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SUNQIY MORNING. THE WAY OF GRIEF. Alone, be walked the Way of Grief, With ashes on bis bead; O’er faded bloom and withered leaf, With halting, heavy tread. Nor looked be out, nor looked be in, Bat ever on would fare, And thought for ages he had been Alone and friendless there. Full bitterly he trod the path, Nor stayed for rut or ston*. He said: “Than me none other hath Gone on this way alone. None other hath this road essayed— This road of hauotlng fears— But that someone a bairn bath made To stanch his burning tears.” Alone he walked the Grievous Way, Where there was never light; No sun to glad him In the day, Nor any star by night. His heart within his bosom swelled And In his angered mood He raised his ayes. Lo, he beheld A countless multitude! —W. V. NesbJt, in Chicago Tribune. THE FALLACY OF A FACE. Cranfield holds that the beginning of his courtship was unique; hut that may be Cran field's one-sided view. It was the night of the Hunt ball and be leaned against a pillar in the danc ing room. At no time a dancing man, on this occasion he was excessively bored; he was out of sorts; the band was too loud; the crush was too great; He thought regretfully of Ills library fire, and shlverlngly of the long drive home. At the end of the room he saw heads turned toward the door. Following a very human impulse, he turned his own in the same direction. He was in quisitive, but the desire to know is quite as Infectious as a disease. In a brief space the crowd about the entrance parted, and his curiosity melted before another feeling—a feel ing as rapid if infinitely more strong. He closed his eyes; then he readjust ed his glass. It was Creighton—Tommy Creighton and his wife. He watched them move slowly up the room, and as they moved he felt, rather than heard, the admi ration that hummed in (heir wake. He took a long look; then ho leaned back against the pillar, Beeking to re alize exactly where he stood. "If you ever fall In love, Cranfiold," someone had once said, "you'll be the worst case on record, bar none." The words occurred to him inoppor tunely. Asa man he was not excep tional; but there were things at which he drew the line. Making love to a married woman, curiously enough, came first on the proscribed list. The feelings that surged through him as he let the pillar support him were largely made up of fear. The thing was pre posterous—grotesque. Ho shied vig orously at the shadow of it. Hut not for an Instant did his eyes stray from *irs. Creighton's face. '•<* had seen her before —once be- — — That point alone wrought self . -rfust. He had called one day with Btsherthorpe, and she had given them tea. His verdict had been, "Extremely pretty, sarcastic, and a trifle cold." He screwed In his eyeglass and leaned still further back. He saw Creighton Introduce four men. Then his control gave way. He forced an opening In the crowd; but when ho reached her side and spoke, his voice had a tone that, even to him, was now. "May 1 have the pleasure?" She looked up with just tho faintest surprise. Tltpn her eyes fell on tho facings of his red coat, and she smiled —the friendliest and most perfect smile he had ever seen. "I ” She hesitated and glanced round for Creighton; but Creighton had disappeared. She smiled again, and held out her card. "I can give you number five," she said. "Will you put down your name?" He took tho card and scrawled his Initials. Then he looked at the obvi ously waiting men. "Number six Is also free," lie said. "May 1 ?" He would not have admitted the feelings with whicn he wailed for her reply. He saw the negative trembling on her lips, and quailed. Then to his absurdly great relief, tne saving smile came again, and sne blushed. “You may.” The words seemed the frankest and most delightful ne had ever heard. There Is nothing in the world so vi vifying as hope. In a single moment the shifting crowd had become the universe, and he had found its core. Like a wonderfully deferred dream the fifth dance came around, and waiting was at an end. "Mine, I think," he said. She folded her fan, smiled at the man beside her, then laid her hand on Crantleld's arm. "Shall wo dance?” he asked. "Oh! please." He hid his disappointment, though his ideas were curiously upset. Sho seemed so enthusiastic—so buoyantly young. The music had quickened to its end, when he swung her out of the crush. His brain was still swaying to the beat of the tune as he drew her down a passage to a distant sent. In ten min utes of companionship she had grown straight into his life. The carpet of the passage was very soft; the light of the hanging lamp was very dim. It seemed to him that he had only existed until now. He ar ranged the cushions on tho divan, and she sat down. "Do you believe in infatuation?" he asked suddenly. ' He felt afraid of what he was going to say. He felt that his principles, his honor—he used the word boldly—all staple things were drifting from him like a mirage. "Have you ever heard of a man go ing off his head in a single night?" he asked afresh. She looked up at hint; and behind the uneasiness in her eyes he felt that she was measuring him inch by inch. "I'd like to ask you something.” she said, "if you don't mind." She glanced down, and then once more glanced up. "I want you to tell me your name." He ntet her gaze in blank surprise. It was hard to oc rebuked; it was in human to be forgotten—wiped off her m*mo?v in six weeks. “You’ve been puzzling me the whole night," she said. “Of course, I know that you're some friend of Tommy's; but what friend—and where I met you looked at him once more. “Please do enlighten me. I’m just dying to know.” "I suppose you're laughing at me,” he said. "I suppose you think because you're so —so horribly pretty you can turn a man's head just for sport. Hut It isn't sport; at least not to me. I’m handicapped every way.” The music of the next dance began. It appeared distant and much subdued. His balance and his nerve seemed lost. He rose slowly. “At least,” he said, grasping at a thread, "at least say that you remem ber Riving me tea —Bishcrthorpe and me, one* day soon after you’d come back from your honeymoon. Don’t make me feel quite an outsider.’’ She watched him curiously. Then an expression—just the dawning of a smile—stole Into her eyes. She clasped her hands, and the smile crept very slowly from her eyes to her mouth. "How delicious!” she said. "How perfectly delicious! But how absurd!” Cranfield was fidgeting with his pro gram. At her words he suddenly tore It in two. She glanced at him, and there was a glow like firelight in her eyes. ”1 don't think,” she said, deliberate ly, "that I ever gave you any tea. I’m not Daisy, you know; I'm Daisy’s sis ter. We are horribly alike, and I al ways keep forgetting. Please forgive me—lt’s been all my fault.” The swish of the dancers and the throb of the waltz came to Cranfield; they were the accompaniment to his bungling thoughts. He passed his hands across his eyes, brushing away many things. Then, for the first time that night, he smiled. ’’Might I ?’’ He halted. “Might I TANARUS” Their eyes met. He suddenly bent near; so near that his breath touched her cheek. "Might I ? Just to level things.” Her head drooped, and the color rushed Into her face. Her answer, when It came, was a whisper—one of those Inaudible mysteries that, are never really placed. To this day Cran field Insists that It was ”ye3,” but Mrs. Cranfield in quite persistently deter mlnted that It was "no.” —Free Dance. VALUABLE METAL. Iron Is Worth Much More Than Gold and Silver Combined. What aro our precious metals? “Gold and stiver," you answer. That depends. If by preclonsness is meant the value of the product In dollars and cents —our golden rule of meas urement—then gold and silver are not the precious metals, according to the recently issued report of the United States geographical survey, which gives us the money value of the prod ucts wrested from the earth's dark laboratory in 1901. The gold, the precious yellow metal, poured from na ture’s crucible In this land last year Is valued at $78,000,000, and If to this wo add the metal value of the silver wo have $111,000,000. But what is that compared with the pig Iron prod uct of tho snmo timo, which Is valued at $241,000,000? The Iron produced Is more precious than the gold and sil ver combined by $130,000,000. Modest copper, Indlan-complexloned copper, can put Ihe oriental lined gold to tho blush, for last year It enriched us tn tho sum of $87,000,000, $9,000,000 more than the value of the yellow niet nl. Even the base lead that was mined Is one-third the value of the gold. When we go a little deeper and measure the structural purposes gold and sliver nro again distanced, for the building stone, clay and cements that were launched by us into the channels of commerce In 1901, aro valued at $182,000,000. The gold and silver pro duced in the same time was $17,000,- 000 short of being enough to purchase this output. When we go a little deep er and measure tho value of coal, pe troleum and natural gas that we pur loined from beneath the fruitful breast of mother earth we find its value four times that of all the gold and sliver taken from the same treasure house In the same time. Gold and stiver may dazzle us with their brightness and charm and with their nimbieness, but in preclonsness measured by worth of production and real usefulness they sing by their own gravity to the bot tom of the list of minerals. —St. touts Republic. Killing the Kangaroo. Some curious figures come from the state of Queensland, dealing with the gradual extinction of the harmful, un necessary kangaroo. In the early days of settlement In the col ony the squatters found that the resident marsupials had an irritating way of eating up the grass and indigen ous herbage required for stock. So the government came to thetr assistance, and passed a measure catted tho mar supial destruction act. under which re wards were offered for these animals’ scalps. This act has been renewed from time to time, and is tn force at tho present day. For the year ended June, 1901, scalps were brought in to the number of 1,295,748. These scalps in cluded those of kangaroos, wallabies and other marsupials, and of dingoes —sons of the primitive "Yellow-Dog Dingo," who was responsible (accord ing to Mr. Kipling) for the develop ment of the kangaroo’s bind legs. The total sum paid for these scalps was over SIOO,OOO. In the past five and a i half years no less than 7.316,843 scalps : were paid for in this one state. Pity for Western Nations. The Chinese enjoy the greatest lib erty. The laws of the western nations are too numerous and too severe. In stances of their bondage may be giv en. All the children in the country are bound to attend school at a cer tain age. When an author wants to print a took he has to ask for copy, right. Before a man can establish a newspaper he must apply for a certi ficate from the government sanctioning ! him to do so. There are fixed regula ; tton's governing all companies and i firms. All marriges must be report ed to a certain department tor regi" nation. Thus there is no liberty lx*, j tween husband and wife. **************• I FARM ® m MATTERS. ! ♦ A lifiiMly Feet! Jtox. A self-cleaning feed box which can be made to turn over very easily and empty Itself when there is auy snow or dirt Inside, is made in tile following way: Make a box ten feet long, twelve Inches wide and six or eight inches deep. Bore half-inch hole in the centre of both ends of the box and fasten it with half-inch holts to two supports made In the shape of the legs of a saw Jack, using two by four iiich stuff for legs and of any height required. By the use of a couple of small books It can be kept in the proper place when feed is in ID Improvement by Selection. Plants of any variety are not all worthy of being used for breeding more than are all Individuals In breeds of animals. Hortlculturalists are learn ing that It pays to select individual su perior plants for propagation. Straw berry growers are marking the best Individual plants In n bed and using such for producing new plants. In this way it is possible in a few years to have a whole field of plants, all de scended from a single specimen, anil that a selected one. In (lie common practice It Is not unusual to carry along quite a percentage of inferior stock from year to year tlmt like in ferior cows are kept at a loss. Board ers among plants, arc ns unprofitable as hoarders in the dairy herd.—A. W. Checver, in New York Tribune Farmer. I>eop vs. Blmllow Cultivation* The matter of deep or shallow culti vation is one that is frequently dis cussed, yet the question is unsettled, so far ns the cultivation of some crops is concerned. One class of farmers be lieve Hint corn should receive deep cultivation, hut they fear the Injury resulting from the cutting of the roots of the corn plants. It is not believed, however, that much, If any, damage will lie done to corn by deep cultivation during the first stages of growth, as tlie x’oots are then tending downward rather than through the surface soil, the feeding roots extending later. In experiments made it was found that when the soil was stirred to the depth of half an inch the loss of water from one acre was five and three-quarter tons, and when stirred to the depth of three-fourths of an inch the loss tVas about four and a half tons of water per acre. Soil that was not cultivated at nil lost about six and a quarter tons of water. The experiments show that deep tillage retains more water in the soil than when the cultivation Is shal low. Deep plowing, however, with the ground rolled, and flic soil cultivated so as to keep the top earth fine and loose, is deemed bettor for nil crops that feed close to the surface of the ground, like coin, though all crops feed near the surface to a certain extent.—Philadel phia accord. Preventing Calf Cholera, XVhnt xve mean by calf cholera Is Mint malignant form of disease which usually appears from one to three days after the ldrth of the calf, and differs from scours, which is usually due to digestive derangement nnd nothing more. It is always more prev alent In the spring, most in March, just about tiio time the cows are shedding their hair and are debilitated thereby. The disease is born with the calf. Its cause must therefore he looked for In llie cow, or In her treatment previous to tho birib of tho calf. This last I take to be the most im portant element In tlie solution of Hie problem. If the eow is all right, the calf is almost sure to bo in the same condition. In some eases I have no- Meed that when the calf does recover, and they seldom do, if always begins to lick the whitewash of the stable and scrape off the outer ixirtions of boards ns soon ns it is able to do so. This led me to believe I hat one cause was Hie lack of these elements In the animal’s system. Last spring t had three cases In my herd in March. After lingering tU‘outid a short time I killed them all. I (lion took another cow. due to calve In about thirty days, nnd fed her a small handful of slaked lime and wood ashes twice a day in bran. In due time she calved and the calf came through all right. This cow was In (lie stable with the others, and calved in the same loose stall where the others did, without any special disin fection of the place or any attempt to guard against contagion. After that the other cows in the herd Wore turned to pasture, There Was ho more cholera in the calves, and lias been hone Up to date. From this I infer that in many cases it is due to the lack of mineral matter in the food of tile row, and I would suggest to those who have trouble in their herds to try feeding a mixture of lime, wood ashes and bone dust to their cows pre vious to calving and note the results. Treat the disease on (lie same basis Sheep For the Form, If one is in the raising of sheep ex clusively, one can afford to go Into the question of fancy breeds suited to the market to which he Is catering, but the average farmer who raises sheep sim ply as one more crop from which lie hopes to derive nil income, should se lect the breed front those most common In his section. The general purpose ewe. If this term may be applied io sheep, is the one with some Merino blood in order to obtain the heavy, line fleece. It has been observed that tlie animal with the close, dense fleece Is the vigorous, hardy animal. The ram should be of a good cross or pure bred, if desired, but care should be taken that lie is of a breed suited to thrive in Hie section where he is to remain and under the conditions with which lie will be surrounded. In selecting sheep for the farm it is generally wise to look after the merits of each indi vidual regardless of the breed to which she belongs, for there are good breeds with poor members of the family just as there are good members in breeds that are not so highly rated. In most sections where sheep may be raised to advantage there Is room for many more than are now raised. If farmers would go Into this Industry, carefully Increasing their holdings as they gain experience, they could make sheep raising profitable.—lndianapolis News. THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS as that on which we treat hog cholera. —D. I*. Forney, in Orange Judd Farmer. Tlie Clock Plant. One of the curious and rare products of nature is the clock plant. Purdue University, writes a Lafayette (Ind.) correspondent of the Indianapolis News, had one of the few specimens to be found in the world. It was ob tained from the Government gardens at Washington two years ago by Pierre Van Landlngham, expert gar dener at Purdue, and the authorities at Washington have asked that It be re turned, ns all the specimens in the Washington gardens have been lost. It is said that the plant at Purdue was the only one In the United States. Five small plants have been grown from the one nt Purdue, and they are carefully guarded. The clock plant Is a native of Borneo and it Is as rare there ns in other parts of the world. The clock plant has a number of peculiar habits, from which It takes Its name. It Is ns sensitive to the touch of human fingers as the com mon sensitive plant. The clock plant keeps a "second hand” running until about 4 p. m., when It takes a rest for two hours, such as the "hour hand” and the rest of the plant have all night. The plant has leaves of two sizes.—The smaller leaves are near the st™, extending stiffly toward (he lop at a/Jarp angle. These leaves net us "(pP'iiid hands” and the larger leaves Wo the "hour hands." Starting from a depressed po sition, In which the leaves hang down w THE CLOCK PLANT. close to the stem, they gradually raise themselves until they turn toward the top of the plant at an angle. Then they gradually relax to the original position. This movement occupies about one minute for the small leaves and about an hour for the larger ones. Under proper conditions this move ment continues throughout the day. Forestry For Practical Farmers. After a wood lot is cut off, It is then left to make of itself whatever it can. The result is oftentimes disastrous, usually poor and sometimes fair, but whether cut either by the sawmill or simply culled out by the owner as he needs wood supplies, it is very rarely that the lot comes anywhere near do ing what it might do with care and protection. There are a few steps which might be taken to improve this wood lot. Try to give the property better pro tection from fire. Avoid as much ns possible nil fire-tempters, such as piles of brush left from lumbering. With proper onre these can be safely burned at certain seasons so as not to furnish food for a larger uncontrollable confla gration. And if the property adjoius other Wood lands, keep tt harrow strip next those properties cut blear Of all woody growth. Such fire lanes may be used to cut up your property into sec tions if your tract is large, so as to prevent accidental fires from gaining much headway. The fire lanes should be burned over under care once a year, so as to prevent the accumulation of In flammable material. In many sections they can be easily kept open by plow ing. I’raetibb thinning out of feven th@ valuable trees when they are crowd ing one another Injuriously. Experience can only determine how much this is to be done under any given set of conditions. Asa general principle, go slow. Remember that a tree lays on wood largely in proportion to the amount of light it receives. Cutting out one tree will thus give another more chance. But, if the openings are made too large, tlie sun gets at the soil unduly and causes a loss in that most important of factors in the growth of a forest—molstflre. If the openings are too large it also means that the for est Is more the Uprooting power of the wind, / | also tbat light is being lost which in<sHit be utilized in tlie production of wood. The tree should be kept livvjfc crowded when young, to Induce a good height growth instead of lateral development and to free tlie lower part of the trunks from branches, each of which means a knot in tiie lumber. An excellent sign that you have thinned too severely is the appearance of such grasses and weeds as need considerable light for their de velopment. Harvest carefully. When a tree Is ripe for the purpose tor which yott want it, cut it. But in doing so have some regard to the younger trees around It which are to take its place, nnd save tnem as much as possible. More or less of the young growth is bound to .be killed or Injured, but much can be done by skill and injury to re duce this Injury to a minimum. Keep a wind mantle around the piece, that is, a narrow strip where the trees are left standing very close together. This is of great benefit in preventing the drying out of the soil by the wind. The moisture conditions of the soil are more important to forest growth than its chemical make-up. Vse some care in cutting the trees from the stumps of which vigorous sprouts arc iwanted, make a smooth cut, so that the bark is not torn from the wood nnd the formation of the sprout thus injured. Slant the cut downward so that water will not col lect so rapidly and decay be thus furthered. Cut low. so that the sprout may semi down roots of its owu into the soil. If there are certain trees from which you do not wish sprouts, cut the trees in summer, when the stumps will be more apt to dry.—" Wa lter Mulford, in American Agricul- WHY MAXIMILIAN FAILED. His Government Not of the Sort Re quired by Mexico. When the tourist ascends the hill of Chapultepec to the great caslkx and at last stands on the board terrace with it. incomparable view out over the Im mense valley In which the City of Mex ico is hut a grayish-brown patch, he will think of the man who has such power and prestige between the Half and the Pacific, from the Rio Grande to the mahogany forests of the dis tant south. There is no king or em peror in Europe who rules by right stronger than this nation-builder, this modernizer and pacificator. The temper of Maximilian was not equal to the tremendous task pet for him here in Mexico. "Emperor." he was called, but his empire was day after day shifting its borders. From thia Castle of Chapultepec he could look right, into the great sierra where lurked the fierce republican guerrillas who swooped down Into the suburbs of the capital and even once seized his Em press from her coach while she was on her way to open a school in Taeu hapa. That she was set down in safety was due to the fact that the French dragoons, riding far behind, hurried up, and the guerrilla leader had to make his escape. The Maximilian em pire stood only where French rifles could shoot. Men in Sonora, in fair Sinaloa, in Guanajuato and Vera Cruz, in freedom loving Oaxaca and in remote Tabasco did not feel in their hearts that Maxi milian rightfully ruled. His name did not move men’s imagination. He was ever "the foreigner,” the intruder. He sat here in his stately castle, fit resi dence for a great king, surrounded by his court, and devised orders and deco rations, planned schools and colleges, gave much thought to uniforms and matters of etiquette, to all those things that fill the life of a constitutional monarch in Europe. A kindly, benevolent, chivalrlc man was Maximilian, but the realm he had come across the seas to rule over swarmed with hardy republican pa triots, and every mountain was a safe retreat for them when hard pressed. So, with French bayonets, Maximilian held the cities and larger towns, and the republican, Juarez, rightful ruler, driven hither and thither, almost a phantom government his, stood for all that Mexico had dreamed of when she threw off the yoke of Spain.—Chi cago Inter-Ocean. New Stories of Wellington. It is never too late to learn new things about a great man. The Duke of Wellington has been aead many years, yet the recently published “Au tobiography of Alexander Grant,” friend and physician of the Marquis of Dalhousie, once governor-general of India, contains a number of new sto ries of the simplicity, characteristic plain-speaking and indomitable mental courage of the hero of Waterloo. When the news of the -loody Battle of Ferozeshah reached England there was great consternation in the minis try. At beat it was a drawn battle, and Sir Robert Peel was much depressed. “You must lose officers and men if you have great battles," said the Duke of Wellington. “At Assaye I lost a third of my force.” When the council continued to con sider the battle a crushing reverse, Wellington lighted up suddenly. "Make it a victory!” said hot.- “Fire a salute and ring the bells.” And so it was or dered and done; anu the immediate heartening of the people proved the soundness of the old soldier's policy. When Lord Dalhousie was aoout to go to India he begged the duke to rec ommend for the personal staff any young officer in whom ae felt an in terest He stoutly refused. “I would as soon recommend a wife for a man as an A, D. C„” said he. In 1824 the cabinet, when it found itself committed to war with the sing of Burma, asked the uuke of Welling ton for his advice. He replied at once, bluntly, “Send Lord Combermere.” "But W 6 have always understood that your grace thought Lord Comber mere a fool.” "So he is a fool —an utter fool; but he can take Rangoon.” When the Duke of Wellington was warden of the Cinque Ports the queen went to Walmer Castle for change of air. The cterk of the works preceded her majesty and made some tawdry repairs, at which the duke was greatly displeased. When the queen went to Strathfieldsaye the same clerk of works preceded her. But here, in his own home, the duke was beforehand with him, and ordered mm off. No alterations were made. The duke Said, I just got ft few tables and a harpsichord, and 1 asked the neigh bors to meet her.” This was so much out of u.e routine of grand preparations and grand guests that her majesty was much p.eased.— Youth's Companion. The Japanese Woman. A writer, describing the Japanese railways, says when a native lady en ters a railway carriage she slips her feet from her tiny shoes, stands upon the seat and then sits demurely with her feet doubled beneath her. All Jap anese people sit with their feet upon the sea. When the ticket collector opens the door to collect tickets he re moves his cap and twice bows politely. He repeats the bow as he asks er:ch passenger for his ticket. Would Avoid the Trouble. "I suppose you’d like to be worth a million dollars?” she suggested. “No mum." replied tlie tramp. "It ’ud be too much trouble lookin’ after the money. All I want is that some feller what’s worth a million dollars shall provide fer me.” —Chicago Post. Attention to Business. A kindergarten teacher, hearing the whistle of a passing train, asked a lit tle Indian pupil what It was. Without looking up from her card the child replied, "I’m busy. I haven't time to hear the wagon halloo." —The Indian's Friend. Taking the brain as the criterion. Professor Wilder, of Cornell, finds that the aurang-outang ranks next to man, and not the gorilla, as heretofore ‘ taught. PEARLS OF THOUGHT,! •, He who flatters you is your enemy. —Cardan. He who lives but for himself lives but for a little thing.—Barjand. He ts the happiest who renders the greatest number happy.—Desmalus. We cannot always oblige, but we can always speak obligingly.—Vol taire, The more honest a nvan Is the leas he affects the air of a saint. —La- vater. Strong thoughts are iron nails driv en In the mind, that nothing can draw out. —Diderot. Experience is a keen knife that hurts, while It extracts the cataract that binds.—De Finod. To forgive a fault in another is more sublime than to be faultless one’s self. —George Sand. The most completely lost of all days Is the one on which we have not landed. —Chamfort. TO BOW OR NOT TO BOW. How the Question Is Decided Accord ing to Practices Among Our English Cousins. In decision with regard to “when to bow” and “when not to bow” would appear to be more general than that experienced with regard to “shaking hands” or "not shaking hands." It may, perhaps, be considered a matter of little moment whether a bow Is given or withheld, or whether a shake of the hand is given in lieu oT a bow, but in reality it carries a distinct significance whether the right or the wrong thing is done on the spur of the moment. It should be understood that a bow ls a ceremonious recognition between those but slightly acquainted, or who do not know each other intimately enough to speak or to shake hands with when they meet. When, for instance, two women meet who have been recently intro duced, If bows are not exchanged when passing each other It would be next to Impossible to do so on a sub sequent occasion, and thus the ac quaintance comes virtually to an end. Again, it is equally required that bows should be exchanged between friends unable to speak to each other on the occasion of meeting, more especially between men and women than be tween women themselves. If a woman does not bow to a man she knows when he looks expectant of her bowing to him he con siders himself cut by her, although she has nd such Intention, and was really postponing her greeting until, say, she- had shaken hands with her host and hostess at an outdoor gath ering. The same equally holds good be tween man and women as between women. When slight acquaintances meet at “at homes” and dinner par ties to bow Is all that Is necessary, but the bow should be made as Boon as possible. If a woman Is seated, and another arrives, as soon as the one attracts the notice of the other, bows should be exchanged. There are incidental occasions when bows are given. At breakfast in a country house bows are the morning salutation. At dinner parties, when guests are seated far apart they can, if inclined to do bo, bow and smile at one another. Out driving is a fre quent opportunity for bowing. Sit ling out in the park is another equally so; in fact, it Is difficult to say when bowing should give place to shaking hands. Once It has done so, however, It can never occupy the same footing With acquaintances who have been met with a shake of the hand, al though It serves the purpose of keep ing in touch those separated by the barrier of a crowd of circumstances equally powerful to keep them tempo rarily asunder. —London Express. Her Cure for the Staring Habit. "I have discovered a way to make people stop staring at me," said the sensitive girl. “How?” chorused her friends. “We, too, have suffered, especially in street cars.” “Well, when one goes into a street car and takes a seat, of course the usual 'sizing up’ begins and is to be expected. But sometimes it goes fur ther than that and becomes exceeding ly annoying. There is no redress, and when people are making almost audi ble remarks about the fit of one’s gown it is impossible to appear unconscious of what is going on. Now, what I've learned is this: “At the very first sign of that sort of thing all you have to do is to look .he offending person full in the face and then let your eyes travel slowly down to the feet and rest there. If you keep it up a while the result will be most amusing, and if you can manage to smile faintly, as your eyes reach the feet it will work wonders. “If the offender be a man his efforts to get his pedal extremities out of sight will be the funniest you ever saw. A woman will curl hers up under her gown, but she will not stare any more. She will be too busy seeing that her feet are carefully tucked out of the way. Next time you are bothered try it.” —New York Press. The Pear Industry Increasing. "Citrus fruits are now- being grown in nearly every county in northern and central California. They are not only being grown, but profitably so,” said D. G. Semmes at the Arlington. “California could supply all of the or anges used in the United States we re It not for the fact that the orchard ists find that It is more profitable to raise prunes, apricots, peaches, ap ples and pears,” which can be grown at less cost and with a great deal less risk. The output of the latter fruit is growing with each year, and oranges and lemons will to made to take a back seat to a much larger extent than heretofore.”—Washington Star. Professor Braun announced before the Strasbnrg Scientific society that he has discovered a method of producing electrical energy of unlimited volume and projecting it into space in the form of electric waves, to any desired dis tance. TRAILING WILD ANIMALS. | Fascination in Following Footprints of Various Game. Trailing deer Is one of the finest sports of America, either up in the, snows of Manitoba or down in the south and west, where the black tailed deer abound in the hills. The deer is swift and cunning and the hunter must needs he strong in wind and limb to follow where he leads and very wise to unravel the story of his footprints. ’ The elegant hoofmark of the deer could never be anything but a deer's imprint to the old hunter —but men may live years In places where deer are found and yet on coming across a footprint be unable to determine whether is was made by a deer or by a sheep or a pig. Indeed, the foot prints of deer, sheep and pig, seen; singly, are remarkably alike and only an expert can tell the one from the other. ; To trail deer successfully needs the cunning of the North American In dian, who knows from the mere touch and smell of the track not only how, long ago the track was made, but also the size and condition of the deer who made it. The hunting Indian is as cunning as the hunted deer himself; 1 ho seems himself to enter into the very working of the brute mind. The first mistake made by the young deer hunted is to follow too closely on his game. If the hunter watches the trail* at his feet, Instead of looking ahead, he may stumble on his deer unawares. This is what the boy hunter did in Thompson Seton’s little story of “The Sandhill Stag.” Sneaking along, watching the tracks at bis feet, he was so startled when the big eared grayish animals he was after sprang suddenly up before him tiiat he could only stand still and gaze as they bounded away, rising higher and higher at each bouhd. Then, whea he goes to examine their trail, he reads a wonderful story. Between one track and the next he finds a blank space of 15 feet, then another blank after the next track, the blanks in creasing to 18 feet, then to 20, to 25 and sometimes even to 30 feet. The tracks made by running deer have spaces between them of from 18 to 30 feet. Running deer are wing less birds. "They do not run at all, they fly,” said Thompson Seton, “and once in awhile they come down again to tap the hilltops with their dainty, hoofs.” If the hunter always followed on the deer’s trail he might follow for thou sands of miles without having a shot. He must leave the trail when it grows new and hot, make a detour and lie up to ambush in front. By clever maneuvering a strong man can al ways run down the swiftest deer, and then at the end of a long chase the shortened blanks between the tracks will tell the story of a deer grown weary. The deer often goes back on his own trail. Sometimes, when the track Is dim, it is hard to tell which way it leads. But the footprint Is a little sharper at the toe than at the heel, and when the trail leads over a hill the hunter can always tell which way the animal came, for if he went up the hill his spaces would be short, through the labor of climbing. All manner of tricks are played by hunted deer who know that they are hunted. One thing they often do is to return a little way along their own track and then, making a great leap to one side, race away in another di rection. Sometimes when hard pressed deer repeat this maneuver time after time, finally lying down to rest (having bounded aside from the last trail) in a spot where they can smell and hear the hunter long be fore he comes dangerously near. The hunter, constantly finding himself on cold scents, must patiently unravel all the twisted story by the deer’s feet, harking back on the cold scents until he finds where the real trail begins anew.—Chicago Tribune. The Umbrella Nuisance. Everybody has seen him, for he Is a familiar figure on all the principal streets and is multitudinous in num ber —the man who holds his folded umbrella by the handle so that it is inclined backward at an angle of 45 degrees, and swings it as he walks. This position of the weapon brings the ferule exactly on a line with the shins of the person behind the wield er, and if there he no intimate and painful contact between them it may be attributed to the nimble dodging of the owner of the shins than to the fault of the owner of the umbrella. If a man will carry an umbrella when It, is not raining why does he not use it as a walking stick, or hold it by his side in an upright position? What right has he to turn so useful an instrument into a weapon, every stab of which threatens to inflict a painful wound? And yet if you remonstrate with him there are 10 chances to one that he will be seriously offended at your presumption. It Is saidi they do things quite dif ferently abroad, particularly in tho large cities of the continent. If a man so far forgets himself—and oth ers —as to carry his umbrella in that way over there you have a perfect conventional right to call him to or der, and he politely responds by thanking you for calling his.attention to his breach of good form.—Detroit Free Press. Costly Catechisms. The printed answers to questions put in the house of commons have in six months, under the new rule, cost the taxpayer £2300. It is felt that an average price of 255. per question is too much for the information ob tained, and the matter will be criti cised when next the stationery office vote comes up for discussion.—Print ing Machinery Record. Human Nature. Hix —Say, I want to buy a good dog. Dix —Now, that’s a sensible thing to do. Every man should own a good dog. Hix—Do you know where I can get one? Dix—Sure. I’ll sell you mine,—Chica go News,