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THE WEAVER.
Beside the loom ot life I stand
And watch the busy shuttle go;
The threads I hold within my hand
Makeup the filling; strand on strand
They slip my fingers through, and so
This \rob of mine fills out apaoe,
While I stand ever In my place.
One time the wool is smooth and fine
And colored with a sunny dye;
Again the threads so roughly twine
And weave so darkly lino on line
My heart misgives me. Then would X
Fain lose this web—begin anew—
But that, alasl I cannot do.
Some day the web will all be done,
The shuttle quiet in its place,
From out my hold the threads be run;
And friends nt setting of the sun
Will come to look upon my face,
And say: “Mistakes are mode not few,
Yet wove perchance as best she knew.*’
—Carpet and Upholstery Trade Review.
MARJORIE’S
LETTER.
By JENNY WHEN.
r - OU have lost
your senses,
\ /ffg Marjorie! None
X frj2i hut one utterly
daft would reck
3§oL, less 1 y throw
away such au
mM 0 6r • What
“ atters , if
I there are a few
gray hairs mingled with the black?
Better be an old man’s darling than a
young man’s slave,” and Mrs. Hayes,
who had lopked up for a moment from
her baking, returned more vigorously
than before to the kneading of the
dough.
“True, aunt; but suppose a young
man’s darling is better than either,”
and a mischievous twinkle shone
in her bright eyes, a half smile played
round the corners of the rosy mouth,
giving a momentary glimpse of teeth
white and even. “Where is your won
derful philosophy, then?”
“Have your own way. You’ll regret
it too late, Pity John Harding couldn’t
have you. You’d make him miserable
enough, Heavens knows, with your
endless airs and graces. It’s easy to
see it’s him you’re thinking of, not
withstanding your coquetry. I don’t
doubt Squire Arnold will readily con
sole himself, and when his bride takes
possession you’ll wish you’d followed
my advice. ”
“At least, aunt,l can never reproach
you with having withheld its bestowal;
but, come; don’t be angry with me. I
am not at all sure but that you will have
me with you many a long day yet. ”
Pretty Marjorie Hayes! There were
men enough, old and young, who would
have given half their worldly posses
sions to be sure they held a space,
however small, in that heart; bnt not
so John Harding. He had given to
this girl the one love of his life, had
read in her eyes glances answering his
own; had seen her face brighten into
expectancy at his coming; felt her ten
der pressure answering his hand-clasp,
and hope would rise buoyant in his
heart, only to he dashed again in de
spair, as he would meet her averted
glance or indifferent words. He was
not very patient, this strong man; and,
with his stern will bent upon a pur
pose, trifling was beyond his cornpre-
tension.
“You know what I have to offer you,
Marjorie,” he said to her on the even
ing of the same day of the conversa
tion recorded above. “I don’t ques
tion your right to better, in one sense,
but I must have my answer. Squire
Arnold thinks the same, I don’t doubt,
judging from the sweetness of your
smiles.”
Ah, foolish John! The blush which
had risen to the girl’s cheek faded, the
smile playing round her lips disap
peared, and, holding erect the shapely
head, she said:
“Since when did I appoint you cus
todian of my smiles or tears? When
I elect any one to the position, Mr.
Harding, I shall remember you as my
first applicant.”
“Nevertheless, I did not speak
without reason. I am tired of it,
Marjorie—tired of it all. I am no
Jacob to serve seven years. I ”
“Then stop now” (turning to him
with quick anger). “Doubtless you
think Jacob had something higher in
view of his long waiting. Well, sir,
should you serve for me seventy times
seven, it would be to receive the same
answer—no! My freedom is too sweet
to yield it quite so readily. Good
evening, Mr. Harding. I can find my
way home across the meadow alone.”
But, silent and stern, John walked
by her side until they reached the
threshold of the door. Then, without
a word, she stepped within, and he
turned and with great strides walked
away. From her own window she
watched him until out of sight, then
threw herself upon her little bed, w ith
its snowy counterpane, in a very pas
sion of sobs, half anger, half despair.
The next morning bright and early,
Mrs. Hayes, bustling about her morn
ing duties, spied a messenger approach
ing the house. A moment later, with
a respectful “Good morning,” he
handed her a note. “For Miss Mar
jorie, ma’am," and was as quickly out
of sight.
“From John Harding. Some lovers’
quarrel reconciled. Suppose I keep
it just a few davs. She will thank me
for it some day* I will think it over,”
and thus soliloquizing, she slipped the
letter into the capacious pocket by her
side, where it was destined to remain
long days ere it was brought to light.
“Sudden move, that of young Hard
ing. I thought he was too sensible to
let the Western fever influence him
when he was doing well at home.
Better let well enough alone. But I
understand he has sold out everything,
leased the farm and started out anew.
He gives no reasons to anyone. I’m
sorry, for I always liked the lad,” and
good old farmer Hayes, rising a fort
night later from the breakfast tabfe,
shook his head with a wise shake.
Poor Mrs. Hayes! As she listened,
her florid face grew pale. Perhaps
she had made a mistake after all, and
memory of that white envelope,
hidden away somewhere in some deep
pocket, a weight of iron was resting
on her heart. She stole a Stealthy
glauce at her niece. Her cheek had
lost its color, her hand trembled a
little as she raised a cup of coffee to
her lips, but otherwise she gave no
sign.
That evening Squire Arnold called,
and when he left he carried with him
Marjorie Hayes’s promise to beoome
his wife. Thus Mrs. Hayes’s ambi
tion was fulfilled, bnt vainly did she
console herself with the thought.
Something within forbade self-con
gratnlation, and the ruddy oolor often
left her cheek at some forbidden mem
ory. Squire Arnold had no cause to
complain of capricious behavior. No
spice of coquetry tinged Marjorie’s
manner now. With quiet calm she
moved about the old house, busy with
preparation for the now fast-approach
ing nuptials; but, oh 1 what would Mrs.
Hayes have given for one mischievous
glance as of old, one ripple of merry
girlish laughter, one burst of happy
song.
Days merged into weeks, until one
bright, beautiful morning in May,
Marjorie rose to the consciousness that
her wedding-day had come. There
was a strange tenderness in Mrs.
Hayes’s manner, as she helped robe
the* bride. It was as though she pre
pared a lamb for the sacrifice, but it
was too late now, she whispered ever
to herself, and so bustled here and
there in busy preparation, so that none
noticed how seldom she smiled or how
wan and pale she looked.
It w@s over at last. Marjorie had
gone through it all as in a dream,
scarcely heeding the words which
bound her to another, or hearing her
own voioe in response. Then came
congratulations and farewells, and she
had left her childhood’s home a wife.
Then she awoke from dream life to
reality, then for the first time knew
how stern a duty she had imposed up
on herself, and she wondered if her
strength would not desert her.
But Squire Arnold was too proud in
her possession to dream her other than
satisfied, and for six months she did
her duty well. Then a sudden, sharp
illqess prostrated her husband, and
before the new year opened she stood,
clad in widow’s weeds, beside his
grave.
But when she went back to her deso
late home she missed even the duties,
and as she realized how (head and
empty life was, anew, hard feeling
crept into her heart against the man
who had, in his stern, unrelenting
auger, worked her this misery.
No word came from the wanderer.
He seemed to have passed forever from
their lives, but in the spring her
aunt’s strength failed, and she gladly
obeyed the summons to her side which
allowed her to close the great, lonely
house where she dwelt alone, and go
hack to the dear, old farm to the place
her aunt so long had filled.
Soon would it ho empty. With a
great start, the girl first sa.w the awful
cliauge whieh had taken place. She
rarely spoke, but Marjorie wondered
often at the wistful gaze which fol
lowed her every movement around the
room. But when a few short weeks
had passed all knew the end was near.
One evening, just as the sun was sink
ing to rest, and Marjorie and her
uncle, with a strange foreboding at
their hearts, watched by the sufferer,
the sick woman, motioning Marjorie
nearer, whispered; “The letter—in my
pocket—thought it best—forgive—”
The girl supposed her wandering,
anil, stooping, she kissed the lips al
ready cold, and when she raised her
head the eyes had closed, the spirit
fled. Then when, the funeral over
and the house restored to its quiet,
she took her place beside her uncle, it
seemed as though all the glory had
died out of her life, and ldTt only a
gruy shadow of its former brightness.
Two years passed, and Marjorie
wondered at the strange calm which
seemed almost paralyzing her life,
when suddenly her energy was roused
to action. A terrible fever had broken
out in their very midst. Men, women
and children fled before it, and there
were few to care for the thousands
already stricken. With a sense of al
most gratitude, Marjorie .took her
place by the bedsides of the sick and
dying. All expostulation wa3 in vain,
and night and day she worked as
though unconscious of fatigue. One
evening, in passing through a
temporary ward, she caught sight of a
man whose face, bronzed and bearded,
yet carried with it a forgotten memory.
A moment she knelt by John Hard
ing’s side. In his delirium beseemed
to recognize her.
“There was no light, Marjorie, in
the window. It was all dark—no
answer to my letter. So I ivent away.
It was best so—best, best—” and the
fever burned hotter and fiercer, and
his voice sank or rose in incoherent
words.
"A hopeless case, Miss Marjorie,”
and the old physician’s voice, still
giving her the name of her youth,
roused her from her reverie. “He
worked like a Trojan among the suf
ferers, poor fellow', until he was
stricken down himself; and now he
will never work again,” and with a
shake of the head the old man passed
on.
“John, John, live for my sake; if
only once I may tell you it was my
fault—all, all mine,” and with a burst
of sobs, the fair young head was
pillowed by his side.
When she had gone back for a few
hours’ rest to the farm, the words of
his delirium returned to her, and with
them those of her aunt.
He had said “Forgive.” With a
strange prescience she flew up into
the unused room, opened the lavender
scented closet, and one by one exam
ined the pockets of the dresses she
herself had hung there and left un
touched. At last in one her search
was rewarded. Paper crackled under
her touch, and, drawing forth an en
velope yellow w'ith age, she saw, in
the handwriting she knew so well, her
maiden name.
The evening found her still sitting
with wide-open eyes, yet seeing noth
ing, and the letter on her lap.
“Forgive me, Marjorie. You know, dear,
I did not mean it. I will trust you, darling,
ivid you, with your gentle ways, must teach
me patience. Write me just one little word
of love in answer; or, if you can’t do that,
put a light in the east window for me. I
will see it and I shall know you have for
given me, little as I deserve it. Yours till
death, John Harding.”
“Till death—till death!” the white
lips moaned, and so they found her,
only idly muttering those w'ords, with
the fever burning and ravaging her
tender flesh. It was a fierce struggle,
and when it left her, wan and wasted,
she thought of the dreary future ahead
with a wild wish at her heart that she
had not been spared. But one morn
ing, sitting in her own room by her
open desk, the old letter spread out
before her, a familiar tread sounded
on the gravel path, and, looking up,
she fell back fainting, for she thought
she had seen John Hardingls ghost.
But it was no ghost, but living
flesh and blood reality which bent so
tenderly over her and waited till the
blood came back to the wasted cheek,
and saw the glad light of recognition
leap into the open eyes,
Then Marjorie knew that God was
good, and, with a great cry of thanks
giving that her wicked prayer for
death had gone unpunished, she clung
to his breast, and, clasping her close
to his beating heart, John Harding
felt the past was wiped out, and that
at last, after long years, he held his
wife.—The Ledger.
STALKING THE OSTRICH.
How the Patient Ituslimnn Gets Within
Arrow Shot ot Him.
The Bushman divests himself of all
his incumbrances; water vessels, food,
cloak, assegai, and sandals are all left
behind. Armed only with his bow,
arrows, and knife, he sets forth. The
nearest ostrich is feeding more than a
mile away, and there is no covert but
the long, sun-dried, yellow grass, but
that is enough for the Bushman.
Worming himself over the ground with
the greatest caution, he crawls tow ard
the bird. No serpent could traverse
the grass with less disturbance. In
the space of an hour and a half he has
approached within 100 yards of the
tall bird. Nearer he dare not creep
on the bare plain, and at more than
twenty-five paces he cannot trust his
reed arrows. He lies patiently hidden
in the grass, his bbw and arrow ready
in frontof him, trustingthat the ostrich
may draw nearer.
It is a long wait under the blazing
sun, close on two hours, but his instinct
serves him, and at last, as the sun
shifts a little, the great ostrich feeds
that way. It is a magnificent male
bird, jet black as to his body plumage,
and adorned with magnificent white
feathers upon wings and tail. Kwaneet’
eyes glisten, but he moves not a mus
cle. Closer and closer the ostrich ap
proaches. Thirty paces, tw r enty-five,
twenty. There is a lightmusical twang
upon the hot air, and a tiny yellowish
arrow' sticks w'ell into the breast of the
gigantic bird. The ostrich feels a
sharp pang and turns at once. In that
same instaut a secqnd arrow is lodged
in its side just under the wing feathers.
Now the stricken bird raises its wings
from the body and speeds forth into
the plain. But Kwaneet is quite con
tent. The poison of those two arrows
will do the work effectually. He gets
up, follow's the ostrich, tracking it,
after it has disappeared from sight, by
its spoor, and in two hours the game
lies there before him amid the grass,
dead as a stone.—Longman’s Maga
zine.
Queer Mail Matter.
The efficiency of the employes ot
the Jacksonville Postoflice v'as put to
a severe test recently, when the dis
tributing clerk came across a photo
graph with a postage stamp attached,
and the only direction on it as follow's,
says the Florida Times-Union;
“Deliver to , Jacksonville,
Fla.”
Several of the employes w'ere shown
the picture, which w'as taken with a
small camera, and which did not show'
the face of the person photographed
very distinctly. One of the carriers
named Walter G. Coleman, the gener
al traveling agent of the F., C. and P.
Railway, as the person. Several of
the clerks and carriers did not think
that it was intended for Mr. Coleman,
while others sided with the Bay street
carrier. Finally a wager of $1 was
made, and the carrier started out to
deliver it.
When he reached Mr. Coleman’s of
fice that gentleman at once claimed
the photograph as one of himself. A
week ago or more, while walking
along Bay street, he met a young lady
with a kodak, v’ho took a “snap shot”
at him in front of the Gardner build
ing. She said that if the picture was
a good one she w'ould send it to him.
It also appears that the young lady
won a wager made with her father on
the delivery of the photograph to Mr.
Coleman with only the directions
above.
By Balloon to Klondike.
Professor Bufus G. Wells, physi
cian and scientist has decided to go to
Alaska by balloon. The professor is
an enthusiastic aeronaut and admirer
of Professor Andree. He believes that
Andree will solve the north pole prob
lem, and he thinks that it will be just
as easy to reach the famous Klondike
region by balloon.
“It is the best and quickest way to
reach the gold fields of Alaska,” said
Professor Wells, “and I propose to
construct a balloon that can be pro
pelled at a great rate of speed and
can be utilized to live in after the gold
fields have been reached. The bal
loon will cost, fully equipped, from
$15,000 to $20,000, The si irt will be
made from St. Louis if the winds are
favorable, but if not the balloon can
be transported to Seattle or even Jun
eau, Sitka or St. Michael’s.
Professor Wells is the St. Louisian
who offered to carry war supplies to
the Cubans by balloon. He has had
a varied experience in ballooning, and
says that he has made many ascensions
more dangerous than would be a trip
to the gold fields of Alaska. He ex
pects to be ready to start on the 8000-
mile journey in time for next season’s
mining.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
Perfume of Flowers.
Anew process for extracting the
perfume of flowers has been devised
by M. J. Passy. He steeps the flowers
in water, which is drawn off when
charged with perfume and fresh water
substituted. This keeps the flowers
fresh for a long time, and their life is
further prolonged by the use of a
saline solution such as the tissues of
£he plants call for. The charged water
is then evaporated by theaise of ether.
The process has proved successful with
many flowers which previously refused
to yield up their perfume, notably the
lily of the valley.
Disinfecting Streets.
The streets of Brussels are now
sprinkled with a diluted disinfectant,
and it is believed in Belgium that its
use has thus far prevented an out
break in that community of a disease
now epidemic among the cattle of Hol
land. The disinfectant is contained in
a little cylindrical reservoir, which is
attached to the ordinary watering ap
paratus. .
POPULAR SCIENCE.
Sweat potatoes are unequal to pea
nuts in palatability and as fat and
flesh formers of stock.
The latest discovery of scientific
medical men is that the human eye
may be tattooed any color.
In meat thero is only one-half of
one per cent, of caffeine, though it
lias 20.88 per cent, of caffeo-tannic
acid.
M. Bertinot, of Paris; who has made
a speoial study of the best method of
executing criminals, has pronounced
in favor of a lethal chamber filled with
ordinary coal gas.
Mathematical calculations show that
an iron ship weighs twenty-seven per
cent, lessjthan a wooden one, and will
carry 115 tons of cargo for every 100
tons carried by a wooden ship of the
same dimensions, and both loaded to
the same draught of water.
The earliest estimations of the dis
tance of clouds from the earth were
made by the Jesuits Iticcioli and
Grimaldi, at Bologna, says Prome
theus. They used the trigonometric
calculation from observations at two
points, which is still the favorite
method.
Bed bugs, unlike the house fly, are
found fossil, proving them to be an
old insect. Four species are now
known. These species are parasitic
respectively upon the swallow, the
pigeon, the bat and man. The old
notion that bats bring bed bugs is not
entirely unfounded.
A curious industry, to which the at
tention of the United States Fish
Commission has just been directed, is
that of the artificial propagation of al
ligators to supply the trade in Florida
curiosities. The hatching is effected
in a very simple incubator. The eggs,
about the size of those of the goose,
are covered in sand in boxes which
are exposed on a roof to the rays of
a tropical sun, the young reptiles ap
pearing in a few days.
The influence of dust on rainfall
was noticed on a trip to Greenland
Inst summer by Professor W. H. Brewer,
of the Sheffield Scientific School. The
fogs progressively thinned toward the
north; and, owing to the small amount
of dust in the air, the rain, even when
falling in such quantities as quickly to
drench one, was extremely fine, ap
pearing like a thin fog. Another effect
was the absence of that bluish haze
whieh so softens and beautifies a dis
tant view in lower altitudes.
Experiments show that a light of
one candle power is plainly visible at
one mile, and one of three candle
power at two miles. A ten candle
power light was seen with a binocular
at four miles, one of twenty-nine at
five miles, though faintly, and one of
thirty-three candles at the same dis
tance without difficulty. On an ex
ceptionally clear night a white light of
3.2 candle power can be distinguished
at three miles, one of 5.G at four and
and of twelve at five miles.
A Desk With u History.
If the thousands who have occasion
to sit in the President’s reception
room waiting their turns for audiences
only knew it, they might make the
time seem less monotonous by con
templating the chief article of furni
ture. Many of these visitors are
anxious to go to foreign parts. The
massive desk which occupies the cen
tre of the room has traveled further
than any of the candidates will. It
has circumnavigated the globe by a
route which no human being has fol
lowed. The President sits behind it
and writes his message to Congress.
With its massiveness and wealth of
carving the desk gives no indication of
its historical origin. Schoolboys know
that Sir John Franklin went to dis
cover the North Pole and never came
back. The good ship Resolute drifted
and drifted in the Arctic Ocean cur
rents, spared from destruction in some
mysterious manner, until she reached
the w'aters of the adventurous Ameri
can whalers off the shores of Alaska.
She was boarded and claimed by those
who found her. When the Resolute
reached San Francisco the United
States bought her, repaired and re
fitted her, manned her with an Ameri
can crew and sent her to England with
international compliments. Twenty
years ago the old ship was broken up.
From the soundest of the timbers was
made a handsome desk by direction
of the Queen, to be presented to the
then President of the United States.
That is the desk which stands in the
reception room at the White House,
and upon which the State papers of
six administrations have been written.
Few of the President’s visitors know
it.—New York Mail and Express.
A Useful Ant-Kater.
When a horde of yellow caterpillars
infested the linden trees at the Zoologi
cal Gardens last week, Head Keeper
Manley, who is in charge during the
absence of Superintendent Brown, was
sadly puzzled for a way to get rid of
the pests. Poisonous sprinkling mix
tures, tar and coal oil were applied to
the trees, but the results fell far short
of what had been hoped. The cater
pillars flourished in spite of all, and
seemed to increase in numbers. Then
the ingenious head keeper had a happy
idea. He took the South American
ant-eater from its cage, and, securing
it with a collar and a long cord, started
it up one of the trees. The way the
creature laid about with its long sticky
tongue, scooping in caterpillars by the
dozen, more than realized Manley’s
greatest expectations. It took to
them with as much relish as though
they were its natural food, and in the
course of half an hour completely
cleaned the tree. Manley put the ant
eater np another tree and it ate until
it was gorged. Since then it has been
turned out three times a day, and so
great have been its industry and appe
tite that the caterpillars are nearly
exterminated. —Philadelphia Record.
Wliy the Monquito I’oitymn People.
The mosquito doesn’t poison people
purposely. It exudes from its pro
boscis an irritating, acriiipoison which
is supposed to lubricate the deadly
seven lances enclosed in the pointed
protective sheath which is known as
the insect’s “bill.”
There are 130 known species of mos
quitoes, and the Culex Jersiticus,
whieh plagues people of this vicinity,
is not the worst of the lot by any
means.
It is said the mosquito has a bene
ficent place in the plan of nature. Its
poison,' some authorities declare, is
anti-malarial. —New York Journal,
GAME IN THE KLONDIKE.
WILD ANIMALS VERY SCARCE IN THE
NEW COLD FIELDS.
Lower Down Kolndeer and Moose Are
Abundant—The Appetite Is Wonder
fully Increased by the Hharp Air—
UonditiouH That Confront Prospectors.
It is not necessary for everybody to
feed on dog meat on the Upper Yukon
river and in the vicinity of the Klon
dike gold field in winter, as a member
of a party whieh was up there said
several of the members did. He re
fused the dish, lint at the same time,
says the Washington Star, he acknowl
edged that more than once after food
had been thrown to the' dogs, literally
speaking, he had snatched it away
from them before they could eat it.
Fish which small worms had appro
priated to themselves he did not hesi
tate to eat, he said, and was glad to
get it.
That is one of the great troubles
which will be encountered by persons
visiting the gold field. The farther
up the Yukon one travels the scarcer
becomes the food supply, until in the
Klondike region and thereabouts it
ceases almost entirely. There is prac
tically no large game, with the excep
tion of one or two moose and reindeer
which have become separated from the
rest of the herd and wandered out
there. So that prospectors who intend
visiting the field should not rely in the
least on the resources of the country
to feed them. may be a few
rabbits, ducks and geo„e in the spring,
which disappear very quickly. These
are not sufficient to supply even the
wants of the few natives who wander
liomadically about the region.
Lower down the Yukon, at certain
seasons of the year, there is abundance
of game, probably from 400 to 500
miles from the Klondyke River. The
moose is about the largest of the mam
mals, while the reindeer is fairly plen
tiful. As the population has increased
the game has correspondingly de
creased, and in the winter the Indians
there have a hard time securing food,
as they are very improvident. During
the season when it is abundant they
think of laying by a supply. There are
beavers on the streams and various
kinds of deer, bear and caribou. In
the winter months these go south and
disappear almost entirely. The polar
bear is found several degrees farther
north, never appearing in that vicin
ity.
In the mountain streams- which feed
the Yukon River, up towards its head,
near the Kathul Mountain, there
are mountain trout of good size and
flavor. Many of these streams dry up
in the winter, as they are fed by glac
iers, which, of course, in cold -weather
are frozen entirely. The salmon is
found in the Yukon, but only low'er
down, toward St. Michael’s. Occa
sionally they are caught high np on
the Yukon, but the water is rather
cold for them. There is a sort of fish
known as the w'hite fish which is found
near the Klondyke River, and is said
to be excellent eating. It ranges in
size about the same as our black bass,
and is one of the chief mainstays of
the Indians. In winter, if it is not too
cold, holes are cut into the ice and the
fish pulled out by means of bone hooks.
They are more plentiful than any other
kind, and the ice cold water appears to
he their natural habitat.
Early in the spring water fowl, such
as aud swan,put in an ap
pearance, but they do not tarry long,
and w end their way after a stay of only
a few days. They are very plentiful
when they do appear, and the natives
kill them by hundreds. The trouble is,
however, that things of the kind do not
last as they do in warmer climes.
Reindeer formerly were seen in very
large numbers on" the Yukon, some
two or three hundred miles from where
the Klondike flows into it, and a gen
tleman who spent two or three winters
there several years ago stated to the
reporter that he had seen a herd of at
least 5000 cross the river on the ice in
one day. He also saw moose and cari
bou in herds of large number, but
such an occurrence is an unusual
rather than a common one.
Klondike would-be prospectors
should bear in mind the fact that in
that region, where game is scarce, the
appetite is something wonderful. All
kinds of food is eaten with relish, par
ticularly anything that has fat or
grease about it. The sharp air in
creases hunger nearly a hundred fold,
and it is necessary to have plenty of
provisions in order to withstand tho
temperature of sometimes as much as
sixty-eight degrees below zero. Per
sons who have passed the winter there
state that it is much better not to
touch alcoholic liquors, as the after
effects from indulgence in them are
much worse than any benefit which
may bo derived from temporary stimu
lation.
Tea is considered one of tho best
things which can be taken, and it is
drunk in large quantities, strong and
as hot as possible. This seems to
keep the heat in and the cold out bet
ter than anything else. All kinds of
canned goods are excellent, and dried
fruits or lime juice should be included
in every bill of fare, as scurvy is pre
vented by making use of them. It is
necessary to use large quantities of
salt meats, which produce the disease.
It is believed by travelers up the
Yukon Kiver that vegetables which
grow rapidly could be raised profitably
in the summer months. Potatoes, it
is thought, could be brought to fruition
without trouble, and turnips also. The
latter have been raised successfully by
missionaries 400 or 500 miles or so
from tlie source of the river. The sun
there is said to have very strong power
in the three or four months of summer,
and in hot houses lettuce and other
vegetables could be raised easily.
High 1* ridges in Europe.
Germany’s highest bridge is over
the Wupperthal, at Muugsten, near
Kemscheid, back of Eberfeldt. It is
360 feet high and 1630 feet long, the
central arch having a span of 530 feet.
The only higher bridge in Europe is
the Garabit viaduct, 405 feet high, in
Southern France. The Muugsten
Bridge was opened for railway traffic
on July 1.
Chinese Farmers in St. Louis.
There is a “truck” farm run by
Chinese in the suburbs of St. Louis.
It covers three acres, and yields bet
ter profits than the laundry business.
Yung Koy and Wall Yung are the pro
prietors. ...
THE INNOCENT CONVICTED.
Shot While l>efendlnff HI. Master and
Hanged a. a Murderer,
“Appearances are deceiving,” said
an old lawyer the other day. “The
strongest case of circumstantial evi
dence I ever knew was against an in
nooent man. My father was a lawyer,
and in the criminal practice. One of
his clients was hanged for murder
which he never committed.
“Just at the edge of our town lived
a rich old man in a grand old house.
He had no family, and was alone with
his servants. One night there was a
fearful disturbance in his house, and
neighbors hurried in. Several pistol
shots had been fired. The rich old
man was dead, with a bullet in his
brain, and the butler lay with his
hands full of jewelry aud watches,
right in the doorway of the old man’s
room, with a bullet somewhere in his
head, hut was not dead.
"His revolver lay by his side, and,
so far as could be seen, the whofc
story was told right there. The butler,
who had attempted to rob his master,
had been caught in the act and shot,
but had killed the old man in the
fight. That was the only translation
to it, and here w r as no other for several
days, because the butler had a very
serious wound and was delirious for a
week. However, it was not fatal, and
as soon as he was himself he made a
statement to the effect that he had
been awakened in the night by foot
steps, and he had taken his pistol,
which had only two loads in it out of
five, and gone down into the hall be
low to see what the noise w r as.
“He noticed that his master’s door
was partly open, at the far ond of the
hall, and hurried toward it. As he
approached it he heard his master
speak to someone, asking who was
there, and with that there was a pistol
shot and he jumped into the room,
grabbing a burglar as he did so, and
at the same time getting a shot in the
head from his master’s pistol. Beyond
that he remembered nothing more.
This w'as the condition of the affair
when my father took charge of it, and,
though he really believed the butler’s
story, and tried to prove it, he could
not do it, and the man was finally
hanged. A year later a burglar was
shot by a policeman in the city near
est us, and he confessed on his death
bed that he was the murderer of our
rich man. He had hidden in the
house early in the evening, had col
lected all he could of jewelry and
other portable valuables, aud was
about getting out when he was caught
both by the old man and the butler,
and that the butler had got the bullet
intended for him, as he had run into
the room just as the old man fired.
Dropping everything in his sudden
surprise, he rushed down stairs and
hid in the hallway, from where he
slipped as soon as the front door was
opened. In the excitement he w'as
not observed, and Jig got aw'ay with
out any trouble at all, as the nearness
to the city made strangers so common
that their presence excited no sus
picion. I’ll never forget that inci
dent, and I’ll never be in favor of the
death penalty on circumstantial evi
dence, I don’t care how strong it is.
Even lynch law isle3s unjust.”—Chi
cago Post.
“Lost at .Sea.’*
Many a fishing schooner that sails
out of Gloucester with her ensign flut
tering gaily from the “main truck”
comes in by Cape Ann, on her return
from the “Banks,” with her colors at
half-mast. A dory or two lost in the
fog or run down in thick weather by
au ocean greyhound that no more felt
the collision than if it crushed an egg
shell—at all events, a couple of men
or more for Davy Jones’s locker—such
is only too often the tale brought
back from the fishing grounds to
Gloucester, our chief fishing port.
Tears at parting, weeks of anxious
suspense, and when the ship comes
home tears again for a lost husband,
son, or brother—that story is common
enough on Massachusetts Bay. And
even if neighbors say, “Don’t cry,
dearie! Perhaps some ship has picked
him up, and he’ll come hack to you,”
the hope is short-lived. “Lost at
sea” is a familiar line in the death
column of the Gloucester papers.—
St. Nicholas.
Six Cosily Tilings.
The biggest price for a painting w as
that paid for Meissonier’s “1814.” M.
Chanchard gave $170,000 for it. The
most costly building of modern times
is that of the New York State Capitol
at Albany, N. Y. Nineteen million
six hundred thousand dollars have
been spent oil it. In 1892 I. Malcolm
Forbes paid $150,000 to Senator Stan
ford for the horse Arion, making it the
most valuable equine the world has
ever known. The most valuable book
in the world is a Hebrew Bible now' in
the vatician. In 1512 Pope Julius 11.
refused to sell it for its weight in gold,
which would amount to about $103,-
000. The “Imperial” diamond is con
sidered the finest stone of its kind in
the world. The Nizam of Hyderabad
offered $2,150,000, the largest price
ever known, for this diamond. The
costliest meal ever served was a sup
per given by Eelius Veins to a dozen
guests. It is said to have cost $242,-
500.
A Soutli American Ant-Katcr.
Chicago has bought an armadillo for
one of its museums. In length it is
two feet, and about eight inches in
height. The peculiar covering of the
animal is interesting to all,, and cpn
sists partly of a long case of solid bone
plates and partly of movable trans
verse bauds. The head resembles a
rat’s and the long snout which is at
tached readily enables it to procure
food.
The legs are short and the feet are
armed w'ith strong sharp claws that
form its principal weapon of defense
when attacked. The creature was
owned by a Mr. Miller and was sent
to him from Texas by a friend who,
it is said, procured it from South
America.
It appears to like captivity and a
plentiful supply of raw meat and ants
quite as well as freedom in its ow r n
native wilds. —(New York World.
Cast-Off Uniforms.
The greater part of the cast-off uni
forms of British soldiers find their way
■ into the shops of dealers in second
j hand clothing. The coats are then
i either cut up, sold to theatrical mana
; gers, or exported to Africa and else
j where for trading purposes with the
other uncivilized people.
WORDS.
If words ooulil satisfy the heart,
Tfie heart might Unit loss care;
Bui words, like summer clouds, depart,
And leave but empty air.
The heart, a pilgrim on the earth,
Finds often, when It needs,
That words are of as little worth
As Just so many weeds.
A little said—and truly said—
Can deeperjoy impart
Than hosts of words that reach tho head,
But never touch the heart.
The voice that winds Its sunny way
A lonely home to cheer
Has oft the fewest words to say.
But, oh, those few —how dear!
PITH AND POINT.
The happy people are not those who
do right, but those who are blessed
with conceit.—Atchison Globe.
The secret of success has been fair
ly well kept, considering that so many
people are anxious to tell all about it.
—Puck.
Ruralville Citizen—“ Did 3-011 enjoy
the band concert last night?” Another
Ruralville Citizen—“ All but the mu
sic. ” —Puck.
A close friend is one who will not
lend you any money, aud a dear friend
is one who borrows all you will give
him.—Columbus State Journal.
First Golfer—“ Did you hear about
Weaver? He’s loarniug to play lawn
tennis.” Second Golfer—“He must
be paying an election bet.”—Brook
lyn Life.
A person who judges solely by
baseball standards can’t be made to
see how it was that Turkey won when
Greece made all the runs.—Philadel
phia Times.
Ethel—“ Wonder why Good Friday
is called Good Friday?” Freddy —-
“Why, you s’prise me—it’s named
after Robinson Crusoe’s faithful ser
vant, of course.”—Judge.
“Do you mean to say that you have
actually seen such a fashion as that?”
“Certainly I have.” “Where?” “On
the fashion page of a Sunday news
paper.”—Chicago Evening Post.
“My wife has joined a physical
culture class,” remarked the Judge.
“All the exercise my wife takes is to
run up dry goods and millinery bills,”
replied the Major.—Pittsburg Chron
icle-Telegraph.
Clara—“l don’t know how jou
manage to break off your engagements,
and still keep them as friends. I
can’t.” Maude—“But I always make
it a point to return all their presents.”
—Brooklyn Life.
“I have proposed to seven girls al
ready this season,” said Timmins,
“and I haven’t been able to get ac
cepted once. Dinged if lam not be
ginning to feel like one of my poems.”
—lndianapolis Journal.
“Did you hear old Gotrox boasting
that his life had always been free and
open to the observation of all the
world?” “I did. And yet everybody
knows that his first big money was
made in a corner.”—lndianapolis
Journal.
“I see that some scientist claims
that death is largely a matter of habit,
depending upon thought and all that,’*
he said. “Nonsense,” she replied,
“Did you ever know any one who wa*
in Jlje habit of dying?” she returned.
—Chicago Post.
“Mrs. Stebbins is the meanest wo
man on earth.” “Whathas she dona
now?” “She gave her little boy
slice of bread and butter, and told him
to go out and sit where he could smell
the blackberry jam Mrs. Perkins was
making.”—Chicago Record.
“Yez know Casey, the contractor,”
said Mr. Dolan. “Oi do,” replied
Rafferty. “Is he what ye’d call re
liable?” “He is the most reliable
man Oi iver knew. Whinever ha
tells yez anythin’ ye kin depind on it’a
not bein’ so. ” —Washington Star.
“Does your wife take any interest
in current polities?” asked the earnest
woman. “Naw,” replied Mr. Sod
farm, “she don’t. But if it’s currant
jelly or currant pie, why, I allow she
could tell you more things about ’em
’n you ever clremp of.”—Household
Words.
Novel Surgical Operation.
Beport is made of a most interesting
surgical operation performed at Parma,
Italy, by Professor Camillo Verdelli,
in the presence of all the physicians
of the Parmese Hospital and with very
satisfactory results. The operation
was nothing less than the washing of
a youth’s heart—the first of the kind,
the wmshing apparatus employed be
ing one lately invented by Professor
Biva. After making the necessary in
cision, Professor Verdelli first cleaned
the pericardium of the patient, a
twelve-year-old boy, of the pus which
had there accumulated, and then pro
ceeded to wash the heart with a strong
solution of soda biborate—borax. The
attendant success was indicated by the
fact that no further complication arose,
the hoy doing well and at once ad
ducing to complete recovery, and it
is stated that the eminent professor
Las received numerous appreciative
communications relating to his skill
from surgeons all over Europe!
Reed’B First Speech.
The one which opened Beed’s way
to fame as a man was short. It was
delivered not long after he began his
career in Congress. He had not, up
to that time, taken much part in de
bate, but one day, while he was mak
ing a somewhat labored argument, an
older member tried to break him up by
putting a question to him suddenly
and demanding an immediate answer.
Beed gave the answer readily. Then
he paused, turned toward the speaker’s
desk and drawled out: “And now,
having embalmed that fly in the liquid
amber of my remarks, I will go on
again.” The house roared. The
galleries took it up. The newspaper
correspondents sent it flying all over
the country, and to his own surprise
more than any one’s else, Beed found
himself a man of note from that hour,
—lllustrated American.
Clever Trick With an Umbrella.
A clever and practical device for
hiding a portable washstand and toilet
set was carried out by a bright young
woman reeently in the following way:
A large canvas umbrella, such as
artists use out of doors when sketch
ing, served for the frame work. This
was raised in the corner of an artist’s
room and secured in place, and from;
it a full curtain of figured material was
hung.