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>’i she sat -./uo fiat <-nerl#B night. But In his breast wan stubborn pride As. trudging to and fro, outside. He watched her glimmering light. Ah. she was fairer than the rose And often bad be pressed His lips to her glad Him and felt Her fluttering on his breast. An t he had heard her sigh for him Hut that was past for aye - A jet, a taunting word or two, wud love that had been sweet and true, Was lightly thrown away ! At last. In bitterness, he turned And left her there alone, Still hoping she uilgnt call him back To claim her as bis own How excellent to hold her then, Close, close to him and hear Her sob and elgb and, trembling, say Ho softly, in the sweet old way; "i love—l love you, dear.” LOVE AND FICKLE FORTUNE. A STUDY IN SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. The girl was very pretty and dain tily tlu'ssed. .lack Grainger, hitting beside her in the park, ha 1 every facility for studying her closely. He was puzzled by the sad, harassed look on her face, which he thought had no business to be there at all. It was a lovely June evening, but the park was rapidly thinning, for (he inevitable din ner hour claimed society lor its own. So absorbed was Grainger in con templative study that, mirabile dictu, he had forgotten about that all im portant function. Presently the chair ticket man eaine along and stopped before the girl. "Have you paid yet, m’m?” "No,” she answered. "One penny, please.” She fumbled in her pocket, but no purse made its appearance. "I'm afraid I —l haven’t.—l’ve left “Allow me,” put in Jack, seizing the welcome opportunity. “Most awk ward, of course," he went on, not noticing her deprecating gesture. ”1 really see no other way out of the diffi culty, and lie settled the malter by paying for them both, while the ticket man walked on. Ills face wreathed in Inscrutable smiles. "An old trick, tuat,” he thought, as he strolled along, though there’s mar.y a marriage the outcome of it an’ the likes.” “It is really good of you," said the girl at last, "but rather than be under . iv obligation to you 1 would have much preferred to pay another day.” "A pleasure at any time to help a lady out of difficulties," answered Grainger, delighted that the ice was broken. “It's so easy to forget your purse, too. I neveg bother myself with sneh impediments. Much safer to carry your money loose in your pocket; don't you think so?" “If you have any yes." replied the girl, smiling in spite of herself and tracing little patterns in the grass with her parasol. "Rather an odd remark," thought Grainger. "Er —er. perhaps your pocket has been picked?” lie ventured at last. "No " "Lost your purse?” She shook tier head. “Forgot it?" “Oh, how dense you are,” she ex claimed, almost petulantly, “you men never seem able to realize that we women can be ‘hard up’ although we present a fairly respectable appear ance. Now, does not another possible contingency occ nr to you other than what you have guessed?” Jack thought, for a long while, but bis brain could not rise to the solving of such a riddle. Impecuniosity was as foreign to him as are the tropics to the polar bear. 'Then you must shame me to an ad mittance,” she answered. •’Oh!” put in Jack, at last begin ning to realize the truth, "yon don't mean, you ean’t mean that you havn't got ’’ “Yes,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears as she gulped down a sob. ‘ln spite of *ll—all this,” and she made a pretty gesture, Indicating her dainty clothes. "Wheugh," whistled Jack softly. "well. I'm he didn’t say what he was, but whistled again. She hardly realized why she bad taken this man. a total stranger, even thus far into her con defence. But there was something so kind, so sympa thetic in his face—something different from other men. "Have you no friends, no relatives in town?” aske.l Grainger at last. “1 know no one.” "Then what are yon going to do?" “I don’t know." She began to cry. “Come.” said Jack cheerily, “there is always a silver lining to every cloud. Perhaps 1 can help you. Tell me all about it." “My father and mother died a year ago. leaving me with scarcely any money,” began the girl, "and until a month ago I remained in my Devon shire home. My slender resources be gan io eke out. so 1 came to London to see if 1 could get employment as a governess. Luck has been against me and I have now come to the end of my resources. That's all —the whole thing in a nutshell,” she con cluded bitterly. ”1 need not go into details. You will understand what I have gone through. The girl flushed scarlet with shame at such an exposure. Her pride aud self-esteem were wounded, too. The irony of it struck him forcibly. ••j'm—l ni awfully sorry,” he said at she did not call ! | id* day had dawned and yet lie waited to leeelve her word Of candor and regret; And then, in pride ho wrote to her To bring h-r to her knees — He scribbled but a line or two. Yet that was plenty, as he knw: ‘‘lteturn my letters, please”’ Ho waited proudly—ah, nt last! A dainty letter came: Love fanned the embers in Ids breast And set them all aflame. “She yields 1” he proudly cried, and then He sat with drooping bead: ‘‘Your letters cannot be roturaed.” Hhe wrote, "because I always burned Them alter they were read.” Still, still her laugh is sweet to hear. And still her face Is fair; Her footsteps still are quick and light, Htill pride is la her air— And yesterday be delved among Her choicest treasures —oh. His heart leaped when he abancsd to seo, Horibboued there, those letters she Had burned up long ago. —B. E. Kiser. last, awkwardly enough. “It's fear fully hard." Their eyes met. Her face was still flushed, and there were tears in her vi ice and eyes as she smiled and said: “Thank you for saying that. You are so sympathetic." The words though slight in them selves and so simply uttered, carried a world of meaning. Grainger stared vacantly across the road again. What a sweet face she had. Why should fate be so cruel to one with whom Nature had dealt so generously. Who, to look at her, would have thought such cruel poverty was hers? Daintily, charmingly dressed -not a penny in the world. Well, he couldn't leave her without doing something. “Look here,” he said at last, “here is my card. ' He handed it to her, at the same lime steadily avoiding her glance. “If at any time you should be in difficulties, er—well, er —come and look me up. And er —, or bang it.” he exclaimed, “it's no use my beat ing about the bush, I’m going to lend you live pounds.” The girl crimsoned, but. shook her head. “Impossible— 1 don i know when I could repay you.” “Then may i ask what you intend doing and how you are to puss the night?” "I don’t know,” she murmured, “Nor do I. unless you accept my loan. I must Insist,” he said earnest ly. “Pardon my saying so. but l think R is folly to refuse. Consider it a loan that you can return at any dis tant date you like." She had taken the card and placed it in her pocket. “We are all, some time or other, victims of circumstances," he began again; “consider that your time has now come,” he concluded banteringly. “You—you are very good,” she whis pered. “Why! how do you know that my tale is true, or that "You are unkind. ' he put it quickly. “Must l tell you what 1 see in your face and eyes. They spell She motioned him to desist. “Tell me another time —if we over meet again. Since necessity demands that l must submit to. 1-1 ” ‘ Then you will accept the amount?” "Necessity says yes,” she answered, softly. They strolled to the corner in sil lenco. “Don’t forget when you are in trou ble." he began, “to ”1 shall always remember. No words of mine can thank you. Please don't follow tue to see where i go. Premise me.” "Yes, I promise." he said, raising his hat. "flood night." "Good night." He watched her walk quickly down Grosvenor place, then went to his club. He Knew be bad fallen in love at lirst sight. “Another season come ami gone. Jack." said his uncle, a solicitor of the oltl school, “and you not found an heiress. 1 still stick to my bargain. The day you marry a girl with ten thousand pounds I leave al! to you.”. ■ Well, who knows what may hap pen?" answered Jack, pointing to the personal column of the Daily Argus. “1 see you’ve got that in again. He in dicated the following: "If Miss Marjorie 0. Blakeley will call on Messrs, .lollop and Grainger. Solicitors. 53 Gray's Inn. she will hear of something to her advantage." “Yes,” answered his uncle, “[ ■ bought I'd have another try. It's been in nine times. Say. the girl's an heiress to something like fifty thous and pounds, and she may be starving for all we know. Jack. 1 expert great things if she calls." concluded Graing er's uncle as he lett the office for lunch, leaving his nephew in their private sanctum. Jack often wondered what had be come of his forlorn little friend he had met in the park. He had tried every possible means of finding her where abouts. but was unsuccessful. He had constantly hung about the park, but had never seen her. She had never been to see him, but he was not very surprised at this. He kr.rw she was the soul of honor, and that the loan of five* pounds would be returned at the earliest opportunity. His thoughts were suddenly Interrupted by the ab rupt entrance of the office boy. "A lady to see Mr. Jollup. sir." "My uncle's out." answered Jack, "but show hor in to me." THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS. In another moment the girl whom he had befriended entered. “You can go,” said Grainger to the office imp. who was grinning at hi3 look of astonishment. The boy van ished. For a few’ moments neither spoke. "Yes,” began Jack at last rather awkwardly, “can I do anything for you?" She unfolded the Daily Argus, and indicating the paragraph, quietly in formed him that she was Marjorie O, Blakeley. “Why,” gasped Jack in astern:/*, merit., “we have been trying to find you for three months. Did you know that your uncle who lived in Australia, for whom we‘are acting, died four months ago, ar.d left you all his money?” She shook her head. “it—it. is true, then?” she asked tremulously. "iTrue! 1 should think it is. The advertisement has been in the Daily Argus nine times. Have you only just seen it?” She nodded; then said, "I have been ill in hospital for six weeks. What i went through before I met you told on me at last, and i had to give in.” At the very time, 1 met yon in the park.” went on Jack, "you were enti tled to fifty thousand pounds. The irony of it." "You were very, very good to me," she said simply, her eyes tilling with tears. ”1 have not forgotten about the loan." “Oh, bother the loan!" exclaimed Jack., She smiled, and then Uncle Jollup came in and spoilt it by insisting on overhauling all the necessary papers then and there. <***• “And so. Jack, you are going to marry an heiress after all.” said Un cle Jollup, in huge delight some months after, when he was entertain ing Marjorie Blakeley and Jack to din ner at his house. "Well, ray boy. I congratulate you. Now l leave all to you. A bargain’s a bargain. Sweet Marjorie blushed and looked .shyly at Jack, who rose and bent over her. "I have been more than repaid," he whispered, "for 1 have won the heart and love of the. sweetest girl on earth.” —New York News. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. According to the Newcastle Chron icle the ghost whose mysterious con duct at Glyncorrwg colliery, Glamor gan, Wales, frightened Stic workmen from the pit, has turned out to be a stray pony, turned loose by some prac tical joker. Tlie so-called iron crown of Lom bardy which is the most treasured na tional possession of the itaiin kiug <i tin, preserves the nucleic form more than any other now worn. It is of golden "plaques," or low panels, which do not rise above the top of the head. One of the most remarkable archi tectural structures in existence is the itit-iianded spiral staircase in the Chateau de Hois. Touraine, built dur ing the sixteenth century. The de sign of the staircase corresponds so exactly with the spirals of the com mon Mcdil.orrnno.in shell known as the Volute vesperUlio that: there is lit tle doubt where the designer got his model. A freak of nature is to bo seen In a tree now growing and in full foliage in the garden lot attached to the engine house in Had Mutton, at Sixty-first and Thompson streets, Philadelphia. The tree lias thro distinct stems or trunks, which join and form one trunk. The top foliage would bo much larger, but the tree is ken: pruned, to prevent overtaxing of the roots and stems. The stems were planted each sperate ly, and when they rook root grafted into each othet at the top. They grew rapidly and each stem ei itself is a perfect support to the joined head. In connection with the anniversary of the Bethel Primitive Methodist chunel, Burnley. England, a souvenir handbook containing copies of old rec ords lias been issued. A minute passed in I;VM reads: “That we do not allow young men and young wo men of our society to court with each other on Sunday; neither io we allow our single men and women to walk in the street together arm in arm at any time; neither do wo allow them to stand at street corners dinting to gether." By another resolution the chapel authorities forbade girl choris ter;'. wearing bows in their bonnets. O. p. Slinter is quoted by Dr. R. Horst of the Leyden museum as au thority for the statement that crabs do climb trees. Mr. Slinter posesses near Batavia come captive specimens of the eocoanut crab and has seen them climb to the top of mangrove trees and palms fully SO feet in height. What they did at the top he was unable to ascertain, but he considers it probable that they were engaged in opening young eoeoanuts and devouring their contents. Whether they have cite power of opening Hpe eoeoanuts could not be determined, the specimens un der observation merely fumbling such as were given them without attempt ing to penetrate the shell. 11 intorir. Percy Rodgers, of Bardstown. Ky. has in his possession the bugle that called the Continen.al army to battle in many of the principal engagement? lcr American independence. Beetles in the East and West Indiem are so brilliant in coloring that they are beautiful as gems. SPOTTERS ON TROLLEYS. EVERY ELECTRIC TRACTION COM PANY HAS A LARCE CORPS. All St rancors to Kitch Other—Are Known by .Number Excel* to Tlioir Chief ami to the Antlller—VUtt’h Conductor* and Moformun llule* CoTerninjs J>utle. In alt large cities having an electric | railway system there is an important branch of service which never reaches | the gaze of the puolic, states the Phil adelphia Record. Few people have any idea that the company pays a number of men to ride on its cars as passengers every hour of tne day. The j object is to keep a strict watch on i Us conductors and motornren for any j breach of the rules. These men are j called inspectors by the company, but ; the employes call them "spotters.” It is not only the passenger-3 who [ are ignoiant of the identity of ihese men, but no one connected with the company except the chief of the in- ; spec-tors know them. In making their ; reports all the inspectors must sign by numbers These are given then by the chief to j use instead of their names. The chief ! is not permitted to give tue name of j any inspector to any one except the auditor when the payroll is made out each week. Another element in the j absolute secrecy of the ser vice is the fact that inspectors do not know each other. They do not work iu pairs, as in other secret service, but each man works independent of any other along certain linen of directions given by tho chief. The duties of these men are many and exacting. They must make a careful study of all the rules, regula tions and orders of the company and tiny infringement of these must be re- : ported. These include the proper and i polite treatment of passengers, rare- ■ ful running of the car on the part of : the motorman in respect to cross streets, pedestrian:;, wagons and the j application of the power and brakes, j Perhaps lie most important duty of ; all is to see that all the fares ate col- ; lected, and, what is still more import ant, that they are all registered cor rectly. It is ibis duty that requires ; tact, good judgment, an understanding of human nature and good eyesight. The inspector must keep constantly | in mind the fact that the man he is watching may be a tittle sharper than j lie. an I any false move on his part ; would prove fatal to bis usefulness on that car. Each trip made by the in spector must bear record on ids tbial , report. He must give the badge num ber of the conductor, the block number ; of Ihe car. the street and time ho got on. tin. street and time he got off. to gether with the register statements. All those facts must be kept in mem- ; ory until he gels off the car. when lie makes a record of them on his trip card. At the end of his day’s work he must make a final report of ail trips made, amount of cash paid out, for fares and a Tull descriptive report, of any wrong doing or accidents witnessed by him. These reports are given the n- xt lay to the chief on reporting tc the office, who in turn forwards them to the gen eral superintendent. Aft -r a careful reading by the su perintendent all the men who have been inspected and have no bad re ports against them are given good credit on their record. On the other hand, if any have bad reports made against them the reports are placed on tile, and if any have been reported for stealing or where a number of com plaints of a minor nature are on tile, the man is ordered to be "speclaled.” By this is meant that on every trip the suspected man makes in a day. week or month, he has on bis car an inspector. This fact shows how care fully the man is watched. Each in spector who goes cn a ' special" detail is required to make a full detailed re port, either good or bad, of the mans actions, if a majority of these re ports agree as to wrongdoing the su perintendent makes the basis for dis cipline. The position in itself is not oerma nent, nor does it offer any chance for advancement. These ‘at ts are tolv the applicant wits, emphasis on his first interview with the chief A working day consists of nine and a half hours, with a sliding schedule of repotting hours for every week. He can bare no holidays and very few Sundays off. About twice a week he start.' at ! a. m.. and on two other days at p. nt. Tile other days of rhe week are means between these ex tremes. The wages of an inspector art s2.2*> per day and eas.i paid for fares. Another thing to remgmber is that an inspector is on different divisions each day. His work is assigned each day by the chief, and. as a result, he seldom rides a division more than once a month. Of course, he cannot in spect every car on a division in one day. nut he is expected to make at least 15 trips of about 2'* minutes each. Although carefulness ar.d secrecy are the* watchwords of every inspec tor. the time soon comes when they are known to the motorman end con ductors. This may be due to seme slight indiscretion or movement on the part of the inspectors, which has caused the motorman or conductor to be guarded. Descriptions soon spread at the barn, and in about three months new men take their places, as the company has no more use for them. When the cost of maintaining tho system is considered, one would think that $20,000 a year would be greater than the amounts stolen by employes, yet the officials say it is money well in vested. In the game of love diamonds often rank higher than hearts. COMPRESSED FOOD FOR CAMPERS, The United State* Artny lUtinn the Most feufcefnl Yet iu the Market. The traditional woodsman, hunter, or trapper, who staggered under a hun dred pounds or more of food and impedimental has had his burden re duced very greatly in the past five years. Ijghter rifles and shotguns, ammunition of smaller calibre, and considerably less weight for modern rifles; thin pressed steel or aluminum dishes winch nest compactly into one another so that, not a nock or corn is wasted; packs, baskets, and straps of minimum weight and maximum convenience, have all taken something from the grievous load the camper used to “tote.” Still, more remark able are the changes brought about by the condensed and compressed foods which, tin lor one name or an other, are for sale iu all die “outing stores.” Salt pork, cornmeal, white beans, and tea, reinforced, of course, by fish, game, and native fiuits, the dietary tecontmended ami many a "Pocket Guide to Hunting and Trapping,” was bulky and also heavy in proportion to its nutritive value. Canned goods un til recently took up practically as much room as the same articles in their natural state, and there was little gain in buying them, except for boat or canoe trips when there was plenty of space. Canned soups of the standard brands were put up ready to serve without dilution, and the only portable substitutes were the time-honored ‘•’soup cakes'* of the kind used in the “Swiss Family Robinson." As soon as the idea was conceived of manufaetui iug something between these two ex tremes, it was tal;en up by several makers. The condensed soups of to day are thick and require to be mixed with several times their bulk of water, but they have net been boiled down so far as to sacrifice their liavor and deli cacy. Experiments in the way of ‘Tool tablets” have met with varied results. A large firm of packers once adver tised a compressed tabloid of meat and various vegetables, dried and closely pressed so as to keep, in th ■ language of advertisements, "for years in any eljmate." The trouble with this particular viand was that it did not taste good. The United States government in iis experiments with the army's food supply has Incidentally accomplished a great deal for the camper’s benefit. The regular emergency ration is per haps the most successful prparation of its kind on the market. A square tin <at\. no larger than the ordinary pint fruit can, is suppose to contain three meals, not hearty repasts, how ever, for a really hungry man. There is a racket of tea inside the can, an other packet of seasoning, and a solid lump of a mixture of a partly dried meat with vegetables. The adaptabil ity of this ration to various purposes is its strongest point. Mixed with w ater to the consistency of a thick paste and brown in a pan, bash. Thinned with a trifle less water it t an be shaped into halls or flat cakes and fried as Hamburg steak. Stirred up with a larger proportion of water, a savory stew is the result. Several of the packing and canning firms have put on the market reeenty an assortment of flat cans containing ,i 1 the staple meat and fish products, I'.raci Rally without juice, in the cans, and squeezed into fie smallest pos slide compass. The flat can is a con venience for packing w rich the mak ers sem to be slow in appreciating. At the opposite extreme from the pork and beans are the malted-tnilk tablets and similar preparations which supply nutriment in ils least compass lnit do net pretend io take the place of tbi- regular diet for i althy persons doing active work. Druggists testify to the extensive use of these in place of noonday luncheon by business men of pu r digestion ar.d peverous tem perament, but they are not to be con sidered in supplying the woodsman’s pad;. I‘nlilp, Though N^tlr. "Exi t:.s >. me," said a sliabby-looking man as lie walked up to a cadaverous looking stranger, “but may 1 ask you for a bit of information?" "Certainly, you may," said the stranger, and the shabby-lookiug man smiled pleasantly. "And you will not consider me at all impertinent, will you?" "Not in the leas:." said the stranger. "And it will not be taking too much of your time?” "Oil, no." By this timet mscrangerwaa becoming a little vexed, but the shab bily dressed fellow was apparently in the bese of spirit. "No doubt you are a f-sidert of this > By?" in a questioning ton-. "But v. hat <-an Ido for you, v'nS information do you seek?" asked the vexed stranger. "Well, you see," said the shabby man. "you will pardon me. but 1 am a stranger here. In fact I have just arrived. Now you will please excuse me for taking up so much of your time, but as I said be fore f hare just arrived here and am a perfect stranger here." "What it is you wanted to ask about?” said the listener with a show of impatience. "Well, you see." the man replied. "I hope you will not think it impertinent in me to ask if you are in a condition at this time to give me some little as sistance in a financial way for—" "No, 1 am not," was the blunt reply. “Then you will excuse me." said the polite beggar, "and I'll not ask you to do it for fear of embarrassing you," and the shabby man bowed and rmiisd, and walked down the street.—New Orleans Times-Democrat. For I'ollcy 1 . ‘nice. Howson—l always lie on my right side. Bowser—Yes. and you lie to get on the right side of other people, too New York Press. COMPENSATION. That which we have, we lose, That we have uot, retain-. Possessions we at best confuse With thoughts of loss and pain. But joys that never come to birth Are sale and sweet ’yond power of earth. —Harper's Bazar. HUMOROUi Tommy—Pop, gas is measured by tire loot, isn’t it? Tommy’s pop— Yes, my son, and paid for by the mile. Hoax —Talk is cheap. Joax —Ah! that’s probably why my wife has so much. She picks up all the bargains. Newrich —YVhat do you think of my daughter's voice, professor? Is it not heavenly? Professor —Well, k—er, is rather unearthly. Blobbs —Since the Johnsons came hack from abroad they spell their name Jenson. Slobbs—.'es; they think it’s quite English to urop their h’s. Wigwag—Yes, that’s a good photo graph of your wife. In fact. I should call it a speaking likeness. Hen speckle—Hardly that. You see she has her mouth shut. Hook—lf you had your choice in the matter of a musical education. ; what instrument would you choose? ; Nye—l think i should like to be a j soloist on a cash register. “Well. Fritz, you got birched in school today?” "Yes, but it didn’t hurt.” “But you certainly have been crying?” "Oh, 1 wanted to let. the teacher have a little pleasure out of it.” Mrs. Bjones —Your husband, I hear, is quite versatile. Mrs. Brown-Smythe I— Versatile is no name for it. Wh.t, he can actually stay out late every night in the week and not give the same excuse twice. ”He must be put out of the way,” said the feudal king. “But, your Majesty," protested the Lord High Executioner, “he is your first cousin. “I know; but I prefer to have him my | ‘cousin once removed.’” Airs. Simpythize —i am so sorry that : your dear uncle, whom you loved so i much, is dead. Mrs. Cutowt—Oh, you needn't be; he didn’t leave us a cent— after all the times we had him at ! our house for dinner, too. Employer—l hear you're calling on 1 old mau Cassidy’s daughter. 1 sup pose you think you’ve met your fate there. Mike. Mil e— Shore, sor. the | only thing Oi can think of the day is | that Oi met wan of her father’s fato I there lasht noight. "[ am hard to discourage,” said the rejected suitor, melodramatically. | "Some day I’ll make you say you love | me. and then—and not until then—l | shall die happy.” “I’ll say it now," | said she promptly. “I don't mind tell- I ing a lie for a good end." i “Such carelessness is little short of j criminal.” thundered Dr. Price-Price. angrily. "Oh, doctor.” sobbed Mrs. I Sassiety-I.ieder's nurse-girl, "do you | Idame me for the baby's illness?” : "Most assuredly. You should know | better than to leave it alone in the ■ are of its mother even for a moment.” "Now that my novel is to be pub lished,” said the young author whose : work was being brought out at bis ! own risk. ”i can't lu-lp wondering iif it will sell—:if the public will only | buy it. you know.” Sure,” replied the heartless publisher; “it will sell the i public all right if the public will only j buy it." .iiint stfppfii on*. Sunday when the excursion train from Paris, filled with negroes bound for the camp-meeting, reached this city, it passed the station and went through Cynthiana at the rate of about 25 miles and hour, the idea being to keep the crowd on board until the ar rival at the grounds at the Falmouth pike crossing. Just before reaching the Pike street a negro man jumped from the train. Of course, the momentum of the cars carrier* him along at a ter riiH- par e. His body was going so fast r that his legs could not possibly keep up, but they made a variant effort to do so, and such a lickity-split a negro never cut before. He galloped across the gutter at Pike street, at tremendous sjreed, ho rely missing a telephone pole, flew ;i™into the air, turned a couple of somersaults, and landed ail in a heap in the middle of the street. His eyes were as big as saucers and seemed to pop out. As he slowly gathered himself together his trousers were split, his knees were bruised and bleeding, his arms were wrenched, his coat-tails were in tatters, and his battered stiff hat was smashed down tight over his ears. At that moment a negro gir! who knew him came along. “Why, how do you no, Mr. Hopkins,' 1 she exclaimed. Why, how- do you do?” he answered, in deep, calm tones, with a carefully measured accent., ‘“How do you do? You are looking quite We-we-weil. I just stepped off the train to meet you."—Louisville Courier-Journal. Clifimpion rl>v C-Inb 7 rotter. 1 think .that my baby boy, Francis Cragg, holds the record for traveling. He was hern Jan. 1. 1901. On April 30, 1901. he left London for Liverpool, then New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Buffalo. Chicago. St. Louis, Kansas City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Hon olulu. Pago-pago, Auckland. N. Z„ Syd ney, Australia, Melbourne. Adelaide, Hobart, Tasmania, tmnedin, N. Z., Christchurch. Wellington, Auckland, back to Sydney, Brisbane, Queensland, Melbourne, Adelaide, Fremantle, Col ombo, Suez, Port Said, Naples, Mar seilles, Gibraltar, Plymouth, arrived in London June 21. 1902. just nine days before he was IS months old, anj he had traveled 33,850 miles. —London 1 Mail. OCTOBER 13