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THE JEWELS OF THE NICHT.
Night Is a Lover that wooes the Karth
With jewels and crystals bright,
Crimson and golden he heaps them up,
Yellow and sulph’rous white—
He buyeth them all for a hitter delight. price,
And grantolh her heart’s
CiUes are clustering brooches fine
To pin at tier bosom fair,
The town ami the misty roadway lamps
Are stars for her sombre hair.
And the gleaming lights of the roadside inns
Are rings that her fingers wear.
He binileth a belt of cities and towns
To shine where his arm embraced —
At the ragged edge of the lisping lakes plaeed,
Are the wharves and tbe bouses
(Hearn into gleam, till they shine at last
A girdle to elusp her waist.
I>im where the mighty ocean moans,
The ships ainl the vessels float.
Faint, where the lonely darkness leads
Through the pathways obscure, remote—
Till Night hath made of tbe barbor lights
The gems for bis mistress’ throat.
Eleanor C. in The Criterion.
The Little Curate.
LY J. J. BELL.
The curate and Miss Edmiston were
walkiug down the main street of the
village engaged in conversation, which,
being that of a recently affianced pair,
need not here he repeated.
Miss Edmiston carried herself with
an air of pretty dignity, made none
the less apparent by the fact that she
was fully two inches taller than her
lover, the Rev. John Bt. John. He
was a thin, wiry little man,dark-liaired
and pale-complexioned, and was much
troubled in his daily work' with amer-
tain unconquerable shyness. That he
should have won the heart of hand-
some Nancy Edmiston was a matter
for surprise and discussion among the
resident! in Broxbourne.
“Buell a very uninteresting young
man,” said the maiden ladies over
iheir afternoon tea.
“Bo ridiculously retiring! How did
lie ever come to propose?” remarked
the mothers whose daughters assisted
iu giving women an overwhelming and
not altogether anted majority in
Broxburn*tie society.
The men on the other hand, voli^l
Ht. John a good sort; aud his parish-
ionere, in their umgh ways, owned to
his many quad dear tes. Nancy,’’
* * ‘ You're a little girl,
the curate was stammering, looking
up at his beloved, when they were
both stopped short on k the narrow
pavement. A burly wee smnfT man was with on
gaged in chastising n boy
u weapon in the shape of a stout lea¬
ther belt. The child screamed, aud
the father, presumably, cursed.
“Stop!” orie l the curate.
„„ ihe angry man merely serowlednml
raised the strap for another blow. St.
John laid a detaining hand on the fel¬
low's arm, the temerity of which
caused the latter such a surprise that
lie loosened his grip for a moment, and
tho youngster fled howling up au
alley. —spluttered bully,
4 * What the” the
dancing round the curate, who seemed
to shrink ueare;' liis sweetheart.
“Let us go,dear,” he said. He had
grown white and was trembling.
At this juncture two of the work¬
man’s cronies appeared at the door of
the alehouse opposite,and, seeing ho.v aud
matters stood, crossed the road,
with rough hands and soothing curses
conducted their furious friend from
the scene.
“riorrible!”siglied the curate as the
lovers continued their walk.
Miss Edniistou’s head was held a
trifle higher. “If l were a nuvi,”sho
said, “1 would have thrashed him—1
would indeed! ’
“You think 1 should have punishel
him. then?” said the cmate mildlv; T,
“he was a much larger man than
you know.”
Nancy was silent, m, .
but sorely disappointed in her lover.
He was not exactly the hero she had
dreamed of. How white and shaky he
bad turned!
“You surely did not expect me to
take part in a street row, Nancy,” he
Miid presently, somehow suspecting
her thoughts. He knew her romantic
ideas. But she made no reply.
“So you think I acted iu a cowardly
fashion?” lie questioned alter a chill
pun-e.
« « I don’t think your cloth is any ex¬
cuse, anyhow," she blurted out sud¬
denly and e uellv; tin* next instant
she was filled with -llama and regret.
Before she could speak again, how¬
ever, the curate had lifted liis hat ami
was mossing the street. An icy
■‘Good-bye” was all ho had vouo’isaTd
her.
Mr. Bt. John was returning from
paying a visit of condolence some dis-
tance out of tbe village, aud he had
taken the short cat across the rnoor.
It was a clear summer afternoon, a
week since his parting with Nancy. A
pnrting in earnest it had been, for the
days had gone by without meeting or
communication between them. Tbe
cmate was a sad young man, though
the anger iu his heart still burned
fiercely. To have been called a coward
by tbe womau be loved was a thing
not lightly to be forgotten. His recent
visit, too, had beeu .particularly try-
ing. In his soul he felt that his words
of comfort had been unreal; that, for
all he had striveu, he had failed in his
mission to the bereaved mother. So
he trudged across the moor with slow
step and bent head, giving no heed to
the summer beauties around him.
He was about half way home when
his sombre meditations were suddenly
interrupted. A man rose from the
heather, where he had been lying,and
stood iu the path, barring the curate’s
progress.
“Now, Mister Parsou,” he said,
with menace iu his thick voice and
hi ated face.
“Good-afternoon,my man,” returned
Bt. John, recognizing the brute of
a week ago, and turning as red as a
turkey-cock.
“I’ll ‘good afteruoon’ye, Mister Par-
son! No! Ye don’t pass till I’m done
wi’ve,” cried the man, who had been
drinking heavily, though he was too
seasoned to show auy unsteadiness in
The curate drew back. “Wliat do
you want?” he asked. He was pain-
fully white now.
“What do I want?” repeated the
bully, following up the question with
a volley of oaths that made the little
man shudder, “I’ll tell ye what I
want. 1 want your apology”—he
fumbled with the word—“apology
for interferin’ ’tween a father an’ his
kid. But 1 licked him more’n ever
for yer blamed interferin’.”
“You cowqrd!” exclaimed Bt. John.
His opponent gapped.
“Let me pass,” said the curate.
“No ye don’t,” cried the other, re¬
covering from his astonishment at
hearing a strong word from a par¬
son.
St.John gazed hurriedly across' about him.
The path wound the moor,
through the green and purple of the
heather, cutting a low hedge here aud
there, and losing itself at hist in the
heat haze. They were alone,
The bully grinned. “I’ve got y.e
now.
“Toll have indeed,” said St. John,
peeling off his b'nck coat and throw¬
ing it on the heather. His soft felt
hat followed. Then he slipped the
links from his cuffs and rolled up his
s i liv m!eeves, while Ins enemy gasped
at the proc. edings.
« > Now I'm ready,” said the curate
gently.
“Are ye goiu’ to fight?” burst out
the other, looking at him as Goliath
might have looked at David. “Come
on< ve ”__
But the foul word never passed his
lips, being stoped by a carefully-
planted blow from a small but siugu-
laifly hard fist. The little curate was
filled with a wild, unholy joy. He
had not felt like this since his college
days. He thanked Providence tor his
friends the lndiau-clubs and dumb-
bells, which had kept him iu trim these
past three years. The blood sang in
his veins as he circled round Goliath,
guarding the giant’s brutal smashes,
and getting iu a stroke when occasion
offered. It was not long ere the big
man found himself hopelessly out¬
matched; his wind w as gone, his jaw
was swollen, aud one eye was useless.
He a ternhe blow ti » al atDavid l %«<>*}*** Partly f, luu pained S
Jt oaugUi him on the shoulder, felling
him to the earth. Now, surely, the
victory was with tbe Philistine. But
no. The fallen man recoiled to liis
feet like a young sapling,and the next
that Goliath knew was, ten minutes
later, when lie opened his available
eve uml found that his enemy was
bending over him. wiping the stains
from his face with a fine linen hand-
kerchief.
“Feel better?" said the curate.
“Well, I’m----”
“Hush, man; it’s not worth swear¬
ing about,” interposed his nurse.
“Now, get up.”
He held out his hand aud assisted
the wieck to its feet.
“You’d better call at the chemist’s
and get patched up. Here’s money. ”
The vanquished one took the silver
and gazed stupidly at the giver, who
was making his toilet.
“i’lease, go away, and don’t thrash
your hoy any more,” said fit. John
persuasively, made then
Goliath a few steps, re-
traced them,holding out n grimy paw.
“Mister Parson, I’m—I’m’ -
“Don’t say another word, Good-
bye;” and the curate shook hands
with him.
The big man turned away. Presently
he halted once mere. “I’m-!” he
said. It bad to come. Then he
shambled homewards.
Bt. John adjusted his collar, gave
biB shoulder a rub, and donned his
coat and hat. As he started toward
the village a girl came swiftly to meet
him.
“0 John, John, yon are splendid!”
she gasped as she reached him. “I
watched yon from the hedge yonder.”
“I am exceedingly sorry, Miss
Edmiston,” said the curate coldly,
raising his hat aud making to pass on.
Nancy started as though he had
struck her; her flush of enthusiasm
paled out. In her excitement she had
forgotten that event of a week ago,but
the cuttiug tone of his voice reminded
her. Bbe towed her head, and he
went on his way. He had gone about
fifty yards when she called his name.
Her voice jnst reached him, but some¬
thing in it told him that he had not
suffered alone.
He turned about and' hastened to
her.—New York Weekly.
SHE SAID “DITTO.’’
It Was a »«v Word to the Policeman
find Caused Him Sorrow.
Even before the policeman gets ac¬
quainted with the people on his beat,
he should see! - an introduction to the
dictionary. The Plain Dealer proves
it by the experience of a Cleveland
officer w ho had loved a young woman
long and truly, but lacked courage to
tell her so.
Finally he mustered up all his brav¬
ery—it required more nerve than to
face au ugly mob—and inarched to her
home, “Mary,” he said, “I love
you.” started slightly. She had beeu
Mary
expecting this remark for some time.
She blushed, however, and then coyly
* t Ditto, George.’
To her surprise and chagrin George
changed the subject, and i^esently
took bis departure.
A few nights later he was on his
beat with two of bis brother officers.
“Bay, bo^s,” lie said, “I want to
a°k yon something. You know I’ve
been keeping company with a girl on
Cedar avenue, and the other night—
well, 1 told her I loved her, and say,
all she said was ‘ditto.’ Now, what iu
thunder does ‘ditto’ mean?”
The brother officer laughed loud
and long.
“Don’t you know what that means?”
one of them cried.
“No, I don’t,” said George.
“Well, it’s easy,” said liis friend,
“Look over the fence.” They were
just patch. passing “What an do East see? End^ cabbage
you
“Cabbage,” replied George. particular
“Well, now look at that
cabbage-head right there.”
“Yes, ’ said George.
“Now look at the cabbage-head
next to it.”
“d es. said George.
“Well, that s it. The first ^ cabbage-
head is a cabbage-head and the other
one is ditto.
“What! roared the irate George,
“Did that blamed girl call me a cab-
bage-head? ’ refused
And he turned away auo to
be comforted,
Tilt* fdthaitfffl lie Made,
“.Miss Willistou,” he pleaded, “I
am going away. 1 shall travel thou-
8 » nd » of V ileB befo " e * retl "“; ™ a { ]
ask you for your photograph before 1
go? Willistou looked at
Jeaunette space
aud sighed gently.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “why
you should ask me for my picture.’
“Our friendship,” he said; “surely
that is something.”
“Yes,” she answered, “that i»
something. But it doesn’t seem to
me that you have the light to carry
mv portrait near your heart—yet.”
“Jeannette!” lie cried, “will you be
mine?”
“Ah, Percy,” she said, after it had
been arranged that they should be
married a week from the following
Thursday, “bow did you dare to ask
me? What reason had you for not
fearing that 1 w ould bid you go away
and never show yourself in my pres-
euee again?” humbly replied,
“I don't know,” he
“perhaps it was intuition.”—Chicago
News.
ALASKAN FISHERMEN.
They Make Astonishing Catches With
Home-Made Tackle.
With his home-made fishing-tackle
one native Alaskan can capture more
lish in a day than can any three white
meu with their latest improved im-
plements. The Alaskan Indian shows
his intelligence by clinging to his own
implements and tools, aud at the same
time in quietly adapting himself to
the greatly altered conditions of his
environment. He will adopt certain
of onr customs and utensils,'but re-
fuses to adopt many others. While
he will always give you the most
snperstitions reasons for clinging to
his own time-hopored tools, he is
quick to decide that the spirits wish
him to make use of any new idea
which will be «n actual benefit under
conditions.
These Indians use the same fishing-
tackle that Bering found them using
during his explorations of 1741, aud
which George Vancouver found dur¬
ing his first visit among them as a
midshipmite under the famous Cap¬
tain Cook a few years later.
Fish are abundant. Alaskan homes
are always near some excellent fish¬
ing grounds. A village is often situ¬
ated iu a certain location simply to be
near good halibut banks. Hooks used
in fishing for halibut are usually made
of a fork of spruce root to which an
iron barb has been lashed, the only
change from the original being iu the
iron barb, which sometimes takes the
place of the one of bone used in the
primitive hook. All bait is secured to
the hook by means of a small cedar
cord, which is neatly lashed about the
hook when it is not in use.
Halibut feed near tbe bottom of the
sea. The Indian has a method, as
ingenious as it is rude, to keep his bait
where it will be most tempting.
He will tie a stone a few feet above
the hook on his line with a slip-
loop, which the halibut, iu trying to
get away, will twitch out, releasing
the stone and giving the Indian warn¬
ing that he can draw up his fifty or a
hundred pound halibut without the
additional weight of the sto.ie. Be¬
tween the hook and the stone sinker
is a wooden float whittled in the shape
of a duck, which, in seeking to rise to
the surface, draws the hopk up the
proper distance from the bottom.
Seal hooks made after these pat¬
terns have been on the market for
many years, but the Indian has better
success with his own.
His cords and lines are his own pro-
duction. Tliey are made of cedar
bark, split spruce roots, or kelp.
The cedar bark is scraped from the
tree with a bone shaped like a chop¬
ping knife.
After soaking for several days, tbe
bark is beaten into shreds with a bam-
made also of bone, and picked
into fine threads, which are twisted
into cords bv being rubbed between
Ihe hand and the thigh. Cords of
spruce roots split and twisted are also
very strong, but those made of kelp
are least valued.—Harper’s Bound
Table.
Tit Bits story,
George Newnes, now Sir George,
not many years ago ran a small restau-
rant in a provincial town, and one of
his most popular dishes was a concoc-
tiou 0 f everything sold under the
name of Tit Bits. The more solid
articles of diet were passed by for (he
lighter and more attractive Tit Bits,
Applying the same reasoning to iutel-
leotual food, he soon concluded that
it was the bright, pithy sayings largely
■ , ,, , .
that formed the most interesting dailies fea-
hire in the heavy English
which he read, and as ail experiment
he issued an unpretentious periodic..1
named after the popular dish in the
i estaurant. And thus began a career
which for meteoric splendor has rarely
been e mailed in t*e annals of the
publishing business.-Art in Adver-
tisiug.
Pneiunatic Thimble?.
PiHUinatic thimbles for typewriters
aud piauists a:e the latest devices for
nerve economy. The incessant and
regular pounding of the ssuxi ive lin¬
ger tips renders the owners of them
nervous wrecks in the ma’ority of
ca-e j , to say nothing of callous and
era died linger ends and broken and
split nails. The new thimbles are of
rubber, coming in sets, according to
the size of glove worn, and are said to
not only save the nerve shock, but
also to increase the speed and strength
of the stroke.—Washington Star,
Madness from hunger to the number
0 f 100,00'J cases a year is officially
reported in Italy.
BOYS IN THE NAVY.
Naval Apprentices nml Their Life at i»
Training Station.
“Apprenlices of the United States
Navy” is the title of an article in St.
Nicholas that is sure to be read with
attention by every boy who thinks of
a life at sea as an attractive alternative
to a career on laud,
Almost every boy by this time knows
of battleships and cru sers of torpe-
does and torpedo-boats, and of the
gallant officers and jolly Jack Tars who
man the ships; but it is safe to say
that there are few indeed who have
ever heard of the young naval appren-
tice, the work which he has to do, aud
what his chances are for the future,
It is enough at present to say that he
is an enliste 1 boy, who by means of a
great deal of drill and training de¬
velops gradually into a most efficient
and useful man on board of our mod¬
ern ships.
Although, as already stated, the
apprentice can never hope to become
a commissioned officer, there are many
positions of trust and honor in the
service that are open to him, if he but
applies himself to the tasks assigned
to him day by day, and is awake to
the opportunities that are sure to
turn up tor him.
The boys at the training station
truly may be said to live iu a little
world oi their own, for they do not
need to go outside of their own
circle to find any of the needs of life.
At certain hours of the day they form
a well regulated school in which they
are taught all the elements of science,
English, aud mathematics —enough
to enable them to understand thor¬
oughly and to handle intelligently the
various fittings aud armament of a
modern man-of-war.
Well informed and thoroughly prac¬
tical officers are stationed there to in¬
struct the apprentices iu all the drills
and maneuvers used by seaman afloat
and ashore, including infantry, light
artillery, seamanship iu all its forms—
both theoretical and practical—the
several kinds of signaling used in the
service, the handling of boats under
steam, oars and sails, and the use of
sword and gun in the arts of fencing
and of bayonet exercise.
At Newport is the only important
torpedo station of our government,
aud it is therefore convenient for the
apprentices to be taught, while there,
the mode of constructing a torpedo,
and the proper care and handling of
the same.
A chaplain in the navy is detailed
regularly for duty among the boys,
and to look after them in any way he
may think most conducive to their
highest moral improvement. Every
Sunday the boys are assembled on
deck to join in a regular church wor¬
ship, jiresided over by tbe chaplain,
and it is a most interesting sight to
see several hundred boys of tender
age, all in the same blue uniform,
joining heartily iu the service. Those
with voices worthy of any cultivation
are assigned to tlie choir, aud they
enjoy this honor quite as much as any
of the several privileges that fall to
their lot. At certain other times,
in the evenings, during recreation
periods, they are permitted to assem¬
ble for any kind of innocent amuse¬
ment, and one of the most popular
pastimes among them seems to be
dancing. cleared, and
The spacious deck is
there, to the music of an orchestra
formed from theii'-own number, they
t ip together the “light fantastic.”
It is well that there are some such
pleasures for the young bovs, for
0 l h ®™’ ,e tlie hanlsl, !f am
Mrv,ce wonld beCOnie L °
1 V- ”
. ,,
.«ei y sjn mg am summei le
* T A? ( 1
° ,k ‘ r of thc uav { an<l are *"? t
ahr ? aA ° * 7V- or . a f officers, l 'L msc ’ they ‘ ,mu are 3 * tangU hl $l
,be 1,lH ll,lties ot seame11 a(1oat ’ AH
the theory of seamanship and gunnery
is then reduced to praetic and the
,
appreuti es are put through the evo¬
lutions of furling, reefing, ami loos
ing sail, of abandoning ship, and ot
aiming and tiring the gnus on board,
antiquated though they may be.
I lie Latest Kail in
Dairymen have known for a long
while tiie families that require that
the milk served them for their children
shall come all from one cow. A gro-
cer heard recently for the fir. t time
one of these families. The bead
thereof asked the grocer to see that
the eggs of the house came daily from
one hen.—New York Commercial Ad¬
vertiser.
I avlauders think nothing of cover¬
ing ljO miles a dnv on their skates.