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MRS. GARY AN’S BABY. Young Chester, coming into the El mira station, with an excited look on his face and a sprinkling of dust on :11s podsbed snoes and neat eiothes. walked ov r to the seat where he had left his valise. He had not the air of complacency proper to a student whose vacation had just begun after ten successful months in college. Chester had seated himself, drawn his handkerchief twice across his forehead, and looked at the clock be fore ce observed t:ie back of a young man seated reading a paper under one of the lights. This young man seemed .r eply mtei-sted in his paper; but Cheater addressed him without cere mony. ‘•Hullo, there, Wainwright!” said he. "Thought you were home long ago. What are you doing here?” Wainwright raised liis eyes, turned his head, dropped his paper, and came across the floor to his friend. •‘Well, I’ll be shot!" he exclaimed. I didn’t think I should meet any of you fellows here. I did leave early this morning, but a wreck delayed us four hours. So I'm about as well oft as if I had waited for you. Did you just get in?” "Oh, no," said Chester, glancing at the clock. “I got here at eight-ten, and It's almost nine now. Didn't see you around here then.” "No, I took a walk up the street.” “So did I. And thereby hangs a tale. Haven’t you noticed my wild ap pearance?” “Now that you mention it,” said Wainwright, “you do look as if some thing was wrong.” T went out to take a stroll.” said Chester, taking off his straw hat and running his hand through his hair. And as I was going up one of those abounding side streets, I was attacked by footpads ” “What? Footpads in Elmira? How many?” “Three. Two were perhaps 18 years old. and the other 13 or 14.” “Pshaw, boys! What did they va nt?” "Very determined boys,, I can tell you,” said Chester. “They wanted money. If I didn’t happen to have any they wanted my ‘ticker.’ 1 happened to have use for both articles, and so 1 had to fight for them. The bigger fellows were easily knocked out. but ihe youngest clung to me. tearing and cursing and kicking. I wanted to bring the business to an end. I threw him back very forcibly. It wasn’t un til he fell that 1 saw how really small -and young he was.” “So you came out ahead?” said Wainwright. “But where were the police? Of course, though, you didn’t want to be detained here a day or two as a witness. Could you identify Them ?” "1 know they were ‘toughs.’ but that’s all. I heard one of them, call another Garvan.” “Garvan!” explaimed Wainwright. “Hold on a minute. Did the smallest one have, short trousers and curly hair and blue eyes?” "He certainly had short trousers,” said Chester, “aud I think his eyes were blue, and his hair might have curled, for all I know. But it was all jammed under a soft cap pulled over his eyes.” “1 think,” said Wainwright, “that I know who he was—he was Mrs. Gar van’s Baby.” "Mrs. Garvan’s baby!” ejaculated Chester. “Well, 1 must say he’s a •charming infant! But what do you call him Baby for? He’s no baby, I can assure you.” "He is to her,” Wainwright said. And I happen to know his whole his tory. Yes, he has a history, and I will just have time to give it to you. My train leaves at 9.” "You have 10 minutes,” said Ches ter. “Fire ahead. Is he one of your Corning friends?” “He belongs in Corning, though I’ve never spoken to him. I think. Some years ago 1 used to see in Corning a small, curly headed boy, very bright, and well liked by all who knew him. It was Ms. Garvan’s Baby. She al ways called him Baby because he was her youngest. His father worked on the railroad, and they were so poor that when the boy had gone to school a fdw years they let him work one summer iu the factory. He wanted to go, and they thought it would keep him off the streets. “But soon the Baby began to grow ’tough,* and in a year he was a thor oughly bad boy. In the daytime he worked, and at night he was on the streets. He learned all the bad things that the streets of a town at night could teach him. “He smoked, chewed and even drank sometimes. He began to stay away from home for weeks at a time. But he always came back until the day, about a year ago, when his fa ther found him drunk on the streets, •and horsewhipped him severely. The Baby has never been home since.” Chester whistled softly. "That isn't the worst part of it,” Wainwright went on. “The same week that the boy ran away the fa ther was killed on the railroad. The two shocks crazed Mrs. Garvan a lit tle, and she has never been the same since. The people around where she lives take car? of her. But at uight she roams the streets and goes into all the stores and 'kaloons and asks the people if they have seen her Baby.” “Poor woman!” said Chester. “Yes, and when they tell her they don’t know, she only says, ‘lf you see him will you tell him, please, that his mother wants him?’ That’3 all. And her precious Baby, meanwhile, is trying to rob young men in the streets of Elmira. I don’t think his father whipped him half enough, do you'* There’s my train. I think. Well, good by, old man! See you later, 1 hope. Be good to yourself.” 1 cung Chester went outside to see his triend off, and then returned to the waiting room and sat down thoughtfully. He sat in one of the gloomy corners, with the woman and the boy opposite to him. The place was dVaughty, and the .June night air chilly. Chester wondered why the lady chose this room in which to wait. He decided that it must be because she could see her train coming. The lady was middle aged and of re fined appearance. As she sat with one arm thrown over the shoulder of her boy, her attitude bespoke motherly tenderness and .concern. It struck Chester how much like the Baby the boy was in size and general appear ance. The young man wondered vague ly if she knew how much she had to be thankful for in this innocent little son, even though he was delicate. He reflected that a delicate little boy, who was dutiful and good, was preferable to a hardy little boy who was undutit'ul and “tough.” He felt sure that this mother would think so and he wondered how it would seem to that other mother in Corning.* A cold wave of air cut short his re flections, and he shrugged his shoul cprs slightly and was thinking to walk about, when the woman said something to the boy, and then rose and left the room. For a few moments the silenceofthc station was broken only by the roar of a train that came and went in the darkness, leaving th? stillness more perfect than before. Chester glanced at the clock; it indicated 10 minutes after 10. He had still some minutes to wait, and he was beginning to wonder how ha could occupy it when his attention was drawn to a boy doing a step dance on the platform outside. Chester, looking through the window, recog nized the youngest of the boys who had assaulted him. The boy danced as though he had nothing else in the world to think of. Chester, looking closely, could just distinguish the forms of his two old er companions. In another instant these two disappeared. The Baby shouted, and ran after them. Their movements suggested to Ches ter that they were trying to get rid of the Baby’s company. He felt more sure of this a few minutes later when the door was pushed open wide, and the smaller boy came, in a surly fashion, into the room, dragging his large shoes across the floor with a great deal of noise. Chester, feeling safe from recogni tion in his dark corner, watched him closely. The boy’s hand was evidently wrenched or twisted, for he shook it repeatedly with a very fierce frown. Choate..’ saw that the boy answered perfectly \tainwright’s description of Mrs. Gar van’s Baby. The new-comer made straight for the cozy corner in which the delicate little boy was sitting, and looked at him impatiently. “Git out o’ the way!” he said, crowding the little boy from his seat without ceremony. The delicate boy, much frightened and wide awake, went across the room and took another seat. The Baby sat down and drew himself together as if he were cold, and then leaned back and blinked revengefully at the light with hiß cap pulled over his eyes. The door now opened, and the lady came hack into the waiting-room. She did not pause nor look about the room but went over to where the Baby was sitting with his head down and his feet drawn closely under him. The lady sank into the seat beside him, gently threw one arm over his small shoulder and bent her head above his. . Chester felt sure that the Baby’s eyes were watching her from under his cap, and he waited for the Baby to do something. Bat the Baby did noth ing. Whether it was that the lady’s ac tion had taken him completely by surprise or that he had become too much embarrassed to move, it is im possible to say. Chester’s eyes went to the delicate little boy wonderingly, but the little boy was sitting with his face turned away from the door and had not noticed his mother's entrance. When Chester looked at the lady again her hand gently strayed to the Baby’s tangled hair, which she was softly ca ressing with her fingers. It seemed to Chester that her lips were touching the young outcast’s head, and that she was faintly mur muring some lullaby. The Baby’s head had dropped lower; but he still sat so motionless that Chester began to think that perhaps he had gone to sleep. Five minutes passed, and Chester be gan to wonder how the incident would close. He had quite made up his mind that the Baby had fallen asleep when the lady turned her head and her eyes fell on the other little figure in the dis tant corner of the room. She knew her boy immediately. A startled look came into her eyes. Sh3 drew back and looked amazingly at the boy beside her. and murmured hastily— “ Dear me! I had no idea —I beg your pardon, but I did not notice you, and I thought you were my boy.” Then Chester saw that the Baby had not been asleep, for he threw aside his head, after one quick glance into the lady’s face, and murmured, in what was almost a tone of reverence— “ Yes. ma’am." A few minutes later the woman and the little boy went out to meet the southerp bound train. THE WEEKLY NEWS, CARTERSVILLE, GA. Young Chester swung on# foot across tue other uneasily, and looked dreamily at a poushed model of a lo comotive under a glass case. Then he stood up. walked over to where Mrs. Garvan’s Baby was sitting, and took the seat beside him. “Do you know,” Chester bfgan slow ly and uncertainly, ”a young fellow’ around here named Garvan? I was told 1 might find him somewhere about; and I thought perhaps you might have seen him.” The Baby gave a quick, keen (dance and then said, with scronful impa tience — “Naw! How'd I known? What d'ye want of him?” “Well, you see,” Chester said, “his mother lives in Corning, and she has a pretty hard time of it. and I wanted to see him about it. He ran away from home', you know, long ago. His friends —I mean his mother and all the people who knew him and used to like him when he was a smaller fellow — they can’t tell whether he’s dead, or sick, and that’s pretty bad for them. When you care very much for a per son, and the person goes away and you never see him nor hear of him even, it hurts a good deal. his mother cared very much for him, for he was dearer to her than anything in the W’orld.” Chester paused. The silence in the waiting room was complete. The boy sat still and did not seem astonished by this strange story. “Perhaps you know,” Chester went on, “that his mother lies all alone now, and has no one belonging to her. The people around where she lives take care of her in a sort of way. She needs to be taken care of now, you know. She’s not so very old, but she’s feeble, and she always has a sort of tired appearance, and she’s always ex pecting and watching for this boy of liers." “Nearly all the saloon keepers and store keepers know Mrs. Garvan. Her boy used to go around those places a good deal, you see, and she keeps thinking she’ll find him in some of them. She goes often at night and asks those people if they’ve seen her Baby. She always tells them if ever they see him to tell him that his mother wants him. And she does want him very badly. Wliy, she’s nearly all the time crying alone by herself.” The boy shifted uneasily. Everybody wants to do something for her. but nobody can bring back her boy, and that’s what would do her the most good. Oftentimes they find her sitting alone with something that used to belong to her boy—something that reminds her of him —they find her like that crying silently. Queer, don’t you think it is, how mothers will go on that way?” The Baby’s head was in his hands, and he seemed to be critically observ ing the floor. But he answered at once, and in. the same tone in which he had spoken to the lady— “ Yes, sir,” he said, without looking up. “It seemed to me,” Chester went on, quietly, “that if this young Garvan only knew how she feels about it, he would go hack to Corning and try to" make her as cheerful as she used to be. He doesn’t know about ‘her, I guess, and he wouldn't stay away, per haps, if lie knew how much she cared.” Chester paused a moment and then continued — “And so r wanted-to tell him to go right on to Corning as soon as lie could. And perhaps if I gave you a ticket to Corning you might be able to see him and give it to him. Do you think you could?” The Baby did not raise his head, and Chester bent to catch what he said. “Yes, sir,” the boy whispered. “That’s good,” said Chester, cheer fully, rising from Jjis seat. He stepped across the floor, bought a ticket for Corning and came back. The Baity was still sitting with his head down, hut Chester put the ticket into his hand and told him that there was a train leaving 10 minutes later. Then Chester went outside and walked up and down the platform. “It’s a risk, of course,” he mused, ; “spending my money on tickets that perhaps will not do any good. But other fellows risk money in worse ways, and why shouldn’t I put mine into this bit of humanity?” That night, in one of the seats of _ the late train Into Corning, a little , boy sat alone with his face pressed j close to the window pane. He did not notice the lights that flashed by in the darkness, nor the different sta- j tion3, for he was crying quietly, not at all like, a hardened and bad boy. Some months afterward Wainwright wrote the following paragraph in a letter to Chester — “You may remember our friend, ‘Mrs. Garvan’s Baby,’ whose acquain tance you made in the streets of El mira. Perhaps you will be surprised to learn that he is now’ one of our most respectable citizens. He is work ing in one of the stores down town. When I saw him the other day he was dressed very neatly, with his shoes polished and his hands clean, and his clothes eminently respectable. He was always bright, and now he bids fair to become a leading man. Mrs. Garvan doesn’t go around the streets any more at night, and she thinks she has the best son in the country. I am at a loss to account for the sudden reformation of the Baby.” “Now,” said young Chester, leaning back easily in his chair. “I don't care how soon everybody knows about the whole business. Some might say I could have put the price of that rail road ticket where it would yield big ger returns, but I call it a very good investment.” —Waverley Magazine. Forty-six of every 100 postal cards sold in Germany last year were tour ist*’ pictorial cards. WISH TO LIVE FOREVER. IS THE DESIRE FOR IMMORTALITY UN.VERSAL? A Curlnii* Inquiry Unriortnken lv the Society lor IVjillltnl llenenrrll Tliuftn lumietleil Are Ktqiirntml to Big-oily Whether They Sljli for it l iitore l.ifv. A novel Investigation has just boon initiated by the Society for Psychical Research. During the last 12 or 15 years this organization has collected accounts of experiments in telepathy, mind reading, crystal gazing, spirit communications, finding water and metals with the divining rod, and kin died phenomena indicating the exist ence of faculties unlike those common ly supposed to belong to man. These stories have been subjected to an elab orate sifting and scrutiny and efforts have been made to secure corrobora tive evidence from additional witness es. Finally, some of the experts of the society have taken the residuum of fact left after that operation and tried to interpret it. indicating to what ex tent these strange narratives were ex plainable on strictly natural princi ples, and advancing theories to ac count for the more mysterious inci dents. The latest undertaking of this or ganization differs from all its earlier work, in that it seeks to ascertain the sentiments ot all its members and as many outsiders as possible on a ques tion of almost universal interest. It is proposed to ask people bluntly whether or not they wish for a future life. Pains are taken in the census circular which has been prepared for this purpose to distinguish carefully between a belief in and a desire for immortality. Unless one has consid ered the point he may think there is no difference. But a little reflection will show that a man may eagerly desire a continuance of existence af ter death while disbelieving that such a fate is possible, and, on the other hand, that one might he convinced that his life would continue beyond the grave and yet not he pleased at the prospect. What the Society for Psy chical Research wishes to ascertain is how r general is the desire. Dr. Richard Hodgson, secretary of the American branch (No. 5 Boylston place. Boston), has issued a circular on the subject. He remarks that “there is a widespread literary tradi tion that, men naturally desire a fu ture life.” Butflioth the ordinary con duct of men and the sporadic utter ances of individuals excite a doubt on j this point, indeed, in India it is com ! mon to wish for absorption in the Ab | solute and the sacrifice of individuali ty. which fact creates even more un certainty. Hence the desirability of eliciting definite expression cf senti ment from a considerable number of intelligent people. The society lias about 1000 members in the United Kingdom and nearly hi.lf as many more on this side ol the Atlantic. If the majority of these persons would reply to Dr. Hodgson’s catechism a fair beginning would be made. But if the members were to become canvassers and distribute the society’s circular freely, it might be possible to get returns by the thou sand. These, says the American sec retary, would be instructive to both psychologists and religious teachers. The information thus derived would enable the former to outline human instinct with greater precision, and aid the latter in adapting their exhor tations to man’s cravings. Althougn no effort is being; made to ascertain th© prevalence of mere be lief in as distinguished from desire for a future life, the framer of the cir cular here mentioned recognizes the fact that some people accept the doc trine of immortality readily as a mat ter of faith, whereas others would like to supplement their faith with a sci entific demonstration, if such a thing were feasible. That inclination has drawn a good many people, scientific and unscientific, to consult so-called mediums. Or, if they could not get access to a medium in whom they had confidence, at least they were much in terested in the published stories of such experiments as Professor Hyslop has with Mrs. Piper. It is said of the late F. W. H. Myers, one of the apos tles of the Society for Psychical Re search. that his chief, quest was for scientific evidence of a future life. These circumstances have led to the introduction of a question into the circular just issued designed to ascer tain whether the person who answers is willing to take immortality on faith alone or would like a different kind of evidence. The questions are as fol lows : First—Would you prefer to live after death or not? Second—lf yes, do you desire a fu ture life whatever the conditions might We? If you do”not wish for a future life, what would its character have to be to make the prospect seem tolera ble? Woilld you be content with a life more or leas like your present one?' Can you say what elements in life (if any) call for its perpetuity? Third—Can you state why you feel in this way? Fourth —Do you now feel the ques tion of a future life to be of great im portance to your mental comfort? Fifth—Have your feelings on ques tions one. two and four undergone change? If so, when and in what ways? . Sixth—Would you like to know for certain about the future life, or would you prefer to leave it a matter of faith? The assurance is given by Dr. Hodg son that all names will be regarded as strictly confidential. He advises collectors to note negative as well *s affirmative answers, and adds that even a refusal to reply is an indica tion of feeling which it is important to record. —New York Tribune. FACTS ABOUT TROUT ECCS. It lk About •. of Them to Kill a (Juart Meaaare. A few days ago I lifted a tray of trout eggs from a trough in one of the state hatcheries in the Adiron dacks, and apparently th re were two distinct kinds of eggs on the tray. One kind consisted of small white eggs and the’ other of large reddish pink eggs, yet both were from the same specks of fish. The large eggs were from a brown trout, a wild fish, taken in one of the nets while the men were netting white fish. The small white eggs were taken from a brown trout, about the same size as the other, that was captured last year from the same poud, and it had been in the stock ponds just one year. All fish eggs are measured as they come into a hatchery, as that is the beginning of the count of fish that result from the eggs, but eggs differ greatly in size from the same species, and they have to be counted and counted again. The trays in a hatch ery trough are all of the same size, 25 1-2 by 12 1-2 inches, inside meas urement, and they will hold from 7000 to 9000 lake trout eggs and from 12,- 000 to 14,000 brook trout eggs, but they cannot he spread on a tray to insure a trustworthy count. Trout eggs have been counted by the square inch, but an actual square inch will contain many more eggs than a theo retical square inch based on the num ber of eggs to a lineal inch. Quarts and quarts have been counted, and flu id ounces are now continually counted to determine the number of eggs in a standard quart. Here are the counts made by the United States fish commission of the number of rainbow trout, eggs to a quart, made at. different times and places—6B7s, 6024, 6586—nnd with this lor a basis one would be on the safe side to call each quart 6500 eggs, for an allowance must always be made, and Is made, if the man who measures the eggs is fair, as he should be, to make sure that he has the number of fry that he reports when the hatching is finished, but (here is another count —7025 eggs. The last count is from eggs of domesticated fish, and the man who measures the eggs must have one count for wild eggs and another for stock eggs. This allowance can be illustrated by two reports that 1 saw within a few days. One foreman had sent to the foreman of another hatchery some whitefish eggs. The first man replied that he had sent 150 quarts of eggs and the second man reported that, he had received 153 quarts. The first man said that lie had made a fair allow ance in his measurement. Each man had reported at a central point with out knowing the figures of the other, so, on the face of it the first man hail sent 5,520,000 eggs and the second man had received 5,630,400 eggs, or an in crease of 110,400 eggs in transit, al lowing 36,800 eggs to a quart. In counting eggs by measure much depends on the trustworthiness of the men who do the measuring, that large eggs are not counted as small ones, and that the proper standard of eggs to a quart is used. Once I found a man using a standard of 44,000 white fish eggs to a quart, and he believed he was right, and he had no idea of deceiving the commission that em ployed him, for he had arrived at his figures by measuring a lineal inch of eggs and squaring them, but eggs In a square inch do not naturally occupy .a position where the nadir of an egg in one layer coincides with the zenith of the eggs below it. The safe way in figuring fish eggs is to count a part of a quart if there is doubt about the standard and then allow a good mar gin for loss and shrinkage.—Forest and Stream. llnnum Knew tlie Noon Hour. A pair of intelligent horses at tracted the attention of a large crowd on Nassau street. They were at tached to a heavily loaded ice wagon coming down the steep grade between Cedar street and Maiden lane and were holding back the wagon with a no ticeable effort. When they were half way down the whistles blew for 12 o’clock. Suddenly the horses drew in toward the curve and began to plant their hind feet well forward to stop the wagon. The driver made no effort to check them and their hard work at once at tracted notice. Pedestrians looked at the horses and then at the driver, who had a broad grin on liis face. By hard work ‘the wagon was stopped. The driver sat still and watched the animals. One of them immediately be gan rubbing his head against the neck of the other and with nods and pushes succeeded in rubbing his bridle off. Then the other took his turn at rub bing. and his bridle came off. Fully 20ft persons had watched this, and when it was completed the driver got down from his seat and swung a bag of oats from over the nose of each animal. They stood there and ate their mid-day meal. The driver was patient and proud of his team. He petted them and talked to them, and when they were through drove off whistling. “Talk about the laboring man drop ping his shovel at the sound of the neon whistle,” said one man. “That beats anything I ever saw. No one hereafter need try to convince me of the intelligence of the horse. That ice wagon team settles it.” —New York Sun. Saw tlie Kquator. In a letter from the Philippines, a Kansas soldier wrote: “I was down to the island of Borneo last month and went out to see the equator. It wasn’t much to see, and all we could do was to step back and forth across where it was said to be.” Japan is a growing market for Ca nadian wood pulp. NAME; PLEASE? The Golden Age has vanished and (per haps) the Age of Brass: The Silver and the Iron Age have like wise come to pass: Bui when the scholars name our time, I wonder if they'll feel It should he called the Novel Age, or just the Age of Steel? —New York Life. HUMOROUS. Sillicus —Truth is mighty. Cynicuß —Yes; mighty scarce. Wigg—Borrowell seems to know everybody. Wagg—Yes; he manages to keep in touch with the public. Scribbler —Your friend, the poet, always selects such grave subjects. Scrawler—Yes, his specialty is epi taphs. Maynie—Jack was saved by a bul let striking my picture. Lucy—ls that so? Well, I guess your picture would stop a cannon ball. Blobbs —Why don't the Frenchmen fight their duels with fists? Slobbs —Oh, that wouldn’t do at all. Some body night get hurt. Hoax—That’s Mr. Fe’itz, the wealthy hat manufacturer. Joax —Is that so? “Yes. He began life as a liootblack.” “1 see —he began at the foot and worked up.” Tommy—Pop, why Is justice repre sented as being blindfolded? Tom my's Pop—l suppose, my son. it is because there are so many people who manage to keep out of jail. “Paw,” said the heir, “what is an expert accountant?” “An expert" ac countant,” replied the father, “is a man tvho becomes famous by robbing a bank for two years before he is dis covered.’ “Well. Ethel.” said the caller, “what are you going to do when you get big like your mamma?” “O!” replied Ethel, “I suppose I’ll have to put my teeth in a glass of water, and paint my face, too.” “Here is a coin,” said the collector, “that I am sure is valuable, but it is so old and worn that I cannot .tell just what it is.” “Can't make head or of it. eh?" remarked the man who wasn’t much interested in antiques. Mamma —Tommy, the teacher tells me that you do not behave well jn school and that you are sadly behind in your studios. Tommy—And you sat and listened to her! Mamma, don’t you know it takes two persons to gossip? Nell —I see the Bjoneses are back from their wedding trip. I had an idea at the wedding that Mr. Bjones was quite tall, but he isn’t. Belle — Well it’s to be expected that a man is rather short when he returns from his wedding trip. A MATHEMATICAL PRODIGY. Wonderful l ent* Attributed to an Indi ana Alan. The claim is now made that Arthur Griffith, the Indiana mathematical prodigy, excels in his yyork Buxton, the Englishman. Griffith now haseight different methods of his own for addi tion. 10 for division, and 04 for mul tiplication. He can take any number, it is said, between 070 and 1000, anl raise it to the fifth power in 39 sec onds without the use of either pencil or paper. Griffith can add mentally three col umns at a time, it is asserted; divide any set of figures or multiply any set of figures In from one to 40 seconds and extract square and cube roots in from three to 15 seconds. ITe remem bers every problem that he works. The hardest test which he has yet been given, so he claims, is to stand and see a freight train pass with 20 or 30 cars, and then tell the number of each car in their order and specify to what road each belonged. Besides being a wonder in mathe matics, Griffith is fairly well edu cated in the common school studies. He can read, write, and 3pell, and can carry on an intelligent and interest ing conversation. He knows the name and length of every; railroad in the country, and besides being about 40 percent ahead of Buxton in the line of mathematics he is at least 90 percent ahead of him in other studies. lrtblc# U|>-to-l)ute. A party of young people returning from a picnic in great exuberance of spirits sat in a- street car and sang coon songs. Two men fitting apart from the picnickers spoke to each oth er and laughed, whereupq* & qroung exuberant said to herself f %*h<wy ar pleased with my singing,” ana she whetted her voice still finer. In truth, one of the men had whis pered to the other: “That girl has a voice like a rusty hinge.” Moral: Conceit is not infectious: that is. the other person will not catch the conceit you have of yourself. Two clerks named Thomas and Clarence were in the employ of a wealthy merchant. Thomas was al ways an industrious lad, but Clarence was much given to frivolity and was extravagant in his habits. In after years Clarence married his employer’s daughter and was made a partner in the business. Thomas continued to be an honest, industrious clerk all his life and his services were much ap preciated by Clarence and his father in-law. Moral: There is no royal road to success.—New York Commercial Ad vertiser. Kxi-etuive Precaution. “What a splendid array of water colors,” remarked the caller. “But have you no oil paintings at all?” “Oh, no!” replied Mrs. Nuritch. “1 don’t consider them safe.’ v “Not safe? How do you mean?” “In case of fire, you know.”—Phil* adelphia Press.