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NORTH GE H J _ ■;*"•’■ V S? m __ ijr? GIA TIMES mmmh. oprtotor The Prince’s Bow and Arrows, There was a littjff i’rittca of Spain Lived very tong ago, Who said the big horizon— He would bend it like a bow. His arrows in the form of ships He'd shoot, and make them go To many undiscovered lands Where gold and diamonds grow; , And so this little Prince of Spain Longed for the years to go Until his arm was strohg enough To bend his mighty bow. And so this little Prlnoe of Spatn, r*. Like little boys you know. As the advancing years went on Did marvellously trow. And he became the King of Spain And made the ships to go To many undiscovered lands Where gold and diamonds grow. His arrows In the form of ships Swung Idly to and fro, For though his arm was very strong He eovrld not bend his bow. ' We all are princes of the blood, Who build our ships to go To many undiscovered lauds Where gold and diamonds grow; But still on old familiar sens They wander to and fro, And hug the Immemorial shores • ‘ Where landward breezes blow. And like the li tie Prince of Spain, ... Who lived so long ngo, lYe have our arrows ready But we cannot bend the bow. —8. W. Fossin Yankee Blade. drawing Eras. It was a still, bright sunset ih i?to Octob r. Last liigln’s frost lmd un¬ sealed the chestnut burrs on Yfellow Mountain and shaken the glossy brown treasures out among the fallen leaves and mosses. Thu tall dahlias by the garden fence hung their blackened heads, as if some unseen lire had passed over them, and a locust was winding liis shrill horn among tho h '-poles at the hack door. Old Mrs. Crisp, from her cushioned arm-chair, watched the yellow light fadelelowly away from the western hill-tops. .*« „ She was a Tittle old woman, her faco printed over with fine wrinkles, her eyes shining like black coals under their shaggy gray brows, and she wore a black calico gown patterned in an odd, sickle-shaped design of white, with a muslin half-handkor chicf pinned around her neck, and as she looked this way and that, in a fee¬ ble, petulant sort of way, a deep sigh pnmpcd itself up from her inner con¬ sciousness. “Oh, dear, dear,” said Mr'. Crisp, talking aloud to herself, as was her way during those not infrequent pe riod-of loneliness, “everything’severy which way! There’s the cows lowing at the bars to be milked, and nobody to ipt ’em in, and the pi_,s a-squealin’ for their supper like all possessed, and the turkeys,flappin’ up into the apple tree boughs to roost, instill o’ goin’ into the poultry-house, as they should, and the kettle not on, and me here helpless, a poor, good-for-nothin’ creo tur! What lias become of Lotty!” “Nothing at all, Mrs. Crisp,” spoke up a sweet, distinct young voice, and a girl of seventeen or thereabouts came briskly into the room. “I’ll look after the cows and the turkeys and the pigs and the teakettle. Don’t you fret yourself.” “I can’t noways help it,” said Mrs. Crisp. “You ain’t nothin’ but a feather-headed child, Lotty Ansel, and I’m a fool to have you in tho house. Hurry up with the cows now. I’d be ashamed to have Deacon Brand go by and see ’em not milked this time of the evening. And if the turkeys once get on tlie top branch of the tree, no power alive will git ’em down ag'in.” But Lotty took her time about it— untying her sun bonnet strings and smoothing out her masses of wavy, black hair, before she went to work. “There is no hurry, Mrs. Crisp,” said she. The old woman watched her with an exasperated countenance. “Lotty Ansel;” said she, “I’d like to shake '-ou 1” Lottie laughed as she took up the tea-kettle. “Oh, but you can’t,” said she. “I shall take particularly good care to keep out of your reach. Where’s the milk-pail? Oh, I remember—I left it in the sunshine, out on the bench.” “I’m sure 1 dunno why I have you here at all,” sighed Mrs. Crisp, ner¬ vously patting her foot on the floor. “J know,” said saucy Lotty. “Be¬ cause you can’t get any one else for the wagesjMilke wiy^g io give, with xtip in. Bessie % SPRING PLACE. A.. THURSDAY. DECEMBER 18, 1890. Barclay tried it, and made a dead failure of it; and Susan Harrison would’t stay a week. I don’t know,” Lotty added, reflectively, “tlpt 1 shall stay very long.” “On, Lotty,” cried Mrs. Crisp, “yon wouldn’t leave me here alone?” Lotty paused on the threshold and turned her bright face toward the old woman. “No,” said she, “I won’t, Mrs. frisp. You are very cross and very exacting, and 1 get dreadfully out of patience with you sometimes; but I like you after all, and I won’t leave you just yet.” And she took her way, with light footsteps, toward the cow-yard. “IV, V okiug little creature!” said Mrs. Crisp. “But I don’t know's 1 could do belter. She’s dreadful inde p lident to my face, but that’s bettcr’n talking behind my back. I won der—” And she sat in deep meditation until Lotty returned, a foaming milk-pail in either hand. “I really think,” she broke out at last, “that it would be a good idee for Alexander to get married.” “So do I,” said Lotty, from the bjf^roMU, ilk lnt ° where “ l0W ° she f gli was * olIn straining pan8 TM know,” sharply retorted « ‘ Crisp, “that it’sany of your busi nssvmiss!” “Oh, yes, it is,” said Lotty. “It’s everybody’s business why Aleck Crisp don’t get married. There isn’t a soul in the village but is talking about it.” .ay U won’t let him.” she. “1 was “But sort I ain’t o’ %gin Wlonger. it,” owned Let me “She’s see .‘here’s too old,” Huldal irXosed Jrump-” Lotty, whowasnowscaldinMt M the milk IV-Hs. 4 \ ' “Hold your tongue!” said Crisp, sharply. “And there’s oslu “Alack Crisp would never marry girl with a nose all on one side, i-enmah!” cried Lotty, who had drawn out the round table and was covering it. with a clover-patter qed cloth for tea. She was light in her movements and swift, like a humming-bird. “Haliie Van Yorst,” Mrs. Crisp counted up on her fingers, “and Lucy Barrow—” “They’d any one of ’em marry your Aleck,” said Lotty searching in the cupboard for the spoons, “if they had the chance. ’ “I hate to give him up to a stran¬ ger,” sighed Mrs. Crisp, “but if I’m to be helpless like this, something must be done.” “Oh!” said Lotty, with a toss of her head. “So anyone that marries Aleck has got to marry you, too! Ilal lie Van Vorst never would stand that, Airs. Crisp, and IJnldah Crump has a nice stiff temper of her own too!” “Lottie Ansel, I do wish—” “Look here, Airs. Crisp,” said Lot¬ tie advancing with tho bread-board in one hand and the sharp kn,fe in an other, “I’ll tell you what. When Aleck’s wife makes it too hot -to hold you here, you come anil live with me. ‘ ‘I’ll take care of you if you do scold me sometimes.” “This ain’t a jestin’ subject, Lotty,” said the old woman, severely. “Hu! dah Peninah, Hullie Van Vorst and Lucy Barrow—” “Squire Iladdon’s Victorina is rather spoony on your son Aleck,” suggested Lotty. “I don’t know what spooney means,” said Mrs. Crisp, coldly. “Victorine liaddon and Frances Jane Dodd—all of ’em smart, stirrin’ gals. I don’t kuow which I like best of the lot.” it Draw lots,” suggested mischievous Lotty. “Here’s Aleck’s old hat. Wait a minute till I write the names on slips of paper. Let Aleck draw for himself. That will settle it.” “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Crisp. “Though I don’t know why that ain’t as sensible away as any, arter all. Give me the pencil, Lotty, and a book to write on. I’ll write the names my¬ self. You’ll be up to some of your tricks.” “No, I won’t,” said Lottie. “Hon¬ or bright!” But Airs. Crisp persisted in writing the names in her own cramped old hand. placed ♦*1 woGder,” tlie slips said of she, wlieu in the she m paper •‘what Alexander Aleck Crisp will say?*’ in -''vy*.**;- fo came little late. He was a faWjjjlr* 1 skinned fellow, with sleepy hazel eves, a silky brown beard and a com¬ posed way of taking every (hiugfor granted. He poured a pocket hand¬ kerchief full of shining ehestnutR into his mother’s lap os he entered. f |L ' “I picked them up under the old tree by the bars,” said ho. “We’H roast them, mother, after tea, and here’s a bunch of golden-rod for Lott}'. She likes a posy on the ta¬ ble.” “We’ve got something for, you, too, Mr. Alexander,” said Lotty, pertly. “You are to shut your eyes and draw.” “Draw what!” said Alexander, in his slow way. “A wife,” said Lotty. “Where’s tj, e hat, Mrs. Crisp?” Alexander listened to his mother’s plan j tt perfect silence Ho looked f rora Mrs. Crisp to Lotty and back again. “Whose idea was it?” said he at length. “Lotty’s,” said Mrs. Crisp. ‘‘So she wants mo to get married?’ ,.y £ CQur6e j d o,” gaJd «She’s Ure(l of the place> j 8up . pose?” <<i don’t mind,” said Lotty, biting her lip. “Well, mother,” said Alexander, giowiy, i.py 0 always done as you said ,"Z' M Sd jH£’ K. otk,‘ shut vour leisure?* moment, Jxuu. With der put his hand of the old straw hat which Mrs. Crisp held tn her lap, and drew out a slip of paper. “Who is it, Aleck?” cried Mrs. Crisp, her old faco all a-quiver with nervous excitement. “Vick liaddon, I’ll bet a cooko yi* said Lotty, running* to peep over Aleck's shoulder, “No,it’s Peninah Foster!” said Mr*. Crisp. “I somehow feel it in my bones that it’s Peuiuali!” Aleck, leaning toward the ^lamp, held up his slip of -paper, and read aloud the words: “Charlotte. Ansel I” Mrs. Crisp gave a little ^liriek.. Lotty Ansel, standing there in the full glare of the light, turned a deep scar let, and then ran out of the room. “Come back, I pttv!” cried Mrs. Crisp. “Lotty!” called Alexander, in the deep accent of a command. But Lotty did not come back. It was almost ten o’clock. All the lights but one were out in tlx 8 one storied wooden cabin where the | Ansel family lived, close to the mill. “Don’t let him coine m, -mol her,” sobbed Lotty, “That’s his kno»ck, I know it is. If • on do, I’ll go and drown myself in the mill-dam!” “Don’t be silly, child,” said .ms. Ansel, a stout, motherly soul, with her gray locks twisted into a tight knot -at the back ^her head, and dark, laiq th¬ ing eyes, flL Lotty’s own. Yon’ ve got to seeTflin some time or other — why not now?” And site opened the door, in spite Ot f Lotty’s protestations, to Alexanders Crisp. Tlie girl was crouched in a corner, with crimson cheeks and half-averted eyes, as he came in. “Lotty,” said he, “why did yon run away from me?” “Did you think I was going to stay?” “It was your own idea,” said Alex¬ ander, calmly. “But I didn’t put my name in. I never dreamed of such a thing— never!” protested the girl. “I’ve drawn you by lot, Lotty.” “It was only in joke,” she per¬ sisted. “It may have been a joke to start with,” said Alexander: “but it’s got past the joking point now. I’m in serious earnest, and I mean what I say. My mother is all alone. She must not be left so. For her sake, Lotty, come back.” “I won’t!” flashed out Lotty. “For mine then, Lotty? Dear little Lotty! When I tell ycu that life with out you won’t be worth a farthing? ’ The long lashes fell; the color mounted anew to the soft cheeks. : “Perhaps — I — ought — not — to — leave Mrs. Crisp—alone,” murmured Lotty. And the next moment she was clasp¬ ed in Aleck’s arms. ‘•But how came my name among the of paper?” said Lotty, when she was once more in the kitchen at the Crisp house. “Who put it there?” “I did,” 6aid Mrs. Crisp, calmly. I liked you bettor’n any of the gals whose names you counted over, and l ttyjGglit you ought to have as good a chance as them. You’re a mischiev¬ ous piece, always isakin’ fun of every¬ body and everything, but there's a good deal o’ fun in you alter all, Lotty Ansel. You iiint vexed with me, be you?” “No,” said Lotty. “Not now!” Afterward, when Alexander lmd gone out to lock up the barn, she crept close to Mrs. Crisp and put her arris around the old lady’s withered nock. “He says he lias loved me this long time,” whispered she. “Only he thought I was too young to care for a sober, middle-aged fellow like him. He didn’t know, did be? And dear, dear, Mrs. Crisp, of all the mothers inrlaw in the world, I shall love you the best!” Just then Alexander came in, and nodded kindly toward the pair. .“It wasn’t such a had idea, ’ said he --^‘th'.s drawing lots for a wifel”— , A '* t * a *°' f“ k ' r ’ *° "“ ko ft big fortu “ e ; -areyiWe for money now, but 7 ’It was a good many T ' \ «° ]dob ^ numberless slope throng Armour Acre was searching g »e of for the iSune paid no heed to hi.n, how eV er, but liually he managed to get some <. W vhings” that he sold for $m . This sum ho carefully tied up in an old cotton handkerchief for safe keeping. Then lie hunted around for a place to put it. liis eyes spied an old and dilapidated coflec-pot in a cor¬ ner of the cabin lie occupied with throe other seekers for fortune. He put the $100.carefully in it and placed It lovingly on li convenient.shelf; then he went about his daily toil. When ho returned from work liis eyes iu ' stinctively searched for tho old pot. '< was gone! line of liis partners had tired of work and come home. He had noth¬ ing eltV to do, so lie went to clean house. The old coffee-pot went with tlie rubbish, and a lire, was made of it all iu a little clump of bushes near by. Great was the consternation when Armour told what tlie pot contained. Fiuaily lie reached it, blackened and bent, hut the -money was intact, and no happier man slept in tlie diggings that night. Thereafter lie carried it around wilii him in a belt. And that $100 was the foundation of tho Armour millions.— [Savannah News. r To Make Boots Water-Proof Soak tho soles with pine tar well rubbed in before a fire so as to soften the tar. The tar is applied until the leather will absorb no more, The soles become hard aud tough and im¬ penetrable by water. For the uppers use the following mixture: Four ounces of tallow, one ounce of bees¬ wax melted, add sufficient castor oil ,to make a soft paste and lampblack to Qolor it. This is rubbed into the dry lei xther before a fire until it will ab t or b no more; the leather is then s poi’ged with warm water, which d riva » in the oil.—[New York Times. Emperor and Cripple. A stal ue recently set up at Kaiscr s Lutern, .Germany, in memory of the 1 *teEtnpea°r Frederick, has a 1 lilitory. Yt'ars ago Frederick, then ( "mown PrincC? visited the Children’s hospital there, and in his kindly way rretit about talking to the little ones. Among them was a cripple whose some tho Prince asked, and when the Hod shyly said “Frederick,” the Prince (took his little namesake in his arms »caressingly. The incident is repro iduced iu the statue, which stands in | tke hospital yard, close by the spot where it occurred. Vol. X. New Series. NO. 46 ALPHONSO XIII. The Daily Life of the Child King of Spain Described. Generous by Nature, and Pos¬ sessed of a Hearty Appetite. The liltte King of Spain, Alphonso XIII., according to a recent letter from St. Sebastian, grows in beauty and intelligence every day. Ho lias been quick to pul off the habits of an infant and dou instead those of matur¬ ing childhood. Alphonso sets a good example to liis subjects, childish and otherwise, by rising at 7 o'clock hi the morning. He at once takes a kith under the superintendence of his nunse, to whom lie is so devoted that it has been diyuned wiso to retain her in the household. At 7.30, his toilet being made, he goes out for an airing in the Ayete Park, and it is there, with the fresh breezes of the morning as an appetiz¬ er, that he takes liis breakfast—a simple cup of chocolate and a biroche. Prom that time until midday he re¬ mains in the park, running about, making mud pies and indulging in other engrossing sports of early child¬ hood, while the warm Spanish sun is tinting his pale little face with faint roses and bronze. When the midday angelus sounds from the church towers of St. Sebastian, it is also the signal for the midday meal or meat breakfast taken in liou of luncheon in many of tlie Continental countries. This repast is quite imposing for the little King, for it is enjoyed in the company of his mother and his two sisters, while all the rigors of the Spanish court etiquette aro observed. Breakfast over, all Spain takes a siesta and the littlo King’s head nods with the rest of liis sleepy subjects. Ilfs nurse ftikes him in her tu rns and sings him to sleep with the wild,sweet strains of the gypsy lullabies crooned iu the mountain fastnesses of Central Spain. At 4 o'clock King Alphonso is awake again. It is time for tho state promenade. Madam Tacou, the Court governess, and General Cordor ba, military chief of the King’s house¬ hold, accompany him in this function. The little King lias an intense childish admiration for the brass buttons, the sword and the splendid uniform of tlie General, and in order to please him he lias been made a like outfit in which lie takes great pleasure. He loves to hold the massive cane which the General always carries, and march soldier fashion, with mimic strides, in front of liis suite. The walk is always on some high¬ way, and the populace come in crowds to cheer and greet the baby Mug. lie receives their salutations with great gravity and never fails to respond. Generous by nature, lie fills his little pockets with small coins, bright and fresh from the mint, stamped iu bis likeness. These he distributes right and left to tho numerous beggary that crowd the way, calling, as he slnwers on them the royal bounty, “Tonia!” (take!). Sometimes the expedition is taken in a carriage, but every day this airing forms a part of the routine of the King’s life. At 6 he returns to the palace, ’ where his mother is iu waiting for him. Tlie King has a most remarkable ap¬ petite, and tlie regular life with its many hours of outdoor exercise has increased this faculty. He eats all and as much as he wants. One day liis governess told him that he should not eat of a certain dish because it was bad for him. “Then why did you put it before me?” was the poser pro¬ pounded by the little kingly gour¬ mand. His tastes run to all sorts of queer food, and among other things he has a strange fancy for sau¬ sage, which he cats in large quantities. His mind is untutored—lie does not know liis letters and all mental educa tion is forbidden. His mother is de termined that liis body alone shall be trained, at least for the present. “He is to be made a manthese are the Queen’s orders. His severe illness of last year has made Queen ChriBtine extremely cautious. His mind must not be fatigued. Fresh air, exercise, baths and the utmost freedom are the bases of his regimen, which seems to have brought life back into the feeble frame of the puny King. Alphonso, however, is extremely precocious, and his intelligence, and comprehension are wonderful in a child of his years. At 8 precisely he retires. He em¬ braces his mother, and with a quaint little “Good night, gentlemen,” to the members of his suite, he is led away to his royal crib by tho Countess de Peralta, the official nurse. She undress¬ es him and listens to his infant prattle while he tells her of the many experi¬ ences of the day. Then his real nurse, who sleeps always by his bedside, lakes him in her arms. The palace is silent, and her thin, quavering voice can he heard singing in queer'minor cadence a Spanish lullaby. Thus the King of Spain falls Into slumber, and as his sleep-song ceases, His Majesty’s sentinels pace with heavy steps outside the walls of the palace, and during the long watches of the night repeat the hours w it li a deep toned “Alerta”—“guards, be careful” —as they meet each oilier in their rounds.—[Paris Figaro. Birds That Kill Rattlesnakes. In eastern Arizona, along the hot, burning trnils one often secs a long¬ billed, long-legged specimen of bird racing ou in front. Generally there are two of them. They are garrulous and communicative, and as they hurry on they gossip with each other in jerky, str'dent tones which give the impres¬ sion of inferior brain power. These are “road-runners,” and a stuffed spec¬ imen with wings upraised and mouth half open can be seen in the window of a local gun store. They earn their name by thus running for hours along the trail in front of your peny. T.iey have no air of fear, but keep your company in a jaunty, confident way, as if they knew it delighted you. ■These go-as-you-please birds go about conspiring the overthrow of the rattlesnakes. They have formulated a simple, easy plan which all worthy road runners possess full knowledge of, and it 4ever fttiil*. Thrtv find rattlesnake enjoying his siesta; no hard matter, as he sleeps most of his. lime. Ou discovering him the feathered assassins become very silent. They go about with, hushed and cautious steps. With bitter zeal they begiu tho collection of pieces of cactus. These are furnished abundantly with thorns keener than steel needles. They make a small but complete cor¬ ral around tho dreaming reptile.' He is absolutely fenced in with cacti to a height of two or three inches. This feat a fact, the road runners throw oil disguise and secrecy. They charge about outside the fence clamorous and flapping their wings. The rattlesnake awakes. They revile and scoff at him and no doubt tell him of outrage done on tho eggs of ancestral road runners. Irritated and possibly somewhat dis¬ mayed, the serpent, attempts to make off. He gels to t ha cactus barrier and essays to cross it. Tlie conspirators outside redouble their yells and wing¬ flapping. They get around in his frout and storm him with insult and As ho attempts to cross, the spines, sharper than he thought, wound liis throat, which on the under side is quite tender. He draws back, his temper beginning to rouse under the wounds of the cacti and the racket of the birds. He tries to get out, one, two, three, four times. Each painful failure sees his rage increase, His eyes become damp, liis head flattens, and dirty spots of dingy white occur on his body. At last, foiled and wild with rage, hes rikeshis poison-flowing fangs into himself. Soon after. he dies, while the fiendish road runners shout their satisfaction. They remain until the rattlesnake is quite dead, and then depart, arm in arm, as it were, talking it over in a light, exultant way.—[Kansas City Star. Sex Predetermined by Poor Food. In a review of our scant knowledge concerning sexes, Herr G. Herz favors a theory of Fiqnet, a cattle farmer of Houston, Texas, who had observed that the sex of young cattle was usu ally that of the weaker parent. Dif¬ ference iu the strength of parents was produced by feeding, and in thirty two cases the sex of calves was suc cessfnlly predetermined, Herz has met with tho same results in ex¬ periments ou goats—[Trenton (N. J.) American. It is only one persou in a thousand who becomes a centenarian, and hardly six persons among a thousand even attain seventy-five yearr of age.