Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

A .vnall, Sweet Way. where’s never a rose in all the world ¥ £ Ut m .,kes some Kreen spray sweeter; Ij-here’s never a wind bird in wing all the fleeter; sky ■ gutmakes some I'fiiere's I never radianee a star but tender; brings to heaven [jvnd Soae silver never a rosy cloud but helps I To crown the sunset splendor; Vo robin but may thrill some heart [ His dawnlight gladness voicing. <iod gives us all some small, sweet way To set the world rejoicing. —[Youth’s Banner. PLAYED AND LOST. I A slight, pale-faced girl sat silently tying with a piece of needlework on te [handsome low porch of her mother’s house; young man lay stretched It her feet On the lawn another loung couple were engaged in a game If croquet. The sun’s last gleam Iglited up Grace Munson’s face with halo of beauty, and Hernard Norton poked at her with undisguised ad mic¬ tion. j “There is nothing so lovely as a bvely woman,” he said aloud. The pale cheek of Clarice Barton ;ushed as she quickly glanced at the pcaker. It was the third time within lie hour that he had referred to her usin Grace’s beauty. l * Grace is indeed lovely,” she said. I would give half my life to be as sautiful.” I “And I would give half my fortune ou so.” No sooner were the words uttered than Norton would have given much recall them; hut he had spoken un- ■linkingly. Clarice shrank as though ■lie had been struck, arose quickly flnd went into the house. i“lam in a pretty fix now!” Nor- fln muttered, as he arose and walked ■ross the lawn. “That was a nice ■>eecb for a fellow to ( make to the ■irl he expects to marry 1 Ami Clar- Bc is as proud as Lucifer—liigh- Itrung as she is qflain, and that is laying a great deal; by Jove! I never lioticediher lack of beauty so much Before Grace came. A pity one can’t End all things combined in one [woman! ogize? Wonder if I ought to apol¬ in Oh, well, I’m going away ken day8 and she’ll forgive and for- tek Absence makes the heart softer. End with this consoling thought he Itrolled ou to join Grace Munson, ■ hose companion was just taking his pave. I Grace wa6 like a delicate llower [parkling with tho dew of morning, exquisite phe had soft blue eyes, an fcomplcxion and golden hair. Alto¬ gether she made a picture of rare beauty aud it was no wonder Bernard Norton found pleasure iu merely look¬ ing at her. That evening Clarice did not appear in the drawing-room, aud Norton was tree to devote himself to her lovely cousin. Mrs. Barton observed his conduct with displeasure; from the first she had not approved of her laughter’s suitor, and wondered what attraction the careless, frivolous young man held for her sensible Clarice. | Next morning a note was handed Norton. Its contents filled him with pningled annoyance and relief. L “When you receive this,” Clarice wrote, “I 6liall have gone to my aunt jfor a time. You do not love me, Ber¬ nard, and it is best for our engage- knent to end. Be happy in your own kvay and be very sure I shall be in kniiie.” That was all, and Bernard’s self¬ isteem was seriously wounded by the ipistle. But he consoled himself with he thought that he was now free to ivoo the charming Grace, and at the md of the month made a formal avowal of love to her. “I have loved you ever since we hiet,” he said. “Clarice saw this and generously set me free.” And Grace, iwho had become very much enamored bf her handsome suitor, gave him the ^nswer he craved. Two weeks later Mrs. Barton and Clarice were on their way to Europe, ■nd Bernard was trying to submit to Ihe stern decree of Grace’s father. “Yes, sir, you can marry my daugh¬ ter,” Mr. Munson had said, “if you love her well enough to wait three years. I am opposed to early mar- i 1 tul better. It occurred to Bera.rd lh«t be «» “kely to spend tlie greater r 31 ° vouth in the capacity of au “engaged man, : lmmor thereby. Grace was an acknowledged belle ami lot a time no was pleased at success. But there w r as a secret hit- terucss underlying his pleasure, he saw little of his betrothed in society’s whirlpool. There would he no change in this state of affairs uniil their time ol probation ended, and feeling in a false position, he con¬ cluded to spend the remaining year iu travel. When he bade Grace good-bve he was struck with the fact that she looked much older than she did at the time of their engagement. Two years of dissipation had left their mark upon her delicate beauty. “Be careful, Grace,” lie said. “Keep some of your roses for me until I claim you.” He said nothing of her fidelity; he was only afraid she might lose the beauty he worshipped. Grace was sorry to iosc her lover; slic felt desolate for a whole day aud cried herself to sleep the first night. But Bernard wrote her charming let¬ ters of travel and she soon forgot her grief. She sent him in return the briefest of notes, for the charming Grace did not excel as a correspon¬ dent. But one glance at the porce¬ lain picture he carried consoled him for that. < « A fellow can endure weak, insipid letters,” he thought, “better than the sight of a plain face across his table three times a day.” Bernard loitered here and there. then made his way slowly back. He wae in no haste to reach Chicago until a few weeks before the time appointed for his marriage, which was to take place in early autumn. One morning in July he rang the hell of the Man- son mansion and sent up his card to tho ladies. There was a step on the stair, the trail of a garment and a woman entered—a woman of medium height, with a beautifully rounded figure aud a face of dazzling bril¬ liancy. She approached Bernard and cordially extended her hand. “I came down to make your wel¬ come a little less inhospitable, Mr. Norton,” she said. “My aunt and cousin are uufortunately at a concert; they were not aware of your return. You are quite well? I do not find you so much changed as I expected.” He looked at the charming speaker iu mute wonder. “I beg pardon—I—I”—he began. Her face was a ripple of smiles as she regarded him, waiting for him to proceed. changed that “Is it possible I am so you do not know me? Have three years aged Clarice Barton so much ? For the first time in his life Bernard Norton lost his composure. He sank into a chair with an ejaculation of wonder. “Why, “Clarice Barton 1” lie cried. it does not seem possible! When did you return?” “Nearly two months ago, ” Miss Barton replied with her well-bred composure as she gracefully seated herself. “My dear mother died in Rome last winter; Europe was unen¬ durable after that, so I came back to America.” Bernard “But you are so changed!” murmured, after expressing regret at her loss. Miss Barton smiled sadly. “The years change ns all,” she said; “they leave their mark.” “Oh, it is not that, iie iia t* n sa y* ‘“Nou look not a i ay 01 when I last saw you; but—pardon my boldness—yon are wonderfully improved.” mother people, t> “I ant like ray s Clarice answered quietly. “Hier all mature late; aud the climate of Italy, where 1 remained most of the time, beneficial to me. I hope to was very months.” return in the course of a few They fell to talking of their travels anil 12 o’clock struck before Norton thought they had been chatting twent\ minutes. At that moment the hall door clanged and steps came towards them. He arose to his feet. “Impossible 1” ho said, looking at his watch, “I cannot have been here an hour. Really’ remained What he would have said ,~.hpd was very becomelv dressed, falW lb .t .he owmed like tbe l ,l ost t of o£ lier former eelf. Three years 1 L cheek had lo;>t its bloom, the no3o was sharpened and the beautiful eyes lacked lustre, As she stood besido j , Clarice for a moment she seemed ut- j terly eclipsed by her once plain cous- in. The meeting of the lovers was con- strained, and Bernard took his depart¬ ure, promising to call the next day, which he did. Grace informed him that he must wait patiently for t\v° more weeks before he could see her often, as she had engagements for every hour. “But you and Clarice can console each other,” she said. “It will he pleasant to compare notes of travel.” Bernard was not slow to avail him- self of this opportunity, and for two bright, brief weeks he walked, talked, drove and chatted with the charming wo,nan "’hom he had once siiglded. ^ liat a blind fool he had been! It was Clarice lie loved—Chirico he had always loved. She was the hoy’s fancy and the man’s ideal. It was (his cultured, interesting woman who suited him and not the faded, frivo¬ lous Grace. He grew mad with pain and rage as he realized his position. He walked into the parlor one afternoon, where Clarice was playing softly. “Do not let me disturb you,” he said, as she half rose from the piano. “I am in a mood to have my savage soul soothed by music. Are the ladies out?’ “I think so,” answered Clarice, “1 have just returned from my walk and have not seen them.” Site played on softly, her dark, dreamy eyes fixed on space. Bernard looked at her with a brooding pas¬ sion. Suddenly he crossed over to where she sat. “Clarice,” lie cried, “my own Clar¬ ice, I cannot he longer silent! I love von—I have always loved you. Years ago you cast me ofl for a foolish whim and I tried to content myself by form¬ ing other ties. I know now that 1 have never forgotten you. C arice, take me back again!” His voice was trembling with emo¬ tion; hut she stood coldly regarding him and her voice was very hard as she said: “Mr. Norton, I cannot excuse this behavior. I loved you once very dearly, hut you made me ashamed of that love and I cast it out. T have for three years thought of you as my cousin’s betrothed, almost her hus¬ band, and j'ott insult both her and me hv your conduct. I supposed you knew that I am to be married as soon as my term of mourning expires. Aliow me to pass.” She 9 wcpt by him like a queen. The alcove curtains parted and Grace stood before him. “I have.heard all,” she said. “Go, and never let me see your face again. She dropped the shining solitaire which she had worn so long into his hand and pointed towards the doer. With bowed head lie left her presence and went down the marble steps for the last time. He had played for each in turn and lost both. hkinuing an Owl. Walter E. Bryant gave an object lesson before the California Zoologi¬ cal Club the other afternoon at the Academy of Sciences, on the process of making bird skins for scientific purposes. Mr. Bryant is one of the curators of the mammal and birds sec¬ tion of the academy. His audience was very largely made up of young people of both sexes, who came in with their schoolbooks. The lesson was illustrated by diagrams on a hlackboard. Mr. Bryant came for- ward with a very dry owl on which to operate, He cut into its breast and ran an incision in the direction of the tail feathers, deftly removed the body from the feathers, skinned the throat and neck, eliminated some of the wing hones and dug out the eyes, He substituted cotting for the parts removed, and showed how the shell was sewed up and poisoned with ar- senic. Finally he explained how to wrap up a specimen to be dried and how to label the same. The name of the bird, the date when and place where it was found, its sex and age aud also the name of the collector. are written on the label. Symbols are used to denote the sex, the astro- uomical sign for Venus signifying the female and Mars the male. —[San Francisco Call. nv.VTKTE IVi\0. How These Curious Animals Build Their Homes. Some of Their Subterranean Settlements Extend Miles. One of the most interesting sights that greets the eye of the overland traveler in the west is the prairie dog and the prairie dog towns. Perhaps nowhere can a more strictly American characteristic he found than these lit¬ tle four-footed animals that are to he found in colonies of thousands in many localities throughout the great west. To those of ns here in the east they may readily be compared to the common woodchuck, resembling them both in structure and habits, although the dogs are of a decidedly gregarious nature, while the “churchi” arc only nominally so. Just how the little fel¬ lows manage to live is somewhat of a question, as they are usually found in the very poorest sections of tho coun¬ try, often miles from the water and where very little grass or vegetable matter is to he found. In fact it is a common saying on the frontier that wherever a dog town exists it is a good country to keep away from. They arc curious little animal! 1 , easily alarmed, and the grotesque sight of thirty or forty all diving into their burrows at once is frequently witnessed. The first thing that greets the visitor is a white spot here aud there on tho bare earth as he ap¬ proaches the village—these arc the old holes, forsaken years ago—a little further and rude misshapen mounds of earth are found, with partly filled burrows leading down into their more recently abandoned dwellings and then tho inhabited ones. A harking t scampering lot of dogs welcome you, and while some plunge at once out of sight others squat low down at the en¬ trance and while keeping up a constant harking carefully watch your move¬ ments. Curious things, these burrows. First a mound of earth is thrown up, iu the top of which is the entrance and from which the dirt comprising the mourn! is brought. The opening descends at an angle of about 45 de¬ grees for two or three feet and then branches oil'at right angles, tunneling the earth in various directions and often making a regular network of subterranean passages. Occasionally, but not often, this angle is much less, resembling the burrow of a wood¬ chuck for all the world, but 1 have met with only a few such, probably a half dozen in all. At the mouth of the excavation the earthy is beaten down hard, forming in some instances a nm, near which the owner sits and harks from morning until night. It is useless to shoot one sitting thus, for even if killed stone dead they manage to drop back into the holes and out of reach, while such a tiling as a wound¬ ed dog being captured is seldom heard of. When alarmed the dogs run for the nearest burrow, three or four fre¬ quently diving iuto the same one. This has given to many the idea that several families live together, hut this idea is erroneous.. Each pair appa¬ rently lias its own burrow, and in case of danger do they make use of one in common, when tne nearest dwelling is a common haven of refuge. Another erroneous impression is that the rattlesnakes, dogs and a small bur- rowing owl that inhabits these vii- la S e8 dwe11 together in harmony, Travelers and writers have told this for ma, *y > ears > but recent investiga¬ tions have exploded this pretty mod- c-rn story of the lion and the lamb. To begin with, the burrowing owl when free from intrusion, will almost invariably be found in the old deserted burrows already mentioned, and here, when hungry, the rattlesnake repaiis, to feed on owls, young or old, that he may be able to secure. Naturally enough, when alarmed, all three are apt to make for the same retreat, and R is iu such cases that they have been found and the story circulated, Prairie dogs are cunning little creatures, make amusing and inlerest- ing pets, as they are easily tamed and uan be taught to do a few tricks,while to the hungry man they are not uu. palatable as au article of food, and oi\e W delicate by some. In Shackelford county, Texas, about fifteen miles northwest of Albany, is an immense colony, extending for miles and covering hundreds of acres of otherwise barren ground, while near Albany (approaching from the southwest) up to within a mile of the town is a colony even larger. A good idea of a prairie dog town can he ob¬ tained from the inelosure at the Zoological Park, although here the animals are not in their native cle¬ ment, and, of course, show to disad¬ vantage. Here they are tame, while there it is difficult to approach w'ithin thirty or forty yards.— [Washington Star. Where the Slones are Wood. The Falklands produce no trees, hut they do produce wood in a very remarkable shape. You will see, scat¬ tered here and there, singular blocks of what look like weather beaten, mossy gray stones of various sizes. But if you attempt to roll over one of thoso rounded bowlders you will find yourself unable to accomplish it. In fact the Mono is tied down to the ground, tied down by the roots, or in other words it is not a stone, hut a block of living wood. If you examine it at the right time you may ho able to find upon it, half hidden among tho lichen and mosses, a few of its obscure loaves and flow¬ ers. If you try to cut it with an axe you will find it extremely hard to do so. It is entirely umvedgeablc, boing made up of countless branches, which grow so closely together that they be¬ come consolidated into ono mass. On a sunny day if you are lucky enough to see a 6un»y day in Falkland —yon may perhaps find on tho warm side of the “balsam log,” as the Jiving stone is called, a few drops of a fra¬ grant gum, highly prized by the shep¬ herds for its supposed medicinal pur¬ poses. This wonderful plant is the Bolax glcbaria of botanists, and belongs to the Bamc family as do the parsnip aud the carrot.— [Boston Globe. The Foundering of an Iceberg. The effect of a foundering berg al¬ most baffles description. Visiting » bay on the southern coast of Labrador a few years ago, we were surprised to find no less than nine large icebergs lying around in hut a short way inside the entrance thereto. The tallest of them was certainly one hundred feet out of the water. Gazing at this marine monster ono afternoon, it sud¬ denly fell to pieces with a tremendous crash. The sea around, which before was motionless, was lashed into leap¬ ing waves. By the force of the fall every particle of tho berg sank, and fer the space of a few seconds there remained nothing to indicate the spot iu which it had reposed hut a seething mass of water. By and by the debris began to appear, piece by piece, until at length tho sea for a considerable distance was covered with fragments of ice. The largest surviving mass reared itself sullenly aud lazily from the bluo waters as a wild animal from Its lair to the height of about twenty feet. But the striking beauty of the original berg had gone, and in a much shorter time than it has taken to de¬ scribe it.—[Philadelphia Ledger. Caught a Sawfish and If is Pilots. Yesterday morning some men were hauling a seine in the Gulf, and when they were inside the second bar they noticed a large fish in tho haul. In shallow water the fish was found to be a sawfish, and a large one at that. The seine was dragged to the beach and the fish secured. Oa its back were six pilot fish, which held on as if they were part of the prize. With difficulty they were detached and four of them saved. The sawfish meas¬ ured 13 1-2 feet in length and 4 1-2 feet iu breadth, and weighed 650 pounds. The pilot fish were quite small. In deep water they swim below the saw¬ fish on each side of the snout or saw, aud ou leaching shoal water they at¬ tach themselves to the back of the large fish by an oval sucker. This sucker resembles the sole of au old- fashioned rubber shoe, and the power of suction is such that it requires a strong pull to detach them. Their special use or duty ha9 Jong I’emained a matter of dispute.—[Galveston Daily News.