u§,
• ' ■
THE GOLDEN EXCEPTION.
8hf lifts back the window-curtain:
He closes the L ftte bolow;
She smiles—a coquette. I am cortoin;
His eyes take a tender kIow.
Will It be this way after marriage?
Will they play at sweethearts through lifo!
Miter*, you who true love disparate:
They have flirted for years—that’s his wife!
- New England Magazlno.
SCARLET FORTUNE.
BY II. HERMAN.
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CHAPTER I.
It was a pretty face.’
It wus a pretty smiling g-Irllsh fuco.
The biff blue eyes laughed at him
from underneath tho plnk-Howorod
cotton sun bonnet; a smile danced
over'the dimpled cheeks, and drew
apart tho kissablc lips. A provok
ing face—ho came very nigh saying
to himself, a cheeky little faeo—and
yet he was in love with it alroady.
He was a handsome young fellow,
tall and straight. Those shouldors
of liis would, in time, broaden, and
that chest would oxpand hugely, but,
just then, ho was as thin as a rat, and
as lithe as a panther.
UU dark eyes flashed with con
scious pleasure, and ho twisted and
twirled, with a brown huml, a little
moustache in which ho seomod to
take a youthful pritjo. His face,
dark as a berry with hoalthful ex
posure to sun, wind and rain, fairly
beamed at the girl, and ho shook the
wavy mane which foil over his shoul
ders, as in playful chiding.
She had folded her rounded arms
across her breast, and, in doing
so. the sleeves of her cotton
gown had turned up just a
trifle, and showed the parts which
tho sun had not touched, pink and
rosy. No corset trammeled that
supple form; her limbs had as free
play as was accorded to the creatures
of earth or heaven.
He, who had been nurtured among
the dreary luxuries and the ghastly
refinements of society' civilization,
had nover thought woman half as
lovely as he uow adjudged tho froo
born daughter of the mountains of
tho West.
"Then, you’ro not afraid to bo
here all alone, like that?” ho asked.
8ho looked at him with a mocking,
puzzled .enquiry.
- *’AfeardP” she asked. "Afeard o’
what?”
•■If your father loaves you here
like that,” the young man continued,
“all sorts of things may happen.
There are some mighty bad men
about this neighborhood, I can tell
you, and they might carry you off
and make no bones about it.”
She burst into a laugh like a rlpplo
•of silvery ohimes. . x
••Bad men!" she exclaimed, with
her arms akimbo swaying her body
by slightly inclining it to the right,
and turning up her witching blue eyes
at him. “Bad men!” she repeated;
“I reckon thar’s shucks on ’om, an’
no small game neither. Thar’s Yu
taw Bill. He blowed the top of a
man’s head off week afore last at tho
creek; an’ his pardner. Blotclifaee
Irenchy, he’s been strung up twice,
an’ Bill cut him down agin each
time. Bad men! I reckon they don’t
make ’em much bndder than them
two.”
|£ “And aren’t you Afraid of them?”
the young man asked, with just a
troubled vibration in his voice.
She laughed again, at her brightest
•‘Afeard o’ them!” she exclaimed.
“Why, they’re afeard o’ me. Why,
look hero, stranger,” she continued,
“I can twist ’em round my little
finger—jest like that." With that,
. . *•>« twiddled the corner of her apron
; * > and tied it into a knot. Thfen she
put her little finger into the round
4 hollow formed underneath the ball of
the apron corner, and holding it up,
shook it with its projecting little
cotton point at tho young man.
“That’s Utaw Bill.” she oxelaimed.
••an’ that’s what I’d do with him. if
he sarsed me.” With that she
snloked the tied apron corner with
her finger, and sent it flying.
The whole action had been so full
of youthful, iunocent charm of play
ful doiiance, that the young man was
smitten by it ■
Who, indeed, in that neighbor
hood—savage, ferocious, unscrupu
lous, and murderous, though ho were
—would have fared to broatho a
harsh word to Lucy Maclanb, much
less to raise a finger against her? A
ribald jest, an unkindly word, would
have been as a seed of dragon’s teeth,
from which a horde of pitiless, armed
‘ avengers would have sprung, and
the injury or insult would not have
S'; been more than a day old, ere tho
offender would have swung from the
stout limb of sopae cottonwood tree,
or would hare lain by the roadside
riddled with bullets, Lucy Maclano
was the good fairy of ..that Rooky
mountain side, and she was Its queen.
rV; V.
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i/ii*
Men were murdered among the
foothills of the Eastern Rockies in
those days of the fifties, with a mo
notonous frequency- They were law
less times, and the pistol, the rifio,
and the knife, were the recognized
arbiters of disputes. A man was
shot His corpse would lie. some
times for days, festering in the sun.
before a kindly hand eould be found
to dig an unceremonious hole, into
which the body was flung, with just
so much decency as to be, by a
stretch of imagory, construed into i
'ft *,
, aemi-oivilized burial. But he was
"kilted In what was-mostly considered
fair fight—and' few manners of light*
ing were considered unfair—and no
hand was raised to avenge his doath.
The pistol ctacked. and the knifo
flashed, and the blood flowod, and
stained the sward, and left its dark,
accusing blotches; but there was no
judge. No retribution reached the
guilty one. The wrath of the fron
tiersman was slow and sluggard; it
required more than a few ordinary
murders ,o rouse,it,
Sho was barely eighteen. . that
bright-eyed queen of the mountains.
... ‘it.
' - ■ v- ‘ • . 7. / *
and the little vixen knew that sho
held despotic sway over all tho in
ferior male creation for many miles
around. They all potted her, and
loaded her with presents; they idol
izod and spoiled her. Yet she was
as pood, as simple, as true, as trusty,
as homely and as kindly as any coun
try girl brought up within sound of
cathedral chimes. Many an ailing
mountaineer her dainty care nursed
back to health and strength; dying
men had crossed the threshold with
lighter hearts when "fairy Lucy’s”
soft Angers smoothed their pillows
of skins. Men would ride for miles
and mllos out of their way to be glad
dened by one of Lucy’s pretty smiles.
The young man returned to the
girl tho tin cup which he had drained
of its refreshing contonts of moun
tain water.
••inanK you, my dear," ho said, as
his hand grazed hor rosy linger tips.
Tho contact made his palms tingle,
and his speech became a little bolder.
He reined in his prancing horse
tightly, and raised himself in his
stirrups. “Do you know that you
aro charming, my dear,” he ex*
claimed, his eyes glistening and'flash
ing at hor.
“You bet I do," was the stolid and
long-drawn reply.
It shocked the young man first of
all, and then made him laugh out
right.
"There’s nature here,” he 6aid to
himself, “Glorious unadulterated na
ture. She is worthy fifty Lady
Evolynos. How I’d make them all
jump if I brought her into the draw
ing room at Chaunoey Towers.”
"Then it’s two miles, you say," he
continued, "to Dick Ashland’s.”
“Jest about that,” the girl replied;
••an’ that hoss o’ yewrn’s got to rig
gle a bit loss, I reckon, or yew’ll git
to the canyon bottom instead o’ Dick
Ashland's. The path ain’t much
more’n a yard wide at Blacknose
Corner, an’ yew’ve jest 'got to keep
his nose straight, or down yew’ll go
into the alder bushes.”
"Thank you for the warning, my
dear," the young man retorted.
“Old bam and I have gone up and
down many a bad mountain road be
fore to-day, and I think we’ll manage
to wriggle round Blacknose Corner.
Good-bye,” he exclaimed, putting
spurs to his horse and kissing his
hand to her.
Lucy looked after him as he gal
loped up the mountain path. The
soundB of his horse’s hoofs, and tho
clatter of his rifle against his pow
der flask became less and less audi
ble, but she still saw him turn, and
turn again, waving his hat back to
her. Then he disappeared among
the great pines and the stunted
cedars, and Lucy shading her eyes
with her hands against the fierce
glare of the midday sun soannod the
point beyond the small forest where
she knew he would emerge. There
a little pale streak seamed the face
of tho mountain, and opposite the
bare and naked edge of the bluish
brown rock the further side of the
yawning chasm loomed dark and
fiorce. Presently a diminutive figure
on horseback seemed to crawl out of
the deep green of tho cedars beyond,
and to move like a fly along the pre
cipitous mountain face until it disap
peared around the bond.
"He’s more hensum than Dave,”
Luqy said to herself; “an’ smarter,
an’ I guess he looks like good grit”
She rolled up her sleeves and re
turned tb the small round wash-tub
that stood on a block of wood by
, the door of the log cabin She dip
ped her hands into the white and
opal foam that glistened with pris
matic colors in the sunlight, and
soon was busy at her homely* work.
From where she stood the rough
path led down the jagged mountain
face, across' tho broken and rock
strewn ground, to tho vast plains
that stretched to the east; brown
deserts of sun-dried wilderness,
whore the semi-tropical heat had
scorched the sparse grass to cinders,
where even the lazy wind stirred up
myriads of little clouds of brown
sandy dust, appearing from the dis
tance like so many smoking bonfires.
Looking backwards, looking to the
right, looking to tho loft, the stu
pendous mountain solitude of the
Bockles rose in rugged chaotic piles
of dead browns and blues, against
which the blotches of vegetation
here and there glowed darkly, whilst
peak on peak, looming more dis
tantly. became airier and bluer, until,
there beyond, the faintest outlines
glistened in the summer sunshine.
Lucy had finished her task, and
was engaged in spreading out the
’flannels and other articles of house
hold wear upon a piece of smooth
green sward that seemed strangely
out cf place amid its wild'surround
ings That being done, she emptied
the tub and carried it to the small
outhouse by the side of the cabin.
loon she wiped the log, and, fetch
ing her knitting from within the
cabin, she sat herself down. '
Lucy’s little brain was busy. That
handsome, bright, dark-eyed stranger
had upset its maiden equilibrium.
The knitting made but poor pro
gress, and more than once Lucy had
to undo what she had completed and
to recommence it. Suddenly she
rose and stamped her foot in a pretty
temper.
“Waal/’ sho exclaimed, in pretty
irritation, “it cay n’t be that I’m that
nuts on him, and ony seen him jest
this once, an’ know no more about
him than about the man in the moon.
And don’t care to know,” she added,
with another stamp of the tiny foot
j -Thar!”
! A student of female nature would
have had his doubts about Kiiss
Lucy’s sincerity in her last assertion.
VV oraau is alike all over the world,
and the daughter of the Rockies has
mostof the attributes of her city sis
ter. To desire ua object, and to per
1 sist in asserting to hersolf and to
others that sno does not care for it a
bit, is one of the frailer sex's privi
leges and idiosyncrasies.
Lucy saton that log. fitfully dash
ing away now and then at her
knitting; at other times staring in
front of her, while her work lay un
touched in her lap, and the hours
pasood and the shadows lengthened
without Lucy perceiving the change.
| The girl was accustomed to be left
! aloriu there for days, and nights, too,
j for that. Bands of Indians could
| not approach the spot without timely
i wotice roach lag uer, and against sol
j itary marauders a couple of double
| barrelled rides and half a dozen pis
tols that always hung ready loaded
I on tho cabin wall, afforded her suT
! iieient protection. Not a soul could
get near tho place without arousing
tho vigilance and the noisy warning
| of the watch dogs—huge mongrel
| English mastiffs—that guarded the
cabin, and whose fierce barking re
echoed among the mountains for
miles when Lucy took thorn for a run
up the hill-side.
The swift dusk was already set in
on the mountains when tho girl
shook horself together, and, fetching
a wooden platter from the store
house, climbed among the wild rasp
berry bushos that covered the moun
tain side at the back of the cabin,
and collected a plentiful supply of
the delicious fruit. Then she en
tered the hut and set the big rough
table ready with a joint of roast ven
ison, which she supplemented with
corn cake and big-horn fat.
Anon, tho distant thump-thump,
thump-thump, of hbrses’ feet on
rough, rocky ground vibrated on the
mountain air. It drew nearer, and
came clatter-clatter up the hill. The
girl prepared the three great spout
ing branches of the huge and pon
derous Mexican metal lamp with
natural wool wicks and rough oil,
and placed it in the center of the
big table.
• It was nearly night when the clat
ter of the horses’ hoofs ceased direct
ly in front of the cabin, and a ringing
“Wagh" echoed on the hillside, Lucy
replied with a “Wagh” which had a
feminine and cheerful vigor of its
own, and a moment afterwards a tall,
wiry man pushed aside the bearskin
hanging which covered the door.and,
with a hearty “Waal, what cheer,
Lucy!” caught ttm young lady round
the waist and kissed her on the fore
head.
“Thar,” he. exclaimed, while the
girl disengaged herself, “I reckon it
ain’t every man that’s got a daughter
like ray Lucy to keep house for him
while he’s prairie-loafing. Heyar,
Dave!’’ he shouted, “our meat’s cut
thick and no snakea ”
George Maclqge was a man whom
one would have thought a dangerous
customer—long, gaunt and thin
though his shoulders stood out broad
and square. He had a pair of piero-'
ing, little, greyish brown eyes, the
cold glitter of which contrasted curi
ously with' his jovialty at that mo
ment, His lips were thin and nearly
bloodless, the square jaws betokened
dogged determination. His upper
lip .was clean shaven, but his - long
hair and tuft of beard had changed
from its former indistinct sandy color
to equally indistinct mixture of
grey and fawn. One freckled cheek
was disfigured by a deep scar, where
a knife had cut through the flesh
and bad left a wound which had
never quite healed np If a man had
read that face for its characteristics,
he would have found cruelty and
greed written plainly there, and he
would have wondered how such a
man came to bo the father of so
lovely a girl as Lucy. There
were stories abroad of George Mac
laine-’s beautiful wife, now long since
dead, about whom even Lucy had but
the faintest recollections, and whose
name was never mentioned by, or in
the presence of. Freckled George
without the piountaineer baring his
head. Thus, I once saw a tiger cub
lick the face of a dog that had grown
up with it There is no man so
vicious that there is not some corner
left pure and undefiled in his heart
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
For the Protection of Nonsraokera.
Among the novel societies incor
porated in Europe recently is “The
Socioty for the Protection of Non
smokers,” in Lower Austria. The
members, already numerous, propose
no campaign against smokers, but
they intend to accomplish, if possi
ble, the strict enforcement*" of the
regulations regarding the prohibition
of smoking in certain railroad train
compartments, public buildings,
restaurants, frequented by men and
women, street cars, concert halls
and other places of public amuse
ment... They wish to prevent smok
ing. if possible, in all public places.
Circulars are to be sent to restaurant
keepers asking that rooms be set
apart for non-smoxers. Branches
of the society are to be established
in Vienna, Prague, Bruenn and Graz.
Influential names are on the coll of
membership
Forgot .Its Homer.
Mamma, severely to eight-year
old—How did it happen that you
were late for school this morning?
Eight-year-old—Well I had to come
back after I got started, ’cause I
forgot my Homer.”
General Chorus—Your Homer?
Mamma—Child what do you mean
by your Homer?
Eight-year-old. unconcernedly —
Why. the lessons I do at home I call
‘•homers” of course
How H. I. K.pt Wire
“It’s funny about Growler , never
wearing an overcoat" '
‘•His wife taught hint that.” ,
“Hew do you mean?*’.
'“She keeps him in hot water all
the time about buying a sealskin
cloak for her."— Chicago Inter
Ocean.
FARM AND HOUSEHOLD.
SHEPHERDS TURNING TO MUT
TON FOR PROFIT.
Wool as i Secondary Consideration—
Tonne Stock la Wlalor—Pic Pens—
Hono Koto* and
Household Help*. , ' ,
Boots for Sheep. '*■
The crying need ot our great
sheep industry is a better mixed food
ration than is generally supplied by
owners, and more protection from
the inclemencies of the weather.
There is no country on the globe
thgt is going to surpass the United
States for sheep raising, and the in
terests in this line are already of
such imposing. magnitude that it is
almost the leading farm industry.
It is not only wool raising that
makes the work bo valuable, but in
many parts of the country adjacent
to good markets, owners of sheep are
doubling their incomes by raising
superior mutton for the market as
well.
Breeds of sheep are being raised
which will supply excellent mutton
and good wool. The wool, of course,
is not so good as the finest grown by
those who raise sheep only for this,
but is of such a character that it is
in fair demand at reasonable prices.
Sheep are naturally hardy, says
the Farmers' Guide, and can thrive
off poorer food and with less protec
tion than most farm animals, but it
does not follow from this that they
do not improve under good treat
ment and repay the owner for an ex
tra outlay expended upon them. On
the contrary it has been pretty well
demonstrated in many parts of this
country that < sheep require good
food and good care if they are to be
very profitable. The grumbling gen
erally comes from those who expect
the animals to shift for themselves
and make an income for their owners
while they do nothing. This is
more than can be expected. It is
necessary to look ahead and see that
food and good food, is prepared for
the sheep the year round, and also
good shelters. >
Formerly sheep raisers never
thought of sowing and harvesting
crops for their animals. They were
supposed to get their living some
how on the prairies and among the
mountains. But it is pretty poor
economy to attempt that sort of
thing nowadays.
We need to grow mops for our
sheep and to supply them with a
mixed ration, a diversified food. In
this ration roots play' a most impor
tant part They supply the amount
of water which all animals need when
fed dry food, and dry food must be
fed in the winter time; They should
be grown extensively for winter use,
and should then be eut or mashed so
that they can be mixed with the hay,
bran, oats or mill feed; These roots
will prevent stomach troubles and
make the animals gain more from
the! r solid food than if not given at
all. ' It does not answer to make
them take cdpioue draughts of water'
with their meals, for this washes
down a great deal of the food, with
out being digested and assimilated.
The result is—there is a. decided
waste. Roots are also nourishing
and they are of great value to. ewes
when giving milk. Sugar beets,
mangles, rutabagas and- turnips,, are
all of inestimable value to the flock,
and they should be raised, for winter
use in season, if sheep diseases- are
to be avoided.
Mixed, feeds for sheep are always
superior to plain foods, and should
always be given when possible. It
is in the mixed food that roots attain
their greatest value, for they make
the mixture more digestible. By
giving a certain, amount of mixed
food each day regularly; with roots
included, it is estimated that one
saves fully twenty per cent in food;
in other words, eighty per cent of.
mixed food is equal to. 109 per cent
of plain.
rig rent.
The pens • that have given.us-the
best satisfaction, are small, inexpen
sive, insignificant affairs, costing
from $5 to $10 each. The strongest.,
point in their favor is health, fewer
hogs being kept under one roof; this,
one point of health, itself should,
overbalance any objections that,
might be urged, against them. When,
the ground around the pen becomes
foul by continued occupation,, these
pens are easily moved, to a fresh, lo
cation, and the ground previously.
wcupieu oy uiem piowea up and a.
orop or two raised from it, thereby
purifying thd soil. After two or
three vears it can be again seeded, to.
grass and the pens returned, to their
original location.
A rotation, of hogrpens once in two.
or three years goes, farther in the di
rection of maintaining fertility, than,
anything I have ever tried. W.ith,
this kind of pen, or as many pens of
this kind as may be necessary ton*
the number of hogs; the' original
outlay for pens is reduced to. a. mere
nothing in comparison, with, the
large hog house. They, will, pay lev*
themselves every year they are used.
With this system less than, half the
labor will keep the pens clean; they
are warmer, the air is purer, the
young pigs are healthier, and large
numbers at any season are prevented
from piling together. At farrowing
time each brood sow is isolated from
the others, thereby being removed
from anything liable to make them
irritable or restless.
Bear in mind I have no wish to
present any farmer with plenty of
money from building as expensive a
hog-house as he desires. I am talk
ing to farmers who may think as I
used to, that an expensive hog-,
house is necessary to raise fine pigs.
And while recommending cheapness
and economy in the way of hogpens
I do not wish to ho understood as
arguing that “anything is good
enough for a hog." The essentials
to be secured are health, comfort,
warmth and cleanliness, and any
outlay of money that goes beyond
this must be regarded in about the
same light as a prominent breeder
regards his expensive 80x60 hog
house, Said he: “It's not much ac
count for swine, but it’s awful nice
to show to visitors.”—Extract from
paper by Geo. Wylie, Leeds, Wla,
at a farmers’ institute.
Tooof Htook la Winter.
It is the w6rst possible' manage
ment to let calves, colts or any other
young stock rough it during their
first winter. Not only does the cold
pinch, but there is the gredt differ
ence between the succulent grass
that they get in the summer and the
dry forage of the winter ration. It
is true young stock have generally
good appetites, but unless they have
some grain to keep up animal heat
they cannot eat enough of rough
fodder to keep them in good condi
tion. The rough, staring coat is
evideuoe.how digestion has been in
jured and the future growth stunted
for all time. No matter how wed
fed afterwards, the damage by the
first winter’s neglect is never over
come. It is because the stunting of
growth is always the sign of im
paired digestion that it is so difficult
to change to thriftiness. The young
animal, if kept warm and well led,
makes much more profit from good
feeding than it will when older. In
truth, however, if the digestion be
kept good the first winter it will be
better during the animal’s entire life.
A little linseed meal is almost essen
tial for all young stock in winter.
It keeps their coats smooth because
it keeps their digestion good. But
needs also to be supplemented by
warm stabling.—American Cultiva
tor.
Bona Lad|utge. -
My horse has a low whinny which
means “water." and a higher-keyed,
more emphatic neigh means food.
When I hear these sounds I know as
definitely what she means as if she
spoke in English. This morning,
passing along the street, I heard the
same low whinny, and looking up
saw a strange looking horse regard
ing me with a pleading look. I
knew he was suffering from thirst,
and no language could make it
plainer. The language of the lower
animals is not all articulate. It is
largely a sign language. The horse
does a deal of talking by motions of
the head and by his wonderfully ex
pressive looks. He also upon occa
sion talks with the other extremity.
A peculiar switch of the tail and a
gesture, as if threatening to kiclqare
equine forms of speech. The darkey
was not far wrong who said of the
kicking mule: “It’s just his way of
talking:’*—C. P. Palmer,in Science.
Dairy Notea.
Better feed one good milk cow
than three inferior ones.
Beniember that the cows crave a
variety of food and will give more
and. better milk with it
No animal responds to kind treat
ment quicker than a cow. A cow
can be-kicked and cuffed till she goes
dry.
Cows-will not give a liberal Sow of
milk unless fed well on a variety ef
food and' protected from the severity
of the weather-.
The New Hampshire experiment
station finds that gluten meal tends
to produce a. much softer quality of
butter than cotton seed meal or corn!
meal, and other- things being equal,
tends to lessen, the- ahurnability of
the butter fats,
English dairymen have eons to.
Idle conclusion, that a grass farm is
not best for- their business,, saycn
| writer. On an. arable-farm, they can.
:get a succession of crops which are
the best dairy food, and. can procure
fifty per cent more of food suited! to
dairy oows than by keeping the- same
area in. grass
. Household Help*.
! A feather bed which has- done- ser
vice for-a. generation, or-two is hard
ly, a desirable thing upon which to.
: sleep,
’ The.buffalo. bug is to. be-eradicated!
only by benzine dr naphtha. Appar
ently nothing else wiil have the
slightest effect on him.
It is. said that chocolate ean
be kept fresh by wrapping it tightly !
in buttered paper and. putting it in a
tin. boa. %way from, all ether- suh- ■
stances.
unuanas,, iromt one
aidn a piece of theskLn, 'Then Loosen
tha skua trora the aides of the fruit.
I dust well in granulated, sugar and
I bake it a moderate oven half an
j hour. Serve hot in the skins.
! Nothing should be cooked in iron
vessels that caa bo cooked in earth
• eowarw The heat is more uniform,
the flavor is better preserved and
' there is less liability to burn in the
earthenware vessel than in the iron.
Chamois leather may he cleaned by
rubbing it hard with plenty of soft
| soap and letting it soak for two
. hours. Then rub. it well with a so
lution of soda, yellow soap and warm
water, rinse it, wring it thoroughly
in a course towel and dry quickly.
Pull it about and brush it and it will
be all the softer and better for the
process
An inexpensive and pretty fancy is
to cover a sofa pillow first with fine
sateen in any shade, and over this
put a slip of white lace. Oriental
in a fine-sprigged pattern is the
prettiest Around the slip is a
gathered ruffle of lace edging about
four inches wide, which matches the
pillow oover in pattern. This slip
can be arranged to remove when
soiled, and be carefully. washed to
look like sew.
™ **•*<>«*«,„ ,nd
l*tab"I,nr Rno*»
merer la no htnnan v^i
polite u the Japa^ ni!1,?ult9«
Not to his fellow countn
understood; by no^l?men,b#i
arards the bulk 0f tS*' He
with a good-natured ^Pr0b*bl>
in the language of tor
ie “a gentleman ol birth an-t Uer’ h<
tion. ” When, in theh T* educ*
Western civilizationJananT1* 0
feudalism and put on a ftL?!8* otl
and a silk hat. thousands ofl* co*
or two-sworded retainers of ♦T‘r*
nobles, found their occupatL^
No more exhileratlng litti! goae
tions into the territories ofneffi
ing princes were possihi* kbo1
chopping foreigners fetoHtti* “*
soon became a game hardw btl
the candle. Tho JwLst d y Wor,
their scabbards, and finally™8^ l
imperia1 dedree. discarded altogeth*
and helped a few years later ^ 7
orate the drawing rooms of m dc'
What was to begdon°e°wUh
swash-bucklers, trained to am?,;!
ism quite Impossible in the “2
ter7p’”A elled °“ PS
3e government wanted p«
lice. The samurai knew
about the status of the Rrit*n
“Bobby" or of 4he French ’ **
d armel; so they enrolled in if™
numbers, happy in being able ?
wear, at any rate, one sword, an
that a two-handled one.
Thus it happens that the Japanes
police are the most aristocratic fore
,01 constabulary in the world. TV
are a finely disciplined body, smal
in stature, but well drilled, and e
pert in the use of the steel-scabbard
ed weapon which dangles at thei
heels.
It is to the foreigner—whether he
be the veriest outcast of a no-nation
allty sailor from a kerosene Bhip, or
a slick moneyed globe-trotter—that
the essential politeness of the Japan
ese policeman is shown in all its na
tive richness. With the former class
the police of the foreign ports in
Japan—Yokahoma, Kobe and Naga
saki—.have much intercourse, not °of
the gentle kind. Yet the scrimmage
invariably has but one termination.
The truculent son of Neptunels sooner
or later handed over to the consular
authorities of his country—if he
owns one— and lodged in the foreign
jail Perhaps two policemen will be
engaged in the operation—perhaps
twenty, that is a mere detail. What
is Important is the fact that once a
Japanese policeman makes up his
mind to arrest anyone who is in his
hands, he sticks to him with bull
dog tenacity—never loses his temper
or his hold—and conducts his victim
to the lockup, if be be a foreigner,
with the greatest urbanity and much
polite ceremony.
POISON AT drug stores.
Most UMdljr t)al»t»uo0S May Be Ob
tained In the Original Package.
If there is one thing just a little
more absurd than another it is the
way poisons are sold in New York.
A physician taken with a toothache
in a pert of the town out of his usual
beat went into- a drug store on Lex
ington avenue to get a little bella
donna, says the Recorder. The clerk
would not sell it to him. Be referred
to the directory, and produced bis
visiting cards to show who he was.
The dark was adamant—be would
sell a> small dose of belladonna to no
one he did not know. The doctor
•flared to write a prescription for
himself, but his-proposal was scorned.
Then, the doctor- said he would take a
bottle of elixir of opium, and though
the clerk wan “riled” there-was noth
ing for him- to. do buit to sell it. Of
course there- was. enough of it to kill a
doom people: A day or two after
that a woman who is now in an in
sane asylum,. «it who' even then had
the light of madness in her eyes,
west into another apothecary shop
and with no difficulty at all bought
an. ounce bottle of' morphine. Of
course she went bone and tried to
kill herself! After she had taken
the morphine- she was taken to a hos
pital and a doses* people made a
sight of it whipping her, walking
her, electrioising her and finally sav
ing her life* Anything in the orig
inal package- can he got anywhere.
Small doses there is a lot of fuss
about. A. woman, who is a confirmed
victim of oplunw buys an “eliser as
her regular standby, and her famny
are helpless, because anyone will sen
it to her; Another gets an arsenical
pill in boxes as it comes from the
maker. A maa, not being subject to
the searchue usually practiced os
the feminine victim by her fa®)*?’
constantly gets his morphine in tn
original ounce bottles and says
has never ^ad his right to do j
questioned.
• John Howard Foyoe'* Claim
When, JMa Howard Payne, the *«•
ther of-Home.. Sweet Home.
in Tunis, in 1852, the governraen
owed him $205.92 salary as consiu*
that place. It has teen
ever since Payne’s heirs are
trying to get congress to rawf
appropriation to discharge the
gatioo. If compound) interest sh
be reckoned on, the sum for the
ty-ene years that hove ela’jse
heirs of the poet would recen
comfortable fortune. Howeve .
hill.that hos been introduced
their relief only appropriates
amount of the original claim, f-■ . *’
which is not enoagh to it _ '
The government does not a.
terest on unclaimed money loti
possession.
Uncle Jaok—Have you a oolloctio
of any kind? - _
Karl—No, sir, but I am go'11*
collect silver dollars as soon a
got any to start with.—h''9
ai