Newspaper Page Text
«X= - =S
HARLEM, GEORGIA
PUBLISHED KVKKY THVBBDAY.
BMllard «*» AtlilTTon.
PBOI KUKTOMa.
A lurir* town Is prowin" up around the
■hori of Lake E.sinore, Cal., <* ahi-et of
wal< r wfaich, is K>’ n miles Ion" and
thfr-- rnt!m wide, A joiCufiarity of the
town u that the people go fronj -treet to
•tree* almist entirely by boat, in fact
tht principal afreet of the town it circu
lar and can be touched by boat at any
point. ___
The bm Frnnciac i lUcord congratu
lates the golden state that with 70,00),-
000 bu'lc i- of wheat California wbi have
an income of nt ierat $.14,000,000, where
last year it had one of ou y $28,000 ' 00.
“Our barley < rop,” says th' llr.nl, “of
1 •,•00,000 c ritnls will bring in $10,000,-
•00, as again't $0,000,00 lost year. In
these two items alone wo will bar $72,-
•00,p00, where wo had in 1085 only $17,-
•00,000, an increase of over $31,000,000,
or nearly double that of 1885, whil • the
area sown was only a fraction larger.
Despite low prices, say even lower than
18«fi, the tiller of the noil is in a much
Iwtter condition than ha was a year
•go, ”
l ( init> nant Stoney, who was sent out
by the United States Government to ex
plore Putnam river, Ala-k.i, which was
discovered by him in 1883, has found a
over to th north which the natives say
empties into thu Arctic near Point Bar
row. The river is supposed to be the
same as the one at the mouth of which
Lieutenant Riy established h» head
quarters during his observing expedition.
Along the banks of this river were Indians
who hod never before seen a white man.
Lieutenant Stoney afterwards ex ilored
Nowtnk river to it< head waters, and found
it hunger than the Putnam. Hu intended
starting on a series of explorations east
•nd north.
T!is Philadelphia Jiers computes that
it uno could see 1,000,000 babies start
on n race an 1 could follow them through
life, thia is about what ho would see:
Nearly 150,000 of them would drop out
of the ranks at the end of the first year. '
Twelve months Inter th numb r would
be still further thinned by the deduction
of 53,000. Twenty two th uuu'id would i
follow nt the end of th" third y :r. They '
would throw up the sponge by twos and
throes until the end of the forty-fifth
year, when it would be found that in the
intervening period somethin" like 500,-
000 hod left the track. Sixty years
would see 875,000 gray-hcudo 1 mon still
cheerfully pegging away. At the end of
eighty years thocompetitors in this great
“go-as-yuu -place” would number 07,001,
but they would be getting more slinky
•nd ‘Mat” each lap. At the end of
ninety-five seasons only 223 would be
left in the final “ties," while the winner
would bo led into his retiring room, a
solitary wreck, nt the nge of 103.
A discussion is going on in Europe
•oneerning the distance at which large
objects on the earth’s surface may be
visible. Emil M tzgi r mentions that he
once saw, with some ditll ulty, Keizer
•pickt, in Sumatra, when distant 110
l?n;;l eh miles; an I ho also made out
Gil" Merapi, in Java, when 180 miles I
•way. From th •P z Mnr.iun, near Dis
•entis, E. Hill has seen Mont B una, the
intervening -pne nv isuring about 110
miles. J. ijtarkio Girin r stiles that
Mont Banc is viable from the Pia Liti
gat'd, though d.stunt about three degrees.
In Green!.m I, Mr Whymp r beh d I a
mountain from which he wis separated
by 150 miles; mid from Marseilles,
Zuch saw Mount Canigmi at a distance
«f 158 miles. The whole range of the
Swiss Alps has boon looked upon by J.
Hippialey while 24) miles away, while
Sir W. Jones lias util med that the linn
•lay is have appe ire lto view from the
dialanc) of $34 miles.
The frozen meat trade is assuming
great pn>)K>rtions in England. A carg> (
which recently arrived nt tli ■ Eist India
docks in London consisted of over 80,
•00 frozen c irt asses of mutton in excel
lent condition. This contribution to
the food supply of London came from
tlic Falk’an I 1 stands, where there arc
•ow more than 000,0 *0 sheep. The Lon
don Lei « says: “The carcasses brought
over are describes! a’ Kung those of
•keep of prime (.'.interim y typo, well
fleahed, and with no sii|>e tluous waste
ful fat, and they average from sixty to
•evenly pounds carh. 8 des have been
effeete I of portions of the c irgo at over
8d per pound.” The colonists have
hitherto contented themselves with wl at
they could realize Iren the wool, skins
•nd tallow to be obtained from the r
•beep, but now, in conse.pi -neo of this
most recent development in refrig rating
machinery by means of cold,dry air, they
will be able to send the r mutton to the
English market, not only to their own
advantage, but also to that of the con
sumers over there; and there appears to
be every reason to expect that the enter
prise which has been entered into in so
practical manner will result in a com
plete success.
An organization with a noble purpoe*
has been founded in Europe. A society
has been formed whose mm is not oaly
to protect strangers, but girls of all
n.itionalities who uro beset by any diffi.
cutties, material, moral or spiritual.
The general headquarters uro at Neuf
ehatol, but the so< icty has branch offices
I all ov r France, in Algiers, Germany and
■ England. AH girls who are without
lhclt< rof home may thus find a protect
ing hand in this widespreading charity,
w Jeb has been founded and is carried
by women.
One of the striking peculiarities of
the earthquake is the terror with which
; it inspires human creatures os well as
I brutes. There is no other fear which
resembles it known to the human mind,
i When the low rumbling is heard from
thr; depths of the earth all animation
“ ems suspended for a brief instant. The
very heart seems to cease to beat, and
the intellect becomes paralysed. This
condition of mind and body lasts but a
moment. It is followed by a terrible, but
vague fear of some awful danger, the
nature of which is quite incomprehensi
ble. The mind jumps rapi lly and with
out rens'ming to the conclusion that
flight i fit rs the only safety, and the
body ueta upon the conclusion at once.
Mi n, women i/.id children rush headlong
into the street, by the stairways, and
doors if they happen to be convenient,
by plunging from the windows if they
happen first to attract the attention. And
it is in this wild rush for imagined safety
that the real danger of the earthquake
■ lies, but no experience in the past has
been sufficient to enforce this lesson, and
i the probability is that no experience in
the future will impress it so vividly us
to render it of any practical use.
The New York Commercial says it is
a mistake to suppose that criminals of
th" higher grade—like burglars, forgers
and bank robbers—are coarse, ignorant,
vulgar men. If they wore they would
not succeed. Their dishonest trade re
quires intelligence, menpd training and
a large amount of self-restraint. Many ol
them have been clever mechanics, while
some are cultured and of good anteced
ents. Louis C. Clermont, the notorious
bank robber, who died three years ago,
was a southerner by birth, his parents
being rich and highly respectable. lie
was a college gradual-, but being with
out principle and extravagant, his father
got tired of furnishing him with money,
and lie determined to get it for himself
by what he thought the easiest means.
He became acquainted with several
notorious forgers and check raisers,
adopted their calling, and profited
by it. He went abroad and
in Germany fell in with Max Shinburn,
a noted bank robber, who got rich by
plying his profession here, crossed the
sea, purchased the title of baron and
settled down ns a member of the old
aristocracy. Clermont probably gained
valuable knowledge from Shinburn. Ho
returned to his native land, took up his
abode in Philadelphia, and, by his hand
some person, agreeable manners and
bright conversation, gained some social
position. Hu assumed to boa Cuban
refugee, and his dark eyes, hair and
complexion, with his fluency in Spanish,
assisted the assumption. Ho paid court
to a pretty widow, Mrs. Joseph Dumcl
and married her. They decided to go
abroad for a bridal tour. Sho got her ■
Valuables, together with $20,001) in cash,
and they were ready to start, when lit
a-ked her to carry a note somewhere for
him, while ho took charge of her things.
When she returned, he lul l disappeared, j
He was engaged in several bank rob
berles afterward, under the name of
Colonel Ralph Pollard, formerly of the
Louisiana Tigers. In one of these he
was arrestc 1, smt to prison for twelve
years, ami ended his life there.
Working Up.
Two men who were once warm friends
but who had not seen each other for
nearly twenty years met on a railroad
train. After an exchange of rroetigsn
one of them said ;
“You are looking fleshier than you
did. Corporal."
"I beg your pardon, but it’s ‘Gen
eral.’”
“What?”
“My friends call me ‘General.’”
"Why, how’s that, we used to call
you 'Corporal?’ ”
“les, I was a corporal when I camo
out of the army.”
“That’s wh it I thought I don’t see
what you could hr.ve done sine; to raise
your rank.”
“Don’t, eh!"
“No, 1 don't. IVhat was it ?”
“I’ve moved farther west four times.”
—Edeline Bdl.
They Were Not Particular,
"I'm —um,’’ he said, rubbing his chin
in a self-satisfied way, “I think I could
marry either one of the girls if I felt dis
posed to make the effort.”
“Yesf replied his friend, with an
affirms* on of recognition and an interro
gative negation.
“Yes, I think I could. You see they
are getting along towatxi the time when
girls are not unwilling to marry.”
“Yes, and not very particular,” con
tinued his friend, and the conversation
abiuptly concluded. KJ fi t*.
1 It Will A I B • Bight In Tlio Morning.
I I
We long tar the brighter time coining,
And we weU-h for it early ami Ute,
To bear throuxb the halyards the bumming
That vhall lift the dnad sails of our fate,
To leave Babelmand b's sad gate,
And we sigh for It, try for it,—wait I
It will all I si right in the morning I
IL
The lillim light up the brown water;
And tht diamonds grow in the gloom.
And the moon Is the midnight's daughter.
Arid the uigbt-floweriug aloe will bloom
As a trophy that gnrlands a tomb,
I When the daytime has gone to its doom,
It will all be right in the morning!
HI.
Half way up in hh mounting the lark
Meet* the mom in ita ear th ward bound
flighty
And the carol born down in the dark
Im a marvelous lyric of light,
Im a bur Mt of mel'Nlioui might,
Im the Io triumphs of Wight,
It will all bo right in the morning!
IV.
In the graveyard of Arctic the diamal
Where the bouee of dead glaciers are
strown,
Where they tower, the icebergs abysmal,
Are the buds of bright flowerets full blown,
There they cling to death’s border’s alone,
And they thrill to Eurochydon’s moan.
It wid all be right in the morning!
V.
Through the long dim day of dull twilight
They repose like a soul at a shrine.
There under Aurora’s north skylight,
That memorial window divine,
At the very Mime intervals shine
As their sisterhood under the line,
It will a 1 be right in the morning!
VI.
Twelve hours for unfolding and waking,
And twelve’for their slumber and sleep—
Who told them w hen day should be breaking
Who taught them when shadows should
creep!
That the calendar true they can keop,
Faith arise like the moon loving deep,
It will al) be right in the morning!
VII.
Born trouble is better than borrowed,
Light and darkness are Lieut, but beware
Os th > rnan who never has sorrowed,
The line gold unalloyed is not there,
L ‘t us come to the bridges of care
Ere their crossing of danger we dare,
And the thought in our hearts ever there,
It will all i>e right in the morning!
VIII.
If earth’s weary burdens cure sorrow,
If the noblest of triumphs denied
Are always b iginn ng to-morrow.
If we fail to take time at the tide,
If old friends w ane away from our side,
Still the trust and th) truth will abide,
It will all bo right in the morning!
—Benjamin F. Taylor.
THE MANIAC SUITOR.
“Oh, Alice, you ought to havß been
with us; we had a lovely time;” and then
olio added, as a truer thought lighted her I
eye, “the inmates seemed to enjoy our |
music so much that I think I never tried
harder to acquit myself well, and I flatter ,
myself I succeeded, too.”
“Well, Amy, I’m glad you went,” re
plied her friend; “but visiting insane
asylums, to entertain the inmates, is not
exactly in my line; I always had an un- !
comfortable aversion to every being who i
is not iu Jiis right mind. I had a little
adventure once, too, which I can never
forget."
“An adventure 1 I dote on anything :
of that kind; do tell ino about it,” and 1
Miss Amy folded her pretty hands and *
prepared to listen.
“It isn’t much of a story, Amy, but it
was a serious matter to me at the time.
You remember the visit I made to father’s
relatives iu the eastern part of the state?
Soon after my arrival at Cousin Julia’s, I
met, at a little party one evening, the
most peculiar and, at the same time, the
most fasciniting man I ever saw. He
was very large, swarthy as an Italian; he
wore a heavy beard, dark as night; his
hair, which was of the same color, ha I
the most eccentric habit of standing
straight up from his forehead, in au ag
gressive style.”
“Bless me! You call that a fascinating
mau 1"
‘‘Just wait till I tell you of his wonder
ful eyes. His eye-brows were very hesvy
and almost met. Os course his eyes
were black, but they had such a peculiar
expression; they seemed to draw you,
somehow, even against your will. The
mo t trivial remark he made assumed i
an importance that no one else ever im- ' I
parted to it. 1 ,
“From the first I was rather awed by i
him, and he seemed to be quite attracted 1
by little me. I forgot to tell you his
name was Mr. Chase. He sent me music ;
•nd then gazed at me while I sang it un- <
til I felt impelled to sing better than I i
ever did before. He sent me flowers and I
I wore his carnations, though, you know, ]
I don't admire them at all, and I never
want to see one again. Os course I was i
teased a good deal about my conquest, ! ■
and I really began to dread bis calls and j
contrived to have someone present al- l
ways, es I feared he would ask me to i
marry him and I did not knew how to i
answer him. One evening he found me i
alone, and had ju-t begun a most touch- i
ing remark when to my relief little Ettie <
ran into the room and effectually put a •
stop to sentiment. He left very soon i
with a sort of longing in his weird eyes 1
which impresses! me strangely. ’ i
“ The next evening ury host remarked 1
to his wife: , i
" ‘Poor Chase has been obliged to go s
back to the asylum; they took him to i
Harris'j-gh to-day.”’ I.
, “So here was the end of my romanoe
and the solution ut the mysterious in
fluence lie had ov;r mix I always had
felt there was something uncanny about
him, and this explained it. I hud heard
of insane persons having such power
over others, and I must sny I breathed
easier to know he was out of the way
before I had been borne entirely under
the g|ic!l of thote wondrous eyes.
Imagine my feeling's when, a few duys
after, the servant brought me this card
and told me ho had nske I to sec mo
alone. Cou-in Julia was out, else I
would have insisted on her going to the
parlor with me. I thought of all the
tricks of insane people that I had read.
The more I thought the more nervous
I grew; but at length, summoning all my
self-possession, I went down stairs. He
was moving restlessly about the room
when I entered, ciunc at once to meet
me, and taking my hand exclaimed:
“ ‘At lust 1 It seems an age since I
saw you. 1
“Terrified as I was my innate love of
truth compelled me to say:
“ ‘lt is just a week.’
“ ‘Ah, yes I’ he murmured, ‘but time is
measured by what we enjoy or suffer,
and so it seems to me a long weary
time since I saw you. Perhaps you
have heard I was obliged to go out
of town after I saw you last, and I have
but just now returned from Harrisburgh;
indeed, I have not been home yet. I
felt I must see you first.’
“He was sitting close by me and
leaned caressingly towards me as he said :
“‘I was wearying for the sight of
your dear face, for you must surely know
that you are very dear to me.’
“I felt as if I was slowly turning to
stone. II re I was, a mere mite, in the
complete power of this giant an es
caped lunatic. I shall never f? & ’et the
horror of it. Just here fate in e per
son of Cousin Julia interposed trainee I
bad in any way committed myself. 1
“ ‘Ah, Mr. Chase,’ she said, ‘I am glad
tosee you; when did you >eturn? 1 was
sorry for the occasion of your absence;
how did you leave your brother?
“ ‘He was more quiet when 1 left
him, but I fear he never will be entirely
cured.’
“I sat as one in a maze. What did it
mean? He soon took his leave, and I
immediately asked my cousin why I had
never heard of Mr. Chase’s brother
before.
“ ‘Well, I don’t know, 1 am sure. I
never thought of it, and he would not
be apt to sppak of it. People, as a rule,
do not parade their family skeletons.
Poor Al has been greatly tried with
his brother, and has been devoted to
j him, trying every way to help him, but
I see he is discouraged now. By the
I way, what did I intenupt? I did not
! think heseemc l delighted tosee me; noth
■ ing serious I hope, for I esteem him too
highly to thwart him in any way.’
“I wisely kept my own couusel, and
• to this day Cousin Julia does not know
. of my absurd mistake, and wonders why
| I came home so suddenly. And I never
I think of the insane without ashudder as I
; recall the creeping horror of that day.”
“Why, Mr. Browning is coming
through the gate, and he looks just like
i the lunatic you tave been describing.”
“Well, so he is. He followed me
home; he assured me that lunacy was
not a hereditary trait; that his brother's
had been brought on by business troubles;
that he had returned from the asylum
cured; and what could I do? I loved
the man, and so I married him after all.
His name wasn’t Chase. Still, I have a
horror of .supposed lunatics.”— L. B.
Lively in Current.
Earthquakes anti Building.
The recent severe earthquake shocks
which have wrought such havoc in the
city of Charleston and vicinity are prob
rbly unique in being the first in this
country to cause destruction of life. Tlio I
widespread destruction of property also ;
accompanying them cannot but briug to j
the mind of every thoughtful engineer !
and architect the question whether this i
hitherto apparently remote danger to |
permanent structures is not of sufficient I
probability to require its recognition in ;
all designs. There have been well de- i
fined earthquake shocks in the vicinity
of New York and many other parts of i
the country, and it would seem desira- j
ble that the practical bearings of the sub
ject should be carefully studied. A recent !
paper by Professor John Milne, F. G. S. j
of the Imperial College of Engineering
at Tokio, Japan, suggests the support of |
buildings in earthquake countries upon !
horizontal cast-iron plates, between
which are cast-iron shot one-quarter of
an inch in diameter (the cracking
strength of each of which is about 180 d
pounds). He also suggests deep founda
tions free from the surrounding earth;
that all arches where such are necessary
shall be curved into, and not form an ,
angle at the abutments —in other worda, ]
the substitution of elliptical or other !
curved forms for segmental arches; that
windows and doors shall not be verti- '
colly over each other, since they form .
lines of weakness, as has been repeatedly
illustrated in destructive shocks; that
high buildings should be avoided ; that
upper parts of walls, and also roofs,
should be made as light as possible, and
tl •’. steeply pitched roofs are dangerous,
Sanitary Kef inter
A French Fl <w r Ferm.
There is on the maritime foot-hills, in
the department of \ ar, a tlower farm of
about s v.’nteen acres.belonging to Mme.
‘ dcR istaing. It is oliout 2,000 feet above
the lev 1 of the Mediterranean, and per
haps twenty miles from the coast. The
ca'careom soil was naturally thin and
' p,i r, and the olive trees which had
occupied the ground for a century
or tn ire previous to 1881, yielded
but scanty and unsatisfactory re
turn’, and the land was regard
'd as pr'.' tic illy worthless. In 1881 the
I proprii tie » caused the ground to be
c.eared and prep ired for flower culture.
, It was dug to the depth of four feet, and
■ the larger stones removed. In the
' autumn of 1881, 45,000 tufts of violets,
and 140,000 ro ts of the white jasmine
were planted. The following spring the
! remainder of the "round was planted
with roses, geraniums, tuberoses, and
jonquils, and a laboratory erected for the
manufacture of perfumes. The location
i proved to have been well chosen, the
I flower plants grew vigorously and strong,
and in 1885 (the fourth year after plant
ing) the flower farm of Seillans, which
1 had previously yielded a rental of slls a
' year, produced (according to the state
, ment of the proprietress) perfumes valued
1 at $43.154, and giving a net prefit of
j $7,767.80. Os course the plants and
i shrubs at Seillans have not yet reached
their full productive capacity, but the
I results of the fourth year illustrate suffi-
I ciently how lucrative flower farming may
become, in favorable locations, and
under good management. Washington
j Bost.
Lamps of Angels.
The author of “Camp-Life on the
Satpura Range” relates'this conversation
which he had with an English friend of
his and a Mohammedan native of India.
It is interesting as shown the superstition
of the Hindoos and the poetic charactei
| of their fancy:
As we neared the camp a most beauti
ful meteor sailed slowly down from the
starry sky, like a ball of fire, which di
vided and fell in a fiery stream. All
present looked nt it with silent astonish
ment for a few seconds, then I lau"h-
' ingiy turned and said to Nusseer
Khan:
“One of the angels has dropped his
lamp, eh, Nusseer Khan?”
“It must be so, my lord who
knows?”
Seeing my friend somewhat puzzled at
the remarks, I explained that the Mo
hammedans have an idea that the stars
are the lamps of the angels guarding the
gates of heaven, and that a shooting star
is a lamp carelessly dropped.
“The idea is pretty,” he rejoined,
“but surely they arc not so ignorant in
these days as to believe it?”
“Why not? The lower classes in more
civilized countries believe things quite
as absurd. Os course, the educated
Hindoos know better, but the illiterate
believe anything that is put into their
heads.”
Fashions in Tombstones.
There are fashions in tombstones, but
they change slowly. The styles of the
present do not differ much from those of
twenty years ago, but a difference is
noticed in those set up fifty or more
years ago. There were never columns
in those days. As now, the cheaper
stones were plain slabs. One of the ex
pensive shapes, which always marked a
distinguished grave, was a marble slab
laid horizontally on four marble columns,
making a sort of a table. The inscrip
tion was carved on the top, which al
lowed plenty of space for verses, which
no we. 3 regulated gravestone of the first
part of the century could do without.
These verses, which read so quaintly now,
were always written by the pastor. It was
his duty when one of his parishioners
died to compose a suitable stanza, and
the ministers were always paid for them
—a thing that few periodicals even o
those days would have done. In olden
times nothing but brownstone and
sandstone was used. The carving was
crude, and one of the requirements of
fashion was that every slab should have
a human face carved over the inscrip
tion. The stylish gravestone to have
now is a monument.— New York Mail and
Express.
The Beef-E iters of the World.
If there were any soundness in the sta
tistics of Mr. P. 8. Lamas, who is stated
to be an economist of great repute, and
who is certainly an industrious compiler
of figures, the English people can no
longer boast to be, or be jeered at as
being, the greatest beef-eaters in the
world. According to the economist’s
computation, the annual consumption of
beef in Europe amounts to 45 pounds per
head of the population in a year. The
Au-tralians consume 150 pounds a man
and the Americans 130 pounds, while I
the other great continent of Argentine i
(from which Mr. Lamas hails) cats level
with Australia. At his rate there must
be a very great number of people in the
world who get along without eating beef
at all. But the calculations are based on .
one which is yet more extraordinary— }
namely, that on the whole globe the total
head of cattle is 47,500,000, or about an j
ox and a half for every one in Great Bri- >
tain, and none at all for anybody else.
Still, facts are facts and figures are i
figures.— St. Jhewa’ OaoetU.
CHILDREN’S COLUMN.
I'rndul'iui Kona.
“To and fro, see me go,
Fm thependulam you know.
Here me sigh, minute, fly
It is ‘by-and-by.’
Little folk’, look up aid see
How the hours slide by me.
But I know how they go,
They can’t fool me so.
Let them run, one b>- one.
Now a day past an 1 done.
Can you say, throw,-h th ■ ay
You did more than play?”
louffc's Compuniva
A Child** Heart.
i Tlio other day a curious old w „ m . n
. having a bundle in her hand, and w.G
ing with painful effort, sat down on
curbstone to re-t. A group of thru
littie ones, the oldest about nine,stoj.j.,;
in front of the old woman, sajin,- C1 .
a word, but watching her face. Sh<‘
smiled. Suddenly the smile fade 1, ;Ui
a corner of the calico apron went up
wipe away a tear. The eldest child
asked:
“Arc you sorry because you haven't
got any children?’’
“I—l had children once, but they are
all dead,” whispered the woman, sob
in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” said the little girl, m her
chin quivered. “I’d give you one of ffiT
little brothers, but I haven't got but
| two, and I don’t believe I’d like to spare
one.”
“God bless you, child—bless you for-
I ever,” sobbed the old woman, and fora
I minute her face was buried in her ap-on
“But I’ll teil you what I’il do,” se
riously continued the child. "You
may kiss us all once, and if little Ben
isn’t afraid, you may kiss him four
times, for he’s just as sweet as candy.”
Pedestrians, who saw three well
dressed children put their arms around
that strange old woman’s neck and J» M
her, were greatly puzzled. They didn’t
hear the woman’s words as she row to
go:
“O, children, I’m only a poor old
woman, believing I’d nothing to live
for; but you’ve gave me a lighter heart
than I’ve had for ten long years.”— Parai
Tlie Ilont-I>wellers of Japan.
Young people who live in London or
New York may fancy that our cities are
crowded, and that many families must
i live without very much air to breathe or
space for the boys and girls to play in.
What would they say to the boat-dwel
lers of Japan? In that crowded countrr
hundreds of families spend their live
and bring up their children upon the
water, and know nothing of the 'bind
except as they make an occasional visit
to it when obliged to purchase supplies or
attend to some unusual business.
In every bay along the coast are found
hundreds, if not thousands, of small craft
called “junks.” These are small, flat
bottomed boats, and are owned and
inhabited by a man and his family, just
as houses are in other parts of the world.
Their business is the transportation of
goods and merchandise of all kinds, and
their navigation is a sort of family affair.
One traveler says:
“I have seen a boat twenty feet long
most adroitly managed by three children
all under seven years of age. lam told
that, notwithstanding their aptness at
swimming, many boatmen get drowned,
for no boat ever goes to another’s aid,
nor will any boatman save another from
drowning, because, as he says, it is all
fate, and he who interferes with fate will
be severely punished in some way.”
Among these wonderful aquatic fami
lies children of three years old wi i some
times swim like little fish, and if one is
backward in learning, he will be thrown
' overboard, and teased and tormented
until he is obliged to learn the art in
! self-defence.
Ah! it is in reading and Iparning
i about the people of other lands that we
■ find how much we have to love and be
thankful for in the broad free life of our
i own. But even here there are children
who would be the better for such fre
i quent baths, and perhaps you would
have great difficulty in persuading the
, little Japs that life in the hot and
crowded streets of our great cities was
; to be preferred to that of the junk-men
on the rivers and harbors of their own
country.— Harper's Young People.
An Object in View.
; Doctor—Ah! looking badly yet, I see.
You have evidently not been following
' my instructions about taking exercise,
j Patrick—Yis; I walked half a
yesterday.
“Good. You remember I told you
that you must always have some object
in view when you walk so as to get your
I mind off your troubles. I hope you
made yesterday’s outing a matter of busi
ness of some kind.”
“Yis; I went and bought a cemetery
lot.”— Omaha World.
A New Name.
“Well, Bascomb, how is your married
life? You used to call your wife a daisy-
Do you still keep up the endearing
title r
“No, George. I’ve found another
sweet flower name for her. She’s very
wakeful at night, and gives me the
awfulest curtain lectures.”
“Ah, indeed! And what do you eai»
her now?”
“The night-blooming serious.
tdelphCs Call,