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HA HI.EM GEORGIA
PTIiI.DIIEh EVERY THLRSDA J”.
Bnllnrcl «*> All&lnson.
PKOI'HIKTORH.
Skin from the bock of a frog him been
used by Dr. O. Peterson for hastening
the healing of wound*. Grafts of the
»iz"of the thumbnail were caused to nil
hero firmly in two days, and in two days
more the pigmentation of the transplant
ed skin had almost diaap|>eared. The
resulting cicatrice is of great softness
and olaaticlty. H >me of the London hos
pitals are now l»eginnirig to employ
frogs' skins as grafts in place of other
skin.
A physician says that a great dee) of
what passes for heart disease is on y tnild
dyspepsia ; that nervousness is commonly
bail temp'-r, and that two thirds of the
ao called malaria is nothing but laziness.
Imagination, he says, is responsible for a
multitude of ills, and ho gives as an in
stance the case of a < lergyman, who,
after preaching a sermon, would take a
b'sspoonful of sweetened water, and doze
off like a babe, under tie impression that
it was a bon t fl Io sedative.
Census figures reveal the strange fact
that of the E iropcan countries Russia is
increasing the fastest in population. Hel
average gain for Russia in Ashland in
Europe appears to be very nearly one
pei cent, per annum, white European
Russia, including Finland and the Don
Copecks, shows an annual increase ol
1.88 per cent. In Great Britain and
Ireland the annual rate of gain is about
1.01 per cent, probably not much ol
it, however, in Ireland. Franco shows
a yearly gain of only n seventh of 1 per
cent. In France the increase appears to
be the least of all European countries.
Some of th ■ more enterprising of the
Western railroads run daily ‘'funeral
trains." The Chicago cemeteries arc nt
a considerable distance from the city,
■ ' i
and enough people die every day to justi
fy special daily ti lins. In the Chicago
papers may be men such advertisements
as thia under the hi nd of “Deaths.” |
‘‘Take the Chicago and Grund Trunk
Railroad to Mt. Greenwood and Mt.
Olivet. Hpecud funeral train ut 12 in.
Fastest time to the cemeteries.” Verily,
the West is a hustler, comments the New
York Oraphie. The grave is prepared
by tidcgrnph and the deceased slips down
a chute to his last resting-place, while
the “mourners" turn and run to catch
trie next train back.
Out of a total of seventy-six United
S ates Senators thirty-four have been
born in the States they represent. All of
the Rew England Senators have been
born in their res|>ectivc States, with the
exception of Chase of Rhode Island and
Hawley of Connecticut, the latter having
made a jump from North Carolina. Only
one New York Senator, Miller, was born
in the Empire State, Evarts having first
seen light in Boston, Mass. Both of the
Senators from Maryland, from Pennsyl
vania, Mouth Carolina, North Carolina,
Delaware, Virginia, West Virginia and
Tennessee were burn in the States they
represent. The remaining Senators that
are certified representatives of the States
that gave them birth are Blackburn,
Cockrell, Colquitt, Eustis, Logan, Pal
mer and Sh rman.
This is the summing up given by one
who has made a recent visit to Spain:
“Wherever one goes in Spam the irrev
erence for the dead, and as a mutter of
Course the recklessness of life, arc what
most prominently strike a traveller. The
people seem actually to be indifferent to
manslaughter. On the slightest provo
cation blood is aheil, and the moment n
revolver is heard in the street or n shriek
Irvin a murdered man, every door is shut
wad there is n scurrying of feet in ndircc
tlon opposite to that in which the assas
sin has fl d. Everybody is afraid of
being seized as the criminal Not a
night during the hot, dry summer passes
without the cry of tiro being heard in a
Spanish tow n. Any person in the street
at the moment can be pressed to aid in
extinguishing the flame- But it is rare
that any one is found to perform this duty,
for at the first cry of fire, prudent citi
zens take earn to get under shelter. In
the interior, and even in the large cities
on the coast, the cemeteries are in a de
plorable condition. It is not an uncom
mon spectacle to see a body flung across
a mule, orcven two being carried in this
fashion to tlnir last resting-place, amid
the heartless, often brutal comments of
the bystanders, who, not withstand ng,
always doff their hats, out of a half
sujierstitious feeling, the exact characlet
of which never costs them a thought.
The*- traits n let maiuly to the country
folks, or to the townspeople of the
poorer class. They, however, represent
the Spanish charaetci better than the
more polished c.tiz ns, who, in Spain as
In every <th r country, have overlaid
their native manners by a certain veneer
of conventionality, which is in real ty
common to the cultured aucicty of the
world at large,"
New Ulm, in Minnesota, is probably
the only city on the continent in which
German is the official language of ths
municipal council. The mayor and all
the c uncilmcn are Germans, and all
business is transacted in Gorman. How
ever, the German Pott, which hss been
the official organ of the council for 23
years, has collapsed, and every document
will now have to be translated into
English for publication in the Review, its
successor.
It is admitted that not more than
twenty-five per cent of the maple sugar
and syrup sold by confectioners an I gro
< -era is m ide from the hip of the maple
tree; and that the other three-fourths is
made from muscovado, glucose, grape
sugar, molasses,birch extract and chemi
cals. A company in Kansas City, with
remarkable candor and honesty, adver
tise a substitute known as “mapcline”
made from raw sugar and essential oil of
of hickory bark.
Ai. English agricultural journal gives
some attention to cattle ranching and its
results on our western plains. It ap
pears that there arc eleven large English
companies, which own 072,013 head, and
own and lease, in all, 3,319,072 acres of
land. The Prairie Company, organized
in Edinburgh about five years ago, has a
capital of over a million dollars, owns
about 125,000 cattle. Its dividends
were 20 1 2 per cent in 1883, nnd 10 per
cent in 188-1 and 1885, very satisfactory,
no doubt, to British capital. The tend
ency is, however, t > smaller profits, as
th' cattle-grazing territory is becoming
overstocked, and prices arc declining.
American companies, to keep up divi
dends, make forced sales, and thus keep
up wasteful competition. While the
great grazing companies arc not meeting
their expectations, such stall-feeding as
is practiced on the farms of the Middle
and Northwestern States continues the
most profitable kind of husbandry com
monly practiced, much more so than the
raising of cereals for market.
Two encient beverages nro being in
tro lined into Great Britain on account
of their supposed medicinal virtues.
Palm wine, or lakmi, is made from the
sap of the date palm. Trees in full vigor
are selected for tapping. The juice es
caping from the wound is conducted by
arced into an earthen ware pot, and may
amount to nearly two gallons daily at
first, gradually sinking to about half
thutipiuntity towards the end of the
tapping, which is seldom allowed to ex
ceed a month. Much of the “wine” is
drunk fresh, when it resembles sparkling
cider but becomes insipid after losing its
carbonic acid. Its color is opalescent
and milky. After undergoing alcoholic
fermentation it contains 4.33 per cent, of
alcohol, .22 carbonic acid nnd 5.(10 of
mannite. The Moors make extensive use
of a spirit prep ired from the water in
which comb is boiled in treating bees
wax. This water, being impregnated
with honey, is allowed to ferment, mid
is then distilled ;‘.he spirit is called inn
hnrga. It is flavored with anise seed or
with nuffa—that is fennel acid.
Where Grant Died.
I passed several hours on Mount Mac-
Gregor to-day, writes a Troy TTmett cor
respondent. The Drexel cottage remains
almost literally as when General Grant
died. There are the bed upon which
the illustrious Commander breathed his
last, his favorite chair, his garments, in
cluding dressing gown, slippers and huts,
and even his medicines, cups and the
sponges with which he was wont to
moisten his lips.
You are shown pens with which In
wrote the hitter portion of his book and
quantities of paper cut in small sizes by
means of which he was wont to carry on
his share of convei'Sation. A number of
the beautiful flower-pieces wrought in
immortelles sent by the friends of the
General, including th > huge pillow from
lhe Philadelphia Post, are also on view.
All thes- relics are looked upon by the
visitor* in solemn silence. Some of them
might with propriety be removed—
notably the medicines and vessels. Out
side the cottage all looks calm and
beautiful.
Origin of ihe Drllar.
The origin of our word dollar, as
everybody knows, is from the German
fhal er or low German dalcr. But the
way in which it came to mean a coin is
not familiar. About the end of the
fifteenth century the count* of Schtick
Joachim's Thai (Joachim's Valley ), into
ounce-pieces, which got to be called
J.-aehim's thaler, the German adjective
from the name of the place. These pieces
gained such reputation that they became
a kind of pattern, and other pieces of a
like sort took the name, dropping the
tir-t part of the won! for the sake of
brevity Hence our dollar may be said
to l>e the metallic product ol Joachim's
\ alley .Veie Fo.-t Commercial.
How Ho Turned Their Heads.
Two Austin ladies were talking about
an English nobleman who was making
the tour of the states.
“They say that at Galveston he turned
the people’s hea ls completely," remarked
the first young lady.
“I expect he came late to church with
creaking boots, ” replied No. 2, sarcasti
cally,—Siftings
Judge Not.
n o may measure by our meaxnr
We may judge our fellow dust,
We can see aa man e’er see th,
And may think our judgments jo
But the bidden springs of action
There is none true Gad can know;
Only Ho can sen the forces
That are working weal or woo.
There are d«>p and unven currents
Moving all mankind along;
There are powers for good or evil
'I hat impel the human throng.
There are motives born of ages
Actuating every life;
And the Witness who's eternal
Knows the victor in the strife.
Mrs. Hattie. Couch Foster.
THE HIRED GIRL.
“She makes a perfect picture, out there
in that tropical sunshine,” said Mr. Vil
lars. “Look at her, with that scarlet
ribixin at her nc k and those coils of hair
waving blue-black in the intense light I
It is like a dream of Italy!”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Leeds, “she Is very
pretty, but that don't signify so much.
She’s a good, smart girl, and don't lose
any time looking at herself in the glass,
like some I’ve had.”
“Where did you pick her up?” asked
the young clergyman, carelessly drawing
the newspaper from his pocket as he sat
down on the carpet of pine-needles under
the big evergreen tree.
“Didn't pick her up anywhere,” said
Mrs. Leeds, tartly (for this was a part of
the transaction that had never been quite
satisfactory to her business-like soul).
“She came along."
“Came along?” (with a slight accent
of surprise.)
“Yes—looking for work.”
Mr. Villars lifted his eyebrows.
“Then how do you know who she is?”
he asked.
“I don’t know!” retorted Mrs. Leeds,
unconsciously betraying her weak point
by this irritability of manner; “but I
know what she is, and that’s more to the
purpose. She’s the best washer that ever
crossed my threshold ; as docile as a kit
ten, and as smart as a cricket; does twice
the work of any one else that I ever had,
and if she’s ever tired she don’t say so.”
Mrs. Leeds bustled off to interview
Fanner Parks for more Alderney cream
for the summer boarders, now that the
house was beginning to fill up.
Mr. Villars improvised a pillow out of
his coat, folding it cylinderwise and
placed under his head, and closed his
eyes in a sort of summer dream among
the pine boughs and butterflies.
And Eliza, spreading out blackberries
to dry on the board platform that had
been erected along the garden fence, be
gan to sing softly to herself. She was
very silent ordinarily, but somehow it
seemed as if the sunshine had thawodout
her very heart to-day.
Mr. Villars had been right. There
was something of the atmosphere of
Italy about Eliza—her eyes were so deep
and dark, her hair so glossily black, her
cheek stained with such a rich olive.
Morever, she did not move like the
girls of rock-bound New England. There
was a subtle, gliding motion—a languor
of gracefulness in her gait—which was
foreign to all her surroundings.
The girls of the vicinage did not fra
ternize with Eliza when, at rartfintervals,
she accompanied Mrs. Leeds to church,
sewing-circle or village gathering; for in
Stapleville the employer and employee
occupied one all-comprehensive social
platform.
They said she was “odd;” they looked
at her askance; and Eliza, always very
quiet in her ways, made no effort to in
sinnnto herself into th' ir good graces.
Why should she? Wnat did it signify,
one way or the other, whether Deborah
Smart and Keziah Hayes and Abby Jane
Clark liked her or not, as long as Mrs
Leeds was pleased with her?
But the village girls made one error in
their calculations. They had not inten
ded, as the time crept on, to emphasize
their antipathy to Mrs, Leeds’ Eliza so
•strongly as to awake a partisan feeling in
Mr. Villars’ breast; but they did so, un
consciously to themselves.
“Why do they neglect that girl so?”
the young clergyman asked himself.
“Can they not see how infinitely superior
she is to them? It’s a shame I”
And so Abby Jane Clark and Deborah
Smart and Keziah Hayes sealed their own
doom, so far as Mr, Villars was con
cerned.
There was not one of them but would
have been delighted to win a smile, a
glance, a pleasant won! from the young
man who was summering at the Leeds
farm-house.
But, alas! like the priest and the Le
vite, he passed by on the other side; and
when the village girls, in their afternoon
muslins and ribbons, sat at their windows
and wondered why “he came not,” he
was, in nine cases out of ten, helping
Eliza to gather peaches for tea; standing
beside the brook, while she spread out
towels and pocket-ha id kerchiefs to
bleach, or even explaining to her the
difference between the notes of the thrush
and the woodlark, the speckled eggs of
the robin and the pearl-gray treasure of
the whip-poor-will.
“He seems to lie taking a notion to
her," said Mrs. Leeds to herself, as she
eyed the pair shrewdly from her milk
room window. “Well, why shouldn't
hel It's true he's a minister, and my
own nephew; but in my mind Eliza is
good enough for any man. My sakes!
won’t Abby Jane Clark be mad? If ever
a girl wanted to be a parson's wife, Abby
Jane docs!’
Thus things were progressing, when
one day a smart young tradesman from
an adjoining town came to boar 1 out his
fortnight's vacation at Dea, on Clark’s.
The Clarks were a wel -to- lo family;
but the deacon was a little close in his
financial administration, and Mrs. Clark
and Abby Jane were not averse to earn
ing a new dress now and then out of the
rent of their big spare room. And Mr.
Tru lkins brought a letter of recommen
dation from a Iriend in I’ackerton, and
he dressed in the latest fashion, and had
a big black moustache that overshadow
ed his upper lip like a pent-house.
“Oh, ma, how very genteel he is!”
said Abby Jane, all in a flutter of admir
ation.
“Avery nice young man indeed,”
responded the deacon's wife.
And the very next week, Abby Jane
came down to the Leeds’ farm house.
“Have you heard this news of your
Eliza?” she asked of the farmer's wife,in
a mysterious whisper.
Eh?” said Mrs. Leeds.
“She’s nothing but a play actress,”
said Abby Jane, nodding her head until
the stuffed blue bird on her hat quivered
as if it were alive. “Mr. Alphonso Trud
kins saw her himself in the Great New
York Combination troupe. She was acting
a woman who was married to Cuban, and
lost her pocket handkerchief, and was
afterward choked with the pillows off
the best bed. Desdeiuonia her name was,
I think.”
“Well, and suppose she was?” said
Mrs. L 'cds, who was too good a general
to let the enemy sec wh it havoc had
been carried into her camp. “What
then?”
“What then?” echoed Abby Jane.
“Well, Ido declare, Mrs. Leeds, I am
surprised.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said
Mrs. Leeds, defiantly.
“But Mr. Trudkins saw her with his
own eyes I” cried Abby Jane, flushing
scarlet with indignation. “He knew her
the minute he looked at her yesterday in
church. Elizabeth Ellesmere her name
was, he says, in the advertisments, and
she danced a dance, with a yellow scarf
and a lot of roses, between the pieces,
making herself out to be a Spanish man
doline player. It’s enough to make one’s
hair stand on end to hear Mr. Trudkins
tell about it.”
“It don’t do to believe all one hears,”
said Mrs. Leeds, losing all count of the
eggs she was breaking into a china
bowl, in her consternation. “And
Stapleville docs beat all for gossip.”
“Well, you can ask her yourself, and
see if she dares deny it!” said Abby Jane,
exultantly. “Here she comes now. Ask
her—only ask her!”
And Eliza came into the kitchen, with
the spice box in her hand. Mr. Villars
followed close behind, fanning himself
with a straw hat.
“I have come from the men in the hay
field,” said he. “They want another jug
of cool ginger and water, with plenty of
molasses stirred in, Aunt Leeds. Good
morning, Miss Clark 1 I hope the dea
con is quite well this morning?"
Abby Jane turned pink, and smiled
her most seductive smile.
“Ob, quite so,” she simpered. “I—l j
only came on—”
“Is it true, Eliza?” Mrs. Leeds asked,
sharply. “Have you been deceiving me?
Are you a play actress all this time?”
Eliza’s large eyes turned slowly first to
one, then to another of the little group.
She did not blush—it was i o her way
—but the color ebbed slowly away from
her cream pale cheek.
“I have been deceiving nobody,” said
she. “I am not an actress now. I have
been one. But I did not like the life, so
I left it. If anyone had asked me,
I should have told them long ago.”
Mr. Villars camo forward and stood at
the girl’s side, as he saw his aunt shrink
away.
“Well,” he said, “even taking
it all for granted, “where is the
harm?”
Charles! Charles!” cried Mrs. Leeds,
putting up her hands with a gesture of
warning. “Rem mber poor Avice!”
“It is because I remember her that I
speak thus,” said Mr. Villars, calmly.
“I had an elder sister once,” he added,
turning to Abby Jane Clark, “who ran
away from home and became an actress.
She had talents far above the average,
but my parents were old-fashioned peo
ple,and their ideas ran in narrow grooves.
They disapproved of the stage, so Alice
left us. Whether she is dead or living
we know not, but wherever she is, I am
sure that she cannot but be good and
true and pure.”
Abby Jane’s eyes fell under his calm
glance. She was a little sorry now that
she had chosen to come hither anil bear :
the news herself.
Somehow, Mr. Villars had taken it in
s different spirit from what she had an
ticipated. And Eliza’s soft, languidly
modulated voice broke on the constrain
ed silence like drops of silver dew.
“I have been an actacss, and perhaps
1 should still have been on the stage,” she
said, “had it not been for circumstances.
My father dealt in stage properties, and I I
was brought up to the business, but still I
never liked it. But one cannot easily
step out of the path where one's feet hav»
been placed, especially if one is a wo
man.
“However, the turning point came at
last. Our leading lady fell sick of a
contagious fever, in a lonely village where
we had stopped to play one night. The
manager packed up everything in a panic,
and bade us all to be ready to go. I told
him I could not leave Mrs, Montague
alone. He said that if I left the com
pany thus, I should never return to it.
“Well, what could I do? The stage
was my living, it was true, but our lead
ing lady had no friends. It would have
been inhuman to desert her, so I stayed
behind and took care of her. She died,
poor thing, and it swallowed up all my
earnings to bury her decently.
“And then I tried here and there to
earn my living as best I could. I was
not always successful. More than once
I have been hungry and homeless; but,
heaven be praised, I have always found
friends before the worst came to the
worst. Now you know all,” she con
cluded quietly, leaning up against the
door, where the swinging scarlet beans
made a fantastic background for her
face.
Mr. Villars had advanced a step or two
toward Eliza as she spoke; his gaze had
grown intent.
“This—this leading lady of whom you
mention,” said he, with an effort. “Do
you remember her name? Her real name,
I mean?”
“They called her Katharine Montague
on the bills,” said Eliza. “If she had
any other name, she never told me what
it was. I say if, because--because —
Oh, Mr. Villais, 1 never quite understood
it before, but there is a look in your eyes
that reminds inn of her. I have been
startled by the familiar expression many
a time, but I never could convince my
self where the link of association be
longed. And—and I still keep a little
photograph of her that I found in her
Bible after she was dead. I kept them
both. Wait, and I will bring them to
you.”
Mr. Villars gazed at the picture in si
lence. Mrs. Leeds uttered a little cry of
recognition.
“Heaven be good to us!” she wailed;
“it is our Avice, sure enough.”
The sequel of this little life idyl is
simple enough. Any one may guess it.
Charles Villars married Eliza. And even
the most fastidious “sisters” of her hus
band’s flock can utter no word of re
proach against the minister’s wife, al
though she makes no secret of the fact
that she was once an actress.
And poor Abby Jane Clark is chewing
the bitter husks of disappoinment. For
even Mr. Trudkins has gone back to
Packertoil without delaring himself.
“There is no dependence to be put
upon men,” says Aboy Jane, disccnso
lately.—llelen Forrest Graves.
A Losing Business.
There are hundreds of small cigar
“factories” where one man is employed,
and, notwithstanding that they generally
lose money, their seems to be no decrease j
in their numbers. A cigarmaker who is ■
earning sl2 a week and has managed to ;
save a little money, starts out for him
self. He buys tobacco by the pound, i
and pays a handsome price for it,
he makes the cigars, his wife helps him,
while his children strip. He does not
pay factory rent, nor for packing, strip
ing, the large expense of labels, insur
ance, and lithograph advertising, which
amounts to a good deal, costing a large
manufacturer from $5,000 to $20,000.
This small manufacturer sells his cigars
on the basis of cash actually expended,
not counting in his labor, worth sl2 per
week, beside the o her incidentals. The
result is that in a short while his money ,
is all gone and he returns to his bench.
This is the result in ninty-five cases out
of one hundred. These small shops aro :
known in the tobacco trade as “buck
eyes.”— Chicago Tribune.
The Cockles of the Heart.
Mr. Thomas 8. Clark sends us a plau
sible explanation of the expression
“wanning the cockles of the heart.” He
says that in the counties of Kent and
Essex, England, the phrase is commonly
used and is invariably applied to the
pleasures of eating and drinking. When
he was a schoolboy Mr. Clarke heard it
explained that the right and left auricles
of the heart were supposed to resemble
in appearance the cockle of shell fish
found in that part of the kingdom; from
this fancied res inblance arose the phrase i
“cockles of the heart,” meaning the '
two shell-like divisions,or auricles of the
heart. “So,” says Mr. Clark, “upon
taking a drink or upon feasting on |
highly spiced viands, the cockles of tha
heart received the first pleasurable it*
pression, and so it was that the whole
heart was speedily set aglow.”— Chicago |
News.
The Man and the Encumber.
A man was about to pull a little cucxim- '
ber from the vine, when the vegetable,
with an app aling look, said: “Don’t
disturb me yet; I am too little to eat.
Let me grow big and then I will afford
you a square meal.” The Cucumber
was spared, and in a few weeks it twisted
that man into all sorts of shapes with
the colic.
Moral—This Fable teaches the virtue 1
of prompt execution.— Life.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
Politeness to inferiors is a debt due .
ourselves.
Persecution is often the wind that scat
ters the good seed of the kingdom.
The way to do good is to be good.
There must be light, then it will shine.
Mock humility wears a gauze robe
covering but not concealing its deform’
ity.
If you would not have affliction visit
you twice, listen at once to what it
teaches.
Human things must be known fobs
loved; divine things must be loved to
be known.
Certain trifling flaws sit as disgrace,
fully on a character of elegance as a rag.
ged button on a court dress.
To wish to do without our fellows and
to be under obligations to no one is a sure
sign of a soul void of sensibility.
It is good discretion not to make
much of any man at the first, bscaiwe
one cannot hold out that proportion.
Life has no wretchedness equal to an
illsorted marriage—it is the sepulchre of
the heart, haunted by the ghosts of past
affections and hopes gene forever.
It may be that luck goes up and down
the world calling on men and women
but the name has been spelled Pluck on
all of her cards that have come under
our eye.
A Cape Breton Parson!
lie was a tall, angular parson of the
old severe Presbyterian type. As the
local idiom has it, “Y’ou would know
by his English that he had the Gaelic.’’
He was preaching in a brother parson’s
pulpit to a congregation who were
strangers to him. Descanting on the
lamb as a type of gentleness, meekness
etc., he said:
The lamb is quaitc and kind. The
lamb is not like the other beasts, the
lion and the tiger and the wolf. Ye
will not be runnin’ away from the lamb.
No. The lamb is kaind; the lamb will
not eat ye, whatever.
“And there is food in the lamb, too.
Oh yes, you will be killin’ the lamb and
the sheep when the cold weather will
come in the winter. You will be
wantin’ some good strong food in the
winter, and it is then you will be killin’
the lamb.
“And there is clothing in the lamb—
he is good for nothing. Y’ou will tek the
wool off him, nnd you will mek clothes
for yourselves. And how would you
and I look without clothing?” etc.
At the close of the exercises he gave
out the following very particular notice,
to explain which I must state that ravages
had been made among the Presbyterian
flock by the inflmJnce of a divine of a
different persuasion: “And there will
most likely be a family from X. that
1 will be baptized here after meeting on
Friday night, but”—here he leaned for
ward, and added, in a loud stage
j whisper—“ye’ll no be saying a word
I about it, dear brethren, as I do not
i think they want it known.”— Harper's
Magazine.
Count lag Cattle.
Coining from St. Louis on the sleeping
car I fell in with a couple of men from
the cowboy region down by the Indian
Territory. They owned ranches there
and were talking about the cattle busi
ness. One was an Englishman and was
on his way back to the old country for a
short visit, lie was saying: “I count
ed 745 cattle in a field this side of Kan
sas City.” He then took from his vest
pocket a thing something like a silver
watch. “This is a cattle counter,” he
explained. “Y’ou see there are three
i figures on the side. Now, as often as
you press that little knob a
figure changes for the one next higher,
i “That’s how it works, ” and he pressed
the knob rapidly and the figures changed
at every pressure. With this I can count
up to 999 as fast as cattle can jump past
me. In a field I have just to commence
at one end and look at the cattle one by
one, pressing this every time,
and I won’t make a mistake once in 100
I times.”
“I never go in for those new-fangled
arrangements, ” said the American ranch
[ man. “I have a cowboy who has 100
buttons on a string. He can count cat
tle as fast as they run with that string.
He has another string around his neck,
and at every hundred counted he slips 11
button on the neck string. He can count
j 10,000 cattle with his strings as easily as
you can go 999 on that thing, and do it
as correctly, too. Detroit Free Prees.
Presence of Mind.
Art auctioneer—“We have here, ladies
and gentlemen, a most superb marine
( view.”
Assistant (in a loud whisper) —‘ Hold
on; it’s a picture of a sheep.”
. Auctioneer—“As I was saying, ladies
, and gentlemen, we have here a picture of
a most superb merino. YVhat am I of
fered on a bid?"— New York Tribune.
Her Passion Revealed.
She —And won't you be able to co® e
to my graduation, Mr. Ruskin?
He— l am afraid not, Miss Rose. I
! either come myself or send some flowers.
SAe—Ah, that is very kind ft you; J
do so love flowers. Tid Bite.