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VOL. 1. Why the Cows Came Late. Crimson sunset burning O’er the tree-fringed hll 1 - Golden are the mouiows, Ruby flash the rills, Quiet in the farm house, Home the farmer hies, But his wife is watching, Shading anxious eyes, While she lingers with her pall beside the barnyard gate, Wondering why her Jenny and the cows come home so late. Jenny, brown-eyed maiden, Wandered down the lam* That was ere the daylight Had begun to wane. Deeper grow the shadows, Circling swallows cheep, Katydids are calling. Mists o'er meadows creep. Still the mother shades her eyes beside the barnyard gate, And wonders where her Jenny and the cows can be so Jale. Loving sounds are falli g Homeward now at last, Speckle, Beis and Brindle Through the. gate have passed; Jenny sweetly (Hushing, Jamie, grave and shy, Takes the pahs from mother. Who stands silently by. Not one word is spoken as that mother shuts the gate, But now she knows why Jenny ami the ‘ cows came homo so late. — [Omaha World-Herald. ON PIKE’S PEAK. I had been in the signal service but little over a year when I was sent to Pike’s Peak, which is considered by the men in the service the most dis¬ agreeable station in the Whole country* In summer it is not so bad, when there are numerous visitors up every day from Colorado Springs and the weather is comparatively pleasant. But from the middle of October until about the middle of April it is very different. Then it is almost impossible to get either up or down the mountain, and the only communication with the out¬ side world is by wire. One man takes charge of the station in summer and two in winter. My duties were to begin with the winter season. .1 reached tlie station tlie first day of October, where I found my companion for the winter awaiting me. llis name was Harry Sands. He was a good- looking, bright, jov’al fellow from somewhere down in Maine. He was fully six feet tall, with a physique that seemed to bid defiance to fatigue and exposure. If anyone had told me then that he would be the first to suc¬ cumb to the rigors of that, terrible win¬ ter, I should have laughed at tlie idea, for I was at that time by no menus robust and unaccustomed to hardships of any kind. The station is located just a little below the extreme top of (lie peak. It is a low, one-storv log building about twenty feet square. Around it on three sides is stacked at that season, almost as high as tlie cabin itself, the supply of wood for the winter. To keep tlie roof from being blown off, rocks are laid upon it in different place®, and two immense chains are strung across and fastened to the ground at either side. The interior is divided into two rooms by a rough board partition. In the larger one the men eat, sleep, and do tlieir work. The other is used as a store room. : The weather did not begin to get very cold that year until about Dec. 1. It kept getting colder and colder until one morning between Christmas and New Years the thermometer registered degrees below zero—a spirit ther¬ mometer, of course. It was so cold that in spite of all we could do the water would freeze an inch or more in the cabin every night. So high was the wind and blinding the snow storms that often for a week at a time we were unable to go outside to take ob¬ servations. ’ One morning the latter part of January, Harry got up looking very pale; He would not eat any break¬ fast, and before dinner time be was back in bed again, complaining of a terrible headache. By evening he was in a raging fever, So delirious did he soon become that at times it was as much as I could do to hold him in bed. I gave him such medicine as I thought lie needed; and many an hour I spent poring over tho book of instruction accompanying tiie chest in search of a proper remedy. But noth¬ ing I gave him seemed to do him any good. One day early in February 1 went outside to remove some sticks of wood the wind had blown against th3 door. 1 left Harry sleeping soundly, and, I thought, more naturally than at any time during his sickness, Re¬ turning a few minutes later I found him sitting iu front of tlie telegraph instrument with his band upon ihe key. But the effort had probably been too much for him; his head lay upou his chest and lie was trembling all over with weakness, I had hardly gotten him back to bed when lie began to sink rapidly, and in less lhau half an hour he was dead, THE ENTERPRISE. As soon as I had recovered a littlo from the shock I started to telegraph the news to Colorado Springs. 1 gave the customary signal upon the key,bu l received no answer; 1 repeated it, still no answer. I thought it very strange. I knew the operator at Colorado Springs was always in his office at tiiat hour. Again and again I tried, but with no better success. I made a careful examination of the instrument, the batteries, and all connected with it, but could find nothing wrong. Then canto the awful thought, “the wire was down or broken somewhere on ttic mountains.” It was not long before I was compelled to admit that such was the case. Burying my face in my hands, I wept like a child. The prospect certainly was a terrible one. The probability was I should be cut off from all communication with (he world for two full months or more. The next morning I wrapped up Harry’s body in a couple of blankets and buried it a few yards from the cabin, among the rocks in a protected part of the peak. My loneliness then began in earnest. Such days and nights as I put in I My only diversion was reading and taking observations. Every day at Ihe customary hour i would try the telegraph instrument; hoping that communication might pos¬ sibly have been re-established. Every¬ day the same disappointment. My great fear was that I should lose my reason. One night, about throe weeks after Harry’s death, I was wakened up by what sounded lik’ the distant howling of some wild animals. For a moment or two Ihe sound was lost, Then it returned louder than ever. The next minule I remembered one of the men in the service telling me, when he lieavd 1 was going to Pike’s Peak, to look out for the coyote®. Coyotes are somewhat smaller than the ordinary wolf, and are called by many people barking wolves, owing to the peculiar nature of their cries, I had never heard them before. My opinion was that the keen-nosed brutes had scented Harry’s body and had come to devour it. Instead of stop¬ ping at tlie place where Harry was buried, they made a bee line for tlie cabin. A series of most diabolical veils announced their arrival. Then I heard something thump, thump against i lie cabin dooor. The door was a strong oak one and I fc.lt confident would resist any effort they could make. However, to make it doubly secure I pushed two great heavy Gov¬ ernment chests against it. Suddenly their howls ceased, Breathlessly I awaited developments. So long did the silence continue that I began to think that they had taken their depart- lire. But I was mistaken. I soon heard them upon the roof. Before 1 had time to recover from my astonish¬ ment at this change in their tactics, 1 heard one of the rocks that held down the roof roll off to the ground. Ter- ror stricken, I jumped to my feet, be¬ lieving nothing now would keep them out. If they could roll oft' one of those rocks, tiie boards of the roof would he nothing to thorn. I pick d up a gun that hung upon the wall, an I raised it toward the roof. Soon I saw one of tho boards begin to move; but a little at first, then more artd more until the star¬ light was plainly visible through the crack. Then it was suddenly wrenched from its place, and adaik object appeared in the aperture. I fired. Tiie same moment I was dashed violently to the floor by something heavy coming from the direction of the roof. The next thing I remembered was finding myself lying upon the bed. To my surprise I saw the cabin door was open and the sunlight stream- ing in. I started to ge: up, but fell back exhausted. Wondering what could be the matter, I made another attempt. As I did so my heart almost stood still at the sight of a man stand¬ ing iu tlie doorway, Could I be dreaming? I rubbed mv eyes tremb¬ lingly with my hands. The man, ap-. parent,lv divining my thoughts, said: “Don’t be afeared; it liain’t no ghost, but it might have been if you’d shot me that night, as you tried to.” “Shoot you,” 1 gasped. “Yes, shoot me,” repeated the man “and if I hadn’t throw’d you to the floor when I did you’d shot at me the second time.” “But the coyotes?” I ask d. “Coyotes,” repeated the man in amazement, “What do you mean?” I told him my story. He laughed heartily. • “It wam’t no coyotes or nothin’ as you heard. It war me and the other fellows a-liolerin'. You see we busted both our lamps,and we were a-holleriu’ for you to make some light so we could see whe^ the cabin war. You see you were clean out of your head ■with the fever and you ’inagiued aii them things.” He then told me that I CARNES VILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21. 1890. had been lying 111 with a fever ever sinco that night, some three weeks in all, and that I had been delirous t ho whole time. Whilo lie was still talk¬ ing, two other men came into tho cabin. “That’s a nice way to be a treatin’ people as is sent to your rescue,” spoke up one of them. “And after bein’ nearly frozen to death on tho way,” added the other one. “.My rescueJ what do you mean?” I inquired, not a little puzzled. “Ain’t your name harry?” asked the first speaker. “No,” 1 said: “it isn't.” They all looked at one another strangely. Then tho same man said: “Why, on tho 5th day of February a telegram came from a man up here a savin’ that t':e fellow as war a stayin' with him had got lost, and he himself war a dyin’.” “February fifth,” I thought. “It was the day Harry died.” In a moment I saw through it all. Harry’s business at the telegraph instrument that morning was explained. Getting awake while I was out taking away the wood from the door, and not see¬ ing me, he had thought in his deliri¬ um I was lost; hence his message to Colorado Springs. It is still a matter of wonder to the people out there how tlie rescuing party ever got up the mountain. It was a feat never a'- tempted, much less accomplished, at that season of tlie year. Some time afterward I met the man who had told me about the coyotes. He laughed heartily when I related my experience, lie said what he had meant by coyotes were the fleas that fairly swarmed up there at certain seasons of the year. They were so big and bit so hard that the men in the service nicknamed them “coyotes”.— [New York Sun. Siberia Importing I’igs. Siberia has taken to raising pigs and to improving the breed. The world only knows Siberia as the place where Russian and Polish exiles sutler tlie horrors of a barbarous system and where American aud English explorers meet death from starvation and cold. Its only product is supposed to be salt, and nobody thinks of it as a country having any capabilities cf progress. Y'et Siberia is rich in great possibili¬ ties. Its southern portion contains agricultural tracts of great fertility. It has vast forests of fine timber and great stores of undeveloped mineral wealth. There are Russian communi- ties away from the penal settlements which are growing rich and prosper* oils. In time the country is bound to become progressive, The climate of its southern provinces is mild and healthy, and it is watered by great rivers that afford spleudid facilities for trade. Tho importation of a number of im¬ proved English pigs is a sign of (lie times. A large consignment of the finest breed of Yorkshire pigs Jeft London recently for Siberia. They were selected from the famous herd of Sanders Spencer of Holywell Manor, whose piggeries are said to contain some of the finest specimens in the world. And they are to be folowed soon by other lots. It is a positive re- 1 icf to get such news from Siberia. A little more of it and people will not feel a freezing sensation creeping over them at the bare mention of the name. Rigs are, after all, a sign of progress. — [Chicago Rost. He Had Enough. I was sitting in the rear end of a Chicago street car, and on tlie platform were the conductor and a young man of 20. I wasn’t looking at either par¬ ticularly when I saw the young man slide his hand down into the conduc¬ tor’s sack-coat pocket, where he kept his change. The conductor had his head turned away, but of a sudden be dropped his right hand, caught the other man’s wrist, and with a move which seemed the easiest thing in the world he bent the fellow’s arm back and broke it with a snap. As the bone broke the victim’s clenched hand opened and a lot of silver was scattered on the platform. “Got enough?” asked the conductor, as he let go. “Yes.” “Then git.” And the thief, who never even cried out, but whose face was white with the pain, dropped off the step aud was lost to view. — [New York Sun. Take Your Choice. Two rival sausage dealers have their shops adjoining. One of them has painted upon his glass window over a pyramid of sausages: “At fivepencc apounp; to pay more is to be robbed.” while tho other puts his.sausages C into au obelisk aud paints above it : “At sixpence a pound; to pay less is to be poisoned.” A CHILIAN HOTEL. 4 Traveler’s Experience at the Foot of the Andes. A Swimming Bath Under Vines Laden With Grapes. Tin favorable impression of Chili which 1 bad revived in descending tho western slopes of the Cordillera was augmented when 1 reached the village, or perhaps 1 should say town, of Santa liosu do, los Andes. This was my first cxpbvicnco of a Chilian lio'cl. .Vs we roilo up through clouds of dust the exterior of tlie one-story “adobe” buildings of tlie Hotel del Comercio did not seem inviting. In¬ side, however, I found a series of court-yards, or “patios,” avenues of treliised vinos, aviaries, canalized watercourses anil other pleasant fea¬ tures. 1 hired a room in the first “patio,” with an outlook upon the flowering shrubs, the fountain and the wonderful imitation marble statues which stooil around it. \Vho would have expected to find specimens of Greek sculpture—of the period of de¬ cadence, it is true—at the foot of tlie Andes? Dusty as I was, and having been wholly deprived of the use of soap and water during my six days’ jour¬ ney across the mountains, the old prejudices of the dweller ill (owns as¬ serted themselves, and I asked the landlady, in an off-hand and iialf- apologetic tone if it would be possible to have a bath. “Como no?” she re¬ plied, with the usual Chilian formula of ready affirmation, and added: “Would you like a swimming bath?” “Is there a swimming bath in the hotel?” 1 asked. “Como no? The water is not crystalline, blit it is clean and fresh, and brought from the Aconcagua River by an ‘accquia.’" “Bueno, vamos aver,” said 1, and we went to see. And behold at the end of the garden was a tank some fifteen feet square, with water running through it, and overhead, as a pro. lection against the sun, vines laden with pendent, bunches of grapes, form¬ ing, as it we e, a ceiling to the bath. This was delightful, and T bathed with joy. Now after a bath a man needs refreshment of some kind. “Como no?” was (he invariable reply; and I was shown into a bar-room, where I found a greater variety of deleterious drinks than you would meet with in similar establishments in Europe or the United States, and yet Los Ar.dres does not boast 3500 in¬ habitants. Thus fortified and rejuve¬ nated, I was prepared to dine, and I srcceeded in dining very fairly, drank good Chilian wine, had a pleasant talk with my friend Don Uonot-io and other gentlemen, and after dinner took a walk on the plaza, where there was a zealous but inferior orchestra playing for the distraction of “all Los Andes,” represented by a few officers, em¬ ployes, and shop-keepers, a dozen ladies wearing Parisian hats that were tlie fashion a year ago, and a few score modest natives, the women wearing black shawls drawn mantilla wise ove r their heads, and the men draped in (‘ponchos,” and sheltered from in¬ discreet. eyes by broad-brimmed white straw hats with black string tied under the chin. The Biggest Apple Tree. The largest apple tree in New Eng¬ land, and probably in Hie world, is in the north western part of Cheshire, Conn., standing in Mr. Delos Hotch¬ kiss's dooryard. Its age can be traced by a family tradition to 140 years at least, and it may be twenty or twenty- five years older. It is at the present time of symmetrical shape; the trunk is nearly round, without a scar or blemish on it; there are eight large branches; five of them have been in tlie habit of bearing one year and tlie remaining three the next. Mr. Hotch¬ kiss has gathered in one year from the five branches 85 bushels of fruit, and liis predecessor had harvested a crop of 110 bushes from tlie same five branches. By careful measurement, the circumference of the trunk one foot above the ground, above all en¬ largements of the roots, is 13 feet 8 inches. The girth of the largest single limb is 6 feet 8 inches. The height of the tree lias been carefully measured and found to be 60 feet, and the spread of the branches as the apples fall is 100 feet, or C rods. The fruit is rather small, sweet and of moderate excellence.—[Boston Jour- nal. Two of a Kind. Mrs. WelJoil—That is a splendid charger you arc riding, Mr. Poorbody. Mr. Poorbody (who has spent his week’s wages for an airing)—H’m— er—yes, Something like the live, y man of whom 1 hired him. (Hove Making iu America. A largo amount of capital is interet* ted in the glove industry in tlie United Suites. T.VO towns ill New York, and substantial and prosperous towns they are, too, are given over to this sort of industry. Glovcrsvillo is a place of 15,000 and Johnstown of 9,000 poo¬ pic, and they are wholly dependent upon these glovemukers for their sup¬ port. It does not seem that they are disappointed in their hopes. Both are in a very prosperous condition; the workmen own tlieir own homes and arc well paid, Glove sewers receive from $9 to 812 a week, while tlie •able-cuttcrs are paid from $ 1 to $3.50 a day. Most of tlie American-made gloves are of tho heavier kind, such as arc used by teamsters!, farmers and tho in¬ dustrial community generally, But our facilities for making the finer grades of gloves are constantly in¬ creasing. There is no good reason, in fact, why in a comparatively short time ive cannot surpass France in sew¬ ing and finishing the gloves, because tlie American worker is better paid and will show more pride and cure in his work. The chief obstacle at pres¬ ent in tho way of tlie American kid glove lies in the dressing of the leather. This is a very important desidera¬ tum. When we can prepare our leather with the samo skill that the foreign gloveinakers arc able to do it will be a great stride forward in this industry in America. The best kid gloves ma le in this country arc made from imported kid leather. But the improvements in this direction have boon made so rapidly that in a year or two tho gloveinakers of the United States will step to a front place,—- [Chicago Post. 8cc«nd*llattd Heulpttffe. “There are illahy smttftliett icufptdva ill the United .States and Italy Vflw a disgrace to the profession @9 fat 1 a* tlieir work is concerned,” said Sculp¬ tor Giovanni Turin! a few days ago during a conversation in his studio on Staten islands. “Not only is tlieir work poor, but frequently tlieir names are attached to work which has not been done by them. There is a fla¬ grant example of this in Florence at tho present time. A young woman lias a studio in which she employs two men who arc thorough : enlptors. “Whenever she expects an American visitor these men are sent out of the shop, she smears her hands and apron with clay, and when the expected one arrives she is found busily at work on a figure. Evidence of hard work in the shape of unfinished busts, etc., are scattered about the place. If an order is given her, her workmen are recalled as soon as the visitor has de¬ parted, and they take up tlieir unfin¬ ished tasks. When the order she has been giveu has been executed her name appears on it, while, as a matter of fact, she can’t handle u tool properly. “Nearly 90 per cent, of the model¬ ing done in this city is by Italians em¬ ployed by American firms. In tlie past few years large numbers of skilled artisans have come from Italy, where they are not adequately paid, ’ and have secured good positions here. Americans should patronize home workmen more, now, instead of going to Italy, where they are imposed upon by people like tlie one of whom I have spoken.”—[New York Star. A True Incident. A lady living in the vicinity of New York had two pets, one a large cat with a beautiful striped fur coat, gray eyes, white face, and elegant whiskers; Hie other a small canary bird, Ail¬ (agonistic by nature, yet being raised together they became true friends. The cat enjoyed tiie singing, and watched the movements of Dick as lie jumped from perch to perch with the greatest interest. One warm day the lady raised the window to admit tho balu y air, when tlie cage had not been properly fastened. Birdie sought its freedom instantly, flew out and landed on the gl ass plot. Quick as thought the cat sprang for it, spreading her large paws so as not to hurt it, and hold it until tier mistress (who was lame) came down a flight of stairs to the relief of both. When Dick was within his gilded cage safe and sound, a happier “trio” could not be found than mistress, cat aud bird.—[New York Witness. A Natural Couclasiou. Young Brassey (to Banker Wall, who doesn’t know him)—Say, govern- or, let me have a hundred, will you? Banker Wall—Why in Halifax should I let you have money, you jack- anapes? Y. B.—Your daughter told me last night that she would be a sister to inc. Doesn’t that make me your son?— [New York Herald. CHILDREN'S COLUMN. TIIK CAT'S KXPLAKATION. You ask the reason, little friends. Why eats don't wash tlieir faces Before they eal as children do, In all good Christian places. Well years ago, a famous eat. The pangs of hunger feeling, , Had chanced to catch a line young mouse, Who said as lie ceased squealing, “All genteel folks their faces wash Before they think of eating!” Ami wishing to bo thought well bwd 1 uss heed*d his entreating. But when slio ralssil her paw to wash, Chance for escape affording, The sly young mouse then said goodby, Without respect to wording. A feline council met dial Jay, Ami passej m solemn meeting A law forbidding any cat To wash till after eating. — [Times-Democrat. THU BING GAME. All present must leave the room with the exception of ono person who then places a lic.ivy linger ring In some fairly conspicuous place, On the entrance of tho others the object is to find the ring, but instead of ex¬ claiming when they see it. each person that does so quiety sits down without speaking. Tlie last person to find tho ring, or tlie one who cannot do so, lias to pay a forfeit or line, or whatever may be previously settled, and to he the next person to hide tlie ring. Brass or gilt candlesticks, clocks, brackets, etc., aro good [daces on which to place the ring, and Hie same game may tie likewise played with a thimble. It is droll to see those who have perceived tho ring quietly silling down and Hie eagerness and despair of those who fail to sec where it is.-- Brooklyn Citizen. MR. STORK A\I» FAMlt.V. The common stork is a bird of tlie same family as tlie heron and tlie Hit- torn. It is of large size, generally three and a half feet in length, with long legs adapted for wading in marshy places, tlie three front toes be¬ ing webbed as far as tlie first joint. The wings are large, the bill long, straight, sharp and pointed. Both l»i 1* and legs are of a bright rod color. Tlie plumage of tlie stork is pure white, except the wings, which are partly black. The breast feathers are soft and long, and the bird when at rest may often be seen standing with its bill half hidden among these feathers, which [jives it a wise and contemplative appearance. Tlie common stork is a native of the greater part of tho Old World, and is pretty widely diffused everywhere ex¬ cept in Britain, where, unlike the her* Ull and tlie bittern, it is very rare, and always has been, even when the exten¬ sive fens of England were undrained. The stork is a migratory bird,its range extending as far as the northern parts of Scandinavia. Its flight is strong and powerful, which might easily be guessed from the size of its wings. It also flics very high. Before these birds take tlieir de¬ parture from their summer haunts they congregate in laige flocks and make a great, noise by their curious habit of clattering their mandibles, and at such times they are popularly supposed to be holding a consultation. The stork has, however, no voice. Tills bird frequents marshy places, feeding oil eels and other fish, frogs and young birds. Its nest is a simple affair, consisting of a few sticks and reeds loosely woven together and placed on tho top of tall trees, ruined buildings, church spires or common houses. In many [ arts of Europe it is con¬ sidered, especially in Holland, a very fortunate thing when a pair of storks choose to build on tiie housetop; therefore many families in that coun¬ try place comfortable nesting-boxes on tlieir roofs, hoping thus to attract the birds. Tney are easily tamed, and in many places are protected by law on account of their good services in destroying rats and mice, also devour¬ ing all manner of refuse from tho streets of towns, where they stalk about with perfect confidence, even in the midst of throngs of people. From ancient times storks have been celebrated for the affection which they display towards their young and for the regard which they show to their aged parents. Tlie flesh of the stork is quite unfit for food. The stork of America is almost identical with the European bird.—[New York Herald. An Expedient. Beggar—Help me, good sir! I have a large, family and can scarcely keep Hie wolf from the door. We are in need of food, Crusty—H’tn- Have you got a gun? “Yes, sir.” ••'Well, here’s 5 cents. Go and buy some ammunition and the next time a wolf comes around kill him aud eat him.”—[Lawrence American. NO. 40. Time. Father Tiino Is sweeping onward. Scythe and hnur-glass in tunic!; Nothing can obstruct his pathway Nothing can tils force withstand. Now he blurs the cheek of bcunry—. Noiv he renders weak Hie strong— And lie cuts down all before him, As he swiftly glides u'ong. And he seems a griui old tyrant, Stem-browed, merciless and cold, Shaking mildew from his pinions On all things of human mo d. Making every pleasure short-liyeJ. Touching love with his alloy, Blasting with tils sour visage Every bud of human joy. Yet, met.hinks, if thoughtless mortal Would but read bis visage right. They would come to the Conclusion That he is not ruled by spite. True, lie sides with Death at present, But he loves him none the more, And in the far-distant future He will he Death's conqueror. Then give Time the praise that's due lilm— He his mission must fullill, And lie'll use you very gently If you do not treat him ill. If you're free from dissipation. And with vice no dealings have, lie will give you health and comfort From the cradle to the grave. — [Francis 8. Smith in N. Y. Weekly. < HUMOROUS. A Charity Bawl—Help a poor blind man. A Good Old-fashioned Muzzle Loader—Hash. We suppose u nose may be said to ho broke when it hasn’t got a scent. No matter how poor the astronomer may be, ho is always looking up in the world. It is a hard thing l’or a man who has to he round to keep square at the same time. A mosquito is tho most successful of duns. Whenever he presents his bill be collects immediately. E* After all, the only way to profit by ttio experience of others and avoid their troubles is to die young. Barber—Docs tho razor cut all rigid? Victim—It seems so. That’s tho third mole you’ve chipped off. “How still and quiet the woods are,” she remarked romantically. “Yes.” lie replied, “but listen a min¬ ute and you’ll hear the dogwood bark.” “1’clcr, tell us what is a fort.” “I’lcase, sir, it’s a place where they put men in.’t “Then what is a fort¬ ress ?” “A [dace where they put women in.” Morgan-—What brand of cigars does Maxwell smoke? Dorgsn—Thoy call them the “Riot Act.” Morgan—Why? Dorgan—Because they never fail to scatter a crowd. A young lady sent to a newspaper a poem, entitled “I Cannot Make Him Smile.” The editor ventured to ex¬ press an opinion that she would have succeeded bad she shown him tho poem. Do Jones—Miss Mary, I am think¬ ing of getting married and want to ask you if you can help mo. Mis* Mary—Help yon? Of course I will. It will be a great pleasure to me to bo assistcr to you. The Hosiery Prod net Ioa, 1 was told recently by one* of the prominent hosiery merchants that the production of seamless hose iu this country was about 100,000 pairs daily, says the New York correspondent of the Washington Star. This seems in¬ credible, and yet my informant is a man of wide and accurate knowledge of (lie trade. A daily production of 1,200,000 pairs of stockings would mean 7,000,000 pairs each working week or 350,000,000 pairs a year, an average of five pairs to each man, woman, child, bedridden invalid and pickaninny in the land. And this cov¬ ers only one class of stockings, though probably tlie most numerous one. Of course, the bulk is of tiie cheapest qnali.ies, those that sell in the trade for 60 cents a dozen and thereabouts. But how are they need, and whpre do they go? It is almost as deep a prob¬ lem as the death and tlie future life of Hie pin. These statistics throw a strong light on the gigantic dimensions of the clothing trades. We scarcely put hosiery and underwear among the important divisions of dry goods, and yet (he transactions are beyond the scope of an ordinary imagination. Neither Touched Nor Moved. Mrs. Norton inquired eagerly of Lord Paumure after the queen had pinned a medal on the breast of the brave Sir Thomas Troubridge, the Crimean hero: “Was the queen touched 9 ” “Bless your soul, no!” was the re. ply. ‘ She had a brass railing before her aud no one could touch her I” Mrs. Norton explained: “I mean, was she moved? ’ “Moved?” returned Lord lj*anmure, with wilful stolidity, “she had no oc¬ casion to move.”—[Ladies’ Pictorial.