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INHERITANCE.
As flow the rivers to the sea
Adown A thousand aown from irom rocky roejty toiled toiled hill r or thee plain,
A ages ages for
\ nd gav< thee harvest of their gain;
And weary myriads of yore buried lore.
Hug out for thee earth’s
The shadowy toilers for thee fought,
Blind In chaos of with primeval day, not what;
battle they knew
Gave And clear each articulate before he passed of away
cries woe;
Your pain is theirs of long ago. —George
AN ELOPEMENT
Bv Charles Steli-
"T" T was the Chicago, Milwaukee and
1 St. Paul depot on a bright morn-
ing in August, and the large, busy
station was full of people. True,
the rush of city men pouring in to busi¬
ness by the early suburban trains was
over, for the hour was half-past ten;
but various trains for the lakes and
picnics stood ready to depart The
whole matibn, scene and was full had ^of time life epd to intea ani-
no one
est himself in his neighbor, which wal
perhaps the reason why a tall, land-
some young man who stood at the floor
of the waiting-room had not /excited
notice. <
He had been there for nearly an hour
restlessly pacing the room from one
end to the other. From /it he could
equally observe the entrance which
led to the departure platform and the
one which led to the street beyond.
He walked as one who had no busi¬
ness with the excited /tream of people
passing to and fro Sefore him. He
scarcely seemed to notice the crowd.
He never glanced at a time table or
'consulted the incoming his trains. watciy He just watched
And at last his pitlence was reward¬
ed. There camejfquiekly toward him
from the platfor®, a slight, girlish fig¬
ure dressed in/ white. A pair of large
blue eyes lit np ller face, and a mass of
auburn hair/ 4t&>ped wi/ved on her fair, open
brow, ’Jit- £ forward and took
her. hand.
A “,You are wy A late, Lu.”
-- ‘l could i help it, Charlie. Papa
came In a.itcvV), opMe earlier train, so I had
to take f nef’
They Vat o rt to the street. For
some ream Mi#- Wilson did not take a
hack atonce instead, they walked
until, tiy rejftched Tenth street. All
this ti' e tl#ey had scarcely spoken.
Perha; S t Iwas difficult to converse on
such cr( wo >d thoroughfare, or else
what haJtA6 say was too sacred
to he jjjfcus/setl on the streets. As the
cab s hr ted at a good pace Miss Swift
ask^ “I| it a little long anxiously: distance to the minis¬
a
ters house?”
VNo. About half a mile. Do you feel
D fox oua, Lu?”
#®Not very. I hope you will never be
/ng” tiorry for what we are doing this rnorn-
/ Charlie bent over and kissed her.
“You little doubter! Why should I
be sorry?”
“I wish we had told them at home,”
faltered the girl.
“There would have been a scene,”
he replied; “it is far better to take mat¬
ters into our own hands.”
“I am so glad it is a bright morning.”
“You superstitious little girl! -Are
you thinking of the old saying, ‘Happy
the bride that the sun shines on?’ ”
There was no time for an answer. As
he finished, one of the front wheels of
the cab rolled off, the vehicle turned
over, and horse, driver and passen¬
gers fell down together, It was a
crowded street, at a busy time, and
people came promptly to the rescue.
Wilson was none the worse for his
fall, but Miss Swift looked pale and
frightened, and it seemed for a time
that she .must have received more in¬
jury than the shaking to which she
acknowledged.
After a few moments, when the peo¬
ple had dispersed, Charlie suggested
an adjournment to a neighboring hotel,
where she could rest and have some
refreshment.
The mistress of the place stepped
forward, and after a few words of
explanation conducted Miss Swift to
a room, where she was able to brush
the dust from her clothing and ar-
range her hair.
When she r-joined Wilson he looked
decidedly cross. A man hates to be
made to appear ridiculous, and he
knew that they could not have pre¬
sented a very edifying spectacle in the
accident; still, he needed not have
vented his anger on the girl who ac-
companied him.
“If you had only come on the right
train we should not have been in this
confounded predicament,” he said irri¬
tably.
“Are we too late?” she asked.
It was evident that she did not re-
sent his displeasure.
I am afiaid we are,” he said more
£indly. “I told Mr. Clement that we
would be at his house by ten o’clock at
the latest, and here,” looking at his
watch, “it is after eleven. Shall we go
and ascertain? Perhaps he is waiting.
„ We r will take street
a car this time—
eh, Lu?”
“I should much prefer it.”
He looked at her quickly.
“You are very pale still. Are you
sure you are not hurt seriously?” he
asked.
“Quite sure. I only got a good shak¬
ing.”
W’hen they arrived at the house of
the minister he was gone. He had
waited for them ufitil half-past ten,
Mrs.; Clement said./ Then, having a
meet,ing to attend /at eleven, he had
^parted and would not return until
the eveninjg.
\Vift wasJfrightened. She had
And all the old heart-sweetness sung,
The joyous life of man and maid,
In forests when the earth was young,
In rumors round your childhood strayed!
The careless sweetness of your mind,
Comes from the buried years behind.
And not alone unto your birth
Their gifts the weepihg ages bore,
The old descents of God on earth
Have, dowered thee with celestial lore;
So, wise, and filled further with sad day. and gay,
You pass into the
W. Russell, in the Washington Star.
taken fate Into her own hands, and
come to the city to be married to Mr.
Wilson, unknown to her parents. It
came to her suddenly that fate was
against her. She was just a little su¬
perstitious. She took the missing of
the train and the accident to the cab
af a warning that her wedding was
not to be. Wilson seemed terribly
annoyed, too.
“What shall we do?” asked Lulu.
“We will wait until evening,” an¬
swered Charlie, lightly. Then, turning
to Mrs. Clement, he said, “Tell Mr.
Clement that we will return at six
o’clock, please.”
As they walked down the street,
Miss Swift raised her eyes to her lov¬
er’s face with a strange expression in
their depths.
“Charlie!”
“What Is it, dear?”
“Do you think my missing the train
and the accident to the cab—every¬
thing is a judgment on us?”
“No, I don’t.” It was difficult for
him not to laugh at the poor girl’s su¬
perstition. “I don’t believe in judg¬
ments, for one thing, and, for another,
we aren’t going to do anything wrong.
We are of age and can marry if we
want to. But how shall we pass the
remainder of the day? What do you
say to our going out to Cooney Bay?
We have plenty of time.”
“I am entirely in your hands,” she
replied.
Charles Wilson was destined to be a
physician. He had obtained bis
diploma and intended to go out to
Washington Territory. He ha a a small
iucome, besides what he expected to
make out of his profession. He and
Miss Swift had met at a summer hotel,
where they, harl fallen in love with
each other, with the result that they
arranged to be married privately and
go out West together.
In an hour from the time that they
left the minister’s house they were
taking dinner at Lake Cooney Hotel.
This over, they left for a stroll on the
beach. After amusing themselves by
picking up curious stones and shells
for a time, Charlie said:
“What do you say to our having a
sail, Lu?”
“I am perfectly willing, if you wish
it,” she replied.
Soon they were skimming out on the
lake, she is the bow of the boat, he
in the stern. Lulu took off her hat and
let the wind play upon her brow. Then
she leaned over the side of the boat
and held her hands in the cool water.
They were more than a mile from the
shore now. Wilson managed the sail
and rudder so as to run parallel with
the land. Presently he pulled out his
watch.
“Four o’clock,” he said. “We’ve
plenty of time for another tack yet.
Did you ever see the lake so calm?
Then he took off his coat, doubled it
up and stretched out at full length in
the bottom of the boat, with his head
resting on the seat and Lulu’s parasol
over his face:
“Don’t you think it is time for us to
return?” asked Miss Swift, at last.
There was no answer. She repeated
the question. Still no answer. She
moved uneasily on her seat and looked
at him. He was asleep^-sound asleep!
Her first thought was to wake him,
then she was too indignant to do so.
To think that he could sleep at such
a time, after all the sacrifices she had
made for him! The very thought of it
filled her heart to overflowing, and hot
tears fell from her eyes.
“I won’t wake him if he sleeps until
doomsday,” she said to herself at last.
“Oh, if I were only at home again!
My mother would forgive me, I am
sure.”
Ere another hour had passed the sky
rapidly darkened, the thunder com¬
menced to roll, and large drops of rain
to descend. With a cry of alarm Char¬
lie sprang up, pale, trembling, horror-
struck.
“Why, I must have been asleep!” he
exclaimed. “Lulu, how could you let
me-”
“If you could go to sleep at such a
time, you might be sure I was not go¬
ing to wake you.”
On looking around, the young man
knew that his first task lay in getting
the boat safe to shore. It now plunged
wildly through the waves, but at last
they grounded on the beach, nearly a
mile from the hotel, wet, dripping, and
half blinded by the storm.
Miss Swift sprang from the boat and
ran for the shelter of a tree at the
bottom of the bluffs, Charlie following
as soon as he had pulled the boat out
of the reach of the waves. Then he
looked at his watch, and the perplexed
expression on his face changed to one
of vexation and dismay.
It was already six o’clock. Their
train had been gone half an hour, and
there would not be another until ten
o’clock. The rain now descended in
torrents; it poured as if the flood¬
gates of heaven had opened for a sec¬
ond deluge. The wind, boisterous
everywhere, was even wilder and more
pitiless on the lake shore than else¬
where. Urged on by the pouring rain,
they started to climb the bluffs and try
to reach the depot. It was a task of
great difficulty, for both the wet grass
and the earth were slippery, and they
had to pnll themselves up, hand over
hand, grasping the bushes and trees
to help them. Fortunately at the top
they found an old shed in which they
were able to take a short rest.
Lulu did not flinch; she had reached
such a state of misery that she almost
felt she did not care what happened.
Their wading through the small rivu¬
lets on the hill side had filled her shoes
with earth and water, her thin summer
clothing clung to her like paste, and
her white dress was a sight to behold.
Her heart was full to overflowing;
tears trembled in her eyes; there
seemed to be nothing that could alle¬
viate the unpleasantness of her posi¬
tion. Wilson’s indifference made it
worse; he did not seem to care for her
misery, so taken up was he with his
own troubles. He had uttered no word
of reproach against himself; had not
once said, “Forgive me. Lulu!”
At last they reached the depot. In
reply to Charlie’s question the ticket
agent answered;
“No, there is not another train to
town until ten o’clock.”
By this time Miss Swift’s teeth chat¬
tered and she shivered with cold. To
do Wilson justice, he now seemed very
much concerned.
“What on earth can I do? Shall we
go to the hotel?” he asked.
“No. I will go home. I am sure
that will be best.”
“But can you?” he asked. “I thought
when girls ran away from home they/
always left a note on their dressing-
table announcing they were going
away to be married.”,
“W T ell, I didn’t. I simply told mother
I was going to town, shopping. And
now try to get me home, please.”
Thus enjoined Wilson started off
with a bystander in search of a horse
and vehicle to convey them to the city.
In about an hour they returned with a
wretched looking animal and dilapi¬
dated buggy.
“It is the best I could get,” said Wil¬
son.
In spite of her trouble Lulu could
not refrain from laughing when she
beheld the horse and buggy.
They started on their long drive,
but, in spite of exhortations, threats
and the whip, the horse refused to go
at a faster pace than a walk. It was
half-past ten when thev reached the
city depot, and Miss Swift’s train left
ten minutes afterwards.
Up to this time, although the girl
had, with wonderful self-possession,
assumed a calm demeanor, she was in
reality intensely excited and indig¬
nant; her heart was swelling, throb¬
bing, as if it would burst from its frail
tenement.
After they had entered the waiting-
room—which fortunately was empty—
she put out her hand.
“Good-by, Mr. Wilson,” she said.
He looked at her in surprise.
“W’hat do you mean? I shall see you
safely home.”
She shook her head.
“No, I think it will be for the best
to put an end to our engagement. Per¬
haps I have expected too much. But
after a girl has forsaken home, par¬
ents, everything, in fact, for a man
who can calmly sleep the precious time
away—well, I—I think it Is best for us
to part.”
dre ^ a f , 1D ^ rom k er Anger and
put it into his hand.
ik Lu. lou cannot mean it, sure-
jV • You re not going to break with a
fellow for a trifle like that: ’
tn fi e - I• * take as a Hifie.
I feel as if I d had a revelation to-
day " Here comes my train. Good-by! ’
He stood watching her as she
dragged her wet, weary limbs to the
ram. A few seconds later Miss Swift
was borno swiftly westward, and
Charles Wilson walked slowly to his
hotel with rather a graver face than
usual. TVaverley Magazine.
Raising: Cats For Money.
The rearing of coon-cats is a coming
industry. Coon-cats are worth to-day
from five dollars to one hundred dol-
lars apiece, and the supply does not
begin to meet the demand. Exception-
al specimens have been known to fetch
two hundred or even three hundred
dollars. At the present time all of
them come from Maine, simply for the
reason that the breed is peculiar as
yet to that State. Their popularity is
such that the business of breeding
them has been rapidly growing dur-
ing the last few years in that part of
the country, and one shipper not very
far from Bar Harbor exported in 1899
no fewer than three thousand of the
animals.
Strange to say there are compara¬
tively few people south or west of New
England who know what a coon-cat is.
If you ask that question “down in
Maine,” however, the citizens will
seem suprised at your ignorance, and
will explain to you, in a condescending
way, that the creature in question is
half raccoon—the descendant of “a
cross between a ’codn and a common
eat” Coon-cats have been recognized
as a distinct breed in Maine for so long
that the memory of the oldest inhabi¬
tant runs not back to their beginning.
You will find several of them in almost
any village in that part of the world.—
Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post
Not an Extraneous Aid.
An observing and experienced coun¬
try merchant gives this Information
and advice to other business men;
“Advertising space in the newspaper
is as much a part of your business and
property as the display window or the
business office, and just as indispen¬
sable. Get rid of the common but woe¬
fully mistaken idea that advertising
is something outside of a business—a
mere external aid, but not an integral
part. Advertising space is a valuable
part of your stock in trade, and it mul¬
tiplies a thousand fold your opportuni¬
ty of doing business ”
TALES OF PLUCK
AND ADVENTURE.
Gallant Fljfht by American Troops.
M ANILA story tween of has a a plucky detachment just heard fight the be¬ of
nine men of the Fifteenth
Infantry and a force of Gen. Cailles’s
men, variously estimated at from 200
to 250. Of these insurgents some were
bolomen and hence did not get into the
thick of the fight, but It speaks well
for the valor and fighting skill of the
nine Americans that they were not
overwhelmed and killed or carried off
as prisoners.
The detachment consisted of nine
men from L Company and was in
charge of Sergeant Pbilbon, who had
orders to go to the town of Paete on
the Laguna de Bay and bring back the
meat rations for the post. He set out
about daylight on the morning of De¬
cember 31 to march from Lumban, the
company headquarters, down along
the river and lake front to Paete. The
year closed in a spell of glorious
weather, and the men swung along
with easy gait through long stretches
of cool, shady cocoanut groves.
Nothing of note occurred until the
men had gone about half the distance,
when a native was seen to run across
the road a short distance in front of
them. It was undoubtedly a surprise
foi? both parties, but though the native
escaped, the soldiers found a bit of pa¬
per in the bushes where he had disap¬
peared. On the paper was a message
from the insurgent General of the dis¬
trict to the local commander ordering
an attack to be made on Lumban at
sunrise of the following day.
The little party made all haste to
Paete, where they reported the discov¬
ery and notified the Lumban company
to be prepared for the attack. As soon
as the fresh meat and provisions had
been secured the detail hurried off
again so as to reach their company in
time to become mixed up in the ex¬
pected scrap, but it turned out they
had a row that was all their own.
U was af er dark when they laft
Paete ’ but moo ?^ as up and , the
n! S ht was cl ? ar ' and they ur - ed along ,
the speed ^avily suddenly, aden pack just pomes after the at top de-
-
tachment passed through the barrio
of San Juan, the insurgents opened
fire from the front and both sides of
the road.
It was a pretty lively surprise, but
in a moment the ponies had been run
off to the side and Philbon had dis¬
tributed bis men to the best advan¬
tage. Then firing began in earnest.
With nothing more than the flash of
the rifles to guide them, the men lay
flat in the road, firing regularly and
trying to locate the scattered enemy
and make every shot count. For half
an hour the uneven struggle was main-
tained, and then as the moon rose
higher and higher the insurgents could
be seen gradually closing in on all
sides.
Early in the fight Sergeant Philbon
was wounded, but he .said nothing and
went on giving commands so naturally
that some of the men did not know of
his hurt. Shortly afterward Private
Kearney was hit, and his comrades
pulled him to a place of safety, and
philbon was wounded again.
the meantime the Paete garrison
lisiti heard the shooting and Captain
Smith and Lieutenant Banford rushed
out -^th a relief party. They arrived
none too soon, for the insurgents were
c i os ing in rapidly and firing so quick-
j y that It was evident that they were
we jj supplied with ammunition. When
the relief arrived the insurgents made
for the hills as fast as they could,
When rescU ed the ammunition of the
Americans was well nigh exhausted,
and some of the men would have
given little for their chances of eating
the New Year’s dinner. Philbon was
hit four times. One of the shots shat-
tered his left hand and blew off the
holt of his gun. Private Brannon w r as
missing, and it is almost certain that
he was carried off by the retreating
enemy.
Five or six Filipinos were found
dead and four others were picked up
so badly wounded that they could not
crawl away. All the wounded men
were taken to the American hospital
at Santa Cruz, where they are receiv¬
Ing all possible attention.—New York
Suu.
Girl and Hawk in a Scrap.
Ida Duffy, the nine-year-old daugh¬
ter of Thomas J. Duffy, of the Pala¬
tine Insurance Company, of San Fran¬
cisco, had a desperate battle with a
wounded chicken hawk at San Rafael,
and narrowly escaped with her life.
Several days ago the bird was given
to the child, and it has since been kept
a prisoner in the yard of the family
residence at that place. The other
morning the hawk succeeded in mak¬
ing its escape and flew to a near-by
tree, where a piece of string attached
to its leg became entangled in the
branches, again making the bird a
prisoner.
The little girl seeing that the hawk
was unable to fly away, ran to the
tree, and, taking advantage of its
spreading limbs, rapidly climbed to a
spot many feet above the ground,
where the bird was entangled. She
attempted to undo the string from the
tree, when suddenly the bird swooped
at her and buried the talons of both
feet in the little girl’s face. The child
screamed with pain, but pluckily
fought the hawk off as again and
again it attacked her with beak, tal¬
ons and wings.
The child’s face was terribly
scratched apd her hands cut in the
struggle, but the little heroine clung
to the tree, and eventually securing a
hold on th/j bird's legs, prevented it
from doing further harm. Slowly and
painfully she climbed down the tree
and. still clinfflng to the struggling
bird, she brought it with her to the
ground and placed it in captivity.
Then she ran to the house, where her
cut and bleeding face was promptly
attended to.
That the child escaped the loss of an
eye or a bad fall from the tree was lit¬
tle less than miraculous, as her
scratches show that the attack of the
chicken hawk was a vicious one. How¬
ever. none of her wounds are serious,
and with the exception of a few scars
she will be none the worse for her ex¬
perience.—Los Angeles Times.
Flour Sack Saved a Idfe.
A common flour sack and the use of
his wits saved Chris Hansen, a market
hunter, from death by drowning in the
bay off Sausalito, Cal. It has been
his practice to spend the early morning
hours shooting on the bay near this
place. This morning, while returning
in a skiff from the hunting grounds,
Hansen in some manner caused his
shotgun, which was lying in the bot¬
tom of the boat, to explode. The bar¬
rel being pointed downward, the man
received no injury, but the full con¬
tents of the weapon passed through
the vessel, tearing a jagged hole in its
bottom.
In a few minutes the boat com¬
menced to settle, and Hansen’s most
desperate efforts failed to stop the in¬
flux of water. In despair he grapsed
the oars, and snatching a flour sack
used for carrying his game commenced
to tie them together as a float to assist
him ashore.
Quickly finishing this work, he
jumped into the water, deserting the
boat, which sank a moment later. Han¬
sen could swim but little, and found
the oars an altogether inadequate sup¬
port. His struggles to keep afloat were
rapidly exhausting him, and at a criti¬
cal moment the anot holding the oars
together separated. The hunter was
in despair, when he noticed that a por¬
tion of the sack used in tying the
oars had become filled with air. A mo¬
ment later he had snatched it up and
was holding its open end toward the
breeze, where it filled with wind. Clos¬
ing this end with his hand, Hansen
used the improvished life preserver to
assist in bearing him up, and easily
remained on the surface of the water.
The tide and use of his legs gradually
propelled him toward the shore, and
fifteen minutes later the drifting man
was on dry land.—St. Louis Chronicle.
“Silver King;” and Senator.
From a Pennsylvania coal mine to
the United States Senate; such is the
history of Thomas Kearns, the “Silver
King” of Utah, whose life reads like
a romance. )
Born in Pennsylvania of Irish par¬
entage, in the year 1855, his boyhood
and youth were spent in hard work
and poverty. In 187G the whole fami¬
ly, consisting of Mr. Kearns and wife
and six children—four boys and two
girls—came West to Nebraska. They
settled in Holt County, locating on
Government land, and became mem¬
bers of the John O’Neil Colony. The
oldest boy was the first sheriff of Holt
County, but was shot dead by a cow¬
boy resisting arrest.
Thomas was noted for his venture¬
some disposition, and hearing of the
great fortunes being made in the West¬
ern mines, started out alone in the
year 1880 and went to Utah, locating
at Park City. He began as a day la¬
borer in the mines, saved his money,
and about two years later he and his
partner, David Keats, acquired the
Silver King mine, which proved to be
a veritable bonanza, ne married a
daughter of a wealthy Utah miner in
1888, and has one child. The Sena¬
tor-elect is not what might be called
an orator, yet he has an abundance of
Celtic fire and humor and a vast
amount of common sense, which en-
ables him to make an excellent show¬
ing on the public platform.
Tom was always a “mother’s boy,”
and after he had made his fortune in
the mines spared no pains nor expense
to provide comforts for her in her old
age.
A splendid'shaft of marble erected
by her son marks the last resting place
of Mrs. Kearns, who died at O’Neil
City in 1890.—Los Angeles Times.
Eagle Fights a Man.
One of the fiercest battle between
man and bird of which there is any
record in Maine took place the other
day in a Washington County barnyard.
Rufus Berry, of East Macbias, and an
eagle of great size were the combat¬
ants.
The eagle, whose wings measured
eight feet from tip to tip, had pre-
viously visited the barnyard and car-
ried off one of the farmer’s sheep and
had returned for more mutton when
Berry happened to be around with a
gun handy.
Berry’s first shot knocked the big
bird over, and thinking the eagle was
dead he ran to secure his prize. This
was where Farmer Berry made a
great mistake. No sooner bad he
touched the bird than it rose upon him
clawing and pecking fiercely at his
eyes and face, and finally sinking its
talons deep into the flesh of his arm,
so that although more thaQ willing to
call it a draw he could not get out of
the ring.
For half an hour Berry stood the
pecking and clawing and gouging and
the fearful beating of the eagle’s wings
and then backing up to a fence he
managed to get hold of a club with
which he killed the bird.
The eagle was mounted by a Bangor
taxidermist and sold to a Milwaukee
man, who placed it in a museum,
Eagles are common in the eastern and
northern parts of Maine and when at¬
tacked are very fierce.
The great trouble with favors 1#
that they are loaned and not given.
t ■'S>
***** IRLSrBCY5
VV 1
The Mum Family.
There is a funny family,
Of which I often hear,
In which the difference in size
To me seems very queer.
The family, I judge, is small—
Two seems to be the sum—
And Minnie Mum the one is called;
The other, Max I, Mum.
Now Minnie Mum is always shown
To be exceedingly small,
W hile Max I, Mum, a giant is,
But So hand very in large hand and tall.
As fond fond they be, march about
as can
And proud they are to let the world
Their striking contrast see.
This thought I might have given you
In one short rhyming verse.
And that would be the minimum,
Or, what would be much worse.
Through My stanzas something like a score
muse I might let hum
To tell the same, and that, you see.
Would be the maximum. *
—Chicago Record.
Toys of Chinese Children.
Few Chinese toys are of a durable
nature. There are not many toy shops,
but cheap playthings are sold by an
itinerant vender of small wares, whose
approach is announced by the boating
of a gong, which calls the children as
tlie music of the Pied Piper of Ilame-
lin is said to have done. Figures of
genii and idols abound, and now and
then an extraordinary figure is seen,
whose light colored locks, tight fitting
clothing and the stick carried in the
hand proclaim it to be intended for a
“foreign barbarian.”
Why the Stars Twinkle.
"Why do the stars twinkle? Many
persons suppose that it is due to the
changes that are constantly going on
in the star’s own fires, the effect pro¬
duced on our e^es beiug much the
same as that produced by the flashing
and flickering of a terrestrial fire.
This, however, is only a popular fal¬
lacy, tlie real cause of the twinkling
being the passage of the star's rays
through our atmosphere, the twinkling
varying according to the condition in
which the atmosphere may bo. On tlie
top of a high mountain, for example,
where the atmosphere is much lighter
and rarer than it is on the lower lev¬
els, there is, as a rule, no perceptible,
twinkle, and even on the lower levels
there is none during the dead calm
that often precedes a storm.
There are few* persons, perhaps, even
among the most indifferent observers,
of the heavens, that have not seen
some of the brighter stars, say, Sirius.
Arcturus, Capella, Vega, Aldebaran or
Rigel, flashing like great jewelsgfcwlth
all the rainbow tints when ne» the
horizon. It is then that twinkliffg, al
ways a beaufiful phenomenon, be¬
comes an exqufsite spectacle, and it is
due to the passage of the star’s light
through the denser part of the earth’s
atmosphere. The same star, -when
overhead, or even at a moderate eleva¬
tion above the horizon, does not twin¬
kle one-half so much.
During windy weather, however,
and especially when the wind is from
the north, the twinkling is very no¬
ticeable, even in stars that are in the
zenith. It has also been noticed that
there is a marked increase in twink¬
ling when there is a good deal of hu-j
midity in the air and the barometric;
pressure is consequently light.
From all this it is very evident that;
twinkling is due not to the varying
physical condition of the star, but to
tlie condition and the movements of
the earth’s atmosphere.—Philadelphia
Record.
How the Umbrella Was Introduced.
About 150 years ago on a very wet,
disagreeable day, a man walked
hrough the streets of London carrying
an umbrella.
“And what of that?” some one may.
say. “You can see hundreds of peo¬
ple doing the same thing on any rainy
day.”
That is true, but a century and a
half ago you could not have seen a
single person in England carrying an
umbrella to protect himself from the
rain. People said: “A man who can¬
not stand a little wetting is a rather
weak man,” and so they allowed na¬
ture tp sprinkle her showers down
upon them at pleasure.
But finally there was a man who
thought differently, and in those days
it took a good deal of character to
come out and oppose the old beliefs
and do contrary to public opinion. Jo-
nas Hanway was strong enough to do
this, and, knowing that he would be
greatly ridiculed for attempting to do
such an unheard-of thing, he dared
on this rainy day to walk out in the
streets carrying an umbrella over him!
People stared at him in asti-nish-
ment, rude boys' laughed, and Ldled
after him, And some of
threw stonefi at him. The
ing to protect oneself from tlPigin
no one had thought of such a
all these yeairs! Some of the wealth-
iest people had ur^ Bellas in their
houses, and servants sometimes held
them over the heads of “my lW'd and
lady” as tb4|/stepped out +o th< further ir ear-
riages in a heavy vain, but no
use was made of them. BuJ Jonas
Hanway bore the ridicule and still car-
ried his umbrella until by and ay peo-
pie began to think it was not such a
bad idea afi^r all, and to-day people
think no more of carrying an t inbrella
than they do of walking dr wn the
street. ■
Signed by the Cook. t
All dishes at the English ro;ak tabl^
marked with the name of ieVcooki
custom which originate
II.