of my language.” Ido not pre tend to offer any explanation of this i strange mental test. But lam absolute < , y certain of the facts as I have related I them, and that wh it had the appearance - ; of unqualified sleep was in reality a con. dition in which the mental faculties were somehow awake and active. i A Spanish Vendetta. The Madrid correspondent of the Petit Marseillais relates a striking in stance of the intensity of family quarrels ! in Spain. About a year ago a gypsy named Morabs was assassinated at Zerza, in the province of Caceres, by one of I his comrades named Silra. The latter was in due course tried and condemned to death, but his execution did not sat isfy the vengence of the victim’s family. 1 There had been ill feeling between the 1 families for three years, but there had > been no open quarrel until the murder of ’ Moralis. Soon after the execution of 5 the murderer, which took place last month, the two families met on their re turn from a fair near the town of Caceres. 1 They had their mules and cattle with ! them. There were about fifty on each side, including women and children. A • regular pitched battle ensued, revolvers, ’ knives and sticks being freely used by - the men, while the women employed - their nails with considerable effect, and » the children threw stones indiscrimi nately. 'rhe resu't of the struggle was that the heads of the two families were i killed, two of the women, and several of : the children. There were ten or twelve t wounded, and the dead were horribly t mutilated. If the mounted police had not i interrupted the fight, there would have been many more lives lost. Several of the mules were killed, and the baggage I of the two families was strewn about in j such disorder, ths'Hhe road for half a I mile looked as if a larg army had beaten j a retreat along it. CATTLE RAISING. 1 An Immense Area t sell for Craving —Foreign I.anil Owners. The portion of the United States devo 1 ■ ted to grazing, and known as the range and cattle area, embraces 1,365,000 1 i square miles, or 44 per cent, of the total 1 I area of the United States exclusive of 1 Alaska. It is a surface equal to that of j | Great Britain and Ireland, France, Ger- 1 many, Denmark, Holland, Belgium’ Austria, Hungary, Italy, Spain and For- . tugal, and one-fifth of Russia in Europe < - combined. ( Foreign as well as domestic companies own cattle that graze on this immense i territory, in Texas, where are the larg- . ; est ranches, the cattle exhibit marked self-reliant traits of the wild animal I being strong in the instinct of seeking I food and water, and of self-protection I i against the inclemency of the weather, j j In the language of the herdsmen they I are good “rustlers,” which means tha they know how and where to find food and water and have the alertness and i spirit to seek them upon the vast plains ' r and in valleys and mountain fastnesses t ' where they roam, and even beneath the | 1 I snows which in the winter at times, in I I the more northerly regions, cover their , | 1 feeding grounds. ' ] It is estimated that during the year j i 1884 about 300,000 cattle were driven ■ < from Texas to northern ranges, to be there . matured for marketing, and that about I i 625,000 beef cattle were shipped from I Texas direct to the markets of Kansas , 1 city, St. Louis, Chicago and New Orleans. ' | Already the range and ranch business i ; of tlie Western and Northwestern States I , and Terrritories has assumed gigantic j proportions. The total number of cat- i tie in this area, east of the Rocky moun 1 I tains and north of New Mexico and I Texas, is estimated at 7,500,000, and i j their value at $187,500,000. j I The average cost of raising a steer on j 1 the Hinges, not including interest on the < capital invested, is usually estimated by \ t j the large stock owners at from seventy. 1 I five cents to $1.25 a year. Thus a steer 1 four years old ready for market has cost < the owner $4 or $5 to raise. When 1 j driven to the railroal lie is wortli from i j $25 to $45. A recent estimate, approved I i by a number of Wyoming ranchmen, ■ i I places the profit at the end of the third year on a herd consisting of two thou sand cows with one thousand yearlings, , »nd thirty-live short-horn bulls, repre senting in all, with ranch improvements I aud horses, an investment of about $70,000, at $40,000. ] Recently the cattle owners have joined i in a request to the government asking for : i the establishment of a Northern train to ; Northern fattening grounds. The quan tity of land which the government of the United States is asked to donate for the I purpose of establishing the proposed I trail begins at the southern border line of Colorado, and extends to the northern , border line of the United States. It is j proposed that it shall be of variable ; width, from two hundred feet at crossing i places for “native cattle,” to six miles iq the widest part. It must, of course, have sufficient width not only for a line of travel, but also for a feeding ground of cattle “on the trail.” Such a trail, of an average width of three miles, , and extending to the Dominion of Can ada, would be 690 miles in length, and have an area of 2,070 square miles, or 1,324,800 acres. They think this would not be too much, when it is considered that, forty eight millions of acres of the public do- \ main have been given to railroads. To a very considerable extent foreign i ers of large means, and who indicate no intention whatever of becoming citizens of the United State*, have purchased lands within the great range and ranch cattie crea, and embarked in the cattle business. Titles to such lands have been secured, not only by indivi duals, but also by foreign corporations.. Certain of these foreigners are titled noblemen of countries in Europe. Some of them have brought over from Europe, in considerable numbers, herdsmen and other employes who sustain to them the dependent relationships which charac terize the condition of the peasantry on the large landed estates of Europe. The public sentiment of this country appears to be opposed to allowing foreigners to acquire title to large products of land in this country. During the second ses sion of the Forty-eighth Congress, the Hon. William G. Oates, of Alabama,pre sented a report upon the subject to the House of Representatives,from the com mittee of public lands, accompanied by a bill to prohibit aliens and foreigners from acquiring title to or owning lands within the United States. The following lists, showing such ownerships, were presented during a discussion of the subject by members of that body. Purchaser. Acres. English Syndicate No. I (in Texas) 4,oiX>,o!> I Eng ish Syndicate No. 3 tin Texas) 3,<00,000 Sir Edward Reid, K. C. B. (in Florida) 2,000,000 E:r-li-h Syndicate, headed by S. niilpotts 1,800,000 C. It. and Laud Company of I»n- don, Marquis of Tweedale 1,750,000 Phillips, Marshall & Co., of Lon- don 1,300,000 German Syndicate 1,100,000 Angh.-Ameriean Syndicate, headed by Mr. Rogers, London 750,003 An English Company <in Mississip- pi) 700.003 Duke of Sutherland 425,0Q0 NO. 31. British Land and Mortgage Com- pany 320,000 Captain Whalley, M. P. for Peter- boro’, Eng 310,000 Missouri Land Company, Edin- burgh, Scotland 300,000 Hon. Robert Tennant, of London.. 230,000 Scotch Laud Company, Dundee, Scotland 247,666 Lord Dunmore 100,000 Beniamin Nowgas, Liverpool, Eng- land 100.000 Lord Houghton 60,000 Lord Dun raven 60 000 English Land Company (in Florida) 50,000 English Land Company, repre- sented by B. Newg 50,000 An English capitalist (in Arkansas) 50,000 Albert Peel, M. P. Leicestershire, England 10,000 Sir John Lester Kaye, Yorkshire, England 5,000 George Grant, of London (in Kan- sas) 100,000 An English syndicate (represented by Close Bros.) in Wisconsin 110,000 A Scotch company (in California).. 140,000 M. Ellerhauser, (of Nova Scotia,) in West Virginia 600,000 A Scotch syndicate (in Florida).... 500,000 A. Boyesen, Danish Consul, at Mil- waukee 50,000 Missouri Land and S. S. Co., of Ed- inburgh, Scotland 165,000 English Syndicate (in Florida) 59,000 Total 20,541,666 Wall Street Brokers’ Lunches. Between 1 and 2 o’clock in the ifter- I noon, Wall street is at lunch. Some times it takes a bite, sometimes more, but never a feast. But the whole “street" must have the bite at least in the middle of the day, and for two hours then the neighboring restaurants i are thronged. The remainder of the ; day they are deserted. Wall street has | been suffering from the large financial I depression. Yet during it all the res- ; taurateurshave thrived. Many of them ■ have grown rich in the business, and the I prosperity of private individuals has im. ; pelled the organization of heavily capit alized stock companies to supply the inner wants. Wfiat on the bills of fare are desig nated “Dishes ready,” are most called j for. The patrons of the restaurantshave | not time to wait for dishes to be pre pared for them. For that reason roasts, fillets, stews, soups and the like are gen- ■ erally called for. Many of the bankers ‘ and brokers do not leave their offices for i lunch. Their appetites are satisfied at ; their desks, where they can alternately I cast their eye on their plates and on the I tape. No restaurant could exist without | a ticker, and whenever one sits down for a mouthful the clatter of the instru ment awaits his car. Jay Gould says that he is careful not | to spoil n good dinner by a good lunch j earlier. Mr. Gould’s lunch is as light as : lie can make it. It, is as a rule served to ■ him in the office of the Western I nion { building, and consists of a small piece of I bee!, lamb or chicken, followed by a modest amount of fruit in season. Os strawberries, Mr. Gould is particularly ( fond, and he has them for lunch as long ' as they are in the market. Mr. Gould drinks water only with his lunch. Addison Cammack, the “Big Bear,” is equally as abstemious as Mr. Gould. He , lunches when down town at Delmonico’s j Broad street, or Beaver street place. : His order is for something that is pre pared—a piece of beef or lamb nearly always. No stimulants or sweetmeats are | taken by him. Cyrus W. Field’s lunch | is more elaborate. When his office was at Broadway and Liberty street he took j it at the Down Town Club. Now he takes it in the Washington building, at the ! foot of Broadway, where he has his office. Russell Bage is a plain liver. His lunch i consists of nothing more than a sandwich ! and an apple or two, eaten at his desk. Sometimes when business brings the two together he lunches with Mr. Gould. He avoids liquors. Few of the men in the market make a hearty meal of their lunch, and the note-worthy thing is the fact that they do not call for desert. A plate of soup, a piece of meat, or a piece of fish, is all they require. The clerks on the other hand show a liking for sweets. They have more time and a greater inclination to gratify their appe tites than the operators. Not nearly the amount of wino is drank in the “street” i that is supposed to be. The men who | risk their fortunes on the market have to keep clear heads, and those who can not are sure to lose them. Messenger boys swarm Wall street, i They have appetites as well as the mil lionaires and big men of the market, and as a rule are a great deal more voracious. They seize sandwiches at stands in the street as they fly by and swallow them on the run. Those sandwiches would produce dyspepsia in a granite dog, but the messenger boys never feel an internal jiang. All the stands and all the restau rants sell milk, and the amount of it that is drank in the street is surprising. Milk and vichy is a common order. Vichy from a siphon imparts zest to the milk. Henry N. Smith, one of the bear leaders, and an old partner of Mr. Gould’s> drinks milk and vichy.— Neu> York Cook In Cuba, two hours before a paper is distributed on the street, a copy must be sent, with the editor’s name, to the government and one to the censor. When the paper is returned with the censor’s indorsement the paper may go out to tiie public. One of the newspa pers of Havana disregards the law. pub lishes what it pleases, and when it gets ready. Every few weeks the government fines the editor and suppresses the paper. I The next day the paper appears under a I new name. Its frequent brushes with the government advertise it. and people 1 buv it to see what new indiscreti n it i has committed, 'the subscription price > is $24 a year. A Forest Hymn. The glowing »un is riding high Amid the arches ot the sky, The dreamy air lies still, No sound disturbs the leafy glade Save that by busy woodbill made Upon some ancient trunk, decayed— Calm broods o’er vale and hilL In such an hour I love to stray From haunts of toiling men away, ’Mid forest depths profound; There, in a bliss of solitude, Where no dull cares of earth intrude, And Nature breathes sweet quietudo- The grand old trees around — The heart by daily cares oppressed, The wearied spirit findoth rest, As, pillowed on the sod, With nought above but leaf and sky, And loving look of Heavenly Eye, Perchance with angels hovering nigh, I dream of Nature’s God. —Edward JV. Richards in the Current. HUMOROUS. Night keys—Key notes of a cat. con cert, “We meet to part no more,” said the bald-headed man to his hair brush. A maid is a young lady who is single and who will be won if she marries. There is many a dynamiter who is • afraid to give his mother-in-law a blowing up. “How sleep the brave?” asks a poet. This depends largely upon the number of cats in the neighborhood. Some one has been lecturing on “The Danger of Eating Candy.” Cut this ; out and show it to your sweetheart. The giraffe has never been known to utter a sound. This is what makes the giraffe so valuable. They come high, but we must have them. Paper plates are coming into fashion in the East. The only way the hired j girl can get even is to bounce the tin- I ware around and break stove covers. A trifling loss : "Yes,” he observed, :“I was more than surprised. I lost imy head.” “Ah,” she returned, with I an aggravating look, “who told you ?” “What brought you to prison, my. colored friend ?” said a philanthropic visitor to a New York prisoner. “Two constables, sah.” “Yes ; but I mean i had intemperance anything to do with jit?” “Yes, sah; dey was bof of ’em drunk.” In Lapland, where the nights are I from three to six months long, beaux j often kiss their sweethearts “good i night” about six weeks before day j break. Their stock of caramels, pea nuts and small talk becomes exhausted ■ by that time. Kansas Sheep. Sheep they were, indeed; thousands jof them, objects of unfailing concerns |to the gentlemen and delight to the j ladies. “What is that stone wall ?” asked, i one afternoon, a lady sitting on the : piazza with her opera-glass. “That stone wall, madam, answered a Harvard graduate, politely, “is the sheep coming in to the corral.” To see the sheep go in and out, night and morning, was a never-failing j amusement. Sometimes the ladies wandered down to the corrals at sun set to see the herds come in, and you j would have supposed them to be I waiting for a Fourth-of-July proces sion with banners, from the eagerness I with which they exclaimed, “Oh, here j they come! there they are!” as the first faint tinkling of the bells was heard in the distance. If two herds appeared at once from opposite direc tions, the one with lambs had the "right of way,” and Sly, the sheep-dog —not the only commander who has i controlled troops by sitting down in i front of them—would hold the other herd incheck till the lambs were safe ly housed. The lambs born on the prairie during the day frisked back at night to the corral beside their mothers a lamb four hours old being able to walk a mile. When shearing-time came, they i went into tne sheds expecting to see ' the thick wool fall in locks beneath ■ the shears, like the golden curls of their own darlings; great was the . amazement to see the whole wooly j fleece taken off much as if it had been an overcoat, looking still, if it were rolled up in a ball, like a veritabD sheep, and often quite as large as th» . shorn and diminished creature tha’ had once been part of it. One very hot day they braved the heat them selves for the sake of going out on the prairie to see how sheep keep cool Instead of scattering along the creek ( seeking singly the shade or the bushes or the tall trees only to be found near the creek, they huddle together in the middle of the sunny field more close’j than ever, hang their heads in the shadow of each other’s bodies, and remain motionless for hours Not a single head is to be seen as you ap , proach the herd; only a broad level > field of wooly backs, supported by a : ! small forest of little legs.— Harper’s \ Magazine. s A Timely Reply. ’ “How are clocks to-day?” asked r ' dude as he stepped into a Superior 6 street jewelry store and smiled on the ° j clerk. The clerk almost fainted under th . s tlmle’s sickening grin, but had th* t pi i sence of mind to say: “Oh! they're all on a strike.” u As would be said in a novel, Iler i: hert de Quinsy (the dude) muttered • curse between his zine stuffed molar; e and disappeared athwart the glimmer * ing gioorn.— Cleveland Plain Peeler.