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4fouiily ?&cus. f C ♦ TRENTON. GEORGIA. The anti-Chinese sentiment is appar ently gaining strength throughout Aus tralia. Things grow worse and worse in Rus sia. The latest outrage was at a concert in St. Petersburg, where two selections were played by forty-eight pianists upon twenty-four grand pianos. The largest Sabbath-school in the world, it is said, is the one in connection with the “North Side Central Church,” Chicago, It has 5000 scholars with an average attendance of 8000. None of the general officers of the army is credited to the West or South. Ohio has three sons in commanding positions, New York three, Pennsylvania two, and Maine and Massachusetts one each. Two prominent St. Louis men have engaged in litigation over a duck valued at 2.1 cents. The preliminary suit made costs, in addition to attorney’s fees, S4B, and now the case has been taken to the circuit court. The United States Supreme Court has sustained the validity of a Kansas law making railroad companies responsible in damages for injuries to their employes growing out of the negligence or care lessness of fellow employes. Brunswick, Ga., has invested in anew 50-cent Bible for swearing witnesses on. The reason for this is that the old Bible has had the first four chapters of Genesis kissed away, and the lawyers are in doubt whether an oath made on a Bible minus its first four chapters is binding. An English authority computes that In the last three or four years more pigs have died in the United States from cholera than have been raised in the British Isles. The New York Herald wonders “if the methods of feeding for lome years in vogue in this country have aad anything to do with this mortality.” Kit Carson’s old partner, Dick Wot- Joon, who among other notable deeds ance drove 14,000 sheep 1500 miles over land to California and make $40,000 dol ars by the operation, and who Is now leventy-two years old, has just had his light restored through an operation by a Chicago surgeon after eight years of alindness. The American Manufacturer says that In 1887 the production of all kinds of iteel in the United States aggregated 3,730,760 net tons, or 3,330,071 gross tons, which exceed by 30 per cent, the production for 1886, in which year the United States for the first time produced more steel than Great Britain, which had led the world up to that time. The cultivating and milling of rice in Louisiana give employment to a large percentage of her population. There ire about 000 rice plantations in the State. New Orleans has 12 rice mills, with a capacity of cleaning 275,000 barrels per annum. The amount in vested in all industries connected with the rice trade is estimated at about $7,000,000. “The committee in charge of the cele bration in London of the three hundredth miversary of the destruction of the Spanish Armada has arranged that an Armada window shall be placed in St Margaret’s, Westminster, England, where Lord Howard and Sir Walter Raleigh lie buried, and also that an Armada tercentenary exhibition shall be held at Plymouth. Says a writer in the London Pall Mall Gazette: “I paid a visit to Niagara Falls not long ago and heard a curious fact which may not be generally known. It is that Mr. Gladstone, the ex-Premier, owns a patch of land on the Canadian side commanding a splfendid view of the Falls.’ He was asked to sell when the Prospect Park improvements were being planned, but declined with thanks.” “The last Michigan Legislature, ” says the Detroit Trihuue, “enacted a law au thorizing the payment of a bounty of one cent per head for slaughtered sparrows. The law, as far as Wayne County—and nearly every county in the State, fer that matter—was concerned, has been inop erative. In the first place, when the law 'went into effect, it found the counties without any specific appropriations which could be drawn from id payment of bounties, and in the second place, as regards the city of Detroit, there was a conflict of opinion as to whether the bounties should be paid out of county or city funds, and whether the County Treasurer or City Clerk should be the disbursing agent. Since the adoption of the estimates by the council the mat ter has been brought to the attention of a number of the Aldermen, and it is pro posed to offer a resolution in the council for the insertion of an item of S2IOO in the estimates, transmitting the same to the board of estimates, with the recom mendation tiwt it be favorably consid ered-’* Los Angeles, Cal , is going to have a good municipal government by hiring men to carry it on. Her new city charter provides for the payment of each mem ber of the Board of Alderman at the rate of $230 a month, and he is forbid den to engage in any other employment during his term of office. Chinese nightingales are the fashion able drawing-room bird on the Conti nent now, and friends of the little creatures are protesting against the cruelty of their being transported to market from their distant homes by railroad, with no other care for their comfort than a sign, “Give me a drink,” on their wire cages. If the railroad men don't give them the drink, then very likely they die; but if the railroad men are charitable, the birds live end bring six shillings apiece when they get to the great cities. The shooting of a big dog by a Frenck Custom House officer in the North of France the other day has given rise to some queer dog stories in the French papers. The officer shot the dog be cause he was suspiciously fat. The post-mortem examination revealed the fac t that the dog wore a leather coat made to look like his own skin and skil fully fastened at the shoulder and haunches in such a way as to completely conceal the ends of the hair. In this coat the dog carried several hundred smuggled cigars. We are told on good authority by a country clergyman, writes Mac Muller, that some of the laborers in his parish had not 300 words in their vocabulary. A well educated person in England who has been at a public school and at the university, who reads his Bible, his Shakespeare, the Times, and all the books of Mudie’s Library, seldom uses more than about 3000 or 4000 words in actual conversation. Accurate thinkers end close reasoners, who avoid vague and general expressions and wait till they find the word that exactly fits their meaning, employ a larger stock, and elo quent speakers may rise to a command of 10.000. The Hebrew Testament says all it has to say with 5642 words; Mil ton’s works are built up with 8000, and Shakespeare, who probably displayed a greater variety of expression than any writer in any language, produced all hi s plays with about 15,000 words. Fish City, Mich., is a town that has no existence except in the winter. It is situated on Saginaw Bay, and is a col lection of board shanties built upon the ice. Last winter it contained 1000 houses. They are the huts of men who do the winter fishing for pike, pickerel, lake trout and whitefish, and as soon as the ice forms on the bay their construc tion is begun. The fishermen live in their huts from the time they iw; built until the breaking up of the ictV.n the spring forces them to come ashore. There is a door in each hut, and in the floor a trap door twenty inches square. When this is raised a hole of same size through the ice is discovered. At the side of this the fisherman sits all day and a great part of the night watching for his game, which he captures by a dexterous use of the spear. From 2,000,- 000 to 2,500,000 pounds of choice fish are caught from the bay each winter. The practical application of natural gas in salt making in the Kanawha region is an instance, declares the Pittsburg Gazette , of the slowness with which man comprehends the resources of nature. For the last seventy-five years the manu facture of salt has been carried on there, at first with wood for fuel, and then with coal, and very often the fuel had to be transported many miles over almost im passable mountain roads, yet all these years the best fuel in the world was go ing to waste almost under the salt works’ furnaces. All the wells sunk for salt water gave off natural gag, which was gathered in safety pipe, conveyed away from proximity to the furnaces to avoid danger from explosion, ignited and al lowed to burn quietly and to no purpose. The use of natural gas in the oil regions of this State had much the same history For a score of years the natural gas from the wells was allowed to waste itself in the air, while the fuel for drilling and pumping was hauled long distances. Along in the sixties, though, some in vententive genius solved the fuel prob lem by turning the gas escape pipe under the boilers. Now the wells are general ly operated by natural gas that they themselves produce. Sometimes the gas is used as a fuel under the boilers, but often it furnishes the power direct to the cylinders. One would have supposed that the Kanawha salt manufacturers would have profited long ago by the ex perience of the oil operators,even if they did not notice themselves how to sake good use of their natural gas. Song birds being very scarce in Oregon a number of German citizens of Portland propose to import from the Fatherland a number of nightingales, skylarks, bull finches, chaflim-hes, goldfinches, green finches, black and gray thrushes, linnets, starlings and other singing birds, in all betweeen liuO and 700, which will be turned loose on their arrival. A fund of SIOOO has been raised to further the project. Early rising is one of the character ises of persons who live long lives. THE ABSENCE OF LITTLE WESLEY. Since little Wesley went, the place seems all so strange and still— W’y I miss his yell o’ “Gran’pap!'’as I’d miss the whipperwilll j And to think I use to scold him fer his ever lastin’ noise, ! When I on’y rickollect him as the best o’ little boys! J I wisht a hunderd times a day ’at he’d come trompin’ in, j And all the noise he ever made was twic't as loud ag in! ;* It ’u’d seem like some soft music played on some fine instrument, j ’Longside o' this loud lonesomeness, seuce little Wesley went! Of course the clock don’t tick no louder than it use to do— Yit now they's times it ’pears like it ’u’d bu'st itself in two! And, let a rooster, suddent-like, crow som’ers clos’t around, And seems’s ef, mighty nigh it, it ’u'd lift me off the K‘*ound! And same with all the cattle when they bawl around the bars, In the red o' airly mornin’, er the dusk and dew and stars, When the neighbors’ boys ’at passes never stop, but jest go on, A-whistlin’ kind o’ to theirse’v's—sence little Wesley’s gone! And then, o’ nights when Mother’s settin' up oneommon late, A-bilin’ pears er somepin, and I set and smoke and wait, Tel the moon out through the winder don't ! look bigger 'n a dime, And things keeps giftin’ stiller—stiller—stiller 1 all the time, — I’ve ketched myse’f a-wishin’ like—as I dumb on the cheer To wind the clock, as I hev done fer more ’n fifty year’— A-wishin’ at the time hed come fer us to go to bed, With our last prayers, and our last tears, sence little Wesley's dead! —James Whitcomb Riley, in the Century. THE BABES IN THE ¥001) BY PATIENCE STAPLETON. He was a little pauper boy being re turned to the State that must maintain him. He sat very quiet in his seat, [thinking of his grandmother, who had idled in that little village that was send ing him away. He thought of her grave on the hillside burying ground, where wild roses and raspberry bushes cl jag about the stones; where the bees hummed in the sunshine, the birds sang in the maples, and the long grass in the soft summer breeze blew across the graves like palls. He remembered a horny handed farmer, who had passed him on 'his sad journey to the depot with one of the selectmen of the town, and the farmer had patted his head, saying kindly: “Take this five cents, bub;keep it and you’ll never want money for you'll alius have it.” He pondered over this arithmetical problem until his brain was tired. When he drank from the rusty tin cup he thought of the rollicking brown brook that run through the vib lage, and wondered if the chiiucen play ing on its banks would remember,him. No one tried to talk to him, for he was such a small, quiet child he was not no ticed. No one saw the pathetic little face grow pale or the shadows come in his dark, bright eyes. He dreamed the second night of his journey, that with his grandfather, he was walking on a long bridge and a great steamship breathing dense, black smoke came crashing down upon them. He awoke with a iittle cry and found himself lying on the ground the stars. There had been an acruaent to the train and some kind men had lilted the uncon scious child out of a window. A light flashed close to his face. “It’s the little chap shipped to Wis consin,” said a brakeman, holding his light lower, ‘he is dead I think and better off no doubt, poor little fellow.” After a long blank the child came back to life with those words ringing in his ears, “Dead and better off.” There were thick woods near, and close to him wounded people lying on blankets. Afar off was a lurid light where one of the wrecked cars was burning. He wondered what had happened; in terror he staggered to his feet, and with the blind instinct of a sleep-walker, stum bled into the forest. When the wounded were carried away he was forgotten. He was all alone in the world; there was no one to miss him. In a cool, grassy hollow hidden by tall green ferns he slept until late the next day. He wondered then if he were dead, he seemed deserted by every one. and he had no idea how he came into the woods. He saw his little basket near him, noted his clothes were burned and dusty. He listened and the ripple of a brook came near to him. He went to it and bathed his head and the wound in his forehead that began to smart. There was a little rustle in the aide* bushes, and there across the brook, looking at him with beaming face, was a little, golden-haired child. Her blue eyes were red with tears, her pretty white gown dirty and'torn, her blue sash trailing on the ground. “Harry, my Harry,” she cried, ing out her little arms, “come get baby, baby never wun off no more.” He went across the brook carrying his basket. She was very hungry and his generous heart rejoiced that he had eaten little all the journey ami had clung tight to his basket through his trials. From her contused talk he learned she had been lost in the woods the day before and slept all night at the foot of a tree. She saw he was not Harry, but stroked his face with her 10-, ing hand, saying: “Ou hurted, poor other Harry? Mamma make ou well.” His senses coming to him with this new charge, he too’k her by the hand and set out to find some body. He was not afraid in the woods, for he and his grandmother had slept many a night under lie stars. Toward dark he saw on aside path a*pair of shining eyes, round globes of fire. He was carrying the child, and he kept bravely on, say ing the prayer nis grandmother had taught him. The luminous eyes disap peared quickly, and he knew it was only a harmless little fox. When he could go no farther he laid the child down, covering her with his jacket, and watc heel until he fell asleep by her side. So quaint and pretty a pair might have been those two sweet babes left in the depths of a forest by a cruel uncle, and after weary wandering, finding a serene sleep, and a leafy shroud brought by “the minor poets of the air,” the little woodland birds. In the afternoon his basket was empty, but he gathered the dead ripe raspberries and the shining blackberries under theii sheltering vines. They passed some cows that day, mild, solemn creatures, who looked at them curiously bit did not stir, though one little calf ran in ter ror, making the baby laugh merrily. They came to a deserted log hut that night where the men in a deserted sugar camp had lived, and here he made the child a bed of fir boughs. They were hungry and thirsty. The brooks were drv in the depths of the forest, the only water the spring away back by the ferns. The grass was dead and sere, the dowers wilted and withered. The air was close and hot and the boy, whose arms were weary carry his little charge, stood in the open door of the hut looking at the velvet blackness of the sky, where, like dia monds, a few stars peeped out over the tree tops. Suddenly along the grass grown road by the hut he heard the sound of gallopping hoofs. Then dash ing by like a wfiirlwind, ran a heard of terriried cattle. He could hear their hoarse panting, see their black forms. He clasped bis hands, was it wolves that frightened them? He listened. Into the quiet of the night there sounded a curious snapping crackling, then a roar like the breaking of a monstrous wave on a rocky shore. Up. far above tree tops, leaped a great red tongue of flame aspiring to the stars. The forest monarchs writhed and bowed and flung themselves under the hot breath, green leaves withered and drooped under the fire frost, skeleton branches waved up anil dowu Jike the shrivelled arms of beseeching beldames, the pines shot Deedles of fire and the trees blossomed into marvelous flowers of flame. The child looked but an instant, then he ran in, lifted the crying baby on his back and hurried down the old road. A pungent | smoke, the breath of the evergreens, the life of mighty oaks, filled the air. blind ing and stifling him. He tried to run faster, but the child’s weight dragged him back. Fiery cinders flew past him —heralds of the suffering and death so neai—blown by the hot wind that fanned his pallid cheek. All around the flames crept in a narrowing circle. In his awful need he never thought of de serting the baby in his care. When the fiery blast carne closer he took her in his arms and staggered on. It was quite light now, with an awful vividness. Hark! Above the roar of the fire king, the crash of falling trees, the crack ling of branches and leaves, there was another sound. The steady thud of galloping hoofs. Another stampeded herd of cattle were as frightful as the fire. The boy listened in piteous fear. Out of the forest path that met the old road near a big pine, now writhing its majestic height under the hot blast, came a big white horse and a rider with bowed head buried in his cloak. Merci fully he heard the cry for help and drew up his mad steed beneath the rain of fire falling all about them. “Take her,” shouted the boy, “I kin run alone all right.” The man did not speak. With a mighty movement he stooped and swung the children on the saddle behind him? “Hold foryour life, ” he shouted hoarsely, and as the mare leaped the old pine burst into a great tower of flame, like a giant octopus reaching fiery arms after them. The fire king might fly with mighty wings, leap in fantastic, swift bounds, overcoming time and space, but it could not gain on Joel Waite’s white mare, known all the country round. On she galloped, straight as a die, strong of sinew, deep of ches f . tireless, enduring, guided by a Arm, wjsehand. At last in the crescent of fire there lay before them a high bank, where, four feet below, a river rippled in noisy shallows. A silver stream in the sun light, but now in the conflagration a river of blood. The rider flung out his left arm and held the children close,and with his right steadied the rearing mare. There was one breathless moment, a quick leap, a spla«h in the cool water, a slip on the muddy bottom, a quick re covery to the shining sand, and a steady push ahead. The stream rippled over their scorched clothing and blistered flesh. Behind them the trees, giants’ torches, flamed resinous smoke and lurid light, while the naked branches of the oaks and maples flung out great red bars, the work of a frightful caster: the molten metal of misery and death to the forest. Coals and charred timber dropped and hissed in the stream like poisonous serpents disappearing to their foul dens, and the fire king, baffled by its only conqueror, died there on the river bank. In the channel for one moment the brave mare swam with her heavy load, then her hoofs rested ou the sandy beach, the sedgy shore, the soft turf of her master s meadow. The child, still clinging to the baby girl, sank again into a carious trance. “See,” cried the hostler, “the grip he's got on the little ’un Oh, Mr. Waite, you thought you was savin’ strange children, but here’s l'ttle Nellie found after all hr this poor child.” “You saved my life, old mare,” said the master, patting the dropping head : he xnelt by the children The waif heard a woman scream and saw through the mists a flying figure lift the child from his arms. He was glad there was some one to love her. some one who will thank him for saving her life. lie smiled a pitiful, happy smile and drifted away. Ry slow degrees he come back to life again to find a beautiful room, a sweet woman who called him “my boy now.” and one day he sees a fair-haired boy looking at him with admiring eyes. “I am Harry,” says the boy stret hing out a chubby hand to take the waif’s trembling fingers, “shake. You are get ting well and are to be my brother now. Von saved my little sister. We lost her in the woods, nurse and me, and every body has been looking for her. My father says you are a brave bov, and if you like you can live here always, with my mother for your mother and all the rest of us relations.” The sick boy smiled happily, and, with his hands in that friendly one, fell into a healthful slumber that meant recovery. That bit of drift in the river of life had found a happy and secure harbor. Yet he deserved it, that little pauper boy with the soul of a hero. —Detroit Free Press. LIFE AT A FRONTIER POST. ROUTINE OF A SOLDIER 8 DUTY IN THE FAR WEST An Early Morning- Scene—At the Rifle Range Grooming the Horses —Gatling Gun Practice. Lieutenant E. 31. Lewis, of the United States Army, gives in the ISew York Star the following account of a soldier’s daily life at a frontier post: The military post of Fort Yates, Dak., is un picturesquely situated just above the cliff-like banks of the “Muddy Missouri.” The parade ground—that nucleus around which cluster the components of every military post —is square and level, and ample enough in dimensions for the six company garrison. On one side of the parade runs a well-shaded drive, along which are built the officers’ quarters, called in army parlance “the line.” The other three sides are enclosed by the soldiers’ qdarters, the chapel, the admin istrative building and the guard house. The season is summer, and the soft quiet that marks the hour just before the dawn is broken only by the ping of a mosquito, or the crowing of some early cock, proclaiming the advent of a new day. As if in answer to chanticleer’s challenge, the voice of the sentinel at the guard house, sounding sweet but clear in the sharp morning air, an nounces that the hour is 4 o’clock, and that all is well. To each of the barrack buildings a lit tle addition has been joined, and the light shining out from their open win dows proclaims that the cooks at e already busy preparing the early meal of their sleeping comrades. One by one the stars fade out in the blue canopy overhead, while brighter and brighter grows the light in the east. Softly the barrack doors open to give egress to sleepy-looking men, carrying bright, shining things under their arms, who hurry to join the group already forming away down at one end of the line. Suddenly, “Fall in; forward, march!” is commanded, and away they go, sounding on their bugles the reveille. Down they march to the end of their line, then back again, and to the center of the parade ground, their leathern lungs never seeming to tire in the pro cess. By twos and threes, sleepy, frowzv headed men strangle out of the bar racks, and, leaning against the building for support, postpone as long as possible the moment when they must fully awaken to life and take their places in the ranks. The officers hurry out of their quarters and join their companies on the parade. And now the sleepy ones have to abandon their lazy positions to go through the roll call; the flag floats proudly to the top of the flagstaff, un furling her beauty to the fresh morning breeze in graceful folds. The reports are made, the companies dismissed, and the military day has dawned. The next fifteen minutes would ex hibit to curious eyes prying into any one of the little rooms in rear of all the company quarters a long line of men, who, with the assistance of tin water filled basins and a wonderful amount of splashing and spurting, are performing their morning ablutions, giving bybrisx rubs with coarse towels finishing touches to their already shining faces. Hardly is this finished when the brazen bugle’s voice calls from without: Soupy, soupy, soup, without any bean; Coffee, coffee, cott', without any cream; Porky, porky, pork, without any lean-n-n, and, all thoroughly awake, they file into the dining room to partake of a some what more elaborate bill of fare than the the pessimistic bugle has proclaimed. Some hurry through and leave the room in order to enjoy a pipeful of tobacco before the duties of the day shall call them off, for at 5:45 o’clock squads of infantrymen, their rifles slung over their broad shoulders, are seen straggling down toward the rifle ranges. Down on the range the rifles have been popping for an hour, and we wander carelessly in that direction. At the base of the hills is along line of targets, rang ing in size according to the distance from the marksmen, but all with oval centers surrounded by two oval rings.. Two hundred yards from one target a soldier is standing reading to fire. The gentle breeze wafts the smoke from the muzzle of his rifle, and a white disk appearing in front of the target announces that he has hit the bullseye. At the 300-yard point, before another target, the soldiers shooting are sitting or kneeling upon the ground, and a little red flag waving over the mark indicates that the last shot has been too high, while the officer chides the luckless fel low and bids him be more careful next time. Away back, 600 yards from another target, two men are stretched out upon the ground apparently resting lazily, but a closer inspection shows that their rifles are in hand, their left legs na-sed through the rifle slings, and a puff of smoke followed by a red disk placed al most over the bullseye gives evidence that the man’s aim has been good and his hand steady. Far across the prairie is a dark line of figures representing a company engaged in action, their black silhonettes in relief distinctly against the rising land be yond. These are the skirmish targets, and as we look, a company of infantry, deployed as skirmishers.advances toward them. A bugle sounds and the men drop like a flash, and, in a moment, the sound of the distant fusil ide reaches us. Another note from the bugle, and they are retiring at a run, only to stop again and again to pour a merciless fire upon the inert foe. Now the officers ride to the targets, and. dismounting, count the number of hits, which,being satisfactory the company is marched baek to the bar racks, where the details are forming for guard mounting. Half a dozen bugles are sounding a march, and with military precision the guard is formed, inspected by the ad jutant, presented to the officer of the day and marched off to the guard house, where the old guard is drawn up in line to receive it. Salutes are exchanged, the two sergeants are seen for a moment in earnest conversation as they exchange j the orders for the day, and the tired fel- j lows who have been on duty for the last twenty four hours go to their quarters to seek their well-merited repose. Now the soldiers are coming back from the target range, and the officers gather in the administrative building to recei- e the orders of the commanding officer, and to be catechised by him in tatties and the science of war. Outside the details for fatigue aie forming. Dump carts, drawn by long eared, pensive-locking mules, appear and the work of polishing the post is commenced. Here a gang of prisoners under the charge of an armed sentry are raking up the leaves and dirt that have accumulated during the past twenty four hours. There a party is at work digging a new drain or repairing the pipe line through which the garrison, drains its water supply. On the porches of the quarters are gathered the men off duty, lounging about with coats un buttoned and caps on back of heads. An officer passes, and in a trice coats are buttoned, cans readjusted, bodies erect and heels together, wh'le hands are ex tended in respectful salutes. Soon after dinner l.ttle squads of men are seen strolling eastward, a group rap idly forming about some object on the prairie, and upon our joining them we find that a new Gatling gun is about to be tried. On the outskirts of the crowd, loiter a dozen Indians, curious to see the,, to them, new engine of war. The tar get is a little knoll, distant some 500 yards. At the command of the officer in charge the crank is turned, when streams of fire spurt fiom the steel muzzles, and a column of dust rising from the little knoll attests the accuracy of their aim. The Indians, surprised for once out of their appearance of stoical indifference, draw quickly back, applying a name to the machine which, being translated from their harsh-sounding language, is found to be "the devil who shoots.” Again the bugle sounds. Ladies and children assemble on the porches to wit ness the crowning military ceremony of the day. Half a dozen dirty, gaudily painted Indians hang expectantly upon the pickets of the boundary fence, and as many more mounted on their ponies await the parade. The companies are forming in front of their barracks, and the officers in full dress, belted and with plumes flying, hasten to join them. The adjutant and sergeant-major, ac companied by the markers with little fluttering silken guidons, establish the line, and the companies, amid much blowing of trumpets and many louu com mands. form upon it. Now a little squad approaches from the guard house, and two guards under a sergeant conduct a shamefaced prisoner to a point in front of the centre of the line. The adjutant steps briskly for ward, and, unfolding a paper, reads the orders, among which is one announcing the proceedings of a court martial and sentencing the prisoner to a term of hard labor in the guard house and a tine. He is then led away, and just as the last edge of the crimson sun is disappearing behind the western hills, and almost be fore the sweet sounds of “retreat” have died away, the waving lines of bunting come floating gently down the flagstaff, and, still unsaluted, are folded away in the guard room until on the morrow they will herald the dawn of another busy day. The companies are marched back to their barracks and dismissed, and the military day is ended. At 8:3(> tattoo is sounded, the first sergeants call the roll, and report that all is present. “Taps” come early in garrison, in order that no loss of sleep may cause un steady nerves in the men who are to try their skill at the targets the following day. The Richest Man in the World. Claus Spreckles is the richest man in the world. Spreckles resides in San Francisco. Thirty years ago Spreckles was working for SSO a month. He is now worth $200,000,000, which gives him $175,000,000 in excess of Jay Gould, and $150,000,000 in excess of Vander bilt. His three sous are worth $50,000,- 000’; total for the whole family, $350,- 000,000. Spreckles has, single-handed, built up the Hawaiian Island sugar trade under the reciprocity treaty. Within ten years the production there has increased from *20,000 tons a yeartp 1*20,000 tons for the present year. As the island progressed so did the Spreck les family. They raised sugar, then re fined it, making large profits out of each transaction. They built a large fleet of sailing vessels for trading to and from Honolulu, finally building, at Cramp’s shipyards in Philadelphia, two of the latest and best equipped American steam ers afloat. They have since added two more steamers to their fleet, each of which is 3,500 tons burden (exclusive of coal), and have extended their trade to Australia, now holding a contract with the Colonial governments for t ar rying the mails between San Francisco and Sydney. They also control direct lines of sailing vessels with England, New York, New South Wales, San Francisco and San Diego. One of the numerous plantations on the islands is ranked as the largest and best equipped in the world, turning out 16,000 tons of raw sugar in a year. They are now en gaged in, the establishment of beet sugar factories throughout California. —-New York Sun. Back-Swallowing Frogs. The great bull frog of India is so predatory that he does not stop at the poor little sparrows; he prefers a duck ling a few days old. In the walled garden of a rich old Anglo-Indian official was an ornamental pond to which the broods of the domestic waterfowl were consigned. These rapidly decreased in number. The head native gardener was accused of the thefts, and threatened with the consequences unless he cap tured the culprit. In due time he came to report that the ducklings were de voured by bull-frogs. This story was treated as an invention to mislead his wrathtul master, and that the only proof thereof would be to kill a marauder, bring his body to the house, and there hold a post-mortem investigation. This was accordingly done, and the newly swallowed prey extracted, to the garden er’s great satisfaction. They are very fond of fish. I and a friend returning from angling in a river saw an unusually large specimen sunning himself on a stone in a wet quarry. We threw a baited minnow at him, which he seized voraciously. We pulled him up threw him baek, and went throught the strange repetition three times, lie was stupidly greedy, and we presented him with the contents of our minnow-can at parting. —English Mechanic. One of the finest collections of orchids in the world is that of Mr. Josepih Chamberlain, the English statesman and manufacturer. It is valued at SIOO,OOO and fills nine conservatories.