Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

gw Fv The New Orlesni Viagnm says: | .‘'Among the guileless aborigines of the F "VVesterni plains it is a common custom I when a babe is born to give it a name | suggested by so mi* object that, presents j jtse'f to the eye of the doting father as I he step* outside of the door of his teut and looks about him. This will explain l why it is that no Indians have ever been I isnsed ‘Honest Government Agent. ■ »i TV iter man* are liard at work, ar ‘ fcrding the New York Sim, digging to J ench out of their language. Une of t<* latest results of this purlfji ig p o tsss can hardly bo commended. The ! j cord “jatrunille" is to be cut cut of the it of military terms, and in its place is L • be substituted “truppcnthoilen f nachU fe Hpasiergan»” which is not the •itepiest conceivable manner of express ing the meaning of the word. The Catholic Church in Great Britain is keeping pace with the increase in pop ulation. There are now 5,041,040 com •municants in the Inited Kingdom Of [these |090; Scotland, England 326,000, and Wales and claim Behind, '. V'd, '901,000. There are also how in England [end Wales 2811 priests,as against ! V2S in Bfelb, serving 1301 churches, chapels and prissionary stations. In Scotland then jre five bishops and 384 priests, serving jj 7 chapels, churches and stations. Henry I abonchcre, of London Truth, has explained the desire ol the foreign nobility to seek American wives, Girls in England arc awkward, red-elbowed, large-looted, badly dressed, hoyden isb misses, with giggling propensities ar.d no conversational powers. American girlswo , handsome, , natural, , always , at . ease, a litt o cite j, wot 1 ■<-•■>-e , good 5 conversationalists, and free fioin the smell of bread-and butter. ,, He do- , elares that England will continue to be overcrowded with old maids until Eng llish girls realize these facts and become [Americanized. . P^Vith union of action Italy between and Portu- Ger many, England, France, gal for the suppression of the Zanzibar slave trade, backed by the nival forces of these combined powers, Awe cun-.be no doubt, declares the New York Nun, that the end of that abom untion is at hand. The first time at which broad measures were taken against the slave trade in general was in IHOg, when tire I nited States and England joined in tha enforcement of the policy which jthey [These had adopted for its suppression. powers subsequently received aid in the work from the Netherlands, f'ranee, and Spain. In 1*20 our Gov lernment too'; the lead in declaring the ■lave trade to be piracy. A declaration If this kind will doubtless have to he [hiade by the oijwer? that have .ust com Izined against" die slave traders of Zan ient. ^*Dr. Corwin, of California, mod* has recently M to his a! brethren [s*lpUd.hem |lge|rdii a number harmfufness of questions of jjjj r(J the possible 11 Kiasin habit. Of course, observes the New ork GrmMr, Dr. Corwin has n< IjAn c abolishing oscillatory contact I jfom l-iBian experience. There are said | P be -,me savage tribes that have nevet iiriven [liiat -d the kiss, bet it is safe to say Lighted ikay comprise a very small and be portion of the race, and that the ; k of driving any of the re t back into tins howling desert or a ki-eWi exist !,,ce is hopeless. The doctor’s idea is (hat kissing has been extended from its 1-gitimate field, nod that a large part oJ riat liequnte now done is unaccompanied by any compensation for the risk ^ ^''pgjthat on. Others than Dr, Corwin are con that risk is conshh.rabie; pitinL n;> *,» s-h/nv-thal fodly variety of diseases may be con cted through kisses. he Pulse of Domesticated Animals. _ ■The . pulse nUjanimals m varies tome Fiat I even when in toil health and at st. A fell -onusCh nny lucre .so the [.umber of beats and so wfcl high tem jjerature, but, a c rule, we must say that the pulse of a healthy horsewjhwSS at aud rest should range beta ecu thirty-six I ty-six—about forty beats may be con* I. ered normal. In the ox ami cow mt forty to forty-five, but after a full ai it may increa-e ten beats or even lore without indicating disease. In ep, goat*, and p’gs the pulse is from ecty to eighty Leafs, and in the dog bty to one hundred. The pulse may felt wherever a large artery crosses a Ie, itied and in the cord horse which it is generally ex on the crosses over i bone of the lower jaw in front of its UtheUyc 10 A' 1 nil mpid. hardand f l-e is an" i du ntjon of high fever or hmmatiem An irregular pulse indi ies heart disease.—• AY<a Yurk Huu. [A Talented and GarrmtMU Crow. [live | Georgetown, and forty Ky., years harl ago Mr. crow Adams, that L a next to Henry s.lay in the affections | light, its people. Though wholly aelf it could talk well enough to Itswear (the the army in Flanders,-answered name of Fete, went to every race i feeling thereabout and shouted “Go!” • naturally that the jockeys oflen took raise lially start. In addition, apd hog he delighted Ldd in musters killings, the hover over the soldiers or ■xers Bhody in equally e fish glee, ami it Pe displeased terrible it would thief scream and out. tvaa a!-o a withal, an ■eterate drunkard; yet, such a PLy -eid’ent sprite, In w-wsgtou that when the he largest was ihot funeral rseen in Georgetown. He was buried en, far and near, wore mourning for kny days. — Commercial Ail re User. 'Tore Off Her Baby’s Eyelid, .three-year-old daughter of Mr, >t. ktleld. I’at Garroll.of East Ninth street, Ohio, was playing with tub hook, and in sonic way, got it -o Lttdn lasa'sai^s.s an eyelid. The mother did loWm it. This act/ caused tho ■ Actually tear off Hie lower lid of ^lOindnnMlu^urer. i on ~ whi ,T77 h/raany ...... a poor fellow „ e k the wavf of a 1 O • VOLUME A Life Lesson. There! little girl; don't cryl They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; But childish troubles will soon pass by. There! little girl; d. <vi cryl There! little girl; don’t cryl T y jQy have broken your slate, 1 know And the glad, wild ways Of your school-girl days Are things of the longngo; But Tifo and love will soon come by. There! little girl; don’t cryl There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your heart, I know And the rainbow gleams Of your youthful dreams Are things of tho long ago; hoaven holds all for which you sigh. The,el 1Utle doa,t —[James Whitcomb Riley. THE FACTORY GIRL, It was a little studio, quito at tha top of tho house. Upon tho easel that oc cupied tho post of honor in tho middle of tho room, a largo piece of canvas glow „, with tho soft tint, of a spring | 4n( j 5CS p ' C 0 nd Seymour stood beforo it, 1 pallet ,, ta . hand, , ’ ,. Ins largo , brown eyes dreamy with , , a sort of ,, inspi- , ration. la a comfortable, oasy chair, by tho door, sat a plump, rosy, little female, in a fnco cap with a plenty of narrow white satin ribbons fluttering from it, and silver-gray poplia dress—Mrs. Sey mour, in fact, our artist's mother who had j"’ 1 U P fron tha very basc mont “to seo bow Frank was gottiag along.’ “Here, mother,” said tho young man, w dh an onlhuaUrtio sparkto in his eyor, “just seo tho way the sunset light touches the topmost branches of the old apple tree. I liko the brown, sub duod gold of that tint; it somrhow ro minds mo of Grace Teller’s hair.” Mr-. Beymour moved a iittlo unoasily in her chair. “Yo-, it's very protty; hut it strikos me, Fiank, you aro lately discovering a many slmilitu les between Miss Teller and your pic uros.” Frank laughed good humoredly. “Well, mother, sho is pretty.” “Yes, I don’t deny that she’s pretty enough.’ 1 “Now, mother, what’s the meaning of that ambiguous tone?” demandod tho young artist, pleasantly. “What have you discovered about Miss Grace Tc!lor ,hat ‘harming and womanly and lovely?” “Frank, do you know who she is?” “Yes, I know that sho is a remarka bly pretty girl with a voic; that sounds exactly like tjie low soft ripplo of tho Bttlo rivulet where I used to play when I w * fl a boy." “Notisinse,” said Mrs. Seymour, sharply, “Well, thon, if you aro not satisfied with my description of her as she is, would you like to know whit she will be?" Mrs. Seymour lookod puzzled. “Mother, 1 think ono day sho will ho my wife.” “Frank? Frank 1 are you crazy?” “Not that I know of,” sai l Mr. Sey mour, composedly, squeezing a little deep ‘ blue on his .* pallet oift of a dainty 1 tln tabc . and ral . *‘°« ll thoughtfully. “Wo know so little about her,” thought Mrs. Seymour. “To be sure sho is visiting Mary Elton, and Miry belongs to a very good family, if tho does live in haLf a home and take in fine embroidery for a living. Bat then she has no style at all compare 1 with Cynthia Parker, and Cynthia alwrfys did fancy our Frank. Then, moroover, sho has five or six thousand dollars of hor own. But dear me, a young man in love is tho most headstrong crciturc alive." Mrs. Seymour mused awhile longer, »»'k anl tben !>“* and 00 monse^colored bonnet gray slu.w , and^tet out upon a tour of investigation. “I’ll find out someth!ug about Miss Toller, or 111 know the roason why,” thought the indefatigable widow, Mus Graco Teiier was “at home,” helping Mary Ellon in ano.aborato , , , pi . cs ol embroidery. The room whero the two gills a at was vory plain, carpeted with the cheapest iagraia, and cur tained wilh very ordinary pink and white chintz, yet it looked snug and c hcery, J ’ for tho fat blackbird was chirp- 1 ing noidly in the window, aad a stand of mignonette aad velvet-blossomed pansies gave a delightful tiat to this pretty picture of every-day life. Mary E ton was pale, thin and not at ail pretty; there was a tremulous sweet noss about her mouth that seemed to —Sisper tint she might hay. b„, d„. ferent under diff;rent circumstances, Grace Teller W33 a lovely blondo, with large bluo eyes, ro3oleaf skin, and hair whose luminous gold fell over her fore head liko an aureole. As Mrs. Seymour entered a deeper shade of pink stole over Grtce's beauti fnl cheek, but otherwise she was caim —«•»«—>. v p»w the old lady’s interrogatories. “Very warm this morning,” said the old lady, fanning herself. “Do they have as warm weather whero you came {rom > Mu ‘ Tollerf Ta ... “I ry ia Fa ZEBU LON, (a A., TUESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1881). ryTille," said Grace, composedly taking snother needleful of white silk. "Factoryville? Is that your native placof Perhaps, thon, you know Mr. Parker—Cynthia Parker’s father, who it superintendent in the great calico mills there?” ‘ Very well, I hsya often seen him.” “Are you acquainted with Cynthia?" “No—I beliovo Miss Parker spends moat of lior time in this city.” “That’s very truo,” said Mrs. Sey mour, sagely; ‘ Cyotlua says there’s no society worth having in Factoryville— only the girls that work in the factory; Cynthia is very gontoel. But—excuse my curiosity, Miss Teller—how did you become acquainted with Mr. Parker and not with his daughter?" Grace colored. “Business brought mo in contact fre quently with the gonlloman of whom you speak. But I never happenod to moot his daughter.” Mrs. Seymour gave a iittla start in her chair—she was beginning to seo through tho mystery. “Perhaps you have something to do with tho calico factory I” “I have,” said Grace with ctam dig city. “A factory girlF’ gasped Mrs. Sey mour, growing rod and white. “Is thero any di?grac3 in the title?” quietly asked Graco, although hor own cheeks wero dyed crimson. “DisgraceI Oh, no—certainly not; thero's no harm in earning one’s living in any honorable way,” returned McS. Seymour, absently. Tho fact was, 6he was thinking in hor inmost mind, ‘What will Frank say?” and antici pating the flag of triumph she was about to wave ov;r him. "I do not hesitato to confess,” went on Grace, looking Mrs. Suymour full in tho eyes, “that to the calico factory I owe my daily bread.’’ “Vory laudable, I’m suro," said tho old laiy, growing a little uneasy under tho clear blue gozo, "only—thoro are steps and gradations in all socioty, you know, and—lam a little surprised to find you so intimate with Miss Elton, whoso family is—” Mary camo ovor to Grace’s side and stooped to kiss her check. “My dearest friend, my most precious companion,’’ sho murmured. “I should bo quite lost without her, Mrs. mour." The old lady took hor leave stiffly, and did not ask Graco to return her call, although Bho extended an invita tion to Mary, couched in tho politest and most distant terms. “Frankl’ she ejaculated, novor onco stopping to rernovo shawl or bonnet, and bursting into her sou’s studio like an oxposs-messenger of lifa and death news. “who do you supposo your para gon of a Mi-s Toller is?” “Tho lcvllest of hor sex,” returned Frank, briefly nnd comprehensively. "A factory girl 1” scroumod tho old lady at the height of hor lungs, "a fac tory girl!" “Well, what of that?" “What of that? Frank Seymour, you never moan to say that you would hnvo anything to say to a common fac tory girl!” “I should pronounce her a very un common factory girl,” said tho young man, with an aggravating calmness. “Frank, don’t jest with me,” pleadod tho poor little mother with tears in her eyos. “Tell mo at once you will give up this fancy for a girl that « in no way equal to you." “No—she is ia no respect my equal," roturnod Frank, with reddening cheek and sparkling eye, "but it is because sho is in every respect my superior. Graco Teller is ono of tho noblost women that over breathed this torros tial air, as well as or.o of the most beau tiful. Mother, I love hor, and sho has promised to ho my wife.” Mrs. Seymour sat down, limp, life less and despairing. “Frankl Frankl I never thought to see my son marry a common factory girt.” And thon a torrent of tears camo to her relief, while Frank wont on quietly touching np the scarlet foliage of a splendid old maple in the foreground of his picture. « » <r “So you are determino 1 zrry me, Frank, in spite of everyth Grace Teller had been crying—tho dew yet on her cyelsshos, and tho un natural crimson on her cheeks, as Frank Ss/mour camo in, and Mary Elton con siderately slipped out “to look for a missing pattern.” “I should think so,” said Frank, ooking admiringly down on the gold head that wa3 stooping among tho pan sies. “But your mother thinks me far be low you in social position.” “Social position be—ignored. What do I care for social position, as long as my little Grace has consented to mako th3 sunshine of my own home." “Yes, but Frank-" 1 Well, but Graco?” “Do you really love mo?" For answer, he took both the fair delicate little hands in his, and lookod steadi!4dn her eyes. “Fr%k,” said Grace J strong-willed, obstinate sort of a hus band." “I shouldn't wonder, Gracia.” An so the gold twilight faded into a purple, softer than tin shadow of L at ern amothysts, and f lic stars camo out, one by one, and still Mary Elton didn’t succeed in finding tho pal (ern. * * » * * Mrs. 8 -ymour was tho first guost to arrive at Mrs. Rin.dall’s select soiree on the first Wednesday evening in duly— elevating her kid-gloved hands, “what Is tho matter? I hop) Frank isn’t in any sort of trouble.’’ “My dear,” sai l the old lady in mys tcrioui whispers, “Frank has been on trapped, inveigled Into tho most dread ful entanglement. But yen ever fancy that he, the most fastidious and ular of croatod beings, ocu'd bo reso lutely determined on marrying—a fac tory girl?” Airs. Randall uttered an exclamation of horritiod surprise, aud at the tamo momenta party of guests wero an nounced, among them was Miss Grace Teller, looking rather more lovoly than usual. “Well,” thought Mrs. 8 ymour, hor hostess hurried away to tho new comors, “will wonders erase? Graco Toller at Mrs. soiroel But I supposo its all on count of Miry E ton’s uncle, tho judge. Hero comos Mr. Parker and dear mo, what a curious mixturo American sotioty is; how thoy will shocked at meeting Graco Toiler.’' Involuntarily slio advance 1 a stop two^o witness the meeting, M . Par kcr looked quito as much astonished she had expoctcd, but somehow it not just tho kind of astonishment was on tho programme. “Miss Graco; you here? Why, did you camo from Factoryville? ’ “You aro acquainted with Miss ler? ’ asked Mrs. Randall, with surpriso. “Quito well; in fact I hnvo had management of her proporly for years. Miss Teller is the young who owns tho extensive calico factories, from which our village takes its name.” “Bear me I’ ejaculated Mrs. 8 mour, turning palo and sinking on a divan near her. “Why, they tha heiress of the old gentleman owned the Pactoryvfile property i» richest girl in tho country.” “Grace,” said Frank, gravely and almost sternly, “what does this mean?" Tho blue eyes filled with tears as sho clung c’oser to his arm. “I can’t help owning tho calico fac tory, Frank. Don't you love me as well as if I didn’t?’ “My little daceiver. But why didn’t you toll me?” “Why should I tell you, Frank? It was so nico to leave tho heiress behind and bo plain Graco Toller for awhile. And whon I saw how opposed your mother was to our engagement, a spark of woman’s wilfulness rose up within me, and I resolved I would maintain my incognita, come what might. Mrs. Sjymour,” she added, turning archly round and holding out hor hand to tho discomfited old lady, “didn't I tell you that I owod my daily broad to the factory? ’ And poor Mrs. Seymour, fur onco in her life, was at a loss for nn answer. The Sensation of Being Scalped. The man who can toll more tales Indian fighting, bear hunting, and wild life generally than any otlur man west of tho Rockies is Carroll Bronson, pioneer of the Selkirk mountains in British Columbia. It i, forty-two years slnco he made hi, way alone from tho head waters of (ho Missouri to mountains, and he is now in San Francisco, seeing for the first time in all those years a town of moro than thousand persons. His faco i, scarred from arrow wounds received in Indian fights, and if ho lift, his long white hair from tho silo of hi. host he shows a great circular scar extendhg from above hi, right eyecloar around the right sido and back of his head almost to the left oar. That is where the old man was scalp id. “It was in 'CO, with tho Sioux,” he explained, “and it was the worst brujh lever had with the Indians. They of ... nine of us aud , camo upon a camp one of them pounced upon me, soized mo by tho hair and cut right around my head where you seo this scar. Then ho gave a sharp wrench upward with his right arm nnd laid the whole skull hare. I cannot describe tho pain it gave me, and I don’t believe I could have endured any moro without simply dying of it. Thero is no other torture man can ho subjocted to that will begin to compare with being scalped. “It is a common belief that a man cast live after being scalped, hut I’ve survived tho experience, a matter of twenty-two years, and I don’t think I’m quite to the end of ray journey yet,oven if I am seventy year, old. I know another man up there, too, who didn’t die under the scalping knife. Tho scalp wa* torn completely off from tho whole top of his head, so that it had to be constantly swathed in cotton and olive oiL He lived- a year. That man SUNK BY A METEOR. An m Account of Re _ markable Incident, A Mysterious Ship Scuttled By a Fiery Aerolite. Potor W«3gren, an old sailor of San Francisco, who has cruised in every ocean on the face of the globe, but whose soafaring days are nearly over, b ? caU8a bU )° int8 810 8I0 ™ 8 bl8 ' wcak wlth a ^' wa8 aakcd b * » Now York Sun correspondent wha th « » tran <? ,,t ftbg he ever saw at sea. The old man mused for a few moments, and then said: “Wo woro becalmed in the Pacific about iiiao or ton degrees north of the equator, and, if I recollect right, in something like 128 degrees west longi tude. The Antelope lay there like a log, rolling on the swell fit lo make a man siok. Tho sails flapped against tho mast with dull, booming sounds, and the only draught of air you could feol was what they made, The water was liko melton load, lapping haavily against her sides. If you never wero in any of those calms, you can have idea how gloomy it makes a man. “It was the second night in tho calm, and tho port watch was on dock, moon was shining clear; everything still, but for tho creaking noises always about a ship afloat, and as there nothing to keep a lookout for indications of a breeze, which seem likely to come along, wo had puckered our lips out of whistling for it, tho men wero ing undor tho bulwark>, and the man the wheol was snoring. “I was leaning over tho rail, looking at a brigantine becalmed about miles away on our starboard quarter. We hadn't spoken her, and didn't what she was or whore she was f rom. could tell by tha taper of hor that sho was Amoriean built, but was all. She was a trim little craft, and it was enough to break a heart the way sho was wiped off face of tho earth that night. To sure, tho Antelope wasn’t treated hotter, a fow months later, but fire ono of tho things a sailor among tho chances of his calling, and many a good ship is burned at sea. But I don’t supposo any otbor evor met such a sudden and unnatural fato ia this world as that brigantine. Mind, I don’t say I know it never happened before, because ufrango things always aro happening at sea, and somo of the strangest never get to’.d. Because why? Mon don’t livo to toll ’em. “Well, I was loaning on the rail at about six bells, with my check in my palm, looking away where tho tine lay in the moonlight. The motion of tho bark on the swell was alow and kind of soothing, and I had got sort of half dreaming with the lazy roll of her, whon I was startled broad awako by a bright light in tho sky. Hooking up saw a great ball of lira rushing down through tho air on a slant, aad thoro was a dark clou t above. By tho time I had hauled in tho slack of my mind enough to know that it was a shooting star - tho 8 lara of u 80t 80 bl % ht thtt ihB U * M of tho moon wa9 of n0 moro ” cconnt than a ,U,,h Iam P- aad tho5tarS wor< > put out altogether, ‘’There was a rushing, hissing sound in tha air a8 ,ha thin « c, “* d 0W t When it got pretty near, the light , al m08 ‘ bllado ; 1 ra0 aad 1 COuld 800 DOth ' in « lut tho 1,0,y gloara ° f 14 on tho wat<r - 14 Wfl8n 4 a ’ loa « from the timo i4 boT ° in 8i S ht uatil 14 struck 88 1,ya bcaa tcllin8 how 14 lookaJ ’ 14 must haT0 baen traT(!lin K liko a ctt3tloa ball, or maybe a goof many more knots * miaute ' In 4Ua « lara 1 lost sl « h4 of the bri g»“ liaa - 1 haa!d 8 »ound, and tho ball of fire disappeared, lflayin « everything black before my oyas 4or 8 ‘' Whaa 1 had blinkod 4he ri8ht 8i S b4 laok into my eyc9 and « ot u8od 4o 4h ° moonlight,that seemed palo and s.ckly, I fenced over tho starboard quarter to wharo tho bri ^ ntina h ' lJ baor ’> bu4 thero wasn’t a trace of her to bo aeon. I could hardly believe my own eyes, al though they were a good pair in thoso days beforo tho dust of tho soa had dulled them, and I thought I must haTa baaa b,t dai!ed , , , by wha4 , had , 8 ha P- D8aad and 804 c<,afu,ed la . my , bear - ia as S a 8 - spar Bat in ia sight, ao dircctloa and off there ^ a8 80 on mu the f quarter thero was a rising and falling of short wares, their tops cafehing tho glint of moonbeams, that showed whero the shooting star had gone down into tho sea. That was where the brigan tino had been. “ Tha fla,h and roar of tbo Mlin8 atar had aroused the watch on deck.and tha mcn wata gathered in a group l:y tha ^emast, blinking their cyos and wonderin8 wbat 1,ad b “PP aaad - had 8ean 8114Uat 1 had aa ^ Ididn’tknow wflat llad taada tUo 8 raat 8lar0 of I told them to look for the brigaMAne, and sent a man aloft NUMBER 8. but our own, and asked me if the brig, antino had blown up. TUo man aloft reported that ho could not mako out anythiag. “They were token all aback whoa I told what had happened, and being a superstitious lot, as forecastle hands are apt to bo, thoy shook their heads and mumbled among themselves about tha devil being nbtOlul. “Thinking some poor feilfflT tnighl be floating about whbro tho brigantine went down, Icalledupthe captain and all hands, and the eld man sent out a boat to search. Tho second mate wont in the boat, and when ho camo back ho brought only a bit of scorched deck planking that he picked up adrift whore he calculated tho brigantine had been. That was all tho trace of her that was left, and we never know her name or anything mora about her.” Burials at Sea. “Why ara tho bodies of passengers who dio on ocean steamships at sea thrown overboard instead of being brought to port?" was asked of a navy officer. “It depends upon circumstances whethor it is advisable to bury a person at sea who dies on shipboard,” was the reply. “If the vessel is within a day or two of the end of tha voyage, there is no good reason for not bringing tho body into port, although a superstition prevails among sailors that if a dead body is kept on board it moans tho in evitable destruction of tho vessel. And it is often tho case that whon a body is shipped on board a vessel to cross tho ocean tho fact is kept from tho knowl edge of tho sailors.” “It is contended by somo that the bnrial of a body at sea is not attendod with thosolomn ceremony that it ought to bo 1” “A burial at sea is a vory solemn aud impressive sorvice. A death at sea casts a gloom over tho wholo ship, and it is natural for tho officers of a vossel to avoid ostentation and display, All mariaers aro firm in thoir conviction that whon a person dies at sen, unloss within a few hours' run to port, tho -body should ho givon up to tho doep. As a rule, vessels aro not provided with any placo whoro the body rmy he kept, nor do tho medicine chests contain any drugs or chemicals by which it can bo embalmed. Somo of the linos, I be lieve tho White Stnr and Fronch Trans atlantic, carry metallic coffins in which the bodies of those dying at sea, when tho urgent request of their friends is made, may bo placed until tho vessel roaches port. But thoro is no law. as some havo asserted, which makes it compulsory to bury a body at sea. “As for tho burial sorvice, tho body is usually sowed up in canvas nnd heavy pieces of iron, nnd cither grate-bars or shot, aro lastonod to it to cause it to sink. Then tho body is taken to tho gangway, and the officers and crow aro assembled by tho captain, who roads tho Episcopal burial service, ns pre pared for such occasions, tho ship being stopped meanwhile. Tho sorvico b ing completed, tho plank -upon which tho body rests is tippod up and tho body slidos into tho ocoan and sinks, being carried down by tho heavy weights. Thon tho vossel is put on hor course and goes ahead. Surely thoro is nothing inhuman or unbecoming in this.”—[New York Tribune. Russia's Great Norolist. Count Tolstoi is a man ol sixty, with iron-gray hair, sunburnod countenance, plentifully furnished with gray heard and muetachc. His hair is parted down tho middle and is thick and full. His brow, furrowed with the ploughshare of thought, is broad and massivojhis eyes, small and piercing, glcnm out be neath bushy brows. His nose, largo and prominent, has full and oxprossivo nostrils. Tho features aro so strongly marked that onco seen they cannot aoon bo forgotten. Ho is rather above tho average height, and his threescore years havo not bowed his stature. But ho is no longer as robust as ha was. Ho looks soomowhat shrunkon and worn, as if timo and tho ever-burning fire within wore making inroads on what was onco a stout and stalwart form. Count Tolstoi drosses not a la moujik, hut not as a Count. Ho wean a coarse, dark blouse, buttonod up tho breast nnd fastenod round tho waist with a leathern girdle. Collars, cuffs and such frippery ho eschews. IIi3 trousers are as those of other men. On his head he wears a soft, weather-beaten brimloes hat, and whenever ho walks abroad ho carries a stout staff. Tho costume of the disciple is liko to that of his master. Simplicity ia dross is a distinctive note of tho Tolstoian gospel—one among the maty points in which it resembles tho Quakers.—[Loufevillo Courier- Journal. The Proper Gender. “Pa,” inquired Bobby, “what is a phenomenon?” “A phenomenon, my boy,” replied the old man, “is a person who excels or is romarkabio in some special way." “Is phenoidfeion, aSlatert*’ pa, of the •or feminine fHH SURPRISE. < Joy met Borrow in a placo ' Where the branches Interlace. Very secret, still and sweet, Bate from all profaning feet. "Why art here!” Joy, startled, cried; “Why art here!" gray Borrow atghed. "I came hereto woep," said Joy. “Tear* are ever my employ,” Murmured Borrow. “Yet 1 see Tears os grateful were to thee. Come, young novice, and lie taught Uow to ease thy heart o’erfraught." Joy sat down at Sorrow's feet, A And was taught a lesson sweet, “ Fain would he make kind return; "Borrow, art too old to learnt Nay! Then tarry yet a while, Till I’ve taught thee how to smile!” Blnce that hour the two have been Bound as by mysterious kin; Since that hour thoy so exchange Tearaand smiles, ’tis nothing strange If sometimes a puzzled heart Scarce can tell the twain apart —Kdith Thomas, in Boston Troauefipt. Hl'MOK BP THE DAT. Got the stuff in him—An effigy. A Babes in the wood—Wooden dudH|| dolBHj Potomac flats—Washington feel All poets have trouble with their Cuts a good figure—An expert seuljy tor. A race across tho Atlantic—The Eng iish. The still alarm—An overwound AmeriJ can clock. ami ■ The Port of London— Logwood currant wine. A matter of some weight—I’rc to a 200-pound widow. A touching sight—A small boy it gating a newly painted door. I w The immediate delivery system - money or your life.—Bo U>n (ja.e.t A neighbor had so natural a pict a ben that it laid in his drawer week. The reason why a sailor is called is because ho is constantly pitched a by the ocean. No matter how good a man may be, when he ships as a seaman he gets into a mess. — Ocean. At a Montana wedding: Justice - “Arise! Grab hands! Hitched! Sis dollars. Cash up; no trust ’’ When hall and bat are put away, And icy winter’s here. The clubs have plenty time to brag Of what they’ll do next year. There is a man in New York who; it is said, can eat, nine pounds steal* of sU<-’ sitting. He is the greatest we ever knew. Edison’s phonograph has on® that is worthy of consideration. tlfl ■ talks unless talked to. But, on baud, it talks buck .—Nine York , De Bmithvilie (at the theatre® you Butcher—“Oh, like tragedy, I Miss dote Butcher ilk. on ■ ' attend papa's slaughtor-housc ^ week.” The funeral of a Colorado editor who charged a State official with being such a dastardly robber that he would rifle a camion, was largely attended.— ington Critic. One of the saddest sights in-this world of ups and downs is to sec an “I Know My for sale Kedecmcth in a paW f.iyijth’’ mfi wro ‘ Nets York Mercury. w w In Iceland it is the custsm for every body to kiss everybody else he meets. Iceland It requires a good deal of skill in to meet only the people you would really like to see .—Somorcitle Journal. \ A St. Louis' physician has cured a woman of chronic nervousness by com pelling her to spend four weeks in a boiler factory, where she couldn’t hear herself talk.— Detroit Free I'ress. Husband (severely)—“Wlmtl dead—you'd more money. Bupposc I was have to beg for vour cash.” Wife (calmly) “It wouldn’t be a though 1 had never had any practice, sir ."—Chicago (Jt.ifte. There is a wealthy man churcBH uptoyr does not hire a pew in he believes in paying and drops us he iHj Iff goes twice a year ItvdH the box each time,— New The papers say that “wine 'v.; peering from the tabic.” ... who keeps noticed a hoarding house, peculiarity has the same » bread, butter, beef, potatoes and oth.i' eatables. — Noroistrum Herald. A cat sat on tlie old back fence, his comrade* ail had tied. thing* flew And as a natural consequeneo about his head— Bootjacks, bottles, stools and bricks, the neighbors wild did lire, lick But he his chops did calmly and loudly yelled "Ma-ri-a!” “Buffalo! Buffalo!” shouted the brake man, looking in tho car door as the train renehedthat city, “liy .love I” ex claimed the excited English tourist, “my gun is in the luggage room, you know !”—Mail and Nx^res-. Young Tidies ifaiut hearted)—“Just think, angel mine, how poor 1 am. Why, what could I mako of you?” Bhe (bravely;—“Well, you could make Mrs. Tillies of mo if you had any nerve.”--?'' Washington Critic. “See here, my friend,” said a farmer to a tramp, “you’ve been lyin’ in the shade of that fence for over thirteen hours. Ain’t it ’bout time to move on?” “If you say so," foot, replied “I s’pose the tramp,strug- it is. I’m gling to his only tryin’ to make my shoes last as long as possible.”— Time. Asa specimen of the ponderous legal witticism, Mr. Baron Huddleston's latest obiter dictum is not had. “.Such was the intricacy of the lunacy laws,” said his lordship, ‘that they had a tendency to reduce persons who gave an abstruse study to them into persons for whose benefit they were intended.” A Humorous Horse Snap. A Cincinnati paper records a hors* trade which, if not quite chronicler the first evidently of it* leculiar kind, as its jolieves it to he, is at least worth men tioning. Joe Yearsley, a owned young shoe maker of Hipley, ( 'liio, nn old plug about which all the hoys were eon tinually joking him. Among the was Will Mockbeo,who said he days give $2 for it. A few the old nag died, and joke, Yearsley offered to sell hiirjH us he stands” for sixteen Jp to! ucco. the Mockbee, proposition thinking nM/f'",.* accepted Yearsley agreed forfeit. nerJmFjt hor thut -■ at hour T o’clock dray the M At Vi-rtJ lit a Mo i. bee's house, arrivtifl^H wiijH the animal's duly dtfiivered, trufeLiuhon f never A Freni i lo tj