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TEMPTATION.
Sin is a gnu ly insect <>n rite wing—
A bright dream held to thrill a sense
acnle —
And in the bloom w» do not feel the sting
Revealed at lest in bitter, withered fruit.
*Tis nobler to withstand the sudden blast,
Then let it blow thee wheresoe’er it will;
And strength is added unto what thou hast
In toiling up, not sliding down, the hill,
—It. N. Saunders,in the Nation’s Magazine.
DARKIES CRIME.
WOMAN is in fbe
surgery, sir, and
says she must see
you at once.”
L ___ 1 looked up from
my paper at the
1 speaker — Mar y,
.JW the housemaid—
' with a weary sigh.
/J v ^>.4j \ The * life not, of a doe-
( or use a
4 .-l' l ' mo • *orn. Tnl a n d
. y a r
tfiWxz'IK? Y anhor'sm, “all 1 ;
*U'' 5 Y beer and skitles,”
' J and certainly mine
on that day had
not been. Sickness was very preva¬
lent in Colbourne, and the ills of
4000 inhabitants were in the bands of
two doctors. Besides, there had been
an outbreak of- small-pox among the
navvies engaged in cutting a new rail¬
way to join the Colbourne terminus,
and of late we had had our hands
full.
“Did the person send in her name?”
I enquired.
“No, sir ; she said I was to look sharp
and ask you to come at once—she re¬
peated ‘at once,’ sir; and, oh, there
was an awful look in her eyes.”
1 rose and went to the surgery, and
there found a young woman. She did
not reply to my greeting, but at once
plunged into the object of her mission.
Her husband, Bill Cropland, had met
with an accident on a cutting of the
new railway, and had been brought
home on a stretcher in a “bad way.”
“I will be with your husband in a
few mimuten,” I replied, seeing that
the nature of the case demanded my
instant attention.
The woman left me, and procuring
what 1 thought neccessury, I hurried
to the squalid } ard iu which Bill Cross-
land lived. Colbourne, like many
other small towns, had" slums almost
as bad as some of those which we are
told exist in the East End of Lon¬
don, where fevers and other pesti¬
lences thrive like weeds in an ill kept
garden. The houses in this yard
were rickety, and some of them filthy
aud abominable.
I found the injured man lying on a
sofa, which had been improvised into
a bed. An old woman was attending
to his wants, and by the fireplace an
elderly man—a navvy, stood. As I
approached the bed, he left the house.
My patient was a strong, lusty-looking
fellow, with an almost black complex¬
ion, crisp black hair and mustache.
I speedily examined his injuries, and
found them of a serious nature. His
ribs had been severely crushed, and a
portion of one had penetrated a lung.
But he bore up with wonderful cour¬
age, aud scarcely emitted a groan
when I handled him. Having done
everything’possible lor his comfort.
I prepared to leave the house, at the
same time beckoning to his wife to
follow me, with the idea of warning
her of the danger her husband was in.
The injured man noticed the motion,
and called mo.
“Doctor,” he said faintly, “there’s
one thing I want to kuow. Now tell
me—am I done for?”
The question was so pointedly put
that it quiet upset mv equilibrium,
I began to hesitate in my evasive an¬
swer to him, but he quickly stopped
me.
“Look here, doctor,” he said, iu a
most determined tone, “I’m a-going to
hear the truth from you afore you go.
I’ll have it out o’ you, or I’ll limb it
out, I will!” and his black eyes
gleamed like burning coals.
Again I remonstrated with him, but
he would not heed me, and at last his
wife interfered.
“You can tell Bill anythin’, sir,”
she said. “Let him know if he’s got
to pass in his checks, and maybe he’ll
prepare for it. It’s noue too good a
life he’s lived,” and she jerked her
thumb over her shoulder at the recum¬
bent. figure.
“Well, then,” I replied, “I may as
well be frank. The tact is, I enter¬
tain very little hope of your husband’s
recovery.”
“Ye hear that, Bill? Doctor says
yer to pass in yer checks, so just yer
git reddy and do it!”
I was amazed at her cold-blooded
tone.
“I know’d it, lass! I know’d it!”
Bill replied. “Doctor !” I turned to
the bed. “Sit down. Martha, bring
the doctor a chair,” and the old wo-
man plaoed one close to the bed for me.
When I had seated myself—for I
thought it best to humor him—ho
looked round the room and saia :
“Now, I’m a-goin’ to make a con-
fessiou. Don’t any of yer git inter-
ruptin’, ’cause I can’t speak so well.”
He paused, and then went on :
“Breath seems terrible short!”
Then, turning his head to me, he re-
marked: “¥er remember that ? ere
accident to Jem Barker nigh on a
twelvemonth sin’ ?”
I nodded, for I recollected it per-
fectly. One of the drivers in the tun-
nel just outside the town had slipped
and fallen on a rail in the dark. A
load of earth had passed over his body,
breaking his back, and death had re-
suited almost instantly. He was
found shortly afterward, and the
coroner’s jury returned a verdict of
“accidental death. ”
“Well,” the injured man pursued,
“that ’ere accident wor no accident!
It wor sumrnat else. I had better tell
ye that Jem Barker and I wor mates;
he wor called ‘Guzzler,’ ’cause he
could rrwaller so much drink—like
soap suds down a sough, as the savin’
is. I wor called ‘Darkie,’ ’cause—well,
ye can see why if ye look at my
physog. 1 could do a fairish drop ’o
liquor at times, but the wustof it wor
that we both wor fond o’ the same gell,
that’s Liz o’er yonder ;” and he nodded
in the direction of his wife, who was
seated on a box which stood beneath a
window. Her eyes were fixed on the
speaker.
“Liz!” he suddenly exclaimed and
with somewhat more energy than he
had displayed in his narrative, for his
breath had failed him several times,
“Liz, Liz! don’t look at me like that!
I canua bear it! I canna!” and he
broke off into a ion^ groan,
His wife dropped her eyes, but still
sat like a staiue, with her hands
clasped in her lap. The injured man
struggled for breath, and then went
on:
“I know’d Liz wor fond o’ Jem,
’cause he wor fair and handsome, but
I loved her the bestest. Ay, though
we be navvies, doctor, we can love —
only some people thinks as how we
just pair off like! But they’re wrong.
Well, to be gettin’ on wi’ my story.
Liz ’ere had no eyes for me when Jem
wor about, and I got jealous. All the
old friendship ’tween me and Jem wor
gone on my side, and I began to hate
’im. The crisis came one night when
I meets Liz a-comin’ from the tunnel,
which wor then bein’ bored. I wor on
day duty, and Jem wor workin’ at
nights, 'cause then we worked day and
night iu shifts. She had ta’en him
down some supper, and I could see how
things wor go in’. So I up and tells
her of me love, and axes her to
marry me. Liz treated me bet¬
ter ’an I thowt she would have;
she just says, ‘Bill, 1 don’t
dislike ye, but I like Jem better, and
I’ve promised ’im.’ I wor furious—
thee’st remember it, I dessav, Liz—
but she jurst turns on 'ei heel and
walks off, say in’ as when the drink wor
in the wit wor out I I had had drink,
thee know’st. I went down to the
tunnel and meets Jem a-comin’ out wi’
a truck o’ muck—we call earth muck,
thee know’st. I didna let him see that
I wor angry, so I just jokes wi’ him
like. As I wor goin’ through the tun¬
nel a thowt struck me; if I wor just to
come up behind Jem, and gi’e ’im a
push in front of the truck, it would
perhaps lame ’im, and then perhaps
Liz would na be bothered wi’ a lame
chap. I left the tunnel and went
'ome, but I didna sleep that ’ere night.
Next day 1 took Jem’s place driving,
and ’twere then I worked out my
plans. Thee know’st there be timbers,
called side trees, on each side to sup¬
port the roof o’ the tunnel ’til the
brickies take the work in hand, and I
thowt as how, if I wor to hide in one
of them just iu the darkest place, and
when Jem comes on. just put out my
’and and gie him a push, it would do
all I wanted. I shanna forget that ’ere
day! The idea growed on me, and
when 1 left work, I made up my mind
to do it. So I walks down about 0
o’clock the same night, and just as I
reached the open cutting, Iheerd Jem
wish Liz good night. I wor fair mad
wi’ jealousy. I had murder in my
’art. Keepin’ out o’ sight o’ Liz, I
creeps down just in time to see Jem
take the horses back into the tunnel
to hriDg a load o’ muck up. I creeps
down in the darkest part, and past
the shed where Bob Dalton wor pump¬
in’ air into the tunnel, wi’out bein’
seen. I know’d every inch o’ the
place, and I ’ad made up my mind wheer
to hide. I soon *ound it, ’cause I ’ad
put a big stone theer. Besides, I ’ad
picked out a spot Vhich wor always
wet, ’cause of a spring which we had
tapped above, which wor always run-
nin’. Then it strikes me as how, if I
wor to put the stone in Jem’s path, he
might stumble o’er it; so I puts it
theer. I ’adna long to wait afore em
comes down the tunnel, which wor a
bit on the incline.
“My ’art begins to thump until I
wor afraid Jem might ’ear it, but just
then he comes up to wheer I had put
the stone. He stumbled o’er it, and
the horse swerved a little, but he
nearly recovered hisself, and so I puts
out my hand and gently pushes 'im.
He falls down on the line, and the
truck goes o’er ’im, ’cause I heerd ’im
groan. I slipped behind the truck,
and out again into the cutting wi’out
bein’ seed, and bunked off back to the
town. 1 wor scared! Next mornin’ I
heerd as how Jem ’ad met wi’ a acci¬
dent, and that he had stumbled o’er a
stone, supposed to have tumbled from
a truck afore his, aud the truck 'ad
broke his back. I wor a bit sorry at
fust, aud then I begins to be afraid
they might trace it to me. But I said
nowt to nobody, and the inquest said
as how ’twere a accident, and I didna
trouble myself. Then Liz and I wor
spliced, and though we havena pulled
together both the same wav, jet I
would a done anythin for her ! Thee
know st it, dostna, Liz.
^e woman looked up. Her face
was P a ^ e * n the extreme; her black
e J es blazed, and her fingers twitched,
She rose and approached the bedside,
“Murderer ! she hissed between her
clenched teeth.
“Liz I Liz! the man s voice . broke
. imploring sobs. Forgive me!
Forgive me ! Doctor, and he turned
with a piteous look to me, “ax her to
forgive me.”
The woman was standing with ... her
hands clenched, anti her eyes gleam-
ing—a statue of Fury. I then no-
ticed . for the first time » that she was a
remarkably handsome woman, though
rather coarse. I went round the bed
to her -
“Mrs. Crossland,” I said quietly,
“your husband may not live through-
out the night. Do not let him go
from this world to the next, whatever
it may have in store for him, without
your forgiveness. Don’t you remem-
ber the old prayer, ‘Father, forgive
us our trespasses, as we forgive those
who trespass against us’?”
The fury gradually died out of the
woman’s face, her hands unclenched
and tears welled into her eyes. Hex
bosom heaved as if suppressed sobs
were almost bursting it; then, as
though the effort were too much, she
dropped on her knees beside the bed
and sobbed aloud.
Crossland was fast sinking; his
breath came in difficult gasps, and bis
dark visage grew almost ashy pale.
“Liz! Liz!” he murmured faintly,
“do you forgive me?”
Still the woman sobbed on. Her
grief was poignant—was it for the sin¬
fulness of ber husband or for the mem¬
ory of ber past love? 1 asked myself.
At last the paroxysm of tears spent it¬
self and the woman became calmer,
though she still knelt with her face
hidden in her hands. I bent over ber
and whispered:
“Mrs. Crossland, one word to make
him happy. He’s dying! Remember
the prayer, ‘Forgive us our tres-
passes— > >»
She raised her head. There was a
new light shining on the tear-stained
face.
“Yes,” she returned, “we should
forgive. Year ago, when I went to a
Sunday-school, I was told that! But
’tis hard, sir—so hard—’cause I lcved
Jem so, and ’im I didna care—”
“Hush !” I raised a warning finger.
“His life is ebbing away. Come, Mrs,
Crossland.”
“Liz!”
The name came very faintly. Cross¬
land’s hand strayed over the coverlet,
and I took hers and placed it within
his. She rose, and bending over the
murderer pressed a long kiss upon his
forehead. He opened his eyes and
met hers, and there he read his for¬
giveness. A smile of peace and con¬
tentment illuminated his features; he
slowly closed his eyes and sighed, and
on that sigh the stained soul of Darkie
Crossland floated over the border to
that lanel from which no traveler re¬
turns. —Household Words.
A Washington Story.
It is one of the stock Washington
stories, but it is many moons since it
has been in print. It is “vouched
for” as a perfectly true episode in the
career of Mr. Stratford Canning, Min¬
ister to our country in the ’20s. He
w T as the famous Prime Minister Can¬
ning’s cousin, and afterwards won the
title of Viscount Stratford de Red-
clyffe. On a raging, pouring January
night the British Minister was about
stepping into his carriage for a state
dinner at the White House when the
axletree snapped like a match. There
was no time to lose, and away trotted
coachman with the horses to the
livery stable with orders to
at once with any kind of a ve¬
The stableman had sent out
he had on wheels—car¬
beiug in demand that night—
his hearse, It did not take
for the coachman to make up his
so the horses were clapped to
hearse, and in five minutes it
up to the Minister’s door.
he stood, watch in hand, wait¬
in agony for the vehicle, and when
hearso rattled up, in he stepped,
with a sigh of relief, and lying down
on his back was bowled along at a
gait to the White House.
When the hearse rolled up to the
naturally it made a sensation,
was increased when a live man
out of it. The climax came
the dinner was over, when the
departing guests were assembled in
White House lobby. The car¬
were called in a stentorian
“The Secretary of State’s car¬
riage! The Secretary of War’s car¬
riage! The Attorney-General’s car¬
riage ! The British Minister’s hearse!”
And up rumbled the hearse, and in
climbed the Minister, and off fared
the equipage, the Minister lying on
his back with British calmness.—Il¬
lustrated American.
Horriblc Exhibition of Turkish Brutality
From “A Bystander’s Notes of a
Massacre,” by Yvan Troshine, in Scrib¬
ner’s, we quote as follows:
“One horrible occurrence took
place while I was crossing the bridge
about half past twelve on Thursday.
An old gentleman, an Armenian,
stood at the ticket office of the steam¬
boat company, buying his ticket to go
to the upper Bosphorus. A police¬
man came up and rather roughly
searched his person. The old gentle¬
man naturally remonstrated with some
warmth. The policeman instantly
knocked him down. The poor old
man picked himself up, and the po¬
liceman knocked him down again.
Upon this a Turkish army officer came
oat of a coffee shop, and rebuked the
policeman for his brutality to an old
man. To justify himself the police¬
man declared that the old man had
cartridges in his pocket. Then some
one yelled “Kill the Giaour!” In a
moment a crowd of ruffians sprang
forward from, no one knows what
lurking places and in less time than
it takes to tell it they had beaten out
the old • man’s brains on the
planks in front of the steamer wharf.
Two small Armenian boys stood by,
paralyzed with terror at this sudden
exhibition of passions of which they
had no idea. One of the bludgeon-
meu noticed them and shouted out,
‘These also are Armenians!’ In a mo¬
ment more the crying, pleading boys
had been beaten to death before the
eyes of the officers and of the horror
stricken passengers who were waiting
for the steamer. Bat neither officers,
nor police, nor passengers, had aught
to say to the murderers.”
A Rabbit Pest.
The rabbit, introduced into Aus-
tralia, has now overrun that continent
to such an extent as to demand special
legislation for its suppression. Some
2000 men are employed in New South
Wales alone in the destruction of this
rodent. Since 1870 Victoria has voted
considerably over $500,000 for the de-
struction of the rabbit.
A revival is noted in the phosphate
industry at Fort Ogden, Fia.
VANILLA. BEAN.
SOMETHING ABOUT TIIF MOST
VALUABLE FRUIT GROWN.
How ';lt is Cultivated in Mexico—
Rapid Growth oi the Pods—
Curing, Drying and Send¬
ing to Market.
V ANILLA us a flavoring for ice¬
creams and other delicacies,
from once being considered a
luxury, has now come to be so
generally used that it is considered a
necessity, and it would be very hard
to find a substitute for it. Commer¬
cial extract of vanilla is obtained from
the vanilla bean, which is a native of
Mexico, and is probably the mo°t val¬
uable fruit grown, the best quality of
Mexican beans often being worth
nearly their weight in silver.
The vanilia plant is a climbing vine,
with a stem about as thick as an ordi¬
nary lead pencil, covered with dark
green, spear shaped leaves. These
vines throw out small aerial roots
which attach themselves to the bark
of a neighboring tree and appear to
obtain some nourishment from the sap
of the tree. In their 'wild state the
vines entirely cover the branches of a
tree, and running from it into adjoin¬
ing trees, form festoons and arbors so
thick as to exclude the rays of the
sun and make progress through the
forest almost impossible. For a great
many years no attempt whatever was
made to cultivate the plants, but as
the supply decreased from year to
year and the demand increased some
steps had to be taken to procure a
more adequate supply.
The vanilla vines blossom profusely
during March and April. The flower
is yellow and has a very agreeable
sweet smell. By far the greater num¬
ber of blossoms wither and fall off,
and the ones producing beans are a
very small percentage of the total
number. The beaus grow very rapidly
for the first two months, and by the
first of July have attained their full
size, and from that time" on grow but
little, if any. The beans, or pods, are
from six to twelve inches long, and
about half inch in diameter, and when
ripe are about the color of a banana,
and have very much the same appear¬
ance, except that they are a little less
in diameter and somewhat longer.
Each vine yields about 100 beans, and
some vines have a single branch that
bear twelve or fifteen pods.
From the first of July, when the
bean is a dark-green color, it grows
but little in size, turning gradually
a yellow color, until the last of Decem¬
ber or first of January, when it is fully
ripe and ready for gathering, The
pods are filled with minute black seeds
and a small quantity of pulp, and
when prepared for market become re¬
duced to about one-fourth their origi¬
nal thickness, are black in color, and
emit a very sweet, agreeable perfume.
Although the beans do not become
thoroughly ripened until the first of
January, there is such a demand for
them that the growers begin to gather
the crop in November. Beans gathered
before they are ripe cannot be as
readily cured, and the growers do not
get so much for them. They are ob¬
liged to begin picking them before
they are ripe, however, as if they do
not some one else would save the
owners the trouble of gathering them,
and they would thus be deprived of
the results of much hard labor and
care.
One of the greatest expenses the
growers are put to is in properly
guarding their plantations, that their
crop, in whole or in part, may not bo
stolen by the natives. It is impossible
to make these people understand that
the beans are not growing wild, and
the property of any one who is willing
to gather them.
The curing of the beans is a slow,
tedious process, and one requiring a
great amount of care and attention.
For the most part the growers do not
cure their own beans, but sell them in
miscellaneous lots to curers, who em¬
ploy experts for that purpose. The
total time consumed by the curing
process is about five months, The
beans as soon as gathered are spread
out in the sun on black blankets, and
allowed to remain until they are quite
hot to the touch. They are then
gathered up and placed in a sweating
box, which is simply a wooden box
large enough to hold all the beans.
This box is well warmed in the sun,
and its whole interior is then lined
with blankets that have been out in
tho sun.
After the beans are in the box the
ends of the blankets are folded over
them, and other warmed blankets are
placed over and around the box. The
whole is then allowed to remain for
thirty-six hours, by which time the
ripest of the vanilla will begin to turn
black, and the box will have lost most
of its heat. The beans now have to be
spread out in the sun again, after
which they are again sweated, and
this process continued four or five
times, until the beans are the proper
color.
As the ripe beans tnrn black the
quickest, after each sweating the
whole lot has to be gone over, and the
ones which are black enough picked
out and placed by themselves. Great
care must be exercised in this process,
as, if they are very little oversweated,
it is sufficient to reduce the weight
about one pound per thousand beans,
which would be a great loss, and, as
the bean loses part of its color when
overdried, there is a further loss of
about $1 per pound on account of poor
color.
As soon as the beans have been suffi-
ciently sweated and are of the proper
color they are spread out on drying
racks, being carefully gone over from
day to day, and any that show signs
of moisture or mold are taken out and
put in the sun until the mold dis-
appears, when they are again placed
on the racks. When of the proper
dryness, which the operator from ex¬
perience can judge very accurately by
the feeling of the bean, they are taken
from the racks and carefully assorted
into bunches of fifty, all tbe-boans in
one bunch being of the same length.
The bunches are then carefully tied
and placed in tin boxes, each box hold¬
ing forty bunches. It is an easy mat¬
ter to tie the vanilla, but it is not
every one who knows how to do it so
that the bunches present a good ap¬
pearance and keep their shape during
frequent handlings, to which the
bunches must necessarily be subjected.
All the pods of irregular shape are put
in the center of the bunch, as if on
the outside they will soil its appear¬
ance. The bunches must be ot the
same thickness all the way down, their
tops roundel, and outside smooth.
The vanilla bunches must fit snugly in
the tin boxes, as if they are loose in
the box and rub against each other
they will be damaged.
After the vanilla is all in the tin
boxes it is carefully weighed, and put
in wooden boxes, made of Mexican red
cedar, four or five tins in each box,
according to the size. Theso boxes
are then covered with a fiber matting
made by the Mexicans, and the beans
are ready for shipment. Two of the
cases are strapped on the back of a
mule or burro, which are then started
for the coast in strings of eight or ten
animals; thence the vanilla is shipped
to Europe or the United States by
steamer, reaching its destination about
the middle of -Tune or first of July.
The price the beans bring depends
entirely on their length and color, and
varies from SB to $15 per pound. Each
bunch of fifty beans weighs from a
pound to a pound and a half, and a tin
containing forty bunches is worth
therefore in the neighborhood of $51)0.
—Chicago Record.
Strangely Warned.
The following remarkable occur¬
rence, an absolute fact, is related by
a lady visiting friends in Hartford, as
it was told by her cousin in Meerut,
Northwestern India. It took place in
the bouse of the sister of the narrator.
Of its absolute accuracy there can be
no question. Tho two sisters in India
are connected with families of repute
and with officers of the British array
in India. Tho Hartford Times gives
the story as the lady here related it.
She is a devout member of the Episco¬
pal Church and is incapable of mis¬
representing in the slightest particu¬
lar.
Her cousin, in whose house the oc¬
currence took place, was seated at a
lighted table eugaged in reading,
when, thinking it about time to retire,
and happening to lift her eyes from
her book, she was astonished to see
seated in a chair beside her, and be¬
tween herself and the door to the
bathroom, a man, a stranger to her,
who calmly regarded her. It was too
great a surprise) for her to speak and
demand who was thus intruding un¬
bidden upon her privacy and what
was wanted. She remained for a mo¬
ment in silent astonishment.
Then it gradually dawned upon her
her that the figure was probably not
that of a person of real fiesh and
blood, but a visitor from the unseen
world of life. She remembered hav¬
ing once, a3 a child, seen a similar
figure, under circumstances which
seemed to preclude the idea that it
was any person still in the body, and
in later years, in revolving those cir¬
cumstances, she had remembered how
the apparation had after a little while
faded away into invisibility. Conclud¬
ing that this new visitor also was not
a person of flesh and blood, she sat
silently gazing at the silent object,
while the intruder, whoever or what¬
ever he was, sat also in silence, steadily
regarding her. Just how long this
state of things lasted the lady did not
accurately kuow, but it was probably
not very long when the mysterious
stranger began to vanish into a thin¬
ner and thinner personal presence,
until in a moment or two he had van¬
ished quite away.
It was the lady’s hour for her even¬
ing bath, but she thought she would
first let out her two pet dogs from
their confinement in another room.
They came barking furiously and run¬
ning directly toward the bathroom.
There, through the open door, the
lady was horrified to see on the floor a
monstrous cobra—the snake whose
bite is certain aud speedy death.
Springing forward to save her dogs,
she quickly shut the door, but not so
instantaneously as to prevent her see¬
ing the reptile turning an 1 escaping
down through a hole in the door
where the drain pipes of bathtub and
washbowl wenv, a hole which had been
carelessly left larger than wa3 neces-
sary.
If she had gone directly to the bath¬
room as she would have done but for
the intervention of her mysterious
visitant, her life would undoubtedly
have been sacrificed in the act.
Elephantine Nurses in Siam.
The women of Siam intrust their
children to the care of elephant nurses
aud it is said the trust in never be-
frayed. The elephant, not being sns-
ceptible to the charms of the saun-
tering policeman nor the social claims
of its friends and relations, is conse-
quently able to devote its entire at-
tention to its charge. The babies
pl & y a bout the huge feet ^ ^of the ele-
phants, who are >ery careful never to
hurt the little creatures. And if dan-
S eT threatens the sagacious animal
curls the child gently up in its
trunk and swings it up out of harm s
wa y upon its own back.
Electric Towboats.
It is stated that electric towboats
are about to be placed on the river
Spree, near Berlin, where for a dis-
tance of eight miles the ordinary
barges cannot use sails, owing to a
large number will of low used. bridges. The
trolley system be
SLEIGH BELLS.
XM‘h n tingle and a tangle,
All the sounds n seeming jangle,
And a swinging backward, forward, to and
fro;
On the frosty morning breaking.
Clear their silvery notes outshaking.
The sleigh bells are ringing o’er the snow
How they set the nerves a-thril!ing.
Through the heart a joy distilling,
Mingling music with the beauty of the day*.
As with slipping and with sliding,
Swiftly, softly, smoothly gliding,
With a song o’er the suow wo drift away.
—Eliza A. Fletcher, in Outing.
rrm and point.
The stupid dude is improved Ast
when a clever girl gives him a piece of
her mind.—Judge.
Tommy—“Oh, paw?” Mr. Figg—
“Well?” “How can a solid fact leak
out?”—Indianapolis Journal.
Brown—“l haven’t a friend in the
world.” Jones—“You can make one;
I need five.”—Chicago Times-Herald.
Poak—“The way of the transgres-
sor is hard.” Joak—“True; but the
trouble is,it’s generally hard on some¬
body else.”—Truth.
To the strong-minded female you
might give an “atlas of the world,” to
show her how grasping she is when
she wants the earth.—Judge.
Landlord—“I’ll have to raise your
rent this month.” Tenant—“Wish
you would. I have been trying to do
it all the month.”—New York Ledger.
She pleaded, expostulated, gesticu¬
lated ; all to no purpose, and then re¬
mained unmoved. She couldn’t striko
a bargain with the truckman.—Puck.
“I am hopeful that you will pay me
that $10 before the end of the week,
Smithson.” “That’s right, old man.
Be hopeful, but don’t be sanguine.”
—Judge.
“Lemme see; what is that saying
about the great oak growing from the
little acorn?” “Oh. that isn’t an oak
any more; it is a chestnut.”—Cincin¬
nati Enquirer.
Fisher—“Do you believe in hered¬
ity?” Mann—“Sure. Many a time I
have noticed that when a man was
rich his son had the same trait.”—
Cincinnati Inquirer.
First Tram]) — “The papers all say
that work is starting up everywhere.”
Second Ditto—“I know; isn’t it aw¬
ful? You and I may bo drawn into it
yet.”—Boston Transcript.
Hoax—“What! You buying a bi¬
cycle? I thought you detested them.”
Joax— “So I do, but I’ve been run
over long enough. Now I’m going to
have my revenge.”—Spare Moments.
“Is there no way to convince you,”
ho pleaded, “that! would do anything
in the world to make you happy?”
“Yes,” the coldly replied ; “get a move
on you before I become a total wreck
from loss of sleep.”—Cleveland
Leader.
“What do you wish, madame?”faid
the election officer to Mrs. Tenspotl
“You have already voted once to-day.
You voted before noon, you kuow.”
“Oh, yes, I know that,” replied the
votercss, “but I want to change my
ballot.”—Harper’s Bazar.
Mistrer3 (reprovi ngly) — ‘ ‘Bridget,
breakfast is very late this morning. I
noticed last night that you had com¬
pany in the kitchen, and it was near¬
ly 12 o’clock when you went to bed.”
Bridget—“Yis, mum; I knowed you
was awake, fur I heard ye movin’
around; an’ I said to meself y’d nade
slape this mornin’, an’ I wouldn’t dis-
£oorb ye wid an early breakfast,
mum.”—New York Weekly.
A Rooster in Court.
A peculiar lawsuit was in progress
in Esquire Eiler’s court yesterday,
and lasted all day,(says a Muniee (Ind.)
dispatch to the Chicago Chronicle.
It was a suit that cost over $100, and
all that was involved was an old roos¬
ter, and by sight a person wonld judge
that his life would end within a week.
The rooster has for some time been in
possession of T. Kirby Heiusohn, of
the Hotel Kirby, but was owned by
Delbert Galliher. A few days ago
George Alvy laid claim to it, but as
Heinsohn or Galliher would not give
it to him he entered a suit of replevin.
Each employed a couple of lawyers
and yesterday over seventy-five wit¬
nesses were examined, and the trial
resulted in the rooster remaining in
tho poS6es6 ion of Galliher, and Alvy
had all of the costs to pay, amouAng
to over $100. Daring the trial ‘tho
rooster was perched upon the judge’s
desk and crowed almost continually
from the beginning to the end of tho
trial. Since the trial it has been
learned that the rooster is one of a
breed that has held the reputation as
being the best fighters in the United
States. The chicken was brought
£rom Covington by the Hemingrays.
and has won many a fight during his
time. He is kept now for breeding
purposes only.
Making Phrases.
The making of phrases has frequent¬
ly been the sole distinction of many a
prince. Perhaps the most remarkable
phrase uttered by a modern sovereign
was spoken by King Humbert, of
Italy, a few years, when cholera was
raging in Naples. He had been invit¬
ed to a banquet by the municipality
of Genoa, and declined in the follow¬
ing words: “Men are feasting at
Genoa. Men are dying in Naples. I
go to Naples.”
Well Coddled Miss.
A fourteen-months-old child of Read¬
ing, Penn., rejoices in the
unique distinction of having four
great-grandmothers living. Only one
of these great-grandmothers wears
spectacles, and all live within a short
distance of the borne of this presum¬
ably well noddled miss.—Philadelphia
Presf*.