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THE V ORLD.
A playground—of t with clouded skies,
That o’er the rosebuds weep,
Where little troubles take the weight
Of sorrows far more deep;
Where loved toys break in tiny hands—
Sad symbols of the time
When hope shall cheat and joys depart
In life’s swift passing prime.
A battlefield where forests meet,
And unseen hosts contend,
With truces all so short, they seem
With the wild strife to blend;
Strife that leaves none of us unscathed,
Where’er the mastery be;
But who, till the Great Day, can tell
- With whom is victory?
A graveyard, where on every side
Pale monuments arise
To show how brief is human life,
How vain is all we prize.
A graveyard filled by memory,
Where phantoms lightly tread,
But each cue points with finger raised
To blue skies overhead.
—Camilla Crosland.
“PAMELY’S GRIT.”
BY HERBERT H. WINSLOW.
The narrow Missouri prairie lay bathed
in sunshine, its green waves dotted with
brilliant flowers. In the surrounding
woods, too, the flowers grew and budded
and blossomed in due season, although
no human eye might be gladdened by
their beauty. A few farms interrupted
the stretch of unbroken sod, their pio
neer abodes near the wooded bluffs skirt
ing ace side of the plain.
In the doorway of a primitive log
cabin a young girl stood, with her apron
filled with wild i.’owers freshly gathered.
She sat down on the rude step, and be
gan to arrange them with evident pleas
ure, if with little reference to the laws
of color.
The monotonous creak of a rocking
chair sounded within the room. It sud
denly ceased and a piping voice called
sharply, ‘Tamely! 0 Pamely!"
“I’m right hyer, gran’daddy! D’ye
want me:”responded the girl, dropping
her aprouful of flowers on the step, and
turning quickly around.
“Whater yer Dacking thet thar trash
inter ther house fur?” croaked the weazen
faced little old man in the corner. ‘ They
ain’t no sich posies ez wehed in Indiany
when I was a boy.”
“Hike’em, gran'daddy. They make
me feel better to hoi’ ’em in my hands.”
“You mought be doin’ somethin’ fur
yer ole gran’daddy, ’stid o’ wasting yer
time on thet trash 1” querulously piped
the old man.
“What d’ye want, gran’daddy?” asked
the girl, running to him, and throwing
her a; ms around his shrunken shoulders.
“Are ye gittiu’ hungry agin;”
“I reckon I mought starve ter death
’most any time ef ’twa’n’t fur ye, Pame
ly. lly, he never done nothin’ fur me.
He brung me well water yistiddy, when
he knowed he’d orter went ter ther
spring.”
“liy hez ter work hard, ye know,
gran’daddy.”
i A sharp expression came over the
grandfather’s face.
“What’s thet slick chap frum Bluff
City a-doin’ roun’ hyer all ther time,
Pamely ?”
The young girl grew pink and then
pale under the keen scrutiny of those
aged eyes.
“lie's goin’ ter buy Duck Hawkins’s
farm, I allow,” she replied, pulling nerv
oudy at her apron strings.
“What uz he come hyer fur ter buy
Duck Hawkins’s farm? We haint got
Duck Hawkins's farm done up in er
bundle anywheres roun’ hyer, hev we,
Pa ely ?”
“O gran'daddy,” laughed the girl,
mer r ily, “yer alius sayin, somethin’ thet
funny 1” Then a troubled expression
drove the dimple out of her round cheeks.
“I dunno, raaly; but Hy, he’s a-talkin’
about sellin’ourn, too. He allows’twould
be better to sell out, an’go West. He
could git heaps more land out West.”
The old man pounded his knotty
hickory stick on the pine floor furiously.
“Ef Hy Todbeater pulls up stakes an’
moves agin, I’ll make back tracks for
Indiany, thet’s what I will!” he declared,
with vehemence.
“O gran'daddy, ther aint nobody there
ter take keer of ye! They’re all dead an’
gone; ye ll hev ter go’long er llv an’
me!” t-he stooped and pressed her red
lips against his withered cheek, and
smoothed his thin, white locks with her
brown fingers. Then, wiping her eyes
on a corner of her gingham apron, she
Stepped briskly around the room, pans- |
ing one moment to place the flowers in
a broken pitcher half full of water from
the spring.
“1 m fifteen ter-day,” she said softly
to herself, placing the pitcher on the pine
table. Some vague connection between
the birthday and the blossoms existed in
her youthful imagination; why, she could
not have explained. INo celebration of j
any such anniversary had ever been hers.
Certainly, hard work and premature care
had been her lot the past three yeais.
Hy Todbeater at that moment was
slouching around the entrance to the
“Palace Hotel” of Bluff City, five miles
away. If any one had asked b m the age
of his young house-keeper, who was also
his sister and the only one left, he would
probably have been unable to give any
definite ieply. A sense of inferiority to
the inhabitants of Bluff City, against
which be struggled with backwoods
bravado, lent additional awkwardness to
his demeanor.
The hotel clerk, with his hair plastered
low oti his forehead, and a cheap pin
glittering on his bright blue tie, seemed
a conse juential personage Yet the Pal
ace Hotel was far from palatial, with its
two low stories of wood, its whitewashed
interior, its meagre air of bustling im
portance. its seedy boarders and stray
travelers. Only the added d gn.ty of
the County Court in session swelled all
activity to an unaccustome i degree, and
impressed the country visitors who
lounged about the attractive resorts of
Bluff City with a sense of its metropoli
tan grandeur.
“Bight smart o’ folks hyer in ther city
to-day .” ventured lly Todbeater to the
overpowering clerk.
“lull to the roof,” he responded,
loftily, his thoughts limited to the pros
perity of the hotel. “Got a case iu
court, Hr. Todbeater?”
“Naw,” replied the settler, shambling
across the room. “Mought hev hed oz
well ez not, too. Duck Hawkins’s sheep
they’ve been runnin’ in my pastur’ half
ther time lately, an’ I’d ’a’ sued ’im fur
it sureef it hadn’t been fur Pamely bein’
so sot agin it. Pamely haint no erpin
ion o’ ther law, shehain’t. I’lowed ther
wa’n’t no reason why I shouldn’t hev a
case in court ez well ez some other fel
lers ez hezn’t no more proputty’n I hev.
I guv it up, though; no use tryin’ ter
fight Duck Hawkius ’n’ Pamely ot ther
same time.”
“llullo, Jim Carroll!” cried the clerk,
familiarly.
A young man of easy appearance en
tered the room, and at once greeted Hy
Todbeater as an acquaintance. He was
well dressed and even attractive, if one
avoided looking into his eyes. He drew
the settler along hurriedly toward one of
the row of wagons encircling the square,
and then told him to stop a moment be
fore the most pretentious store. He came
out with a large package in his hand,
and took a seat beside the settler.
“Drive on?” he said hilariously.
“You’re a rich man Ily Todbeater?”
“I allow it’ll be all right ef l amely
don’t”—reluctantly hesitated the other.
“Oh, I’ll see to that!’’ said the young
man, with great confidence. “I’ve got
something here that’ll make it all right.
It’s a birthday present, you know. She
told me it was to day, and I had this all
ready.”
Hy’s jaw dropped in astonishment;
it was a new idea to him. He clucked
to the old sorrel, and slapped the lines
lazily, evidently overcome with the
endeavor to grasp all the new ideas
! which had recently been thrust into his
unaccustomed brain.
Granddaddy sat beaming over a .dish
of that hot porridge.
“Yer er a master-hand et porridge,
thet’s what ye be, Pamely!” chuckled
the old man. “Ther’ can’t no gal beat
my gran’darter, ef I do say it, nary
| time!”
Pamely turned toward Jim Carroll,
who entered the open door without the
formality of a knock. A blush covered j
her cheeks, but her smile vanished while !
she set out a chair for the guest.
“You see, I haven’t forgotten your
birthday!” he exclaimed, gaily, holding
out the package significantly.
Pamely slowly reached out her hand
to receive the proffered gift, her young
heart stifled with one great throb of joy
ous surprise.
Her fingers seemed unable to loosen
the cord. He snatched it from her to
tear off the wrappings, and held up and
allowed to trail on the well-scrubbed
floor the brilliant folds of a new merino
dress.
Her dark blue eyes grew round and
black with astonishment and admiration, j
She glanced down at her faded calico
skirt, and the contrast seemed too great.
Never in her life had she possessed such
a beautiful gown. Then she lifted her
face to look straight into the heavy
lidded eyes of Jim Carroll. A sudden
change came over her ; she shrank back
awkwardly.
“I reckon I don’t want no new dresses
jist now, Mr. Carroll. Yer kin give it to
some one in Bluff City ez needs it.”
She turned hastily, entered the other
room, closed the door, aud left the
young man, suffering the humiliation of
defeat.
It was late in the evening when Jim
Carroll left Hy Todbeater leaning against
the rails of the zig-zag fence behind the
barn.
“Have it all ready,” he repeated, as he
turned away, “I’ll bring the captain out
in the morning.
“Ya'as,” drawled the settler, “I
reckon it’ll be all right ef Pamely”—he
slunk around the barn in the path lead
ing to the spring without
sentence.
The edge of the woods was full of
thick shadows when 1 amely hastened
along the same path to gratify gran’-
daddy’s desire for a drink of u.ater from
the spring. The moon had nden and a
silvery ray penetrated the overhanging
foliage, and fell on the clearwater as the
girl dipped her tin pail in its depths. It
rested also on some shining substance
half-imbedded in the earth near the
water’s edge. She had never discovered
it before, and now stooped and picked it
up, surprised to find it so heavy. It, was
rough and gray save on one side, which
exhibited some silvery bits of surface.
She was about to retrace her steps when
a dark figure crouching behind a tree
caught her gaze. A quick throb of fear
was followed by surprise when the flap
ping straw hat revealed to her acute
vision the identity of the prowling in
dividual.
“What ’n ther world er ye doin’ out
hyer this time er night?” she questioned.
“I allowed yer wuz roun’ with Jim
Carroll.”
“Naw,” sheepishly replied her brother;
“it’s thet hot I reckoned it ud be cooler
under the trees.”
“Ye mus’ wanter be eat up by ther
skeeters,Hy; what’er yer doin’ with thet
ther fire-shovel?”
“Jest hed it in my hand an’ brung it
’long; digg n’ ter see ef ther mought be
any gold roun’ in these parts,” he added,
with an awkward chuckle
“Did ye find any rocks like this hyer?”
she a-ked, holding up the shining bit
she had found.
“Heaps on ’em,” said Hy, seemingly
anxious to make a virtue of confession.
“Got ’em in my pocket,” and he pro
ceeded to pull out a handful of similar
pieces. “Fact is, Pamely, this ez vally
ble land, hevin’ sich sights o’ lead ore
lyin’ roan’ loose, ef it ain’t ez slick ez
Duck Hawkins’s! It’ll bring er big price,
sure ez shootin’ 1”
“When d’ye find it oirt—ther lead ore
bein’ hyer?” questioned Pamely.
“Jest ther other day; I wuz a-sayin’
ter myself: ‘What’s the reason ther aint
lead ore on this hyer land ez well ez
over in the next county ?’ an’ hyer it ez,
fer true. Yekiu hev everything ye want
out in Montany, an’ gran’daddy kin hev
chicken-fixin’s every day. I reckon ye
want ter make gran’daddy contented
likc,” cautiously appealed the man.
“I do thet,” said the girl, earnestly,as
she dipped a fresh pail of water and
turned away.
“Pamely! O Pamely!”sounded shrilly
through the open door of the cabin.
“Coinin’!” cried lamely, hastening on
through the shadows, slowly followed
by the shuiiling foot steps of Hy Tod
beater.
Her care rendered the old man com
fortable for the night. In the morning
she waited upon him through the simple
breakfast,and then followed her brother
as he went to the smoke-house across
from the kitchen door. Gran’daddy was
somewhat deaf, but he rarely failed to
hear distinctly any words not specially
designed for his benefit.
“We’re on the las’ piece ov bacon,Hy;
an’ Hy, say, tiler’s nothin’ wrong ’bout
sellin’ ther farm, ez ther?” she queried,
tremulously..
“Who’s ben a-puttin’ fool-notions in
ter yer head?” excitedly questioned the
man.
“Nobody hez; but Ily—Jim Carroll’s
hyer talkin’ ter ye so much—'n I wisht
he’d go erway.”
“Sho!" said her brother, derisively,
j “Jim’s er friend ter me—he’s goin’ ter
bring Cap’in Colby out ter buy the farm
ter-day; an’ don’t ye go an’ spile the
trade like ye done ’bout ther ole sorrel
las’ fall—tellin’ the Methodis’ preacher
! ez how he wuz lame half ther winter—
ye hear, Pamely?”
“What fur sh’d I p- ile ther trade?”
asked the girl, with a netrating glance.
“Wal, see ’tye don'm”briefly returned
i the settler, as he shambled off to the
barn.
Pamely slowly re-entered the cheerless
rooms. If the farm brought a goqd price
she might have as comfortable a home as
some of her neighbors had,' and every
thing to suit gran’daddy. Perhaps even
—her thoughts reverted to a vision of
loveliness she had seen in Captain Colby’s
carriage, the graceful girl who never
wore anything less elegant than the
merino dress which Jim Carroll had of
fered for a birthday present. That was
what money could do.
An hour later Jim Carroll again made
his appearance, and another conversation
with Hy Todbeater occurred behind the
barn. Pamely saw Captain Colby’s car
riage come winding along the road from
Bluff City, and stood overcome with em
barrassment, for beside him sat the
young lady, btopping before the door,
the Captain asked politely if his daugh
ter might remain there while he looked
over the farm.
Pamely pulled her faded skirts as low
as possible over her bare feet, and in
utter confusion placed a chair for the
visitor and retreated to the further side
of the room. The young lady moved
her seat over by gran’daddy’s side, and
with the instinctive deference due to age
addressed her conversation to him
“I am glad you have found lead ore
on your farm, ” she said, very sweetly,
“because it will bring you a better
price.”
“Yaas, we’re wantin’ some money
right bad,” he replied, flattered into con
fidential frankness by the atteution.
We wuz well fixed back in Indiany, but
Ily, he ain’t nigh so smart ez his daddy
wuz, an’ we’re lackin’ fur things ter eat
an’ drink an* w ear. I haint hed no de
cent terback ’n my pipe goin’ on three
months—thet’s what I haint!”
. Pamely blushed painfully, and sudden
ly retreated to the other room, making a
pretence of important work about the
stove.
It seemed a long time before the Cap
tain’s return, accompanied by her broth
er and Jim Carroll. l!y called out for
pen and ink. The girl did not seem to
hear, but stood motionless, her eyes
downcast, by the window. He repeated
the request more roughly, as though
fearing disobedience to his orders, but
this time she placed the desired articles
on. the ta >le and turned slowly away.
Captain Colby’s daughter, glancing
sympathetically toward her, noticed that
the girl was becoming more nervous
every moment. Her brown hands were
clasped tightly together and a fright
ened look came into her eyes.
“Of course I ■wouldn’t give any such
price if it wasn’t for the presence of lead
ore,” said the Captain. “These are cer
tainly very good specimens,” turning
over the pieces in his hands, “and they
indicate quite a vein.” The captain bent
over and dipped the pen in the ink
bottle.
“Stop!” cried Pamely, triumphing
over all shyness and fear, as she sprang
forward with outstretched hands: ‘ ‘Ther
ain’t no lead cm ther farm!”
There was®? moment’s silence. .Cap
tain Colby held the pen motionless in his
fingers; even gran’daddy’s rocking
chair was still. Then Ily Todbeater
sprang to bis feet,
“Cal!’’ he burst forth, “air ye struck
silly?”
Pamely stood speechless, her eyes fixed
on the floor.
“Don’t be afraid, my child, what do
you mean;” said the captain, kindly.
“It wuz all ’long cr Jim Carroll!” she
half sobbed; “he brung it there!”
Then she looked at her brotli3r.
“O Hy, I couldn’t help it! I hearn
ye talkin' roun’ ther barn this mornin’
when I went ter hunt eggs fur gran’-
daddy.”
Hy’s wrath for once overcame the awk
wardness of his appearance; he towered
high with unutte-ed rage and turned to
Jim Carroll for assistance in this unex
pected emergency—but that young man
hail discreetly vanished, never to return.
“I meught er knowed Pamely’d spile
the trade someways,” he finally re
marked, quite crestfallen; “she’s thet
full ’o notions.”
“it would be better if you shared some
of them,” said the < aptain, severely.
“For her sake I will let all this pass; but
I advise you to keep clear of sharp
strangers who make a living by drawing
weak men like yourself into some
swindling scheme. I will bid you good
day, sir.”
It was a bad three months for Pamela
that followed, and would have been more
so, if Miss Colby had not opened for her
a new life by means of books and news
papers, and made gran’daddy jubilant
over a weekly consignment of dainties
from “the city.’*
one day, however, Hy came borne with
less shulile and m re manliness in his
demeanor, and walked straight up to
Pamela and astonished her by a clumsy
caress.
“I reckon ve wuz ’bout right, Pamely,
arterall! Ther new railroad ez cornin’
hyer, an' they ’low ter |ay me er big
price fur the' northeast corner fur a sta
tion. Land’s riz all eround and they’ve
got er boom in Blu.l City. Duck Haw
kins hez hedhard luck out in Jloni any an’
wishes he hedn’t sold his farm. I wuz
powerful riled, but I’m mighty glad now
ye hed the grit.”
Like many other men TTy Todbeater
believes in the success which follows
honesty. If at any time hi 3 conscience
fails to perform its duty, a box of lead
ore in the wood shed is a constant re
minder to keep him in the path of recti
tude.— Youth's Coiupan ion.
A London bookseller recently received
the following order from a steward, who
had been intrusted with the task of fill
ing up his master's literary shelves: ‘‘ln
the first place, I want six feet of theology,
the same quantity of metaphysics, and
near a yard of old civil law in folio.”
PARROTS.
HISTORY AM) TANKAGE OF
THESE GARRULOUS PETS.
Tlieir Conversational Accomplish
ments— The Brazil tan Speciesthe
Most Intelligent—A Sagacious
But Ungrateful London Bird.
Parrots were more common drawing
room pets a century ago than they are
now. No fashionable belle’s boudoir
was complete without one. The beauty
of the bird's plumage and its amusing
tricks may account for this partiality;
but it has certainly been valued as a do
mestic favorite for many’ centuries. It
is said that parrots were first introduced
into Europe in the time of Alexander the
Great, though only one variety, the green
parakeet with a red neck (brought from
India), was known to the ancients until
the time of Nero, when»the Homans dis
covered other species in Ethiopia. The
i discovery of America enriched parrot
fanciers by the addition of many beauti
ful Brazilian varieties of the species to
their list of pets. The Brazilian parrots
are said to be some of the most intelli
gent of their race, and the gentlest in
temper, i.abat states that the natives
in his day chiefly valued the bird a an
article of food, its flesh being extremely
delicate; but another traveler asserts
that many Brazilian women kept the
creatures as pets, and taught them many
performances. He reiates that one wo
man used to stop passers-by, promising,
if they would give her a comb or a look
ing-glass, to make her bird dance and
sing. If the passer-by acceded to the
request, at a sign from its mistress the
bird would dance, sing and imitate the
war cry of the natives, but until the pres
ent agreed upon was made no blandish
ments from the strangers would induce
the bird to display its talents. Condamine
remarks that the Indians had an art of
engrafting feathers of another hue on
their parrots.
The parrot is a long lived bird, even in
captivity. Twenty-five to thirty years
Is said to be its average age. In its !
native state it is a social being, herding
in flocks. It is satisfactory to persons of
a nervous and excitable disposition to
know that even the natives of Guinea, f
not supposed to possess the most sensi
tive of nerves, are greatly annoyed hy the
screaming of these parrot colonies, and
grumble as much at their noise as at
the havoc they make on fruit and grain.
The legends regarding the intelligence
of parrots are as numerous as those re
lated of dogs. O’Kelly, the owner cf
the famous horse Eclipse, had a parrot
he valued next to the racer, and which
had cost him the modest sum of $:1000.
Besides possessing great conversational
powers, this bird sang several
the greatest exactness, beating time and
correcting himself if ho made a false
note. Goldsmith tells a story of a par
rot owned by Henry VII., which fell into
the water from a window of the palace
at Westminster and (having probably
picked up some of the words from pas
sengers on the river) attracted attention
by crying: “A boat, a boat, £2O for a
boat.” A waterman rescued the bird,
and claimed to be paid the amount the
parrot itself had offered, but the king
referred the question to his feathered,
favorite; she, on being asked what
should be piaid to her rescuer, cried:
“Give the Knave a groat.”
Stories like these claim for parrots the
power of intelligent conversation. With
out crediting the birds with human rea
son,it is certain that the phrases the creat
ures mechanically repeat sometimes come
in strangely apropos. There is a story of
a gentleman who purchased two parrots
from different places. <ne had come
from a kitchen where a hot-tempered and
evil-tongued cook had been in the habit
of quarreling with her employers; the
other from a p ous family, where the bird
had been accustomed to hear family
prayers. Consequently the two parrots
kept up a strangely assorted duet; the
first continually crying: “A plague take
my mistress!” to which the other bird*"
responded with a fervent “Amen!”
When the Duke of Wellington returned
from Waterloo, an old dame journeyed up
from Somersetshire to present him with
a parrot; which, when its < age was un
covered, in the Duke’s presence, burst
out into song: “See, the conquering
hero comes.” The value of a parrot is
greatly dependent upon its linguistic
powers; a Cardinal is said t« have paid
a hundred gold crowns for one of the 1
species which had been taught to repeat
the Apostles’ Creed. A last century
writer on natural history reprobates the
time ladies of his day wasted in the edu
cation of their feathered pets, remarking
that when the owner of a parrot devoted
hours of teaching a bird a plirase, “the
parrot appears the wiser of the two.”
French belles are accused of thus “throw
ing away their days” to a greater extent
than their English sisters, and hence
“the parrots in France speak more dis
tinctly than those in England.” A par
rot is sometimes a rather disappointing
pet. It is not an infrequent experience
for the purchaser of a “talking parrot”
(which has uttered fluent and correct re
marks in the dealer’s possession) to find
that the bird is extremely taciturn dur
ing the first day or so after its arrival in
its new quarters, and then, when it does
break silence, it oftens makes its owner
regret that it had not held its tongue
longer. —London Globe.
A False Hand.
Courtney Thorpe is a young English
actor who is now in this country. All
the men and at least half the women
regard him as too dudish for admiration,
but the feminine remainder worship him.
They say there is something peculiar and
fascinating about his gestures. .Now, I
have a secret to reveal. The singularity
is confined to his hands—in fact, to one
hand, and that one is woodeu. Ido not
it is stiiily inanimate of ex
pression. It is literally made of cork.
Thorpe's arm stops at his wrist, and the
missing member lias been replaced
artificially. The false hand has all the
joints of nature imitated as close as
possible, but, of course, it is incapable of
spontaneous action. It is neatly gloved
always, and its fingers are from time to
time deftly re arranged by the genuine
hand. —lllustrated News.
The ancient Roman, and especially the
Roman Senator, was the ideal, the
standard of wisdom and statesmanship,
combined with simplicity and freedom
from self-seeking.
Aboriginal Tramps.
The tramp is not a modern production,
says a writer in the Detroit Free Prex■»,
The early settlers along the bank of
the St. Clair River, Mich., were fa
miliar with a species which to-day is
nearly extinct. I refer to the roving
bands of Indians, who, carrying their
homes with them, pitched their tents
wherever their inclinations and the pros
pect of good fare led them. Where they
came from or where they went we never
knew. They would suddenly stand be
fore us, a statue-like group, often in
cluding two or three generations.
The men, with rings hanging from
| their noses and ears, and their Jong b’a< k
1 hair spread around their shoulders, would
stand erect,- a short distance in advance
of the rest, wearing the dignity of count
less generations of unconquered ances
tors. Their only burden consisted of a
rifle and ammunition; sometimes a bow
and arrows. Behind them, bending
under the loads which they carried on
their backs, stood the women. Some
with great bundles of baskets, corn-husk
mats and splint-brooms, others with the
black-eyed papooses seated in the
blankets, which were drawn tightly
across their backs and loosened at the
shoulders, thus forming a comfortable
seat so long as the mother hands held the
blanket in front.
After the “boojoos” were exchanged
they would make their wants known by
lowering their bundles and by signs ask
ing us to buy. Money was an unknown
currency with them. They exchanged
their manufactures for flour, pork or
corn meal. Sometimes they drove rather
sharp bargains.
A certain undercurrent of fear was at
that time still prevalent among the set
tlers, and they often yielded their rights
rather than arouse the enmity of their
old-timejfoes. Their visits often happened
purposely—it was then thought—near
the cjose of the day, and they never hesi
tated at such times to ask for a night’s
lodging. They were seldom refused, and
bed-time found them wrapped up in
their blankets stretched out on the
kitchen floor with their feet to the fire.
A generous pile of logs was heaped on
the andirons in the big fire-place for their
especial benefit. In the morning they
would be missing when the family
awoke.
What changes time has made iu their
condition. Almost any day Indians may
now be seen on the river boats, tricked
out in an imitation of the times, the
men wearing store clothes, with cigars in
their mouths. The women are especially
gay, wearing cheap fancy millinery,
corsets and bustles.
Haw They Vote in Mexico.
The election for President in Mexico
has recently taken place, and a corre
spondent of the Boston Herald tells how
the voting is done in that country. The
election takes place on Sunday, and the
polls were open all over the City of
Mexico. At most of the polling places,
situated in the “zaguans,” or porticos of
houses, there were two men sitting at a
small table. There was no ballot box or
electoral urn, merely printed forms on
-which the citizen voting indicated in
writing his preference for elector and
then signed his name. It was very quiet
at all these places, and no soldiers were
to be seen at the polling pla es, and no
show of power in any form. All was as
democratic as an election in any rural
town in Massachusetts.- No loafers were
permitted, and nobody came up with a
bunch of ballots urging the voter to take
this'or that ticket. There were no ward
politicians out, nor did any wear a badge.
Any one who desired voted without let
or hindrance. All the stories of troops
at the polling places, and of high-handed
interference with the popular will, turned
out to be mere bugaboos, like too many
Southern outrage yarns in our Pi eviden
tial contests. True, very few people'
voted, for the average citizen down here
is no politician, and sc long as he can
go to bed at night in peace and get up in
the morning unawakened by eanonading, !
he lets politics run as they please.
An Ainu Chief.
I paid a visit to the village chief, who
lives in a large house, a part of which is |
occupied by a Japanese Christian, who is
trying to do missionary work among the
people. The chief, a very old man, re
ceived me sitting in front of hie cabinet
of Japanese curios. He bowed, extended j
both his hand- with the palms up, waved (
them toward himself, and stroked his
long grey beard. These actions were re- |
peated twice, and were accompanied by
a low, murmured greeting, which was
translated to me as meaning that he '
deemed himself highly honored by my
call, and hoped I would en joy myself
during my stay in his village. The Ainu,
he said, were too poor and too ignorant
of the manners of honorable foreigners
to do anything to entertain me: and a
lot of compliments and p’easant things. j
His quiet dignity of manner, and his
low, musical voice impressed me very
favorably: and. although lie was dirty
and clad in rags, he looked the chief.—
Popular Science Monthly.
The Dog Shirked His Work.
A traveler in Spain tells this story;
One evening I reached a solitary inn.
Close to the stove lay a small dog warm
ing itself in comfort. ‘‘What can you
give me for dinner?” I asked the land
lady. “Eggs,” was the reply, and the
dog looked fixedly at me. “1 ggs,” I re
peated; “that's poor sustenance for a
man who has come thirty miles on horse
back. Have you nothing better:”
“There’s a bit of fish,” she suggested,
and the dog eyed me more intently than
ever. “I’m not particularly fond of fish;
what else have you?” “Santa Anna!”
erb'd the hostess; “I can give you a
chicken.” On the instant the dog
jumped up and sprang out of the win
dow. “Whew!” said I: “the word
‘chicken’ wa« like a bombshell to him.”
“Ah,” smiled the landlady, “that’s be
cause he turns the spitl”
Fish iu Holland.
Some one has explained why the fish
in Holland are so superior in taste and
solidity by saying that it is a universal
custom of the Dutch to kill a fish im
mediately it is taken from the water
instead of letting it lie in an agony
which produces the effect of sickness,
softens the fiesh and gives it the princi
ples of dissolution, thereby rendering
it unfit for food. It is said that the
fishermen of Holland kill the fish by
making a slight longitudinal incision
under the tail with a very sharp instru
ment. — Picayune. i
WHALE-FISHERY.
HUNTING THE LEVIATHANS IN
FROZEN ZONES.
Tim Hardy Seamen Who Follow
This Exhilarating but Dangerous
Calling—Methods of Captur
ing the Various Species.
The finback whale, says the New York
Telegram is so called from a tin located
on his back about a third of the distance
j from the flukes toward the head. He is
a lean, athletic fellow of enor
j m ous speed. It is said that he can g 0
j through the water at tile rate of- a hun
dred miles an hour. He is not sought
for by whalers, because it is diriicult’to
capture him, and when caught there is
little protit for the captors. He has but
: little blubber, which is the oil bearing
tissue enveloping the body under the
skin, and the bone is small and worth
but little. It is short and frowsy, and
used chiefly for making coarse brooms.
It is worth only about twenty-five cents
a pound, while that of the bow head,
the whale of the Arctic seas, sells now
for $2.75 and $3 per pound, while sales
have recently been made as high as $4.80
per pound.
Within a few years it has increased in
price, as a new field has been opened in
its application to some of the ‘ electric
light systems. While the finback whale
bone, that is located as a fringe around
the lower jaw, is only about two feet
long, the bowhead bone, that grows in
the upper jaw, is sometimes eighteen
feet in length. This is the valuable
quality. The bowhead is also the largest
whale as well as the richest in bone and
oil. One is on record as having yielded
320 barrels of oil, and those of 150 and
200 barrels are not rare. The most val
uable bowheads are caught in the Arctic
waters of the eastern coast of America,
as the proportion of bone is the greatest,
averaging about twenty pounds to the
barrel; while those in Behring Sea and
to the northward thereof yield only from
ten to twelves pounds. The oil is of little
value and is used mostly to mix with
other oils for painting.
Sperm whales are found in any seas
between the Arctic andjAntarctic .raters,
and are sought for on account of the ex
cellent quality of the oil, whii h is un
surpassed as a lubricant for fine mai hin
ery. They are not supplied -with
whalebone, but their lower .jaws contain
teeth that fit neatly into sockets iu the
upper jaw when the mouth is closed.
They live upon squid, a jedy-like living
mass, which they swallow in parts as it
breaks off, and then dive for again un
til they finish the entire lot. The finest
oil and the greatest quantity is in the
animal’s head and is called the “ca>e.”
A sperm whale that would yield 100
barrels, would have sixty barrels of this
in its head.
When a whale is brought alongside a
ship the 'head is cut off and hoisted
aboard. The oil is then baled out with
buckets. The sperm whale is a ghter
wheu attacked and many are the thrill
ing adventures that are met with by the
brave men whose lives are devoted to its
capture. It is exhilarating though and
the iron nerves of the hardy seamen are
additionally braced with the. reflection
that a whale represents a big pile of
money and each has his interest, or “lay”
as it is called. If it were not a commer
cial pursuit whaling would be the grand
est sport in the world.
Many ambitious hunters go to Ceylon
and India to kill an elephant. An ele
phant is a big animal a large one weigh
ing'perhaps ten tons, but how small he
is in comparison with a whale. When a
whale is seen sporting in the distance the
man at the mast head calls out: “There
she blows!” All is now activity
aboard. The vessel is headed toward
the spot where the spout was seen, and
soon the boats are lowered, each con
taining five men and an officer, ihe
bow man is called the “ boat stecrer,”
because after he throws the harpoon into
the whale he exchanges places with the
officer, who is called “boat header” and
the latter goes to the bow and lances the
whale until he is dead, or shoots a bomb
lance into him from an iron gun with a
barrel about three inches in diameter.
TJie gun is heavily charged with powder,
and the recoil frequently kicks the boat
he ader overboard.
This is a contratemps not to be con
sidered if the bomb does its work. It
requires some resolution to come up
alongside of a whale which looks as big
as a ship upside down, and stick a sharp
lance into it repeatedly until it spouts
blood. When struck with a harpoon
the whale usually darts off at full speed,
dragging the boats after it at a rate of
speed that takes away the breath of the
crews. They care little for this, or the
long row back towing the mammoth
carcass, as long as he has been caught.
When sitting in their scats wth oars
outstretched, waiting for the whale to
rise and the harpoon to be delivered, no
thought of danger enters the head of the
sailor. He only wants to be prompt in
response to the order “Starnall, for your
lives,” that comes the moment the blow
is struck.
Safety depends on getting back out of
the reach of a blow from that enormous
fluke. I’erhaps the boat is struck aud
all hands are thrown out into the water,
but the other boats do not come to the
relief of their unfortunate comrades until
they have either' caught or lost tfie
whale.
The finback is not caught in this
manner, for it is very difficult to h arpoon
him at sea. He swims so rapidly that,
when he comes up after going down as
he blows, he may be many miles away.
They are sometimes caught off bong
Island and Cape Cod by getting into
shoal water and grounding, when they
are harpooned aud shot with a bomb
lance.
The whaling interest is very small
now compared with a few years ago,
when from New Bedford alone, there
were 500 whalers at sea, and from New
London and Martha’s Vineyard 200
each.
Whales are scarce, too, and will soon
become extinct uuless a syndicate should
be formed to charter Hudson’s Hay as a
whale ranch. This may sound rid.cu
lous, but only a few years ago it was
seriously considered to bring some of the
valuable fur seals from the South Shet
land Islands, southeast of Cape Horn,
and breed them in Repulse Bay. the
northern arm of Hudson's Bay, which u
well adapted for such an industry.