Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

THE FIRST LOYE. If my memory serves me right I had reached that stage in life when I sought anxiously in the glass for the long expected down that was to form the nucleus of a mustache that should be the envy of mankind when I decided to marry Mollie, the doctor’s cook. Looking back—It Is a long way to look —Jam ready to admit that there were many objections to such a match. To begin with, 1 was somewhat young to think of matrimony, insomuch that I had only reached the age of 15, while Mollie was six or seven years my se¬ nior. Again, I was not in a position to support a wife, and, as I see now, my affections were inspired rather by Mol- lie's excellent cheesecakes and succu¬ lent jam rolls—which invariably made me sigh for half a dozen appetites— than by her buxom figure and apple¬ like cheeks. When I Informed my “chum,” But¬ ters, of my resolve, he looked at me Queerly, thrust his hands in his pock¬ ets, and said, “Oh, Lor’!” “I mean it,” I said. “Well, 1 always thought you were a bit sweet on her, ever since you broke your arm and she used to give you cream and stuff. She's a jolly girl, is Mollie. I wouldn’t mind marrying her myself. “You’ll he my best man, then?” I asked, "Certainly, hut look,here, old chap, have you thought seriously about this?” and he hooked his arm through mine and drew me aside. "Seriously?” "Yes; have you thought what a heap of things people want who get mar¬ ried?” "What sort of things?” “Oh! chairs and tables and—and fry¬ ing pans. Where do you expaat to get ’em from? They cost an awful lot." I was silent. To tell the truth, I bad not considered the practical side of the question. My affection was above all sordid de¬ tails. “There’s a house, too,” Butters pur¬ sued. “Where are you going to live?”, "Oh!—er—we shall go on as we are for a bit.” Butters stared. “You mean, Mollie’ll stop at the doc- l \r Mm fell t J w-IaV'- n A i WE FOUHT rr OWT, tor’s, and you’ll go on having les- ons?” “Yes.” “Oh! but that’s ‘rot,’ you know. We can’t have a married man in the School. The doctor won’t stand It.” “He’ll never know, fat head. It’s going to be a secret marriage.” “Oh, crikey! At the registry office?” I nodded. “I wonder how much it costs. I shall have to ask.” “You’d better ask Mollie first,” But¬ ters returned. "She may object to a secret marriage. There’ll be no call¬ ing her name out before the congrega¬ tion or cake or presents. I say, old ebap, fancy a wedding without oake or presents. Why, people get heaps of nobby things when they’re married. Silver cigarette cases and walking ©ticks.” I kicked the gravel ruefully. “It can’t be helped,” I answered re¬ gretfully. “After all, it’ll be more ro¬ mantic.” "Why, yes; there is that about it. You might elope with her, you know. Get her through the window, and have a rope ladder and a coach and four •waiting in the lane. Only she’s rather a lump to pull through a window. I say, what'a lark it would be if she Btuck and the doctor nabbed you. My! •what a wopping you’d get.” I am afraid I betrayed some symp¬ toms of uneasiness here. Butters had a nasty habit of looking on the black plde of things. But his words did not damp my passion. I loved Mollie—I felt certain on this point. Yes, I loved her, though it would hare taken me all my time to encircle her waist with both arms. There was a pause. “You’ll tell me how you do it?” But¬ ters said. "How I do what?” "Why, propose, you know.” “Oh—er—yes.” ‘Shall you kiss her?” “Shall I?” “They generally do, only you’ll have to stand on a stool to do it, for she’s a good head taller than you, and mind, when you propose you’ll have to go down on your knees.” “On my knees?" “It’s the proper thing I know, be¬ cause I saw young Evergreen propose to my sister Flo. She refused him, though. By the by, you’ll want a ring. I’ll give you that one I got out of the prize packet for your white rat.” “Let’s have a look at it.” He pulled It out. It looked very like gold, and In a few minutes I had part- ad with my white rat, and the ring was transferred to my waistcoat pocket.” “When shall you see her?” he asked, as the bell rang. "Perhaps tomorrow.’’ “I wouldn’t put on my best pants 11 I were you. It makes an awful mess of 'em, kneeling does.” That evening I had a quiet stroll In the doctor’s grounds, to think matters over. While I was thus engaged James, the gardener, came along with the watering can. As a rule, wo fellows were seldom on good terms with James, for he always suspected us of having designs on his fruit, but this evening he was quite pleasant and asked me if I’d like a pear to come with him. Of course I did, for James’ pears are just prime. It was a real juicy one he picked, and it melted in my mouth like butter. “Good—ain’t It, Master Carraway?” he said. I nodded. My mouth was too full to speak. "Now, I wonder if I might be so bold as to ask you to do me a favor, Master Carraway?” he went on, eyeing me a bit doubtfully. “Why, of course you may, James. I’ll do anything for you I can.” "Thank you sir, thank you kindly. It ain’t much—only just to give this letter to Mollie, the cook. You see, Master Carraway, I don’t like goin' tc the house over-often, for the other ser¬ vants they plague Mollie about it, an’ she don’t like it; so if you’d kindly give It to her you’d be doin’ me a great favor.” "Oh, I’ll give 11 to her right enough.” “Thank you, sir. It’s—It’s rather important.” Then James stopped,went red and smiled foolishly. “Important, is it?” “Yes, sir. I know you’re a sensible young gent, Master Carraway. I’ve often said so to Mollie, so I don’t mind telling you that it’s about gettin’ mar¬ ried.” “About-” “Yes, sir. I’ve been thinking of it for some time, an’ now the doctor’s give me a rise, an’ I’ve got Joe Barnes' cottage, I don’t see any reason why we should wait any longer. It’s most as cheap to keep two as one, Master Caraway, an’ she's a capital manager. I don’t see hs ’ow I can do better.” “Who is she, James?” I asked, not, it must be confessed, without a touch of misgiving. He looked at me in surprise. "Who? Why, Mollie.” “You’re—you’re going to marry her?” “Yes, sir. The banns’ll be put up on Sunday, and I’ve brought the ring. A guinea I give for it. But ’ve anoth¬ er pear, Master Carraway.” But I had no heart for pears at that , moment, and I made my way back to the house, scarcely heeding James’ re¬ minder about the letter. Perhaps I had some thought of de¬ stroying that missive, but then I re¬ flected that such an act could do no good. Everything was practically set¬ tled. Mollie was lost to me forever. I told Butters, and asked him to take back the ring, as I had no further use for It, but he refused to do this, and we fought it out at the end of the cricket ground behind the trees. I got a black eye, and also fifty lines for fighting. Mollie did her best to con¬ sole me by giving me some of her best cheesecakes. If I could always be sure of such' cheesecakes I wouldn’t mind impositions every day—I wouldn’t mind losing Mollie herself. Automobiles in Paris. On Easter Sunday, this year, the first installment of automobile cabs was placed at the disposal of the Pa¬ risian public. As .soon as they issued from the depot at Aubervilliers they were most eagerly sought after, and gave most satisfactory results, The number of these vehicles is daily in¬ creased, and the Compagnie Generale des Voitures expects, after a month’s trial, to be in a position to judge of the convenience or drawbacks of the present type of cabs. These vehicles are provided with accumulators en¬ abling them to travel from 60 to S90 kilometers (37 to 49 miles), without recharging the batteries. The tariff varies according to the number of persons. For one or two passengers the ordinary cab fare is applied, viz.: 1.50 or 2 francs per hour; for three persons, 2 francs the jour¬ ney, and four persons, 2.50 francs. The eventual adoption of automo¬ biles for general use in Paris, as well as throughout France, seems to be a foregone conclusion; but there is no doubt that the tremendous speed at which private individuals with their motor tricycles and other experimental automobiles dash about the streets has a tendency to discourage the adop¬ tion of automobiles by those who would otherwise make purchases. By daily observation in Paris, it is easy to see that improvements are con¬ stantly being made in doing away with the objectionable odors, excessive vi¬ bration and noise. Tile Price of Peril. Clerk (to applicant at the Leviathan Assurance Company)—You wish to be assured against accidents, sir? May 1 ask your profession? Applicant—I am a foot-ball referee. Clerk (polite¬ ly)—First door to the right for the death department.—London Punch. Thought of It Seriously. Mrs Motherly—Why is it, George, that you never thought seriously of getting married? George—You mis¬ understood me, Mrs. Motherly. I have always thought of it so seriously that I am still a bachelor.—Somerville Journal. Nothing—Something the rich man wants, the poor man has, the miser spends and the spendthrift saves. A PROFESSIONAL "FLOOOER(, m Englishman Says He Never Punished the Name Man Twice. The writer was the other day intro¬ duced to a stalwart warden of one of our great convict establishments, a by no means unkindly looking man, who for many years has been the official wielder of the eat-o’-nine-tails at the prison where he serves, says Answers. “I scarcely know how the new prison bill will affect me, but 1 have in the past flogged some scores of men with the cat, receiving an extra sum on my pay of five shillings for each one op¬ erated upon. I never flogged one yet that didn’t deserve a good deal more than he got; hut, of course, this is my point of view. Of perhaps sixty men to whom I have applied the cat—men ranging in weight from eight to fifteen stone—I have never known but one who bore the punishment withou yells, or, at least, groans. A great deal depends upon the man who wields the cat as to the extent of the pain, and much also depends upon whether the cat is an old one, with toughened thongs, or not. The undersized, dis¬ sipated city street-corner thief suffers the most, strong fellows who have done outside work for years not being af¬ fected in anything like the same de¬ gree. As for the behavior of the flogged, some of them use awful Im¬ precations, swearing, with awful oaths, how they will revenge themselves; more still yell unintelligibly, like whipped children. The doctor present largely regulates my own efforts. I have never had to flog the same man twice; I do not think any warden in England ever had to do so.” BARON ROTHSCHILD’S RED EAR Sergeant Absolutely Refused to Tone Its Color Down. “A portrait painter can’t afford to be entirely independent unless he has a tremendous vogue,” remarked an artist to a New Orleans Times-Democrat re¬ porter. “I remember when I first went to Paris. Sergeant, who is probably the greatest master in his special field that America has ever produced, was just beginning to attract attention. He had painted a portrait of his preceptor, Durow, and the stir it created led to his getting a commission from Baron Rothschild. It was his fiFst big job, but he went about it with exactly the same nonchalance that characterizes him at present. During the last sit¬ ting. when the picture was receiving its finishing touches, it chanced that one of the baron’s ears became unusually red, a circumstance probably due to the heat of the room. Sergeant seized on it at once as a good bit of color and made the painted ear redder, if any¬ thing, than the original. When Roths¬ child inspected the portrait he was greatly pleased. ‘But, of course,’ he said, ‘you will tone down that left ear?’ ‘Oh, no,’ replied the painter promptly. ‘I think I shall leave it just as It is. I rather like that red.’ The hanker was astonished and very angry, and, while he paid for the canvas, he never hung it. Of course the incident raised a laugh, and the artist’s obstinacy was admired in Bohemia, but it really did Sergeant a great deal of harm and was one of the things that eventually de¬ termined him to move to London.” AN INTERESTING GORDON RELIC Decorations He Designed to Keep Up His Followers’ Courage. An interesting relic of Gen. Gordon and the fail of Khartoum is to be sold in a well known auction room in the \yest end, says the London Times. This is one of the pewter decorations which Gordon designed and struck in order to keep up the spirits and cour¬ age of his followers during the siege of that town. The decoration in ques¬ tion, which is similar in design to the Turkish Order of the Medjidieh, was struck in the arsenal at a time when the garrison was practically in ex¬ tremis through disease and famine. The medal, of which a specimen may be seen in the collection of Gordon relics in the museum of the Royal United Service Institution in White¬ hall, was struck in three different met¬ als and bore in Arabic the words: “Siege of Khartoum.” The gold order was awarded to the higher and the silver to the subordinate grade of offi¬ cers, while the pewter went to the rank anti file, to the townspeople and even to the women of the beleaguered town. A Woman Did It. When Gen. Miles was in.brviewed by the correspondent of the Kansas City Star when he made the charges against the secretary of war, it was at once suspected that the shrewd old head of John Sherman was guiding Miles. This suspicion was so strong that some one asked Sherman if he had said any¬ thing to Miles about the controversy. It will be remembered tu_c at this time Miles was in Porto Rico and Sherman in Washington. Sherman replied to the question practically as follows: “I have had no letter from Gen. Miles since he left Washington, and have sent no letters to him. I have not dis¬ cussed the war department with him.” After a pause, the shrewd old codger, with a twinkle in his eye, added: “I believe, however, that Mrs. Miles and Mrs. Sherman have exchanged several letters.” He gave a little chuckle, and said that he had nothing more to say about the matter. Mrs. Miles is a piece of Sherman’s.—Detroit Journal. Counted Him. “I am taking a religious census for our church,” said the young woman at the door. "I don’t expect to live here any longer than this week,” said the man who had answered the bell. “Oh, well, that makes no difference. I’ll take your name, anyhow. The one who brings in the biggest list gets a prize.”—Indianapolis Journal. TEMPTING PIAZZAS. MOST ATTRACTIVE FEATURES OF MANY COTTAGES. Detail* of the Porch Constructions of Mansions In Newport and Other Simi¬ lar Resorts—The Rich People of the Bast Rusk In Luxury. a A summer cottage without a piazza is unusual. It may almost be said that the piazza is the chief thing and that the cottage proper is a necessary ap¬ pendage, a place of refuge when n-ight comes on or when the weather Is bad. For the palaces of the wealthy at New¬ port and similar resorts great care Is devoted to the matter of piazzas, and the results, while not always pleasing, are invariably elaborate. The proper design and arrangement of a summer cottage piazza mean comfort and good taste. The piazza should, of course, add to the general architectural beauty of the building, but must be so con¬ structed as to admit sufficient light and air to the lower floor of the build- ing. One of the most tasteful villas at Newport was owned formerly by Rob¬ ert Goelet. It is built on the cliffs, overlooking the bay, and is generous¬ ly provided with piazzas of three dif¬ ferent kinds. One of these is formed by a shed supported by pillars, the whole covered with vines. Another is the ordinary open piazza, shaded by awnings, and the third is inclosed like a conservatory. The veranda of Mrs. W. Storrs Wells’ Newport villa is during the summer shaded artificially by a gor- geous awning with fringe trimming, and naturally by tail palms and ma¬ jolicas. An Indian rug covers the floor. Scattered about are cushions and low chairs, a table to hold tea things when 5 o’clock comes around, books, bonbons and fancy work. The most elaborate piece of work of its kind at Newport, or probably in the East, is the Satyr porch of the Coun¬ try Club, overlooking the golf links. The piazza of Rosecliff, the Newport home of Mrs. Hermann Oelrichs, is al¬ most as large as the house to which it is attached. It is one of the most at¬ tractive in Newport, and it was here that Willie Vanderbilt wooed and won Miss Fair, chaperoned by Polly, the Oelrichs’ parrot. Like all Newport piazzas, this one has its share of cost¬ ly rugs and easy chairs, cushioned with pillows, and more than tae^usual number of small tables, bearing vases filled with flowers. During the season tea is served every afternoon on this piazza. Mrs. Elisha Dyer’s piazza is known by its oval opening, a latticed win¬ dow, like the frame of a picture, An- closing a pretty landscape. A ham¬ mock is swung across one end and ta¬ bles, chairs and plants abound. Rough Point, Mrs. F. W. Vanderbilt’s New¬ port residence, has a spacious balcony, furnished expensively with rugs, cush¬ ions and willowware, relieved by palms, flowering plants, and shaded by a fine awning. One of the quaintest and most inter¬ esting, if not the most lavish, sum¬ mer homes at Newport is Boothden, so named from its former owner, Edwin Booth. It has an uncovered piazza on the right of the entrance. On the left there is a little nook at the side door where the famous actor often sat. This is arranged today just as it was .dur¬ ing his life. Narragansett Pier boasts of many magnificent cottages, most of which oc¬ cupy commanding positions upon the Lop of the bluff. The absence of trees and foliage gives them an air of se¬ verity and coldness not to he found at Newport, which abounds in verdure. One of these mansions, owned by Francis W. Kinney, Is of a square, masive type, and has a sunken piazza, or veranda, surrounding the first floor. Tame Butterfly for Pets. Women have had all kinds of pets from time immemorial, but perhaps the strangest of all fancies in this di¬ rection is the latest news which comes to us from Paris that two ladies have succeeded in taming dozens of butter¬ flies. These little insects eat from their mistress' hands, alight on them and show no fear of any kind. They are certainly pretty pets, and well be¬ come the airy, fluttering sweetness of the typical woman’s nature. The summer 'girl during the dull days of the week, from Monday morning until Saturday noon, may in this new fad find a means of diversion, taming her butterflies in preparation to a series of fetching poses with which to cap¬ tivate susceptible man upon his ar¬ rival at the summer hotel for Sunday. An Indian Gift. Queen Victoria was recently pre¬ sented with |100 by an Indian chief, named Shakes, of British Columbia. Chief Shakes belongs to the Kltimaat tribe, and owns a fishing privilege be¬ low the falls of a stream near Lowe Inlet. Lately he sold 60,000 fish, for which he received $5,000, and conceiv¬ ed the idea of sending a gift to his queen. The money was forwarded through the Indian agent, who in re¬ turn received from Queen Victoria a letter for the chief, thanking him and asking him to accept a steel engraving of herself, handsomely framed, and two pleats of sheep’s wool.—Keystone. An English Peculiarity. “Isn’t San Tomas an English town?” asked Van Braam. “Of course not,” replied Dinwiddle. “It’s a Philippine town. What made you ask if it were English?" "I noticed that the ‘h’ had been dropped.”—Pittsburg Chronicle- Telegraph. Order may be heaven’s first law, but It is earth's last realization. — WIDOW’S MITE. Curious Custom Observed In an Old London Churchyard. There is still observed in an out-of- the-way London churchyard one of those ancient customs, the observance of which gave so much delight to Charles Dickens, and whose descrip¬ tion of which has done so much to endear to all who read the right little, tight little island. Twenty-one ladies, either past the ago of self-support or unable by reason of disease to make a living for themselves, have gathered for centuries in this same churchyard, on the same day, to receive the same gifts from the beneficence of the same lady, now, of course, long since dead. Priory Church of St. Bartholomew the Great is well worth a visit from the tourist in search of that which is an¬ cient. Hidden away behind the great postoffice building of St. Martin’s-le- Grand, next door to the old hospital that bears its patron’s name, and within a few yards of the quaint couri- yard where the bluecoat boys, hatless and in yellow stockings, play their games. Founded in 1123, it still re¬ tains its heavy Norman pillars and rounded arches, which have been care¬ fully restored where the stone has crumbled through centuries of decay. Its narrow churchyard is bordered on two sides by bouses which have exag¬ gerated their architectural tendency to overhang. The gravestones are so old that most of the inscriptions are worn off, and they are only to be reached by climbing a sort of portable stage coach ladder from the pathway. Here gather on the appointed morning the twenty- one old ladles, for, as a rule, they are old, and very old. The distribution of sixpences, hotcross buns, shawls and two-shilling pieces takes place in ac¬ cordance with legendary custom after morning service. It is not quite cer¬ tain to a few centuries when the thing whs first started, but it has been go¬ ing on now for several hundred years. The onlookers, as a rule, are a few fresh-complexioned nurses in pretty bonnets and cloaks, and half a dozen residents of Little Britain. After Rev. Sir Borradaile Savory, the present rec¬ tor of “St. Bart,” has conducted morn¬ ing prayers, the twenty-one aged dames mount the stage coach ladder and make their way to the particular gravestone on which the twenty-one new sixpences lie, and each old lady, having picked up her sixpence, Is then presented with the florin, the bun and the crochet shawl. WHERE KIPLING GETS HINTS. Thorough Way In Which He Explored a Locomotive Shop. “Kipling’s methods of absorbing de¬ tail are very curious and interesting,” said Mr. Lyman D. Bentley to a New Orleans Times-Democrat man. “Some years ago, while he was visiting the locomotive shops at New Haven, he met a skilled workman named Cressy and immediately proceeded to pump him about engine building. Cressy did not fully appreciate the honor that was paid him, but he was flattered by the novelist’s interest, and the two went all over a big eight-wheel express flier that was standing in the yard. Kip¬ ling said, he had lots of books on the subject, but they didn’t tell him the things he wished to know. What he wanted was a real engineer or build¬ er’s idea of the machine, and he was particularly eager to learn the col¬ loquial names of the parts. He took no notes, but about a month later he was in New Haven again and hunted up the meohanfe. ‘Look here, Cres¬ sy,* he said, producing a rough sketch on a card of one of the valves of the brake gear, ‘I wish you’d tell me again just how this thing works.’ Cressy explained, and Kipling laughed de¬ lightedly. ‘I’ve got it now!’ he ex¬ claimed. I mention the incident be¬ cause it seems to throw some light on his astonishing command of technicali¬ ties.” The Sundew. The sundew is one of the most cu¬ rious plants In nature’s great collec¬ tion of queer things. If an unlucky fly lighCfe on one of its leaves that leaf closes right up, wrapping tightly around Mr. Fly and staying closed for days until he is all eaten up. A bit of meat or some of the white of an egg dropped on the leaves will make them do the same thing. But the queerest thing of all is that these leaves will pay no attention to a peb¬ ble or a chip of wood that may be dropped on them, and will not close up at all. If a moment later a little worm should drop on one of these same leaves it would curl shut at once. Now, how does this plant know what is good to eat and what is not? Looking Ahead. "And so you’ve decided to name your baby James, have you?” “Yes; but, of course, we shall call him Jim right from the start.” “Why have you such a decided preference for that name?" “Well, you see, I want to give him a fair show. Jim, you know, rhymes with him, vim, trim, -grim, prim, rim, shim, whim, dim, limb, swim,and probably a lot of other words thai I can’t think of just now; so if he ever does anything worth mention¬ ing the poets will not be l?keiy to over¬ look it.”—Chicago Times-Herald. Use for Volcano Dust. Volcano dust carried by the wind from the Puy mountains in Auvergne enriches the soil of Limagne with phosphoric acid and potash. Accord¬ ing to Mr. Nlvois, inspector general of mines In France, it is owing to this natural fertilizer that the soil is so rich. A field at Gerzat, Clarmont- Ferrand, has yielded a fine crop of hemp eighteen years running without any other manure WESTERN MEN Make the Beat Sailors In the Best Navjr —The American. The brilliant record men in the navy In the recent war has set the authori¬ ties to thinking, with the result that a brisk effort is to be made to turn some hundreds of the western farmers into sailors for Uncle Sam. The Hart¬ ford, the famous old man-of-war now serving as a recruiting ship, is now at Mare, Cal., and as soon as possible will be fitted up for a long cruise. Re¬ cruiting officers are to be sent out all through the western states, setting forth in terms as alluring as may be the unparalleled felicity of three years on the briny deep with Dewey as your lord, with the chances that more of the sturdy young sons of the plains will come forward than can at present be accommodated. Captain Henry Hawley, who has been assigned to the Hartford, speaks enthusiastical¬ ly of the abilities of the boys he is to get. “We intend to make the cruise of the Hartford as attractive as pos¬ sible, and we will do everything to fnake the service of the landsmen pleasing. We will have a good band of music on board; will stop at the most interesting ports en route, and In other ways do what we can to in¬ duce the western boys to adopt the service as their profession. We tried this scheme once before, and with very gratifying results. I have been in¬ formed by commanders who have had recruits on board from Kansas, Ne¬ braska, Missouri, Illinois and other western states that they made the most temperate and intelligent lot of sail¬ ors ever shipped by them. They are well-behaved, quiet and orderly, and what they lack in seafaring knowledge they make up in zeal and industry. When we only had to supply 12,000 men for our ships we found it difficult to get good sailors, but now that the force has been increased to 17,500 our troubles have grown in proportion. I have a hankering for western men, and hope to corral a lot of them be¬ fore I am through.” EMERSON'S WICKEDNESS. Julia Ward Howe Warned Him About the Devil. In her benighted New York girl¬ hood Julia Ward Howe was taught to regard Ralph Waldo Emerson as a wisked man and she would have de¬ clined his acquaintance if he had not been introduced to her in a way which made that impossible, says the Boston Transcript. But having once been in¬ troduced, in the course of a trip be¬ tween Boston and New York some fif¬ ty-nine years ago, and then having had her hard judgment of this wicked man softened a little by seeing him carry¬ ing a poor child on his shoulders, she consented to make him the object of a little missionary work. So she said to him earnestly: “You seem to forget, Mr. Emerson, that the devil is going around all the time, seeking whom he may devour!” “Oh, no, Miss Ward,” he said, “I don’t think I forget it, but don’t you think the angel ought to be stronger than the demon?” This ques¬ tion seems to have been in the nature of a "sticker” to the young lady from New York and she discontinued her missionary work for that trip. Sho Asked Him to “Co Away.” She was a dear old lady, and she was spending the summer in a quaint old seaport town of New England, says the New York Times. One morning every one had gone out, leaving her alone in the house. It was not long after that she heard a noise in an ad¬ joining room, and, going to investigate, she saw a man ransacking a bureau drawer. What most women would have done, if they had not been frightened into immovability or into giving a scream at the awful realization that there was a burglar in the house,would have been to hurry away anu hide un¬ til the dreadful man was gone. But that was not what this woman did. She stepped immediately up to him and said: “I am all alone in this house and I want you to go right away.” The strangest part of the story seems to be that the man did go. He had al¬ ready taken some things, and those he kept, but he did not wait to look for others. It was not conscience that drove him away, as lie kept what he had, and it could hardly have been fear. It Is a standing conundrum in that family why that burglar went away, and no good reason seems to be found unless it was politeness, and he did not like to refuse a lady’s re¬ quest. Tattooing and Snake Bite. While scientific minds are discus¬ ing the anti-toxin serum treatment of disease as if it were a new thing, the- people of ancient Burmah are calling attention to the fact that for centuries the material they have used in the common custom of tattooing has been an efficient anti-toxin for snake bites. The tattooed Burmese regard the bites of poisonous snakes as harmlesss. This, at least, is the statement of a gentleman from Burmah, who brings testimony to bear in corroboration of his singular statement. As Represented. Hardacre—Zeke answered an adver¬ tisement whar they said they’d send him a church organ for a dollar. Crawfoot—What did he get? Hard¬ acre—A sample copy of the New Light marked: "This is the best church or¬ gan published.” What He Was Looking For. Lady—So you are looking for a square meal, eh? Tramp—No’m; I’m looking for a round one. Lady—I never heard of such a thing. Pray what is a roamd meal? Tramp—One dat hasn’t any end to it, mum.