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HAND IN HAND.
The boats go sailing
Over a silver sea:
The wind has hushed its wailh
Through brush and tree.
Hand in hand, let us fare togeti r,
Through the sunny and windy v, ■ other.
The birds have hushed their chorus;
Stars, through the twilight ssft>
Will soon be glimmering o’er us—
The moon’s aloft.
Hand in hand, let us hold together,
Through the dark and the starlit weather.
With dewy drops of healing,
The thirsty grass is pearled;
A Sabbath calm is stealing
About the world.
Hand in hand, let us fare together,
Through working days, and Sabbath weather.
The little flowers are sleeping;
The sun is out of sight.
God have us in His keeping
All through the night!
To-morrow let us fare together,
Still onward through the changing weather.
—The Quiver.
GIRLS OF GRIT.
.three :
It had been a dull day at the store,
and Netta Carstairs was tired of stand
ing behind the counter with nothing to
do. Mr. Bobbinet was always a degree
crosser than usual on dull days. He
scolded the little “cashes” for whisper
ing, criticised Miss Drggett for the way
in which she piled her collar-boxes on
the counter, and reproved Miss White
for packing her parcels of lace under the
shelves.
“It is very easy,” said Mr. Bobbinet,
“to see that you young women have no
personal interest in things. ”
“Why should we?” whispered Rosa
Nixon to Miss Carstairs. “He has no
personal interest in us, except to contrive
how much money he can make out of
tis. ”
And Mr. Bobbinet had told them—
probably to increase their spirits—that
after the first of May their scanty salaries
would be docked twenty-five per cent.
“Fori am losing money in the busi
ness,’’said Mr.Bobbinet—“yes, positive
ly losing money all the time. I ought to
"have cut you down at Christmas, but I
am a conscientious man, and mid-winter
is a hard time to reduce wages.”
Netta Carstairs had looked incredu
lously at Lillian Hand. Was it not on
the very last Sunday afternoon that they
had walked past the elegant new house
that Mr. Bobbinet was erecting on Para
gon avenue? Did that, they asked
themselves, look like losing money?
“What an old humbug that man is!”
said Rosa Nixon. “If I knew any re
spectable farmer’s wife who wanted a
“help,’ I’d quit business and go to her—
see if I wouldn’t I”
“But we are all dependent upon our
salaries,” sighed Lilian Hand. “What
can we do?”
This was at the noontime, when Mr.
Bobbinet had gone down stairs to quar
rel with the fireman, and the girls hud
dled disconsolately around the registers
to eat their little paper packets of
lunch.
“I know what I’d do if I had a house,”
said Netta. boldly.
“What?” said Clarissa Daggett.
“I’d keep boarders, ” said Netta.
“Boarders! Dear me, what a funny
jfdea!” cried Lilian Hand. “What made
1 think of that?”
letter from Ston-
said Netta. “And
Ivy oid^T^^Hfo^tocke is dead, and
Ihe has iefPHra lot of old furniture—
le accumulation, in fact, of two or
i generations. What could I do with
fcld furniture, or new, either, for that
latter? The homestead—a tumble-down
blace enough—is left to a cousin up in
laine, and all the ready money to a
e’er-do-well relation out in Kansas,
pho wi 1 spend it before the dear old
hul is fairly cold. ”
T “Furniture!” repeated Lilian Hand.
|Whv, isn’t that strange? And I have
; a house out at Watch Hill—a lonely
place, on the very edge of the sea—
; is, if it hasn’t fallen to pieces in
: heavy winter-tides.”
‘What sort of a house?” said Netta.
don’t know,” Lilian answered,
Sfhing. “I never saw it. My uncle
, theie, and I am the only surviving
I might have fitted it up fora
jtry-seat if I had been rich; but I am
kfa put her light hand on the oth-
uider.
said she, “there’s a fate in
ngs. You have a house, and
'he furniture. Watch Hill is
f>lace to take boarders in!”
pu crazy, Netta?” said Lilian,
hotels would swallow us up,
le swallowed Jonah.”
esticksl” cried Netta. “Our
as good as anybody else’s!”
iris, let me keep boarders,
|d Rosa Nixon. “I can’t stay
Bobbinet mows down our
.ifully. I haven't grt any
I can make such stunning
, and I can beat all creation
biscuit and johnny cake.”
ip you, too!” said eager
who was a tall girl, with
ots on her cheeks. “That
use was out of repair. I
he inside of Cousin Dobson
ouse once, and papered the
e and buff. And you don’t
ice they looked! Oh, do
o
|ll nonsense!” said Lilian.
S!” said Netta. “Listen!
ep boarders. Rosa is our
ara our carpenter. Here’s
ring. Hush! here comes
I, looking as black as a
_ ' Now for a lecture half
an hour" long. Well, let him blaze
away. I don’t care whether he discharges
me or not!”
“What sort, of a place is Watch Hill?”
whispered Clara Dagget.
“It’s the seashore,” said Netta—“di
rectly on the grand o d Atlantic. The
very place for you to get strong in, Clara.
And I say—suppose we ask Fanny Hoyt,
that little, ailing cAsh-girl, to come with
us? She could -vVait ou the table and
wash dishes, you know, and—”
“Young women! young women!”
solemnly croaked Mr. Robbinet, “is this
business ?”
But when the April winds began to
blow clouds of dust and whirlwinds of
paper scraps about the streets, Lilian
Hand and Netta Carstairs set boldly
forth for the rock-bristling shores on
Watch Hill, stopping by way of Ston-
ington to overhaul the old furniture be
queathed by grand-aunt Locke.
“Enough to set up a dozen boarding
houses,” said Netta, exultantly. “We’ll
have Clara down to repair and varnish
it at once. And now for the house!”
“Sea Cottage” was an old stone house
on a shelving beach, with apple orchards
behind and a little garden in front,
where sea spray sprinkled ihe “Rose of
Sharon” trees at every high tide.
It was ancient and inconvenient, with
additions clumsily built on; steps to go
up hero and steps to come down there.
The windows were small; the stone
porch ludicrously proportioned, and
Netta clapped her hands in glee.
“The very place!” said she.
Lilian pointed disconsolately at the
great hotels on the heights beyond.
“What of them?” said Netta. “We
shall not interfere with their customers.
We are appealing to an entirely different
class—the people who abominate bands
and Germans—the people who come
here for rest and quiet. Why, there
must be fourteen or fifteen rooms in this
delicious old cubby-hole. And such a
view of the sea! Count the light
houses! Look at the signal service
buildings! Lill, I already see ourselves
shoveling gold pieces into our pockets!”
“I wish I could be as hopeful as yon,”
said Lilian, softly.
So the brave little brigade went to
work on the wave-washed beach of
Watch Hill.
Miss Daggett proved herself not only
an adept at repairing old furniture, but
she went valiantly out with hammer and
nails and mended the fence, put in new
panes of glass, whitewashed the ceilings,
and. with the aid of a young Rhode Isl-
land carpenter, actually put up a row of
cow-sheds and hen-houses in the rear.
Rosa Nixon reduced the kitchen de
partment to working order, and drove
sharp bargains for a supply of provisions
from Westerly to Stonington.
“It isn’t the kickshaws that trouble
me,” said Rosa. “I can make ice-cream
equal to Madame Habenstein herself,
and nobody can beat me on jellies. But
the gardens here are so late. And city
boarders want green peas and strawber
ries and all that sort of thing just the
same as if Watch Hill lay on the edge of
the tropics. People are so unreasona
ble 1”
In the course of their business affairs,
Netta had made the acquaintance of the
editor of a New Haven newspaper.
“My dear sir,” said she, with charm
ing frankness, “I’m going to advertise
in your paper. Nothing can be done
nowadays without advertising. Now,
don’t you want to give us a puff? The
least bit of one will do!”
“I am always ready to commend
genius,” said Mr. Fordyce, gallantly.
“In fact I was going to speak of engag
ing three connecting rooms—with a view
of the ocean, of course—for Mrs. For
dyce and the three little ones and their
nurse. Just write y6ur notice, and we’ll
try and edge it in 1”
“You are so kind!” cried Netta, who
felt just a trifle disappointed when Mrs.
Fordyce and the children were men
tioned, though why she did not know.
“Business is bqsiness,” said the edi
tor, sereneiy.
But when Lilian read the notice she
opened her blue eyes wide.
“Why, Netta,” said she, “you give
the impression that Sea Cottage is full
of boarders.”
“Well, what then?” said saucy Netta.
“No one wants to be first at a place like
this.”
Almost the earliest arrival was the
ne’er-do-we'l cousin from Kansas, with
his wife and sons. He had settled down
into a portly, middle-aged merchant,
and his appearance lent a solid sort of
respectability to the place.
“Never believe what you hear,” said
he to Netta. “I was rather wild as a
lad, but I am soberer than twenty judges
now. Ask my wife. And I came here
because my boys like the sea. Never
expected to find a relation on the prem
ises.”
“Do you call those six-f ooters hoys?’
said Netta, laughing.
Sea Cottage throve under its vigorous
new administration.
Clara Daggett kept everything in ap
ple-pie order. Rose Nixon worked like
a bee in the kitchen, aided by little Fanny
Hoyt, and a barefooted ton of the soli,
who dug clams, caught blue-fish, turned
the iee-cream freezer and ran errands.
Everything else was done by Netta
and Lilian (Carstairs & Hand they called
themselves on the bill), and well done,
also.
And early in the morning before any
of the boarders were up, they rau down
tc the fringy edge of the sea and had
their “dip”—the delicious tonic that
gave them strength and courage for their
day’s work.
“It’s better than drudging at old Bob-
binet’s, isn’t it, Lil?” said Netta.
“Oh, a thousand times better!”
In the second week the editor arrived,
with a dashing young woman, a colored
nurse and a swarm of little ones.
“There she is,” said he, as Netta came
to greet them. “Miss Carstairs, let me
introduce my stepmother, and little
brothers and sisters.,’
Netta’s cheeks flamed; her ©yes
sparkled.
“They are very welcome to Sea cot
tage,” she said, gracefully.
And Mrs. Fordyce afterward complain-
inglv remarked that “if Miss Carstairs
had been a duchess, she could scarcely
have assumed more gracious airs. Not
but that the house was well kept and
the table really excellent. But, after
all, the young woman was only a board-
j ing-house keeper!”
i And her amazement may be Imagined,
when, at the end of the season, her step
son calmly announced his engagement to
Miss Carstairs.
! “I do like a woman that has some
pluck and go in her,” said he. “She
suits me exactly, and I mean to do my
best to suit her.”
Miss Daggett, it presently transpired,
had been plighting herself to one of the
tall Kansas “boys.”
“He says the West will be the very
climate for me,” said he. “And you
mind, Lily dear—.will you?—but Rosa
Nixon has promised to marry the young
man who keeps the books for the Triton
hotel. 1 do think the air of Watch Hill
promotes weddings?”
Lillian Hand laughed.
•‘You are all typical women,’’said she.
“Well, well, go and fulfill your mis
sions—make home happy and all that
sort of thing. But I mean to stay here
and keep the Sea cottage. There are
plenty of half-starved and overworked
city girls who will come out and help
me; and I rather like the business. Oh,
of course I shall spend mv winters in
Stonington. There is always new house-
linen to make and old to mend, and
plenty to keep me busy; but I really
think I have found my vocation at last.”
And thus triumphantly closed the first
campaign of the Sea Cottage brigade.—
Helen Forrest Grates.
Dogs Against Mountain Lion.
Jack Gaylor, a noted hunter of the
Wind mountains, Montana, has a breed
of dogs famous for their fierce courage
and active strength. They are a pure
cross between the bloodhound and the
best English bulldog. Many bear, elk,
and mountain lion have these dogs
brought to bay and assisted in slaying.
Hair and Hide are the two foremost
representatives of the gallant and effi-
cent breed.
Sot long since Mr. Gaylor was aroused
from sleep during the night by a piteous
bawling in his calf pen and an uproar
among his dogs. Hastening out, he per
ceived by the light of a brilliant moon
two lions making off. They had come
for veal, and had nearly succeeded in
getting it. The next night Mr. Gaylor
watched his corral, but the wary brutes
did not come. The following night
there came from the snowy summits of
Wind mountains a light snowfall. The
old hunter was now sure of his game.
Taking Hair and Hide in the earlymorn-
ing he sallied forth. In a short time hi3
course was crossed by the trail of the
whole lion family. The dogs at once
sped along the freshly-tracked snow
and soon the game was found in a
leafy covert of pine and quaking
aspen. Pushing his way through the
snow-laden boughs the hunter came in
close sight of the family. The lion was
standing on the trunk of a huge fallen
pine; his long tail swinging from side to
side, while his eyes flashed with green
fire. The lioness was crouched a short
distance off at the foot of another huge
tree, in the forks of which could be seen
two active whelps. Hair and Hide at
once sprang for the lion and the savage
fray at once began. With a long leap
the lioness came to the aid of her mate,
but a ball from Gaylor’s rifle broke one
of her shoulders, aud she retreated, spit
ting with pain and rage, to the vicinity
of her whelps. The combat between
the royal brute and his fierce and active
foes now became terrific. Gaylor watched
the lioness and the fight. He was sure
of his dogs, and wanted them to kill
their enemy alone. Even if he had been
disposed to lend a helping hand such was
the fierce confusion of the struggle that
he would have been as liable to have
hurt his faithful friends as their savage
foe. After a ten minutes’ struggle the
deep growls of the lion became more
faint; soon they ceased entirely, and the
proud hunter beheld his two brave dogs,
one at the broad muzzle of the mountain
king, and the other at his wide haunch.
The lion was dead and fairly “stretched
out,” to use an expressive Westernism.
Hair and Hide were dripping with gore
from a dozen different wounds, both
deep and sore. They were on the fight
still, however, and wanted to attack the
lioness at once, but Gaylor would not
allow them to do any more, and a ball
from his rifle stretched the lioness in
death. Each of the whelps demanded a
bullet, and the whole royal family had
paid the stern penalty of their tyranni
cal customs. — Chicago Tribune,
An Extraordinary Story.
A very remarkable case has come to our
attention through a friend in the Pen
sion office, which furnishes incidents for
a novel as powerful as any Dumas or Eu
gene Sue ever used. In 1864, a lieuten
ant from an Ohio village was killed in
one of the battles in Virginia, and his
body was sent home, buried with mili
tary honors, and a handsome monument
erected over it by the citizens of the
place. Thousands of people paid their
tributes of honor to the young hero, and,
looked upon his face as the body lay in
state in the town hall. He left a widow
to whom he had been married only a
year, and for more than twenty years she
has been trying to get a pension; but,
although she keeps fresh flowers upon
her husband’s grave, she cannot prove
that he is dead.
The records in the adjutant-general’s
office are perfect, and affidavits can be
furnished from thousands of people who
saw and recognized his lifeless body,but
every few mouths she receives a letter
from him, written in a hand as familiar
as her own. Two letters never come
from the same place; now they are post
marked in Colorado, then in Texas, then
in New York. Once she got a note
from him dated in Washington. Heap-
pears to knbw what is going on at home
and always alludes to local occurrences
with a familiarity that is amazing. He
sends messages to old friends, and gives
her advice about business matters which
it seems impossible for a stranger tc
know. She cannot answer these ghost
ly missives, because he never gives any
clew to his whereabouts, and no detec
tive has ever been able to find him.
Her friends believe that the writer oi
the letters is some crank or malicious
person who takes this way to annoy her,
and the distress the poor woman suffers
cannot be measured by any other human
experience, for we do not believe there
was ever such a case as this. Long ago
she ceased to open envelopes which
came with the familiar address upon
them, but sends them, sealed, to her at
torney, who uses every possible means to
secure a clew to the identity of the
writer. The only circumstance to sug
gest that it may possibly be her husband
are the penmanship and the familiarity
the writer shows with the lady’s private
life, but how he could keep himself
posted is another mystery that cannot be
solved.
Several times the writer has intimated
that he might soon pay her a visit, but
the next letter always contains an apol
ogy for not having done so. The woman
has suffered agony of mind beyond de
scription, and her life has been ruined
by this horrible mystery: but of late she
has become more resigned, and would
neither be suprised or disappointed if
her flusband should some day walk intc
her door.— Washington Capital.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES,
A passage Tliat I.aekcil Brilliancy.
“Bromley, you never heard such an
eloquent sermon before, I am sure.
There was no lagging of interest. Such
brilliant passages ”
“Yes, Darringer, I admit that. Still
I slept during one of the passages.”
“Lou did, eh? Why, Bromley, what ;
passage was it?”
“Txxppassage of the collectionbasket.” |
—Philadelphia Call.
somewhat extravagant action, there
should be a long, deep, dark hole, about
fifteen miles long, extending under the
nearest range of mountains for the citi
zens of the upper classes to retire into
until the coarse hilarity of the vulgar
crowd should have expended itself.—
Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle.
The milled Day.
Teacher—“What are the names of the
seven days of the week?”
Boy—“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
Teacher—“That’s only six days. You
have missed one. When does your
mother go to church?”
Boy—“When pa buys her a new hat.”
— Texas Siftings.
Just in From tile Far Country.
The prodigal leaned over the counter
and registered at the old reliable Husk
House. “Got the cold shoulder at the
other house,” he said.
“How did you come here?” asked Mr.
Schweinfortli, the landlord.
“On my face,” replied the prodigal.
“Any baggage?”
“A little gall and an empty stomach.’
“No capital?”
“My check.”
“Pretty hungry?”
“Well, I’m a good liver.”
“Well, you’re all right, young man.
You’re thoroughly equipped for a mu
seum of anatomy. Front! Show the
gentleman to the pig pen.—■Burdette.
Almost Crushed.
And these belles have their griefs, too.
I heard one tell her’s to a friend.
“You are looking quite sad to-day, I
do declare,” said a sympathizer; “what
in goodness’ name is the matter?”
‘ ‘Oh, I’ve had to give up my pug, and
it almost breaks my heart,” was the re -
ply. “I kept him beyond the fashion, I
was so awfully fond of him; but one
can’t quite be left away behind the
styles, you know, and I had to displace
him with a spaniel. I have him tenderly
cared for, of course, and he’ll be happy
enough for life, but that doesn’t assuage
my own grief. Oh, this frequent chang
ing of one’s dog is enough to crush a
sensitive nature. ”—Indianapolis News.
Alter Many Days.
On a Michigan Central train the other
day, a prominent citizen of Detroit, who
had a seat in the smoking-car, crossed
over to a young man who was vigorously
puffing away aud asked for a light. The
favor was granted, and the prominent
Detroiter observed:
“Live in the city?”
“Yes.”
“Going to Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you in the grocery business?”
“No, sir'”
“Ah! I thought I had met you before
at some time or other. Your face looks
familiar.”
“I—I used to court your daughter!”
stammered the young man.
“Oh-ho! Aboutthree years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And I gave you the bounce?”
! “You did.”
“Ah! I believe I do Recall the eircum-
i stances. Idon’t know but I kicked you?”
I “Yes, you did!”
' “A! Well, I : ,bounced and kicked so
many thut I can’t be expected to remem
ber names and faces. I take advantage
of this occasion to beg your pardon and
hope you’ve fully recovered from the ef
fects. Have a cheroot!”
Men make a living iu New York by
picking up cigar stubs thrown away in
the streets by smokers.
Tl»e Way ol the Old Traveler.
When we reached Toledo I looked at
my watch. We had barely ten minutes
to get across to the Union depot and
catch the Canada Southern train. It
looked like an impossibility, but to an
old traveler there is no such a word as
f, a, 1, e. I tossed my boy into the near
est carriage hurled my sister in after him,
ran down the platform like a madman, tore
the checks from my baggage (I always
call my room my apartments, the check
on my trunk, my checks, and my family
physician,my physicians; thereis so much
embonpoint and coup d’etat in a plural),
dragged my trunks to the carriage my
self, and shouted to the astonished hack-
mm, “An extra dollar if we catch the
Canada Southern!” How that man did
drive. Rackety swat over the pavements
of Toledo, over a telegraph messenger
boy on this corner and within an inch of
going over a wneelbarrow at a crossing,
but the wheelbarrow, being alone, was
more active than the messenger boy, and
so got out of the way. Over the bridge
like an arrow in spite of legal prohibi
tion, down to the Island House and here
we are. I thrust the hackman’s pay and
extra fee into his honest palm, hal the
trunks off the carriage before he could
touch it and whirled it up to the
baggage room. ‘ 'Troit!” I yelled.
“Lively now—have tick’t in mint.’
Away I flew to the ticket office,
knocking people right and left, followed
by the inspiring cheers and pleasant
remarks to the multitude. “Tick’t,
’Troit!” I shouted to the agent, snatched
up my ticket, threw down my money,
ran away without my change and found
my trunks checked. I seized it by the
remaining handle, yanked it off the
truck, and hauling my now affrighted
family along with the other hand, I flew
toward the track where the Canada
Southern should be standing. But a
quiet, grave looking man with a railway
uniform on stopped me.
“Where are you going?” he said
quietly.
“Detroit 1” I yelled. “G’out o’ my
way, ’r I’ll ride ye down.”
“But your train is not ready,”he said,
persuasively; “it doesn’t start for nearly
an hour yet. You should not get so
excited. The baggage master will take
care of that trunk, and I will call you
when the train is ready. The waiting
room is just at that further end of the
station.”
Any man’s watch is liable to run down
and stop, but that is no reason why the
people who loiter about railway stations
should be fools. There is too much
broad, glaring, publicity about our
American railway stations. There should
be more privacy, more exclusiveness.
At every railway station where people of
the upper classes arc liable to be misled
us to the standard and running time of
inactive watches and thus be led into
Drooping Shoulders.
This is a serious evil. It comprises
both appearance and vitality. A stoop
ing figure is not only a familiar expres
sion of weakness or old age, but it is,
when caused by careless habits, a direct
cause of contracted chest and defective
breathing. Unless you rid yourself of this
crook while at school, you will probably
go bent to your grave. There is one
good way to cure it. Shoulder-braces
will not help. One needs, not an artifi
cial substitute,but some means to develop
the muscles whose duty it is to hold the
head and shoulders erect. I know of
but one bull’s-eye shot. It is to carry a
weight on the head. A sheepskin or
other strong bag filled with twenty to
eighty pounds of sand is a good weight.
When engaged in your morning studies,
either before or after breakfast, put this
bag of sand on your bead, hold your
head erect, draw your chin close to your
neck and walk slowly about the room,
coming back, if you please, every
minute or two to your book, or carrying
the book as you walk. The muscles
whose duty it is to hold the head and
shoulders erect are hit, not with scatter
ing shot, but with a rifle-ball. The bones
of the spine and the intervertebral sub
stance will soon accommodate themselves
to the new attitude. One year of daily
practice with the bag, half an hour morn
ing and evening, will give you a noble
carriage, without interfering a moment
with your studies.
It would be very difficult to put into a
paragraph more important instruction
than this. Your respiration, voice and
strength of spine, to say nothing of your
appearance, will find a new departure in
this cure of drooping shoulders.—Bio
Lewis.
Cutting Ostrich Feathers.
The ostrich is not an easy bird to han
dle under the operation of feather cut
ting. You can well imagine that there
is some difficulty and also danger in
handling huge birds weighing some 350
pounds apiece. Feathers are cut once
every seven months, making it, as you
see, nearly twice a year. When we in
tend to cut a bird we approach it with a
plate of green corn, to which they eager
ly rush. They arc then caught by the
neck with the left hand, while with the
right hand you draw over the head a
stocking, thus blindfolding them. At
the bottom of the stocking is left a hole
through which their beak passes, giving
them an opportunity to breathe. As
soon as the bird is blindfolded he is
held still by four men, and in about half
an hour he is plucked. The white feath
ers are all cut, while the body and tail
feathers are plucked. I tell you there is
an immense future to this enterprise, as
the demand for ostrich feathers is ever
on the increase. Ostrich feathers are al
ways fashionable. If you watch this as
closely as I have done, you will discover
that there is a rage for ostrich tips at
different times all over the world,
whether it be in the colonies, in the
United States or in Europe. In five
years from now ostrich farming will be
a leading industry, and in ten years from
now it will be a staple industry of the
S United States.—San Francisco Call.
A Knowing Old Rabbit.
Here is a story which beats the Old
dog stories hollow, According to M.
Laborde, a writer in the Rerue Scientif-
ique, a rabbit, one of the ordinary tame
species, was bought for purposes of ex
periment at the Physiological Labora
tory in Paris, and after a portion of the
facial nerve had been removed it was
left to run about the laboratory. It very
soon recovered from the effect of the
operation, aDd was for four years M.
Laborde’s affectionate companion. It
would await at the top of the stairs his
arrival in the morning and would some
times run to meet him. Whenever it
had the opportunity the rabbit would
jump upon his knee, and was as fond of
caresses as a cat. During the progress
of an experiment it would sit on the op
erating table watching the proceedings
with every appearance of interest. Bun
ny’s chief delight, however, was in a
microscopical examination. As soon as
M. Laborde put his eye to the micro
scope the rabbit would perch on his
shoulders and endeavor to take a peep.
This wonderful animal lived on terms of
the most affectionate friendship with two
dogs belonging to the laboratory; but
when a strange dog arrived he invaria
bly turned it out and sometimes chased
it along the street. Nor did he show
himself very friendly to unfamiliar biped
visitors.—Pall Mall Gaze'tc.
Steam Fishing ior Whale.
Whale fishing in small steamers off the
coast of New England is getting to be a
business of some importance, four steam
ers (formerly catching menhaden) hav
ing been steadily engaged during the
past season. They cruise off the Maine
and Massachusetts shores as far south as
Cape Cod. A bom!) lance, fired from a
gun held at the shoulder is the weapon
employed in killing the whales, about
fifty of which have been taken this year.
They will average sixty feet in length
and twenty-five tons in weight. Each
one yields about twenty barrels of oil,
two barrels of meat, five tons of dry
chum and two tons of bone, the value
of which amounts to about $400. As
the men become expert in the capture
the whales become shy and keep more
in deep water. This will be fatal to the
business, as at present conducted, since
a dead whale usually sinks, and can
hardly be recovered from a depth of
more than forty fathoms.
The Officers Passed Them.
A year or so ago a merchant vessel
was sent to Havana to bring back to the
United States some shipwrecked sailors.
While there they obtained a lot of cheap
cigars, which they corded up in a great
pile on the deck Over this pile, which,
looked very much like a cord of wood,
they threw a lot of old sail cloth, and
when the customs officers asked them If
they had any dutiable goods on board
they pointed to this pile and said it con
tained cigars. The customs officers
they were
not h ok at them.
How Lincoln Cam© to Washington.
Elihu B. Washburne says in the Worth
American Bedew: There has been a great
deal printed in tbe newspapers about
Mr. Lincoln’s arrival in Washington,
and about the “Scotch cap” and “big
shawl” he wore through Baltimore, etc.,
most of which is mere stuff. I propose
now to tell about his arrival at Wash
ington, from my own personal know
ledge—what I saw with my own eyes
and what I heard with my own ears, not
the eyes and ears of some one else. As
I have stated, I stood behind the pillar
awaiting the arrival of the train. When
it came to a stop I watched with fear
and trembling to see the passengers de
scend. I saw every car emptied, and
there was no Mr. Lincoln. I was well-
nigh in despair, and when about to leave
I saw slowly emerge from the last sleep
ing car three persons. I could not mis
take the long, lank form of Mr. Lincoln,
and my heart bounded with joy
and gratitude. He had on a soft, low
crowned hat, a muffler around his neck,
and a short, bob tailed overcoat. Any
one who knew him at that time
could not have failed to recog
nize him at once, but I must con
fess he looked more like a well-to-do
farmer from one of the back towns of Jo
Davies’ county coming to Washington
to see the city, take out his land warrant
and get the patent for his farm, than the
President of the United States. The
only persons that accompanied Mr. Lin
coln were Pinkerton, the well known
detective, recently deceased, and Ward
H. Laman. When they were fairly on
the platform, and a short distance from
the ear, I stepped forward and accosted
the President, “How are you, Lincoln?”
At this unexpected and rather familiar
salutation the gentlemen were apparently
somewhat startled, but Mr. Lincoln,
Who had recognized me, relieved them
at once by remarking in his peculiar
voice: “This is only Washburn!” Then
We all exchanged congratulations and
Walked out to the front of the station,
where I had a carriage in waiting. En
tering the carriage (all four of us) we
drove rapidly to Willard’s hotel, enter
ing on Fourteenth street, before it was
fairly daylight. The porter showed us
into the little receiving-room at the head
of the stairs, and at my direction went
to the office to have Mr. Lincoln assigned
a room. We had not been in the hotel
tnore than two minutes before Governor
Seward hurriedly entered, much out of
breath,and somewhat chagrined to think
he had not been up in season to be at
the station on the arrival of the train.
The meeting of those two great men un
der the extraordinary circumstances
Which surrounded them was full of
emotion and thankfulness. I soon took
toy leave, but not before promising Gov
ernor Seward that I would take break
fast with him at 8 o'clock.”
Josh Billings and the Bunco Steerer.
“Josh Billings” had a great hatred of
shams, humbugs and cant, says a New
York paper. Clever rogues were his
favorite study and he was greatly de
lighted once at being taken for a fresh
countryman by a bunco steerer. His
rough, careless dress, colarless shirt and
thick boots, together with a queerly be
nevolent and confiding expression seemed
to stamp the old gentleman as a promis
ing subject. One day, strolling down
Broadway, a spruce young chap rushed
up to him and shook him warmly by the
hand.
“Morton, my dear fellow,” said he,
“how are you?”
1 ‘I gues3 you’re wrong, young man, ”
replied Josh mildly.
“Why, ain’t you Timothy Morton, of
Syracuse?”
“No, sir. I’m James W. Bailey, of
Rochester.”
The young man apologized and went
off, and two blocks further on his pal
came up to Josh, sprinkling smiles.
“Why, Mr. Bailey, how do you do?
How’s everybody at Rochester.”
“You’re wrong, young man,” said
Josh, with a childlike grin. “But I’m
Timothy Morton, of Syracuse. ”
Animal Courage,
The sagacious horse soon learns to
despise a timid rider. The confidence of
a horse in a firm rider and his own cour
age is great, as was conspicuously
evinced in the case of an Arab possessed
by the late General Sir Robert R. Gil
lespie, who, being present on the race
course at Calcutta during one of the
great Hindoo festivals, when several
hundred thousand people assembled to
witness all kinds of shows, was sud
denly alarmed by the shrieks of the
crowd, and informed that a tiger had es
caped from his keeper. Sir Robert im
mediately called for his horse, and
grasping a boar spear which was in the
hands of one of the crowd, rode to at
tack his formidable enemy. The tiger
was probably amazed at finding himself
in the middle of such a number of shriek
ing beings flying from him in all di
rections; but the moment he perceived
Sir Robert he crouched with the attitude
of preparing to spring, and that instant
the gallant soldier passed his horse in a
leap over the tiger's back and stuck the
spear through his spine. The horse was
a small gray, atterward sent home by
him a present to the Prince Regent.—
London Society.
An Able-Bodied Crab.
Both Darwin and Forbes were struck
with the wonderful provision of nature,
seen in the Kocos-Keeling islands, in the
case of the Birgus latro, or great cocoa-
nut crab. This is one of the largest of
the species of land-crabs, and it feeds
almost exclusively on cocoanuts. for
which purpose its pincer-claws are de
veloped to extraordinary power, capable
of breaking a cocoanut shell or a man’s
1 mbs. Although it climbs the tree, it
does not puil the fruit, but feeds upon
wat falls to the ground? With its
great claws it tears off the husk from
the nut, and then selecting the one of
the three eye spots which is always the
mast easily pierced probes- it with one
of its legs. Inserting the leg it rotates
the nut until the orifice is large enough
to permit the insertion of its great claws
to bre ik up the shell and. extract the
contents with comfort. Feeding on
such nutritious diet, the birgus accumu
lates a great deal of rich fat, which yields
sometimes as roach as two pints of oil.
This oil, thickened in the sun. forms an
o icellent substitute for butter, and is
a most exccHcit anti corrosive.—
0 ha rnlicrd Jo urn at.