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IN UNDRESS UNIFORM. BY H. H. BENNETT, Sergeant Boh leaned his rifle against the stack and sat down on an up turned empty soap box in the shadow of the tent, with a sigh of relief. He unbuckled his belt and mopped his not face with a red cotton handkerchief. There,” he said, “that's done for one while! i shall not have any more 411 ard duty for at least twenty-four hours, thank goodness, though we’ve got none too many men and extra guard duty is becoming the rule.” • Thought you liked it?” grinned the other seageaut, looking up from his occupation of poking a I’ttle sharp ened stick into the recesses of his riflo-breech in search of dust. •lake it!” Sergeant Boh ejaculated ironically, with a disdainful wave of a grimy hand at all the surroundings. From the scrubby hills to the east a dusty country road ran across the nar row valley, and disappeared in the hills to the west. The sides of the hills were covered with underbrush and aecond-growth timber, with here and there a little whitewashed house set down box-like in a clearing. The val ley was a marsh, with coarse grass and veeds; here and there a pool of stag nant v/ater or a ditch-like stream; lit rle hummocks of drier ground rose from it, covered with brambles and wild roses. Through the centre of this valley ran the long olack line of a railway em bankment, crossed midway by a wagon road. In one of the angles formed by the crossing stood a country store, u <me-stored box of gray boards. In an other angle was a great cdhl-tipple, its skeleton frame black against the sky. From this a little railway straddled across the marshy ground on the high legs of a trussle, running back to where the dark mouth of a coal shaft yawned in the hillside. Around the tipple were great piles of slack, waste coal dust, screened from the dump. The store was built on slack; the railway embankment was made of slack; grimy hills of slack, cut through by the railway and the wagon road filled all the neighborhood of the tipple. Some of the murky hills were on fire, smoldering at the base. They had been burning for years, and from them rose noxious gases. The stream that ran at their base was polluted by the drainage of the slack, and on the sur face of the water floated an iridescent, metallic scum. Along the wagon road, on either side, stretched rows of tents; another row was placed on a little strip of level ground at the foot of the railway fill; more tents stood in the shadow of the coal tipple. In iront of the store tent held a telegraph instrument, placed on a barrel; and here a blue -lad operator listened to the busy tick ing of. tne receiver. The brazen sun of a hot June day shone in a sky of burning blue. The thermometer, hung in the telegraph tent, registered 94 degrees. Now and then a long coal train rushed by, raising blatK dust in swirls, which settled again on tents and tipple and store. A wagon, drag ging its slow course along the road, was half hidden in a gray cloud of dust. In the shade of the tipple or in the hot shadow of the tents lounged blue-clad men, with blouses unbut toned or east aside, each one trying to get a breath of fresh air in that val ley furnace. Four iniantry companies and a bat tery of the National Guard were en camped here; four miles down the railway were two other companies, and four miles in the other direction were two companies more. Sixteen miles of railway were held and guarded by these two battalions. Beyond them were troops of other regiments, scattered here and there along 60 miles of road, until the railway reached the waters of the broad Ohio. Night and day sentinels paced the track and squads of guards watched the bridges, the coal tipples and the mine buildings. Night and day watch ful pickets along the hills waited with loaded rifles. When the troops had reached the narrow valley, three days before, bridges and tipples wore burning; loaded cars had been overturned and wrecked, and not a train whs running on this section of one of the great rail ways of the country. All this was the work of rioters who found opportuni ties for mischief in a strike of coal miners. The- majority of the rioters were alleged, by the coal miners, to be ignorant foreigners, deluded and misled by mistaken men. But the great danger of this strike, which has now been a matter of his tory fpr some years, were at an end. Now the bridges and buildings were safe; long trains thundered O'er the rails, and the men who had brought about order panted in the sweltering heat by day and shivered in the misty, chill air by night. By night, too, the rioters from the foreign settlement came across the hill and fired into the camp and at the sentries. The first night this was done the bugle blew "To arms!” and the whole camp roused itself to repel the attack; now, even the pickets did not notice the firing unless the men came too near, or tried to cross the lines. Then it was: “Halt! Who goes there?”‘‘Halt! Halt! Who goes there?” ' Halt, or I’ll fire!” followed by the re port of a rifle, and then the crashing of bushes as the intruder fled. ‘T w ri sh we had been detailed for the upper post!” growled Sergeant Bob. vi ho had got rid of his blouse and his leggins, and was new meditatively re garding his Justy shoes. Why? You don’t, hear any news up there; this is headquarters,” said the other sergeant. Headquarters indeed! You can get passed up there to go into the town and get. a bath. You don’t have to loaf around in an atmosphere of coal du9c all the time. And they have a barrel of ice water in the camp.” • What! Ice water! You don’t mean it?” "Yes. I do!” grumbled Bob. ‘“The major s orderly told me so when he came down here. He had a hath yes terday, a regular swim, with plenty of water. We have to tramp a quar ter of a mile to get drinking water, and not much of that! I tried bathing in one of these ditches. Stood in a wash basin to keep from sinking in the mud. It wasn’t a success, and I’ve got things in my knapsack, too. George, we always get the toughest detail of the whole lot!” “Oh. quit your growling!” “Its all very well for you. You’re not a duty sergeant, and don’t go on guard.” "No; but I have to stay here, and it’s ‘Sergeant, do this, that and the other’ ail day. Then there are the reports and requisitions; and every time one of you fellows wants to grumble you come to me. Yesterday you wanted to know why I did not give you coffee after dinner!” “I didn’t! I just asked you if you expected us to live on canned beef all the time. Say, we got fired on three different times at the bridge last night.” “Any one hurt?” "No.” "Did you shoot any one?” "Don’t know. We fired back, but I guess we didn’t hit anything. Speer of Company H, night before last, shot a man who tried to run the line; at least, that is what Speer reported in the morning; but I notice that Com pany H’s eating fresh mutton, and the commissary hasn't issued any, either. Why can’t one of our fellow's shoot one of Speer’s men? Lazy beggars!" “Bob.” said the other sergeant, “I’m dead broke, and my credit is not good at the store over there. They don’t know me, and” “They do know you!” chuckled Sergeant Bob. “Keep still! As I started to say, I have no money, and I’m tired of the food myself. I want to buy some crackers. Now if you have any cash, and will get a box of crackers, I’ll tell you where you can get a bath, wash your clothes, and feel like a man and a brother once more.” “Sergeant, the crackers are yours! Where is that corner of paradise?” “Hold on! Don’t be in such a hurry. You go up an persuade the commissary sergeant to give you a bar of that im ported yellow soap, while I go and use my influence with one of the hos pital corps to get a couple of big tow els.” “Your influence! You’ve got about as much influence as a lance-corporal, and that’s nothing. Besides, I have a tow'el.” “So’ve I; but we want to do this thing in style. We’ll take our blan kets for togas, and do the Roman sen ator while our duds are drying. And my influence is all right, because the big towels are hanging behind the hos pital tent, and the fellows are at the surgeon’s tent, hearing a lecture on bones. Skip along after that soap, now.” “Where is this place you’re talking about?” “Robert, you pain me! Can’t you take it on trust? There is a well ” “Yes, at home. And I wish I had a barrel of water from it now.” “Don’t interrupt my eloquence. There is a well, a deep well, with clear, cold water, on a hillside near a ruined log house. By that well is a quarter section of a hogshead, once used for watering cattle, now convert ed by my genius into a bath-tub. A big elm spreads its umbrageous arms over soft grass, where ” “That will do! I'm going for the soap on a run,” and Sergeant Bob struggled into his blouse and de parted. An hour later two blanket-draped boys lay on the grass under the elm. The camp was out of sight behind a shoulder of the hill. On a fence neaj* by various garments were drying. Flecks of sunlight struggled through the leaves overhead, and made a gold and green patchwork of the grass. A barren corn-field, with last year’s stalks cut close to the ground, stretched away up the hill to a fringe of bushes, the advance guard of the forest. An old well, with a rotting shed above a rough stone curb, was near the tree. Against the well-shed leaned two rifles, with bayonets, belts and cartridge-boxes hung on the ram rods. “Now this is luxury,” said Sergeant Bob; "but if that fat lieutenant of the guard caught us outside of the lines, we’d get into trouble.” “This is worth it, isn’t it? As some one said once, you cannot take away the dinners we have eaten, and not even the fat ” B-z-z-z-t! Something sang through the air like a bee, and struck the tree trunk near by. B-z-z-z-t! Another singing through the air, and two white streaks arose from the enveloping blankets and sought cover hurriedly. From a patch of bushes on the edge of the corn-fleld a little puff of ldue smoke floated lazi ly upward. “Now. who on earth can that be? Any one mean enough to f.re at two THE WEEKLY NEWS. CARTERSVILLE. OA. peaceful children —Are you hurtf* asaed Sergeant Bob. frou> behind ft tree. No, I’m not, but I’m very uncom fortable.” ‘‘What’s the matter?” “Why, look at me!” said the othef sergeant. "Here I am, lying in a pud dle of ice-water.” “Why don’t you get out of it. then?’' “Get out of it? These old well boards won’t stop a hall, and 1 have to stay flat on the ground behind thia curb. I don’t want to get shot. This is where you tipped over that bucket of water. I wish I had that villain!” A shot from the thicket answere.l him as he shook his fist beyond tha corner of the well. Sergeant Bob leaned against the tree and laughed; then he stopped laughing and won dered how long the unseen marksman would keep them there, and if their absence from camp would be noticed at noon mess. Every movement, it seemed, brought a shot from the bushes. Once in a while the man in the thicket turned his attention to the clothes on the fence anJ shot holes in them, while the owners howled at him from their cover. “Well. I guess I can stand it as long as he can,” commented Bob. “Yes; you’re not exposed to the wintry blasts as I am!” complained the other sergeant. “Wintry blasts! Why, man, the sun’s burning patches on me till 1 look like a tiled floor!” “Well, you aren’t lying in a small lake of well-water that is ’way below zero. Part of me is frozen; when I turn over the other part freezes, and a crash towel is small slothing, and I’m dirtier than when I came up here. Wouldn’t I like to get a crack at that fellow!” “Say,” begun Sergeant Bob after another half-hour, “can’t you get one of the rifles? The little snap of his gun can’t be heard at camp, but if you could fire one of ours, the bang would bring the guard up in a hurry.” “I can’t reach them from here. Every time T stick my hand out that reprobate shoots at me. Wait a min ute! Is your rifle loaded?” “No; but the box is hanging on It with the belt, and there’s 20 rounds in it.” | The other sergeant looked round and found a stick. Then he reached ! over and poked the stick through a j crack in the boards, sawing it back : and forth until he got it against one ! of the rifles. The gun came rattling to the ground, and he pulled it behind the curb. This brought out more shots from the man in the bushes. “Is that my rifle?” asked Bob. “Mine, and the best one in the com pany, too!” “Well, you’ll get ycur shoulder kicked off. You’ve got no clothes fe: padding.” "This rifle don’t kick. No rifle does if you hold it right, and I’ll make a j pad of this towel. Of course you fel ; lows who shut both eyes when you Are and hold the butt two inches from your shoulder get kicked, and no wonder.” “Shut both eyes? Who got the sharpshooter’s bar, I’d like to know? But go ahead! Blaze away into the hill! Noise is all we want.” Bang! went the rifle, and a crack from the bushes answered it. Half i a dozen times the sergeant shot, as fast as he could load and fire. “That will do, I reckon,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “They’ll think there is a battle,” and the two chuckled as they waited for reenforce i ments and relief. “Hi, there, you men! What are you j doing here?” It*was the fat lieuten ant, coming from behind the old log I house. “Get back, lieutenant!” both boys cried. “You’ll get shot!” ; “There’s a villain six feet tall up In | the bushes there, with a Winchester! ! He’3 kept us here an hour,” explained Sergeant Bob. “Hey!” and the lieutenant dodged behind the log hut. From back of him the grinning faces of half dozen of the guard looked out. “We’ll get your man for you. We reconnoltered. saw from whore the shots came, and I sent a squad up over the hill. They’ll come down on his rear. But what I want to know i-e what you two are doing outside of thft lineB?” “Taking a bath, sir.” “Taking a bath, eh? Well, I might overlook you coming out for such a commendable purpose, especially since you’ve been penned up already; but you’ve made me run up this hill in the sun, and you ought to be court-mar tialed. Hello! The other squad has your man.” _ There was a commotion in the bush es; then the corporal and the rest of the squad appeared. The corporal held in his hand a dingy little Flobert rifle. Two of the men led a small, shock-headed, dirty-faced boy. The lieutenant shouted with laugh ter. There’s your six-footer and his Winchester! Kept you here an hour! Oh, my!” and the rest of the guard snickered audibly. Sergeant Bob and the other sergeant looked at each other and said nothing. “What does he say, corporal?" “Says he did it for fun, sir, and that he did not shoot to hit.” “He did it for fun, eh? Well, just bring along his rifle and keep it; box his ears and send him home. As for you two, get into your clothes and come to camp at once. When you get there report at guard headquarters— that is, if you don’t forget it,” and Ihe lieutenant smiled as he departed. “Guess we’ll forget it, won’t we Bob?” asked the other sergeant. And 1 they did. —Youth’s Companion. I The man with a clear consc'rnce sleep: well, likewise the fellow who hasn’t any conscience at all. THE DEADLY HOT WAVE. OUR WEATHER BUREAU’S STUDY OF SUMMER’S CHIEF TERROR, Lntig.l>liti n c Prediction Wort him* A lli.ee in Mx I ) >i y 4 * \> bt,i MrHin n Crop l.<>4 of 50 IVr (enl. unci mi Incalcu lnbie Sacrifice of Life unit Properly. This is the season of the year when the weather bureau endeavors to co operate with the department of agri culture in the effort to furnish the farmer with some intimation of the kind of weather he may expect from day to day, writes the Washingtiyi correspondent of the New York Com mercial Advertiser. While this is a matter of dollars and cents with the farmer it is oftentimes a question of life or death with the dweller in cities, and is of equal interest at least. No damage results in town or country from average summer weather, even though it may be considered some what torrid. It is the “hot wave” which ruins the farmers’ prospects for a bountiful harvest and brings death and suffering to prisoners within the city blocks. Mr. A. T. Burrows, the weather bu reau expert on hot waves, modestly summarizes the results of many years of investigation in this particular di rection by saying that the only posi tive knowledge which has been ac quired is that during a hot wave the eastward circulation of the atmos phere, both upper and lower, is for the time being almost totally suspend ed and that radiation is at that time at a minimum. He takes occasion, however, to puncture the reputation of several well known long-distance weather prophets by declaring that while it is quite practicable to fore cast high temperature for a period of from four to five days, predictions for a longer time are the mc-rest guess work, and not entitled to credence. The hot wave occupies the most im portant position among all weather phenomena in the destruction of life and property which follows its wake. A summer hailstorm may destroy con siderable property over a limited area, a high wind may cause damage of more serious nature and a tornado is still more destructive of property, and usually accompanied by loss of human life, but all these are local in their effect and of short duration. Even a hurricane sweeping up from the West Indies carrying death and de vastation in its path affects but a relatively small portion of the Unite ! States. A general hot wave, however, with its blighting and death dealing temperatures, leaves a trail of ruin so widespread and so great that it cannot be actually measured. The loss to the farmers of lowa in the de struction of their crops from a single hot wave which visited that section in 1894, amounted to over $50,000,000, cr nearly twice as much property as was destroyed in the Galveston flood, and several of the adjacent states suffered nearly as much. As for the suffering undergone by the millions of humanity day after day in these hot wave periods there is no record nor is one possible. Statistics may be secured as to the number of sunstrokes, but no data are obtainable regarding the sick whose deaths are hastened by the abnormally heated at mosphere. The weather bureau defi nition of a bot. wave is a period of three or more consecutive days during which the temperature reaches or passes 90 degrees, and with few' ex ceptions they occur during the months of June, July, August and September. Of the great crops of the country corn and cotton are most liable to Injury from overheating. In most cases the mere lack of rain is but par tially responsible for the blight, as the cooking and firing effect of the intensely heated atmosphere is the source of most of the damage. Crops can recover from a drought, but the destruction of their life-giving proper ties by a hot w r ave is fatal. The far mers, of the west estimate that during a summer of average heat the occur rence of a hot wave lasting from three to six days will reduce the harvest yield of the country fully 20 percent. The most dangerous time for these excessive temperatures to occur is during July and August, both in the effect upon the crops and upon the health of dwellers in cities. A careful study of the records of the weather bureau covering a period of 30 years fails to reveal the regular recurrence of summers of excessive heat or that hot waves occur on the same days in succeeding years. The conclusion is that these visitations may be expected at irregular inter vals, the numbers and intensity vary ing greatly each year. The maximum temperature during a hot wave gener ally comes within 48 hours after the first 90 degrees is recorded. The num ber of successive days of abnormal heat varies and may range as high is 16 or 17. Two or more periods may come in close succession, and in the popular mind these are associated as one long spell, as for example, the month of August and the first part of September in 1900. It is a very exceptional summer when at least one of these hot waves does not sweep the country. Fewer occur in June than in any other sum mer month. July furnishes the great est number and August and Septem ber are not far behind. In the last two months a hot wave is likely to be longer than ip the earlier part of the season. No part of the United Stales escapes this scourge. At times only one section of the country is affected and at other times half the United States suffers under the same heated term. On the great plains of the middle west the most severe effects of the hot waves are noted. It is here they ; frequently have their birth. They are often attended by hot w'inds which bear a relation to the hot wave not unlike that of the tornado to the gen eral cyclone. The southern states are more free from this visitation than the others, though thew do not escape en tirely. A hot wave results from a stagnantion of the atmosphere, and as ■‘he area of high temperature drifts I . lowly from west to east and is driven off to sea by the advent of an area ; of high pressure the heated term comes to a close and the normal cir culation of the temperature is re j sumed. The hot wave of August and Sep tember last year will long be remem bered on account of its length and intensity. (In the east it w'as especial ly severe, although its influence ex tended westward beyond the Mississ ippi river. This wave had its incep tion in northern New York, and made its way south and to the Atlantic coast. Here it apparently met the oceanic high area, which acted as an insurmountable barrier to the east ward flow of the atmosphere, thus closing the outlet for the escape of warm air from the land. The Intro duction of new and fresh air almost ceased, thus preventing any lowering of the temperature at night. This atmosphere condition was so powerful that it acted as a barrier to the northward progress of a hurricane about September 1. This hurricane was deflected into the Gulf of Mexico, and finally reached Galveston, bring ing with it death to thousands of peo ple and destruction to millions of property. The storm traveled from Texas into lowa, and thence to the St. Lawrence valley. It carried with it the stagnant heated air which had accumulated in the eastern states and brought to mankind the insufferably hot weather of the preceding six weeks. Thus Galveston owes to New York the storm which wrecked the city, and the eastern states owe to that visitation the termination of a heated term which was killing people by the hundreds In the large eastern cities. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. The “arsenical walk” is due to the use of impure beverages. The arsenic accumulates in the system, hardens the muscles and causes a stride as if both legs were of wood. The victim falls if he tries to run. An English paper not long ago told I of a most accomplished physician who lost a good part of his practice be cause it was his invariable custom to enter a sickroom rubbing his hands j and exclaiming: “And how are we } today? Better, I am sure.” j Jesse Powell of Emporia, Kan., says | his wife has figured it out recently ] that during the past 35 years she had baked 191,625 hot biscuits, more than | half of which he had eaten. They | have hot biscuits at one meal every ; day. Mr. Powell weighs more than ! 200 pounds and attributes his fine | health to the hot biscuit cure. Snake structure is enormously cu ; ! rious. The vertebrae range in number from 300 to 30, but are invariable in : each species. That is to say. a snake of a certain sort six feet long has I exactly the same number of ribs as a i snake of similar species only one foot long. Snakes crawl by moving for ward each pair of ribs which is at tached to a powerful cross-scale on the belly. A species of marine plant, called grasswrack, has been found in the Kueulun mountains, in Asia, 16,500 feet above sea-level. The plants were not growing, but were found, with their leaves and fruit, deposited in a bed 10 or 12 feet in thickness, which was covered and interspersed with fetrata of blue clay. It is believed that the deposit once formed part of the bottom of a salt lake. Colonel Elijah de Beard of Gilmer county, Ga., lives in a one-room stone structure built over his wife’s grave. The structure is small but substan tially octagon of stone, and on the iron opening into the single room is the inscription: “One in life and one in death.” In the right-hand corner is the grave of his wife; a secondary space near by he has reserved for himself. Around the windows flowers have been planted, and the venerable patriarch spends the days in beautify ing the surroundings. On the anniver sary of her death, with the assistance of the local pastor, the funeral cere mony Is repeated. _ . How ll Kemeuibered. Remembering names is one of the hardest tasks of a public man. Speak er Henderson tells a story of his going to Washington on a visit many years ago, when he had a few minutes' con versation one morning with Mr. Blaine, who was the speaker of the house. Six years later he again visited the capital on business, and after staying in the hotel several days met Mr. Blaine, who promptly called him by name. Before accepting this as a miraculous feat of memory, Mr. Hen derson questioned one of the waiters, who said: “Yes, sir, Mr. Blaine asked who you were, and I told him. ‘Mr. Hender son of lowa.’ ” Many are the devices that most pub lic men are compelled to employ to bring back to memory a name which they think they ought remember. The late Congressman Brosius of Pennsylvania told of talking with a constituent for nearlv an hour without being able to think of his name, when suddenly the man lifted his foot enough to show the tacks “quilted” on the sole of Lis shoe, which, accord ing to the fashion of that time, bore his initials. Then the name came to him. —Youth’s Companion. ONE OF THE WORLD’S WAYS. Some men are born to follow. And Home are born to lead; Some men are born to order. And Home are born to heed. But he that, leads his fellows Who trail along behind. May have a life companion Who makes him meekly mind. Ami they that heed directions YV Inch other men expound, At home are more than likely To boss their wives around. —Detroit Free Press, HUMOROUS. Mrs. Buggins—l went out driving this afternoon. Mr. Buggins—Bar gains or nails? “Your time has come,” announced the facetious jeweler's boy, as he de livered the customer’s clock. Noll —Bob proposes to every girl he meets, and each one says no. Belle —Is that why he calls himself a nabob? Hoax—l kissed her when she wasn’t looking. Joax —What did she do? Hoax —Kept her eyes shut the rest of the evening. “The love cf money is the root of all evil,” remarked the Wise Guy. “An aching tooth has that beaten bands down.” muttered the Simple Mug. "I’ve called to get the money for some jokes -I left,” announced the vis itor. “Those jokes have been paid for,” said the editor. “When?” “Oh, about 50 years ago.” “She caught a thief in the house anJ chased him four blocks," said the admiring friend. “Isn’t it strange,” re plied the sarcastic rival, “how some girls are always after the men?” Sillicus —I have proposed to one girl no less than 12 times. Cynicus— Take my advice and let it go at that. Thirteen is an unlucky number, you know, and the next time she might accept. “You want the pockets, to run up and down, I suppose?” said the tailor, j “No, sir,” the irritable customer re plied; “I prefer stationary pockets. Y'ou may make the slits perpendicular, however.” ’ “Miss Beatrice—Bee,” began Mr. Fresch. “Pardon me,” she said, haughtily, “but you musn’t call me | ‘Bee.’ ” “Why not?” “Because you have known me but a very short time, I and—” “But ‘Bee’ is a very short name.” “I understand,” remarked the father, “that Jane has rejected that young Scandles because he didn’t size up to her idea of manly beauty.” “Anl she ! should be ashamed of herself,” added ! the mother thoughtlessly. “If I bad | looked for a handsome man I might never have been married.” Jack —Miss Pechy's poodle is dead, j Did you hear about it? Tom — Yes. j I'm going up to call on her. Jack —To condole with her, I suppose. Tom — No; to propose to her, now that my rival’s out of the way. Jack —Ah! You want to get in before she takes up with some other puppy. HOW TORONTO DOES IT. No Trouble There in jMnmiglng the Retail Liquor Trade. “Toronto is one of the model cities of the Western Hemisphere,” said J. D. Dlx of Houston, Texas, who just re turned from a visit to that city, and who is a guest at the St. Nicholas Hotel. “Toronto has some of the best-paved streets on the continent, but the meth od of conducting the business affairs of the city is what commends itself to the casual visitor. For instance, their system of controlling the saloon business is about perfect. There are about 150 saloons in Toronto, and that is the limit prescribed by city ordi nance. These saloons are regularly licensed, and the only way to obtain a license is to purchase a business al ready established. The license itself is about S3OO per year. When 1 left Canada the sum of S4OOO was offered a saloon man for his license. I don’t know whether he concluded to accept it or not. “The saloons are regulated in such a manner that they are the most or derly of places. They close at 11 o’clock on all nights except Saturday, when they close at 6 o’clock. This is done in order that the workingman will not spend his weekly wages for drink. When they are closed there is no back-door entrance. They are shut tighter than a drum, and a man who opens his saloon stands a chance to have his license revoked. At a val uation of S4OOO, he can hardly afford , to run the risk. “In other ways the little Dominion city is remarkable. Wages are not high, but people live on much less. Good flats re-s for sl2 and sls per month, and many people own their own residences. The city is slow, but it is an ideal place for a residence.”—* St. Louis Republic. A Don’ll Sad Affliction. A well known Oxford don has, says “The University Correspondent,” a reputation for mixing up the initial consonants of his words with results that often prove startling to his hear ers. In a sermon he once said: “I have in my heart a half-warmed fish.” I meaning, of course, “a half-formed j wisji.” Again, at a meeting he alluded j in a speech to “our queer dean,” but ’ he meant an affectionate reference to l the royal visitor of the university, not j a criticism of any hard worked col- | lege official. “Mrs. Blank told me yesterday she had left off stealing at * the doors” is another instance which needs no explanation.—London Tele graph.