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V * ' m I. . KSHED EVEKir TUESDAY, HI w 1 f . 1 --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.