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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.