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Sing Low Lullaby* Nurlit is coming, baby dear, Darkling shadows drawing near. Mother holds you tight and warm, ^ 2 Mother’s arm* are baby’s chartu. Strong and tender lull to sleep •, As the shadows closer creep, Sing low lullaby. Now. as back and forth we go, Rocking, rocking, to and fro, Baby’s lids go up and down. Soon she’ll be in Sleepy town. Soft and still on mother’s breast, t Sweet, my baby rest, rest! Sing low lullaby. Now the fringe is half-way down Over eyes so bright and brown, Sjiots of black and flecks of white, Now a gleam of yellow light. All the world’s in baby’s eyes, Mother looks and looks, and sighs, Sings low lullaby. Deeply down in baby’s eyes Again she looks, looks and sigh*. She sees a sad face mirrored there. A face that should be bright and fair Pictured in so clear a lake, .Smile! smile! for baby’s sake. Sing low lullaby. Only a little crescent light Under eyes just now so br ght, * - Mother takes one little peep ' \ Anu iiBus bat>y fast asleep. Soon through sleet) smiles will gleam, Angels come in baby’s dream. Sing low lullaby. Now their wings are rustling near, Mother shuts her cy s to hear, And her lids go up and down. Mother’s going to Sleepy town. And the angels standing by Will sing for her a lullaby. — [Hettie GarJnmn'» Atl.’ma Constitution. MABEL’S HUSBAND. “Of course. I shall never dare to speak another word to her!” said Rob¬ ert Dale. “But why not? Only toll me why cot!”cried out little Fiorrie, climbing up the beams of the barn loft, so that her head should be just on a level with that of her tall brother, and clasping him around the neck with both arms. Robert was a tall, handsome young athlete, at that moment busy in mend¬ ing one of the cogs of a steam-plow with deft and ready touch. His dark brown hair hurg in heavy masses over his broad forehead; his hazel eyes were full of latent fire, and there wus a world of character and resolve in his mouth and chin. One might easily excuse Fiorrie Dale for being proud of such a brother. “Don’t you see, Fiorrie?’ - 6aid the young giant, gently putting away the hands that interfered with the delicate screw he held. “I never asked her to be my wife while she was the poor and dependent school-teacher here. How can I have the face to do it now that she has inherited a fortune?” Fiorrie balanced herself on the beam, her dimpled face looking out from its frame work of hay; a speck¬ led lion came cackling from its nest in the fragrant hay, and half a dozen captive swallows flew back and forth in the peak of the barn overhead. “But you were just going to ask her, Bob, you know you were!” “Ah, but how is she to know it?” “Why, by instinct, of course,” de¬ cided Fiorrie. Dale shook his head, with rather a end smile. “No, mv little girl,” said he. “I do „ not choose to be mistaken for one of the great army of fortune-hunters* I've lost my opportunity, and there’s an end of it. It’s my own fault.” Fiorrie burst into tears. “Oh, Bob!” said she. Robert Dale stroked down her sun¬ shiny head, not without a sparkle of moisture in his own eyes, bat he smiled a wan smile, nevertheless. “I’ve often read that pride was a sin,” sobbed Fiorrie, “but I never comprehended it before. Oh, Bob, 1 could almost hate you, if 1 didn't love you so dearly!” And Fiorrie scrambled down from her perch on the beam, and ran away, with both hands clasped over her face. Dale looked after her. “Poor little darling!” he said to himself. “It is but a scratch on the surface of her tender young heart! On mine it is a deep wound, seared in with red-hot iron, God help me!” It was one of those romances which occur in real life oftener than one has any idea of. Mabel Wynne wa« a pretty young school-teacher in Ab¬ bott’s District, whose life of poverty had suddenly been turned into riches by the bequest of a distant and nearly- forgotten relative. To Mabel herself it seemed like a golden dream. JIow often she had built castles in the air, whereof the foundation was “If I were rich!” And now tne dream had come true: the pinnacles of the air-castles were actually shining athwart the sky of her life, heretofore such a cold and m-otr ornonqp f » *» T ’V vV * “And now,” said Mabel to herself, “I can fulfill all my heart s desires!” She took counsel with no cne, unless now ar.d then an hour with the gray- haired old lawyer might come under that head; she simply did as 6he pleased. “Ilev’ ye seen the new house that Mabel Wynne is buildin’?” said one neighbor to another. < * Ii’s a reg’lar Aladdin's castle! With the trees all cut away from the lake, and new drives made through the woods, and heathen statters set up here and there, and a row o’ glass houses to raise furrin plants and ripen grapes and peaches before their time.” “1 don’t approve of no such notions,’ solemnly answered the other. “To ray mind, it's a clear settin’ o’ Providence at defiance. Grapes in March! And orange-trees a flowerin' in 1 His ’ere climate, with the snow on the ground! Mark my works, there won't no good come of it!” It was a bright September evening when Mabel Wynne stopped at the old Dale farm-house. Fiorrie rushed to meet her, and | S merable. reelcd ho1 ’ " ith hu K 8 »" d kUses “Dear, dear May!” she said. “Why haven’t you been to see us before?” “Why haven't you been to see me?” retorted Mabel, with the piquant, off¬ hand manner which was*one of her greatest charms. “That is the ques¬ tion. I should think.” Florrie’s eye ashes drooped; in¬ stinctively she turned to her brother. Robert advanced to her rescue, of¬ fering Miss Wynne his hand, with an excellent imitation of composure. “Because, Mabel, your time has been so much occupied,” said he. “I told Fiorrie that things were changed— that you could hardly be expected to have leisure to devote to her silly prat¬ tle.” “How did you know that thing were changed?” cried Mabel, with a resentful flash in her violet-blue eyes. “My own common sense told me SO.” “Was that the reason that you haven’t been to see me?” “One of the reasons.” “Oh!” said Mabel, with an indes¬ cribable intonation of voice, and fixing her eyes upon his with a sudden, questioning glance, which he was but too thankful to evade by looking an- other way. “Tliat was all that you cared for your old friend, eh?” “If I could be of any real practical use to my old friend—” “You can,” briefly interrupted Miss Wynne. “Tell me how, and I shall be at your service.” Fiorrie put her arms around her friend’s neck, whispering softly: “This is like old times, May!” “And I shall want Fiorrie, too,’ added Mabel, “to help eke out ray own inexperience. A man’s judgment and a woman’s taste! May 1 count on both of you?” “On me, certainly,” said Robert Dale. “You might know that I would be ready to help you!” cried Fiorrie, al¬ most inclined to be aggrieved. “Then, will you both come up to ‘The Glen’ tomorrow at 10 o’clock?” “That’s the name of your new fairy palace?” * • Didn’t you know it?” Robert smiled. “I dou’t ask mauy questions,” said lie. “Y'es. It is called ‘The Glen,”’ she answered. Mabel Wynne stayed, and spent the evening at the Dale farm-house. She and Fiorrie sang sweet part-songs to the accompaniment of Robert s violin: they talked of old times and new; and when at last Robert returned from seeing Mabel home, Fiorrie clapped her hands gleefully. “Oh.liob,” she cried, “isn’t it nice to have Mabel here once more?” And Bob’s smile did her heart good. The next day, however, things as¬ sumed a new aspect. Robert and Fiorrie walked up through the woods to the bcautifull new house, whose stained-glass casement* commanded *o rare a view of hillside, woodlaud, and distant, winding river. Mabel was s anding on the portico. “Now come in,” she cried, radiant- jv. “Walk through all the rooms with me. Here is the library— 1 want Roberts idea about fitting that up— and here are the drawing rooms. Fiorrie and I must decide about those; for, to tell you the truth”—and she collored pinker than the heart of a rose—“I anx going to be married!” Fiorrie started back, with a little exclamation; Robert stood calm and quiet as one of the marble statues in the vestibule. “Married!” Fiorrie cried—“and not to confide in me! Oh, May!” “Tell me,” said Mabel—“shall we furnish the drawing-rooms in blue and silver, or pink and gold? And shall my rooms be the south ones, or the suit looking out over the river? And Bob must have the vestibules furnish¬ ed to suit a man's taste. I shouldn’t like to have my husband criticise them when he comes. Will you do this for me, Bob, because of our old friend¬ ship? Oh, don’t look so solemnly at me! I know I am asking a great deal, but I thought I could depend on you.” “You can,” he answered, quietly. “Come out and look at the new sun¬ dial on the south lawn, added Mabel. Fiorrie lms run up stairs to sea the river from the observatory. We won f wait for her; because, Bob, 1 want to tell you a secret.” “Would not your husband be tht proper person to confide iu, May?” lie asked. “ In this ease, no, Bob!” she cried- “Listen to me. 1 love this man with all my soul—this husband that is to be —and he loves me.” “Naturally,” observed Robert, set¬ ting his teeth. “But he does not dare to tell me so He thinks, don’t you see, that 1 am an heiress. Well, so I am; but I am a woman, nevertheless, and I love him! Is my wretched money to part us! If so, 1 will fling it all into the ocean, and begin hfc anew as a beggar-girl. Now, Bob, what shall I do? It is for this that I have sent for you to come here. Answer me, quickly!” “Tell him all,” said Robert, huskily. “For God’s sake uo not break his heart for so trifling a cause as this!” Mabel’s cheeks crimsoned, her eyes fell to the ground. “1 have told him,” she murmured, “within this hour. Oh, Robert, Rob¬ ert! have I said too much?” “MyMay, my own darling!” cried Dale. “And to think that this miser¬ able, false pride of mine failed to measure the nobility of your virtue!” When Fiorrie came down from the observatory to the marble sun-dial, where the minutes were measured off by sunshine—ah, how appropriate it seemed just now, this division of time! —Bob and Mabel were sitting side by side cm a rustic bench, and there was something in their faces that betrayed the truth at once. Mabel’s lips dimpled into a soft, shy smile. Bob drew Fiorrie toward him at once. “You have discovered our secret, little sister,” said he. Fiorrie uttered a cry of joy. “Oh, May!" she said, “is it Bob?” “Could it be any one else than Bob?” Mabel whispered, her sweet eyes full of loving light. And then Fiorrie, the mendacious little gipsy, declared that she had known it all along. It wasn’t a bit of a surprise to her. Everybody had seen it but Bob; and Love was pro¬ verbially blind. — [Saturday Night. What an Egg Is. The white of an egg is almost pure albumen and water, and the yolk, which is the richer part, albumen with particles of oil and a small amount of salts. Albumen exists in the blood in the proportion of seventy-five parts to one thousand. To supply this al¬ bumen in the body it is necessary to use aliments that contain it. That group of food of which eggs are first an j foremost are called albuminoids, an( j a characteristic common to all is that they contain nitrogen, an impor¬ tant element to the body. The pure nutriment in an egg is one-third of its entire bulk, while that in beef is only one-fourth aud of oysters ouc-eighth their respective bulks. Fond mother—I wonder what baby is thinking of! Fond father—He is not thinking; he is listening to hear if his first tooth is coming. LUNGS OF CONGRES. cyn - HOW THE HOUSE IS SUPPLIED WITH TEMPERED AIR. It is Hard to Suit the Wants of Aii the Members. The lung power of congress counts for something in legislation. L ncle Sam spends a deal of money to keep the organs of respiration in order for his statesmen, But even with an art- jflcial breathing apparatus it is not al¬ ways easy to satisfy the men who make up congress. The air is pumped into their Jungs too fast or too slow; they are given too much or too little; it is too hot or too cold; there is al- WUVS bOIiiClllIIIU * t * A w—1 rt • 1^ *^r IV 1 i Ci IU CUUipjaiu KJJ.J ordinary mortals are content to do their own breathing! The two mighty lungs of Congress arc*situated down in the lowest bowels of the Capitol. They are run by steam and ch aw air thro lgh towers fifty feet high from a duct two or three hundred yards away. The snows of winter, the balmy air of spring and the sultry summer air are breathed through these mighty lungs with the changing sea¬ sons. The first swallow, who does not make spring, is sucked into the great funnel if he Hies too close to its top, and he might find himself suddenly blown into the halls of Congress if there were not screens to check his course. Many chimney swallows se¬ lecting this high tower as a suitable place to build their nests, have circled around the opening and been dfTTT.t'O their death. Sparrows, black birds, robbins, larks, have been breathed into the Capitol though they have never gone so far as to be pumped into the lungs of the statesmen. Only air, pure air, heated, moistened and prepared for breathing purposes, is forced into their lungs. Two or three men in the engine rooms on either side of the Capitol watch the temperature and respiration of Con¬ gress. The aim is to give every man in the hall and the women and children in thd galleries each 47 cubic feet of air in a minute, and to keep their tempera ure uniformly at 71. Usually about 68,200 cubic feet of air is pumped into the House of Representa¬ tives each minute. The air comes in through a clean whitewashed duct, is run over a little pool of fresh water, and in cold weather is run through coils of steam pipes to give it the proper temperature. An entire fresh supply of air is put through the house every seven minutes ordinarily, and sometimes it is all changed in four minutes. An incubator does not have to he watched with greater care than has to be bestowed upon the house by the pure air man. At his right is an elec¬ tric thermometer, which conveys to him in the under-ground depths a cor¬ rect record of the temperature in the hall of the house; at his left is a gauge which tells him how much fresh air 1 lac statesmen have to breath; ami near lum is an automatic damper, which turns off the heat when it gets too great, It is not an easy thing to send air into the House that will suit everyone. Some of the hot-blooded men want a very low temperature and a constant draught blowing about their ankles. Others will sit in a toasting heat with their coat collars turned up, aud will complain of a breath of air coining through the ventilators. It is found by averaging all complaints that a temperature of 71 degrees, with 88,- 200 cubic feet of air a minute, is most satisfactory.— [Commercial Advertiser. Armed for the Fray. “Then, mv dear, you have really made up your miml to marry a wid¬ ower?” t “Certainly.” “And does he never talk to you about his first wife?” i * I should like him to try. If he did, I should at once begin to tell him about my three husbands in the regu¬ lar order of my acquaintance with them.” Brought to Terms. Mrs. Brown- -Johnnie wou’dn’t say anything when I accused him of break¬ ing the window, so 1 gave him a good whipping. Brown—What effect did it have on him? Mrs. Brown—A telling effect.— [Lippincott. Oak is Very Scarce. Dry oak lumber of good quality fe at a premium, and the dealer who a large stock on hand is in the p 0 ^ sion of a bonanza which any ioc-iui* might envy. There is a big S [ lorta £1 , in the market and the shortage j, , coming more pronounced ever/ <] av The oak cut last year was an av eragw one; the demand and consumptiontlj tjJ past year have been far above normal. Oak is the most popu' iv f,,. niture wood and enormous quantity of it have been used for this purposd the factories in Grand Rapids. Mi,y j alone getting away with bet ween 000,000 and 40,000,000 feet, with the other factories in the country h a J at work iu the same direction. Hardwood finishes for house intr.l riors have become more popular n J past year than ever before and oa'< J used moie than any other material.] rea>y| The demand for oak has in during the year to such an extent thj an average cut of logs will hard.;] <ei,:| supply the trade, hence the pr shortage. The prices have advent;] 5;.l within the past three months tYea and $18 for straight sawed oak to sup] v-:| and §26, and dealers who have i ply on hand do not like to let go evtj at the tigures quoted. Further seasoa] a,j.| vances are expected before the closes. The shortage in the supply ainltlJ advanced prices largely increase tiJ cost of furniture, especially the companj cheap.] er grades. One furnilure has announced an advance in nri ■« j i| ten per cent, and others are prcp irii to liable do likewise. be embarrassing The stringency is of ski] «| to to s<mie t manufacturers, especially those wj,J have been carrying light stocks, ltd difficult to get good lumber even at t »l advanced prices, and without the lui, ber tlie wheels can’t go round. If the present increased demai:d for oak continues oak will be as costly as mahogany. Last winter was open, and logging operations were cotuiu cl under difficulties. The hardwood I»g crop was smaller than for years past. The visible supply of oak for next season’s consumption is much below the average. A genuine famine is an¬ ticipated, with prices far up.— ; ilia* go llerald. Exterminating tlie llbon. As the Indians hunted them, of bison would probably have forever, writes Dr. Carver, but a 18(16 the white men turned their tion to the shaggy monster* of plains. Large eastern firms parties, and paid the shooter §2.70 each bison whore he lay dead on plains. Very soon afterward* I went to southern Nebraska, and became professional hunter. The bi*oa sisted of two large division*, the living in the south and the other in north. Their only common » ground was along the River and its branches in The Indians were well aware of fact, and hostile tribes have had a fight for that territory. It was until 1878 that the government nu; end to this by sending the south and the Sioux to their reservation. Like a herd of cattle, the bison art] always on the go, ami are apt to wa* out of rifle range in a short time. 1° moving, however, they always have* leader, and the trick was to kill a,1 v - one that started to lead the others off- By thus killing the leaders we could often shoot for an hour from behind one clump of grass, and when *bey had moved from out of range 6 ;C skinners would come up, cut the hi<‘ e in the ordinary way for skinning. r * e the animal's h°ad to a stake. Hitch s team of horses to the hide ami jerk 8 off. No one will ever know wl at ;1! " mense numbers of bisons were eU by these hide hunters, but to mv ‘ ,cr ' tain knowledge 8,000,000 hides " c! ® shipped from the banks of the Frem-k* man River in one winter, At the close of thai winter a man could along the bank of the Frenchman for 50 miles by simply jumping from t!,e carcass of one bison to another, \o<v a few old circus animals represent tl-* great herds. Contempt of Court. f* “You are lined $10,” cried the r girl as the old gentleman poked i** 5 head in the room where she u us et> ter ' taining her best beau. “What for?” inquired pabr. “Contempt of court, of course,”