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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.