Newspaper Page Text
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KSHED EVEKir TUESDAY,
HI
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--Ali VEETXSIKQ J
r .6ie -jtlme, - ® >■ » • « $1 00
, one month, - i a 'ijrygpjS 1 50
Ltfciree months, .’■*-«»-•; 6 00
igenterms.
9 cents a line.
THE STAR,
BonglasvHle, Ga,
*was paid upon 9,510,*
The average smoker is
cigar "Worth $80 per
bne, that retails at five
* basis there annually goes
l80j«00,000, or $15,000,-
|h, or $500,000 every day.
Exon boyS'H^^d on cigarettes
dofooo, and thosewSo, prefer a pip*
Ixrther sum of $20,000,000.
iKS*
*&£'■ V
For a cleryman to turn his talents to
the invention of an explosive to be used
in war is something of an anomaly, and
yet the Rev. Mr. Donohue has been made
I a lieutenant in the French army by Gen
eral Boulanger in return for having in
dented a destructive explosive to be
used in torpedo warfare. He has de
cided to call his new invention “carbon-
eted glycerine,” He says that it has ten
times the destructive power possessed by
nitro-glycerine, and c%n be handled with
a great deal more safety.
* Many people are strangely affected by
the light air and 6000 feet altitude oi
* Cheyenne, in Wyoming. They gener
ally imagine that they are going to be
carefully watched. Women are the
most liable»to be affected, and they feel'
the effi et of the rarefied atmosphere in
the cars before reaching the town.
Among other incidents of this n&ture a
^policeman' relates the following: “A
little fellow from Nevada began to show
the effect of the altitude as the train
aeared Cheyenne. By the time he had
reached there he had barricaded him
self in tne retiring room and was about,
to throw himself out of the window
when the trainmen foroed their way in
and caught him. He was sure some
body was going to kill him. I got him
away from the crowd and told him I'd
protect him, and finally got him quieted
Jo\^Bs~> The trainmen looked after him
until they began to descend from Sher
man, and thereafter he seemed to be as
sane as anybody. ”
lo Knows!
Jane leaves are green, pink is the roa*,
White bloom the lilies; yet who knows,
Or (Wears he knows the reason why?
None dare say— “I.”
The oriole, flitting, stoops and sips
A soft, sweet kiss from the lily’s lips;
Who taught the oriole to steal sot
None say they know.
Whether the oriole stops and thinks,
Or whether he simply stoops and drinks,
Saying it only suits him well;
This who can tell?
We marvel whither this life stream tends,
And how remote are its hidden ends;
But life and loving soon slip over
Time and the lover.
A kiss is all; a sip and a song;
A day is short, and a year not long,
Loving would double—but thinking stole
Half from the whole.
—[James Herbert Morse.
A writer in the Current says “there ii
no reason why America, with its great
variety of soil and climate, should not
avail itself of the benefits of the perfume
tndllstry, .especially in the Southern
. states of California. And even in.the
North it could be prosecuted with great
jRoses, violets, heliotropeplillies
of abscinds, mignonette, mock- “oranges
honey iocust, verbenas, lilacs, £ berga-
mont, jfosemary and many othe|- plant,
• • used in; perfume making could easily be
‘ grown.. And the fields of white clover,
the masses of wild eglantine, the fra
grant linden trees, the odorous arbutus
blooms and water lillies, the spicy laurel,
all of which grow wild, without the aid
of human culture, need but gathering to
be made a source of profit as well as
beauty. The possibilities of flower cul
ture in the south ean hardly be over es
timated. The most riotous imagination
can scarcely picture the realities of the
natural flower gardens of California,
where plants, which here, with the most
careful cultivation, are only modest
shrubs, grow to tall trees, adorned with
their coronals of beauty and fragrance.
All the rare beauties of the floral king
dom, which in the north are brought in
to bloom by the most painstaking pxo-
ccss in greenhouses and conservatories,
not only -throng the gardens there, hut
run in wild'luxuriance over uncultivated
a*s Sra figlds J 9nd hillsides. Florida’too, could
be made a veritable Elysium of loveli
ness. Honey raising could also be as
sociated with the flower industry, as the
immense flower fields would be a para
dise for bees, and so a double profit be
derived with but little extra outlay
of labor or expense.
Photography at Sea.
Photography at sea is becoming quite
frequent, and is a means of recording
many interesting scientific and other
facts.' Much light may thus be thrown
upon, the science of wave form and in
numerable other martne.subjects. Pho-
..toaraphy. is also capable of .serving the
An
; ins'f:Ybtaneous'picture of a vessel ‘ when,
ls..a valuable
subject for study by the designer of hulls
and engine builders. To be of this ser
vice the speed of tipe vessel must be
known. This data may be obtained
from the picture itself by the length of
the vessel being known, and by a spe
cial rig for the photographer. A shut-
. ter is required which will give two in
stantaneous (so-called) exposures, the
time between exposures being known.
For instance, a vessel two hundred'feet
long is to be , photographed at speed,
and while going slow, etc. One second
elapses between the two exposures, and
two; images of the vessel appear upon
the picture. By applying a scale to the
photograph we find that the vessel
moved one—twentieth of her length in
one second, or just ten feet; by a little
calculation this is found to equal about
6.83 miles per hour. The speed thus
being known,; the “throw of water” oi
position of waves on the. vessel may be
studied at leisure by the designer.
Two images of the vessel upon the same
plate interferes somewhat with the
study of waves, but’if ; a second, earner*
be employed i distinct picture may be
taken at the same time .the dual view
; is secured, and the.single view used for
t purpose of study, the speed being de-
\ termined as before front the dual view.
[ Amateur Photographer.
V
An Unexpected Result.
BT BELEK FORREST GRAVES.
“Mar/! Mary 1”
Tixo landlady’s voice echoed shrilly
down the deserted hallway of the
King’s Cross hotel.
Deserted, we say, for at this time of
the year little traveling patronage was
vouchsafed to King's' Cross.
The post-mastir boarded at the hotel,
and the. town cU-rk had a room there,
and the farmers dined there of market
lays (which only came once a week),
>ut the arrival of a real live gue3t from
lie railway station, four miles away,
always created a flutter.
King’s Cross was a dreary little
hamlet, scattered, in an inconsequent
fashion, along the ragged Maryland
coast, wi< h a round lighthouse, whose
eye of revolving, flame glared wickedly
out to sea of stormy nights; there was a
bathing beach, more or less washed
away by the capricious tides, and an
irregular street of old stone houses and
woodon cottages.
There was a post office, a village store,
and an ancient stone church, whose
graveyard, on a steep side hill, seemed
to be slipping down the bank, in a suc
cession of rude terraces, until its down
ward course was promptly arrosted by a
hedge of gnarled and hoary yew, at the
foot.
And this was King’s Cross —one of the
oldest and ugliest villages on the Mary
land coast.
“Mary! Isay, Mary, where are you?”
Once more Mrs. Yorke’s voice sent its
cracked burden down the paved hall, and
a tall, pretty girl camo hurriedly up
through the tall, purple: spikes of the
lilac-trees in the ha< k garden.
‘ ‘Were you calling me, Mrs. Yorke ?
Oh, I am very sorry, but—”
“Calling ytu 1” Mrs. York put her
hand plaintively to.' her throat; and
rolled her eyes up inward the ceiling, by
way ®f evincing great mental and physi
cal prostration. “Calling youl And
where, may I venture to ask, have you
been?”
- Mary Folyott was a pale, violet-eyed
girl, with hair of-Ahe real Scotch gold, a
delicate profile, and sensitive red lips.
“I—-I have been to the graveyard,”
she murmured, “with some wild roses
and white lilies. Oh, Mrs. Yorke, par
don me! I ran both ways; but it was
Decoration Day, and I did not want his
grave to be desolate and neglected,
while every one else’s was loaded with
flowers.”
“Mary Folyott, I’m surprised at you!”
said Mrs. Yorke. “Hes dead and bur
ied, and, by all accounts, though I neVer
saw the young man, you couldn’t treat
him decently while he was living. I
don’t think it signifies much about flow
's- fkst he’s gone. And you’re
i »/. 0 yuuto remember, to work
for mb, and not to carry flowers to other
folkses’ graves 1”
Mary Eolyott hung her bead; but she
was well accustomed to eat the bitter
bread of dependence.
How brief a while ago it was that she
was the petted darling of f >rtune I Now,
orphaned, penniless and alone, she was
drudge-in-chief to Mrs, Yorke, of the
King’s Cross Hotel, her father’s second
cousin.
1 “Come, make haste 1” said Mrs. Yorke.
“There's a gentleman came in the nine-
o’clock stage. He’s in Number Nine
teen, and he wants his breakfast, and
old Cassy’s got the toothache, and won’t
lift a finger. Stir up some muffins and
fry some eggs, there’s a dear, and I'll be
broiling chicken and getting the coffee
ready.”
Mechanically Mary obeyed. It was
ratherJC monotonous life for a girl of
eighteen; but after all Mrs. Yorke was
-fairly kind in her way when there was
no especial hurry, and when Cassy, the
cook, did not aggravate her, or Mr.
Yorke give way to his-particular failing
of too much Bourbon whiskey.
Mary stood in the cool shadows of the
vine leaves that veiled the milk-room
window, listening to the rush of the surf
on the shore, and watching the robins
dart in and out of the old button-ball
trees, and stirred the English muffins
with busy fingers, while her thoughts
went sorrowfully back to the grave under
the shadow of the yew hedge, where she'
kad left the white lilies and the crushed
heap of fragrant roses.
“Not even a sunbeam 1” she had said, ;
rebelliously, as she pushed back the
gray-green yew, breaking off the
branches and bending back the spurs in
a sort of hot anger. “He shall have sun
shine on his grave—to-day, at least.”
And as Mary worked, the slow tears
trickled one by one down her cheek.
She had loved Hugh Derby very dear
ly, but she had a coquettish element
through her nature—liko most women;
unfortunately—and he had gone away to
the far South, believing that she did not
care for him.
And then had come the dreadful rail
road accident, and they had brought
back his body to be buried at King’s
Cross, because the railroad corporation
owned a lot in the old churchyard, and
it was the most convenient place for the
interment of the poor victims of the
mishap.
There they lay, side by side, their
graves marked only by rude stone
crosses, inscribed simply by the name
and death date of each sleeper,
And Mary felt that her heart was
broken and lifeless within her forever.
“Nonsense 1” Mrs. Yorke had said.
“It won’t last—nothing lasts. Why, I
had just such experience when I was a
gal. There was Abe Alexon, as drove a
tin-peddler’s wagon, the likeliest lellow
you ever set eyes on. Me and him was-
as good as engaged, but we bad a spat
and parted, and the very next week he
fell over King’s Cross Cliff of a dark
night and was killed. Bless you, I felt
as if the whole world had come to an
end j but here I be now married to Hiram
Yorke, and as happy as most folks.
Hiram ain’t perfection, to be sure, but
Abe was pretty partial to old rye, too,
or he’d never have drove his old horse
over King’s Cross Cliff instead o’ ’round
it. And I reckon things al’ays happens
for the best, take one year with an
other,” contentedly added the stout ma
tron, as she stirred a saucepanful of
onions with a ponderous tin spoon, while
Mary Folyott winced at the unpalatable
parallel.
| What was there in common between
handsome Hugh Derby and the luckless
hero who, onco on a time, peddled tin
and drank too much?
The muffins were baked, the eggs fried
to the exact shade of golden brown, and
the breakfast for “the gentleman in
Number Nineteen” safely off her mind,
when Mary Folyott stole down to the
graveyard once more, with a basket of
delicious white rhododendrons, which a
little colored girl had just brought her
from the woods.
“I done knowed yo’ loved white po
sies, missee,” said Cora Anne, who was
in Miss Folyott’s class at Sunday school,
“so I done brung yo’ dese yarl”
It was golden noontide now; the clus
ters of sweet fern exhaling aromatic
scents; the cows standing in the shadow
of hazel copses; the ocean sparkling like
a plain of blue diamonds.
The task of decorating the graves—
for which King’s Cross usually turned
out with a band, a covered wagon, and
a concourse ot straggling villagers—
would not commence until three o’clock.
“They shall see that he has not been
forgotten," said Mary, as she toiled along
under the bowery apple branches, and
past the rippling music of the little
brook. “Oh, Hugh—my Hugh—if only
I could recall one short hour of the
past 1”
She strewed the white,, rhododendrons
on the green sod, as the words escaped
involuntaiily front her lips,
i “Oh, Hugh—tdear Hugh—if £«$uld
only speak to* you once again P’ she'
uttered, aloud.-. ; H ||Q§||§§jg
“Speak, then, dearest Mary! My
Mary, if I were indeed dead and in
heaven, I think I conld not be happier
than I am now.”
The basket of rhododendrons fell to
the ground. Mary Folyott wou d have
fallen, too, if she had not been caught
in a pair of strong arms.
“Darling Mary, do not turn so white 1”
pleaded her lover, “I am not a ghost,
no phantom! Iam Hugh Derby’s self,
alive and well, come back to lay my heart
at your feet, and claim the love that is
so precious to me. It isn’t so impossi
ble as you think. I’m not dead, and 1/
never have been dead. But the poor
fellow who had the bed next to mine in
the Accident Ward of the St. Monica’s
Hospital, died the night they brought
him in, and the cards at our bed-heads
got accidently changed. I was No. 4,
and when my number was affixed
to another bed, I lost my
identity at once. We are not
Smith or Brown in a hospital,
Mary—we are only Six or Four, as the
case may be. So when poor Maurice
Blenheim died, in the bed labelled ‘4,’
they turned to their books and made out
a burial certificate for Hugh Derby, one
of the victims of the railroad accident.
And before I recovered from the brain
fever that followed on the blow I re
ceived from the end of the car seat when
I fell they had me duly buried with all
the honors of book and bill. I couldn’t
make ’em believe that I was Hugh Der
by, and not Maurice Blenheim, and so
Ileft off trying. And, after all, wbat
did it matter much? What charm had
life left for me?”
“But, Hugh, I loved you.” I
“But, Mary, I did not know it; and
«o I dawdled away the sunshiny hours on
those sweet F.oridian shores, thinking
how strange it felt to be wandering
alone, like a disembodied spirit, without
any identity at all, and half disposed to
wonder for what especial use God had
g ven me back my life, when all of a
sudden the strong desire came upon me
to travel northward to King’s Cross—to
ldok upon my own grave. Mary, I be
lieve to heaven it was your love attract
ing me like an invisible magnet. Sweet
heart, you have brought me back to you
and now I never shall go away without
you,”
“I—I don’t want you to!” whispered
Mary Folyott, her soft cheeks suffused
with blushes her eyes shining like, wet
stars. “Oh, Hugh, I am so very, very
happy. I haven’t deserved this, Hugh,
but I will never be 'silly or capricious
I again.”
“Maryl Mary!” screamed the shrill,
: ialsetto voice of Mrs. Yorke. - “Why,
what hes become of the child? She’
here, and there and nowhere, like a
will-o'-the-wisp. Mary! is that you
coming up the lane? And Cassy sick,
and old Betsey gone home to her sister’.-
funeral! I should like to know what is
to become of Number Nineteen’s dinner,
with the chickens spqrcliing, the
bread-saucc to be made, arRWBe cherry
tartlets not looked at? ‘You are getting
too careless for anything, an d-—Oh, good
gracious me, sir,’’ with, a prodigious
start, “I’m sure I beg a thousand pardons,
but—^'fplK - T-ja
“Am I always hereafter to be known
by a number, like a lottery ticket ?” said
Hugh Derby, laughing.... “Never mind
the dinner, Mrs. Yorke-J-Miss Folyott
could tell you that I am ai. old friend of
hers.” ip
And when Mrs. Yorke h#ard the story,
she was quite willing jfo concede thgt
triith Was stranger than' 1 , fiction; and fcj
an instant it seemed almost possible that
Abe, the tin-peddler, might y e * a PP® ar
on this mundane sphere. -/ISa
“One thing wouldn’t be %iore im
possible than t’other,” said*-«ho, as she
Weighed out spices for a pudding.
While Hugh and Mary, walking by
the sea, watched the jnirple portals of
sunset Close on the beautiful Decoration
Day which had brought such a gift of
happiness. ^ their hearts. —[Saturday
Night. ” “ r;;'■
| Unhealthful Occupations.
When the air we breathe is oontami-
nated by stagnation, byj breathing, by
fires or'artificial light, sntjh as candles,
lamps and gas, it operates as a poison
and injures the constitufiW. People
seem to think that wholesome food and
drink are much more important than
pure air, and their reason of so thinking
is because air is an invisible substance.
Crowds of mechanics of all kinds, are
frequently pent up from morning ' to
night, without even thinking of opening
their windows for a single half hour for
the admission of fresh air. When in
England one-fifth of all the deaths are
from pulmonary consumption; in France
one-sixth; in Germany one-seventh, and
in our own country one-eighth ;and when
we see the carelessness on e -cry hand '
about what we breathe, it is not difficult
to discover the eause of such a fearful
mortality, and also it is not difficult to
discover the remedy. As things are now
it cannot be denied that some occupa
tions are more unhealthful than' others,
and vet the differences,, in a sanitary
sense, could be greatly lessened. City
people are more subject to pulmonary
disease than those of the country, and
this need not be; at least while there is
so free a circulation of pure air , in the
city, a better use conld ho made of what
there is. ;
Sedentary employments are less favor
able than the active kinds, yet the man
ner and posture can work marked modi
fications. A dust laden atmosphere is the
most difficult evil to face. To environ
the worker with a pure atmosphere is
possible, put its execution is not so easy.
Occupations that nre.^lassed as unheaith-
ful can be made less ^ 4xy. properly un-
: fTtirntnirtijfl' 'nnd pratapjjSyjhs laws |§g|j
i L - : A Benver’^nstinM.pEWF^
An old hiinttir living in the Crazy
Mountains caught a /oung beaver soon
after its birth and carried it to his cabin,
where he gradually made a great pet of
if. As the youngster approached ma
turity he got to building dams, and each
morning the hunter found his cabin floox
divided by a dam that reached from
wall to wall, the § component parts ol
which were firewood, boots, articles oi
clothing and other., movable article^ in
the house that could be reached oi
transported. To add to the confusion,
a basin or bucket of water, if possible
was capsized and flooded over the floor.
This little animal, who had never seen
a stream or a dam to know either, was
bpsily at work engaged ,in doing What
his forefathers had done a thousand
years before him.
While all other game or fur-bearing
animals of the northwest 5 are likely to
be exterminated without dissenting 1
voice the poor little harmless and hard
working beaver has found a fast friend
in the catt'le-men and herd-owners. The
reason is obvious. In this great dry
country and climate the streams and
water-holes on the ranges are few and
far between. Moisture is the cattle
man’s greatest want. Now, a beaver
destroys nothing but trees, and as there
are few of the latter on the great tree,
less plains of Montana, the beaver of
necessity lives on shrubs and roots and
builds his dam where he may. This
just suits the cattleman, who finds in the
insignificant' little quadruped, compared
to his 1000-pound steers, a most val
uable ally in providing ponds and drink
ing places where there were none before.
—Ban Francisco Gall.
Two of Constantinople’s Mysteries.
The following is from Emile Julliard’s
second article in the April Cosmopoli
tan on “Life Beneath the Crescent.”
Below, Birbin Derek presents' its
mysterious opening. It is a cistern with
a thousand columns, under which
slumbered formerly a large and deep
lake. To-day it is dry, and one can
walk freely am ng the pillars, which
vanish in the darkness. The Armenian
silk winders hawset up their frames in
this subterranean place, into which the
light comes in fantastic gleams,' and
which covers not less than 20,000 square
feet.
The Yere Batan Serai (palace under
ground) is another cistern, less cele
brated but quits as curious. It still
contains a thin sheet of stagnant, water,
which is healthy only to the frogs that
have made it their home. It is reached
by a dark passage, the vault of which is
supported by 336 marble columns, 1 be
longing to a fantastic and very 'mixed
architecture. It .is scarcely a century
since this cisterns was discovero 1. Mus
sulmans, who yi^ftl nothing to the Occi
dentals in the domain of superstitions,
tell a thousand Aismal stories about thoss
that dared to brjive the shadows of this
mysterious cistern, where the Angel oi
Evil comes to siek an asylum when hs
visits Constantinople.^-[Cosmopolitan.
UNIQUE DINNERS.
Eeoentrloitiea at Dinnar
Tables in the. Metropolis. .
\
Artistic Skill in Gutting Fruit and Vege
tables, Practical Jokes, Etc.
‘ ‘Eccentricities at the dinner-tables,”
says a New York correspondent of the
Detroit Post, “seems' to be the rage this
season. Any startling or unique inno
vation appears to be Welcome, The
fresh young man, who cuts a human
face on an orange and then squeezes the
fruit Until the eyes weep and the mouth
drizzle's, is in his glory. If ladies are at
the fable, he takes greater pleasure in
exhibiting his artistic skill. A few
smile, some give Vent to exclamations
of commisseration, and others preserve a
dignified silence. Peeling an orange
geometrically is another accomplish -
ment. The yellow rind is cut in lines
with a sharp penknife until it re
sembles the ‘‘prisoner’s puzzle,” just now
attracting so much attention. The skin
is then stripped from the fruit in sec
tions, making quaint angles, made amus
ing by the explanations accompanying
them. The apple, the Malaga grape, the
radish, and the banana also afford much
amusement in the hands of accomplished
artists. Indeed, one man has won such
eclat by bis skill in carving vegetables
and esculents that be is known in society
as “Banana Bob.”
Frequently these dining-table eccen
tricities are turned into practical jokes.
At a little dinner given to ex-Sheriff
William Wright of Newark, N. J., at
George Hopcraft’s recently, the guests
were in a continual roar ot laughter. The
chocolate cream candies were stuffed
with cotton, t'r.e lemon drops were made
of gum guaincum, and the candied al
monds -were filled with Tabasco sauce.
Vegetables in covered dishes were placed
oh the table with each course, and the
guests were asked to assist in serving
them. In removing the covers a live
eel, an enormous bullfrog, and a huge
lizard from Lake Ontario wore disclosed.
All' were extremely lively. The eel
slipped within the low-cut waistcoat of
the Sheriff, the bullfrog landed on Fish
Commissioner Charles Murphy’s shoulder
and the lizard shot into the bosom of the
wicked Senator Gibbs. An old shoe,
mildewed and rotten, was placed before
Mr. McSwyny, a weii-known shoemaker.
He grew red ih the face and was about
to .treat the matter as a mortal insult,
when James Oliver »of Paradise
Park turned the old shoe oyer,
opened a siide in the sole, and disclosed
a dozen cigars of the fiuest flivor. The
shoe was a candied dummy, made to or
der. The little party became so boister-
kOUsrn its merriment thalja police officer
Ml Irish descent uppeayfed. On seeing
•iShe-eondit><>-> of tlve table,‘the room, and
nts occupants, lie ^pnlogteW'f® ? mS : '’^®«
thision, sayiiig f ir'“Shm|fane! shin fane 1
I thought yees were having a bit of ii
ruction, but it’s nothin’ but a shindy l - ’
He improved the- opportiiftity offered
while all heads were turned listening
to a good story to sweep the remains of
the confectionery into his, capacious
coat pocket. The theft was discovered
after his departure. “If his wife gets
a chocolate cream, his mother-in-law a
lemon drop and the youngest child an
almond bean, what a happy lime that
ooliceinan will have after he gets home,”
observed the sheriff, and the hilarity was
redoubled.
I hear of dinners in the avenue where
living canaries fly out of tue pies and
where bouquets of choice flowers hooped
with diamond rings are placed at the
plate of each guest. At another enter
tainment tiny oil paintings on leaves of
ivory depicted scenes in the life of
each guest. Uncle Rufus Hatch dis
played an unmatched eccentricity prior
to his departure to Europe. He had in
vited a friend to dine with him in a
private room at Morelli’s. An excellent
dinner was served. At its conclusion,
•and while thq coffee was steaming, Rufus
called for Cubanos. Th -y were brought.’
“Now bring us a light,” said the ex—
magnateYrom Wall street. The waiter
lighted a short snowy-wicked candle.
Rufus raised the china candlestick to
his mouth and lighted the cigar. He
then replaced the stick on the table,
and to the surprise of his guest took the
lighted candle from its socket, put it in
his mouth, ate and swallowed , it. He
changed not a muscle of his conntenance,
but there was a merry twinkle in his
gray eyes. A similar candle was placed
before his guest, who also lighted his
cigar. When asked why he did not eat
the taper he replied that he was no Cos
sack. Tnereupon Rufus opened his
mouth and sent the second candle into
his stomach after the first one.
It was a week before the guest got an
explanation of . the mystery. The can
dles were parts of apples fashioned into
rotund shape by the expert use of ,a pen
knife, and the wicks were the meats Of
almonds pared down and stuck into the
top of the vegetable tapers.
His Autograph Returned.
The Christian Advocate tells this
story: A celebrated man knew how to
make a most excellent cup of coffee,
A well-known minister wrpte to him
asking for the recipe. His request was
granted, but at the bottom of the letter
-was the following manifestation of stu
pendous conceit: “I hope that this is a
genuine request and not a surreptitious
mode of securing my autograph.” To
which the minister replied: , “Accept my
thanks for jflK recipe for making toffee
I vvrbte in good faith, anil in order to
.convince you of that fact allow me to re
turn what you obviously infinitely prize,
but which is of no value to me, your au
tograph.”
Denver is the highest of the State
capitals, being 5,175 t'.efc above the sea
level.
Turpentine Fanning iu Georgia.
A turpentine farm consists of from five
to forty crops of 10,600 boxes each. The
work is sometimes carried on by the ,
owners of the pine forests themselves;
again, the tress are leased out for a cer
tain number of years, two or three being
about the limit. , Negro labor is princi
pally employed in this section. The
work commences in November, when the
boxing of the trees begins. The boxes,
which are cut sloping back into the trees
about a foot from the ground, measure
three inches back at bottom, four doep,
and about 17 in length. In March they
are cornered; that is, a chip is taken off
on both sides just above the ends of the
boxes. Next the faces for dripping are
cut Y-shape .between and above the
places chipped. The number of faces
on each tree depends upon its size, vary
ing from one to three. Besides the
original cutting of the faces, the treeg
are hacked once a week during the drip
ping season with a peculiarly shaped
knife suited to the purpose. The hack-
ing increases the length of the faces,
as one or two inches of bark are taken off
above each time.
The dipping of the crude into bar
rels begins about the middle of March,
and the boxes are emptied seven or eight
times during the season. They hold
from one two quarts each, and from 10,-
000 boxes 210 barrels is considered a
fair, 250 a fine yield. The first year’s
dripping is called “virgin,” the second
“yearling,” and all after “old stuff.”
From eight barrels of crude they get two
of spirits of turpentine, and five to five
and a half of resin. Of the latter there
are several grades: W. W., “water-
white”; W. G., “window-glass”; M,
next highest, and so on up the alpha
bet, but down in quality, to A. the let
ter J being omitted. The first drippings,
if not scorched in boiling, make beau
tifully white, transparent resin; hence
the name “water-white.” The crude
producing this can never be obtained
from the trees after the first month’s run
ning; that for W. G., “window-glass,”
possibly, into July or August. —[Popular
Science M n hly.
Street Scenes in Ceylon.
Leaving the carriage, writes a corres
pondent of the Baltimore Sun, we start
ed out for a walk through the streets,
which present an aspect very d iff ;rent
from those of cities in India. Europeans,
Cingalese, Tamils and Moormen all min
gle together in apparent concord, and
each race could easily be distinguished
by manner of dress from the others.
The male Cingalese is a walking curios
ity in the matter of dress. In the place
of trousers he wears a rectangular piece
of figured stuff wrapped around his legs
Jte'iMS- —wrapped
so tight as to make it impossible for him
to take any but short, hiincing steps.
Wit#~ : tli!s lie also woarsi* a short, neat
jacket of dark cTotB. His hair, which
is long and of„a glossy ' lijack, lie wears
combed straight back and rolled up into
a tight roll on the back of his head, with
this roll kept in place by a large, high
tortoise-shell comb. As a general rule
ho also wears earrings, ani, if he is
young, it is not an uncommon thing for
strangers to mistake him for a woman.
Their women dress much in the same
style, with the exception of the jackets,
and it is often difficult to distinguish
between the sexes.
Th* Poet.
He sings: and snch mnseornful few as hssA, ,
Say kindly, “Good, perhaps, but whatfs the
[ need?”
And others mutter, “Words!
All has been said that there is need to say.
What does he want, this piper bound to play
Before unllstening herds?"
And so the dreams that dazaied him at d**rs '
Decline, and as the silent nisht oomes on,
Mad pray’r and protest cease;
Yet sickening hope through failure will
abide,
Until the hungry heart, unsatisfied-
in death finds its first peace.
And then—one day the wakening nattaw
say,
“No doubt, this man’s was an inspired lay—
Bow to the laureled head!”
And then—he is bewept, and loved and
praised;
And then—enduring monuments are raised
To him long dead, long dead!
—[Gertrude Hall, in the Century.
HUMOROUS.
Adulterated Spices.
“I know a man,” remarked a gentle
man this morning, “who is so conscien
tious that, after starting in the spice busi
ness at considerable expense, he sold out
at a l>ss rather than continue a manufac
turing concern that could only be made
profitable by adulterating the manufac
tures and se l ug impure goods. There
is more adulteration in spice, he told me
than in anything else, and. the making
of the adulterating ageuts is a business
in itself. Why it has not been long
since there was a m li ov*r in Camden
where fruit-importing firms here, and
those that manii a;tured prepared cocoa-
nut, sent their-cocoanut six 1 which
were then ground into powder and used
for adulteration. I believe the method
is to find out what you can get for your
spices and then adulterate them so yon
mm make a profit at the figures ramed.
The strength and pungency of the spice
are usually made to correspond with its
price.—[Philadelphia Bulletin.
The Tiger and the Steam Roller.
The tiger is but mortal after all, and
can be as easily frightened as other much
more timid creatures. One that had
escapea from its home in Calcutta met a
steamroller in the streets and grew so
alarmed that it at once turned tail. In
its terror it fled into a house, leaped over
the breakfast-table at which four per
sons were sitting, and finally found
refuge in a corner of the kitchen, where
it crouched down quite cowed. After
some time it was prevailed upon to leave
its quarters by the bait of a meal.
Coffee Cherries.
The fruit of the coffee tree is so like
English cherries that, it is said, most
folk would be at a loss to tell a heap of
the berries from a heap of the edible
fruit. This applies, however, only to
theiroutward appearance, for the berry
contains'-no stone, but two seeds in
stead. These seeds (which are carried*
in a thick leathery skin, called “parch
ment”), after going through different
processes, become the coffee beans of
commerce.
The Unhappy Creditor.
First student— “Where are you going,
Tom?”
Second student— “To my tailor. ”
“Going to pay hirfi what you owe
him?”
“Not much. When he wants nfoney
he has to come to me, and then I tell
Msa whento come again,”—[Siftings.
•\
It is a wise stock that knows its own
par,-
The best illustrated paper out—A
banknote. .
A flowery speech—An address before
a millers’ convention.
A leading question—“Will you .
this horse to water?”
The ocean is like a good housewife— *
very tidy.
The base ball players, it is predicted,
will be oat on strikes very frequently
during the season:
“You can’t play that on me,” Mid the
piano to the amateur, who broke down
on a difficult piece of music. ,
Customer: “Do you have ‘Night. ~
Thoughts?’ ” Salesman: “No, marm,
I have to work so hard day-times, I sleep
powerful sound.” V
Jay Gould says that it made him very
sad to go to church when a boy. He
made a great many other men sad wjpm
he left the church and went to Wall
street. ■ , . ■
A recent novel says: “And he went
to bed and enjoyed a ’sound, drenrqlss#^,^^
sleep.” How can a man enjoy anything
when he'is unconscious?
Husband (impatiently to wife)—“I
told you I only wanted half a cup of
tea, and, as usual, you’ve filled it up to
the top. Don’t you know what hall
full is?” Mother- in-law (grimly)—“She
ought to know by this time'. You’ve
been half full often enough.”
A Cariosity of the Camera. J-'*'-”"--
We have often seen, in sbhool and [
college annuals, tables giving the aver
age weight, height and mifttal-artaflt*
ments of a class of fifty, or perhaps two
hundred members; but that the personal
appearance of_all the different individ
uals composing the class could be fo-
cused . into-one set of leatures, which
would combine the most prominent,
characteristics of the entire number in a
fsinglCIypSrT*this might 'Seem to be be- ...
yon&the bounds of possibility. And yet' - "
the feat, for such it may still be called,
has been successrtxTly performed a num
ber of times. An almost uncanny sensa
tion seizes one as he realises that the
face which he sees as the result is neither
the fancy sketch of an artist, nor yet the
likeness of a friend.
The process by which the various
portraits are transferred from their re
spective negatives and blended into one
resulting type is a very complicated and
delicate one. To be sure, even in the
most successful cases, the outlines are
somewhat indefinite and hazy, but the
face itself preserves to a wonderful de
gree the most marked characteristics of
the group.
T io art has been named , composite
photography; and we should think that
our American novelists, with their par
tiality for character study, might herein
find an interesting field for their pens. —
[Golden Argosy.
A Temple of Serpents.
The small town of Werda, in the
kingdom of Dahomey, is celebrated for
its Temple ot Serpents, a long building
in which the priests keep upward of 1000
serpents of all sexes, which they feed
with the frogs and ' birds brought to
them as off-^tijigs by the natives. These
serpents, many of them of enormous size,
may be seen, hanging from the beams
across the ecidng with theif heads hang
ing downward, and in all sorts of strange
contortions. The priests make the small
serpents go through various evolutions
by lightly touching them with a rod, but
they do not venture to touch the larger
ones, some of which are big enough to
enfold a bullock in their coils, it ^ften
happens that some of these serpents make _
th >ir way out of the temple into the .
town, and the priests have the greatest
difficulty in coaxing them back. To kill,
a serpent intentionally is a crime pun-*
ished with death; and if a European
were to kill one the authority of th*
King himself would scarcely suffice to
save his life. Any one killing a serpent
unintentionally must inform the priest
of what has occurred, and go through
the course of purification which takes
place once a year.—[St. James Gazette.
Too Narrow.
There was an estimable Quaker woman
who kept a boarding-house, and was so
prospered as to be often obliged to send .
some of her patrons to lodge in the
houses of her neighbors. Recently a.
eompany of a dozen or so of Baltimore
ans, who had been recommended to this
lady, arrived in the city, and at once re
paired to her residence.
“1 can give thee all board,” said sha
ko the Marylanders, “but thee must sleep "i:
In Coffin’s.”
“What!” cried the amazed apokea-
mao.
“That is the best I ean do for thee;
and if thee do not like it, thee can go
elsewhere.”
And the indignant visitors went,
N.