THE NEW MINISTER.
' T !
tl eee ..Wee i
w
. HAT do you thick. Aunt Vio
let? The ww minister is com
ing to-night!"
Miriam Blake aod bir cousin, Effle
lower, burst Into tbe quiet old fash
ioned sitting-rooui like twin gales of
wind so fresh and sudden and inspirit
ing were thej.
It was a very cheerful apartment
with the crimson, carpet flooded with
October sunshine, the canary singing
from his cage among the geraniums In
the window-seat. aDd a bright wood
tire crackling from the most burnish
ed of brass audlorns on the hearth
for Aunt Violet loved an open fire,
and adhered to it through all the mod
ern Innovations.
She was a woman past thirty, yet
sry pretty withal a woman whose
type of face and form would always
remain youthful. Brown hair, with
rfppUng lights of gold upon Its sur
face; blue-gray eyes, large and shaded
with long lashes; a completion where
the fresh white and red betokened
perfect health and a smiling, cherry
red, melting mouth, whose smiles be
trayed a singularly regular set of
teeth Miss Violet Brown was perhaps
quite as attractive In her mature wo
manhood as she had been in her fresh
er girl-days.
To-nlghtr said Aunt Violet- "And
U the parsonage all In readiness?"
"All prepared, I believe. And what
do you think. Aunt Violet," went on
Miriam, with girlish eagerness, "of
old Mrs. Marsh going there with her
two daughters to prepare tea. and
make it 'sort o' hum-like.' as she says,
for him the first night'"
And Violet smiled over her crochet
"Why," struck in Eliie Towers, "the
Marsh girls are as old as the bills."
"Not quite as old as the hills," said
Auut Violet, quietly. "Sarah Marsh
Is about my age, and Mehitable can
not be more than a year or two older."
"Uh, Auut Violet:" said Kflie, coax
luyly, stealing both arms around Miss
Brown's Mender waist, "nobody ever
thinks of your being old!"
"It's an indisputable fact neverthe
less," said Aunt Violet, serenely.
"Aunt Violet." said Miriam sudden
ly, as she tat looking her uunt full in
the face, "Low 1 wish Mr. Smith
would full in love with you!"
Aunt Violet Minted her shoulders.
"My dear child, isn't' Drown a sulfl
rlently common cognomen but you
want to change it into the still more
hackneyed name of Smith?"
"I wasn't thinking of the name,
Annt Violet I was only reflecting to
myself what a splendid minister's wife
you would make."
"I shall never make anybody's wife,
Miriam."
"What nonsense:" ejacuiatea tne
gay girL "Why, aunty, you are the
prettiest of our whole set, yet with
your sweet-pea complexion and those
big Innocent eyes of yours " -
But here Effie Towers interrupted,
peaking gravely with serious glance.
"I know what makes Aunt Violet
speak so, Miriam she has had a dis
appointment years and years ago."
"Aunty! Did yon really?"
'"Years and years ago,' as Effie
says, I had a lover," returned Aunt
Violet calmly. "And what interrupted
the current of true love?"
, "I' was foolish, and wished to test
my power. Clarence, that was his
name, was hasty and impulsive, and
my folly incensed him. So we parted."
"And is he married now'"
"I do not know. I have never seen
nor heard from him since. He was
only spending the summer vacation, a
college student. In our quiet village."
"What was his last name?"
"N'iraporte, Miriam, do not let us
disinter s.v.y more of the horrid past
I have told you my folly. See that
you take warning by it."
And none of Miriam Blake's soft
coaxings could win from Aunt Violet
any further confidences.
"You are not an old maid, darling
aunty," said Miriam, "but Sarah
Marsh in, tnd I mean to enter the lists
with her myself to win the now min
ister's furor. The parsonage would
make a pretty nest for such a bird as
l am, all embowered in roses and
clematis, and full of delicious little
by windows and maple-shaded piazzeg.
I hope he's young and good looking."
"He's Just thirty-five," said Ettie,
"for Iiencon Aiden told me so."
"Did he say whether he was good
looking, or not?"
"No, he didn't, as if Deacon Aldon
cared fur his looks."
"Thirty-five that is rather old-baeb-tlorish,
but a man isn't totally past
reform at thirty-five," observed Mir
iam, pensively.- "If Aunt Violet won't
have him I'll try my chance."
"I shall never marry," gravely re
iterated Aunt Violet, with more seri
ousness than Miriam's light-jesting
way feeuied to call for.
"If that's the case," said Miriam,
"I'll go and rip up the breadths of my
lilac lawn dress, and have the fluted
nifties done tip. One can't be too care
ful of one's advantage of costume at
am-n a critical time, ana r Know aienii-
able Marsh has got a white dress with
bhie rosebuds all over It".
"Miriam, what a rattlepate yon are,"
aid Effle. . .
"Don't I tell you I need a minister
for a husband, lust to sober me
down?"
. Ami with this I'arthlsn arrow of re
tort, .Miss tlhiam quitted the room,
with Effle following ber.
I'Ttwutly she came back again, daoc
lug merrily into the reon.
"I've found out my future husband's
name."
"What is itr
"A decided novelty John Smith."
Auut Violet smiled, and Miriam van
ished once more like a twinkling bit
of thistledown.
Violet Brown sat gazing into the
coral depths of the bright embers that
had fallen through the logs on the
hearth. Somehow, spite of her asser
tion of self-reliance and independence.
she felt very lonely that October after
noon.
"I'll go fur a walk," thought Violet.
"Perhaps a little exercUe will dissi
pate this gathering despondeney."
She tied a round hat uni.er her
curls, put on a coquettish scarlet cir
cle, tasseled with white silk, which,
according to her loving nieces, "made
her look like a delicious little Ited
Hiding Hood." and went out Into the
fresh autumn air, where the woods,
all radiant with gold and crimson
glories, were showering their leafy tro
phies on the walks below, as she en
tered their silent a'-Ies.
"Autumn," she thought sadly, "how
soon it has come upoii us! And it is
but a little while since spring was
here with her dew and roses. My
spring has vanished, too, snd unlike
the sacred season of birds and blos
soms, it will never return to me again.
Heigho! I wonder what I was born
"TlilSKI.NU A U1TLE 1'L.NSIVtXY
into this world for. 1 don't seem to
be of very much use to anybody."
Violet was thinking thus, a little pen
sively, as she sat on a moss-enameled
fallen tree, tapping the drifts of yel
low leaves with the point of her para
sol, and letting the fresh, fragrant
wind blow the gold-brown curls back
from her forehead. She was not think
ing how picturesque was her attitude,
nor how beautiful her face looked In
Its oval clearness, with pink flushes
on either cheek, but both these facts
struck the perceptions of a tall strang
er carrying a valise in his left hand,
who had Just crossed the stile leading
from the main road, and entered the
illuminated glow of the autumnal
woods.
He raised his hat with a courteous
motion as Miss Brown started at his
advancing footsteps.
"1 beg your pardon; I fear I have
unintentionally startled you."
"Not at all." Violet looked up earn
estly at his face as she answered.
"Perhaps you can direct me to the
shortest cut across these woods to
Millhambury? I am not quite certain
as to my localities."
"You are on the direct path now,
Clarence Smith."
lis started, in his turn, and gazed
scrutluizingly Into her face.
"I thought it was familiar to me!"
he exclaimed, "and now 1 know It
Violet! who would have thought of
meeting you here?"
Violet Brown trembled like an aspen
leaf, but she strove to control her
self. "The world Is full of Just such
chance meetings, Clarence."
She had half turned away, but the
gentleman had put down his valise,
and was evidently inclined not to part
with her so readily.
"Stop, Violet do not go away. My
love! I have so longed to see yoif, all
these years. Tell me that you have
not entirely forgotten the past that
you have still a word of tenderness
for the wayward lover who flung away
his brightest chances of happiness
long ago! Violet, you were my first
love be my hist?"
"Do you love" me still, Clarence?"
she asked, the blue-gray eyes soften
ing to a strangely tender brightness.
"Do I breathe and exist still? I
tell you, Violet, my heart Is like the
century plant which only blossoms
once and Its blossoming is In the sun
shine of your love alone."
She was silent lovelier than ever,
Clarence thought, in the momentary
indecision, the shy hesitation of her
manner, as she stood under the old
trees, a gold-tinted leaf drifting down
here and there around her, and her
tremulous hands clasped to hide their
flutter as far as might be.
"Violet, darling! tell me that you
love me." . , .
"I love you, Clarence!"
There- is a Garden of Eden created
anew for every happy pair of lovers
and Clarence and Violet stood In
Paradise now!-
"But Clarence," re timed Violet,
wtoti the first all-absorbed words and
glances of their new happiness hid
been exchanged, "I don't comprehend
this at all How did you come here?
and how did you know where to find
meT"
"I did not know where to find you.
lolet. Chance has been my friend
here, and as for tcy opportune appear
ance on the scene, it is very easily ac
counted for. I have been called to
take charge of the parish of Millbam
bLry "
"Clarence, you axe not th new min
ister?" ''But I am the new minister."
"His name Is John Smith."
"I beg your pardon, mis amlma
II is John Clarence Smith."
And Violet's surprise wss sufficient
ly amusing to the reverend gentleman
at ber side.
Old Mrs. Bezabel Marsh snd ber
two elderly, hard-favored daughters,
had got the parsonage all ready, even
to lighting the evening lamps on the
study-table, snd poking the clear an
thracite fire that burned In the dining
room grate
Miss Mebetable had turned the
tumbler of crimsou currant Jelly Into
its cut-glass dish, and disposed the
green sprigs of parsley to the most
striking effect round the thinly-cut
slices of boiled tongue, while Miss
Sarah made s Leaning Tower of Pisa
of the buttermilk biscuits, and whisk
ed the flies away from the sugar-basin.
In readiness for the expected guest
and like the hero of soug, "still be
came not!"
"The klttle's boilln', snd the tea's
all steeped," said Mrs. Marsh, as she
sat in the big rocking-chair in front
of the fire. "It'll be spiled If he don't
come pretty soon."
"He'll be here presently now," said
Miss Mehetable, loosening ber curls
from their confining papers. "Oh, ma!
I wonder If he'll be pleased with what
we've done."
"He can't help it" said Mrs. Marsh,
mentally congratulating herself on her
double chances of being the minister's
mother-in-law. But the words were
yet ou her lips and the triumphant re
flections yet in her mind, when a
knock came softly to the door, and
Miriam Wake entered, rosy with her
long walk through the frosty autumn
twilight
"Have you beard the news?" ns!;ed
Miriam. "I thought I'd come over and
tell you. The new minister has come."
"Sakes alive!" ejaculated Mrs.
Marsh.
"I don't b'lieve It," slid Mehetable.
"Oil, but lie lias fur I've seen him.
And you nc-dn't stay here any lunger,
for he has concluded to remain at our
house to-night."
Mrs. Marsh and her daughters both
stared.
"What an airth does it all mean?"
demanded the elder lady
"I'll tell you a very, very great se
cret," cried the delighted Miriam.
"He's an old beau of Aunt Violet's,
and the engagement has been renewed,
and my dear little blue-eyed aunt Is
to be the minister's wife the very next
month that ever dawn uou us!"
"Laud o' Goshen!" cried Mrs. Marsh.
"Well 1 never!" said Miss Sarah.
"I shouldu't think," venomously com
mented Miss Mehetable, "that he'd
want to marry an old maid."
"There are more old maids than one
In the world," observed Miriam, phil
osophically. "So If you'll kindly lock
up the room, I'll take the key back
to my new unele-that-Is-to-be. I bad
thought of setting my cap at the new
minister myself, but I cheerfully yield
the palm to Aunt Violet"
She tripped home, through the dusk,
laughing to herself st the discomfit
ure of the Marsh family, Aunt Violet
and Mr. John C. Smith were sitting
cozily together over the Are when she
returned, and, as she passed through
the room, she only paused to throw
her arms around Violet's neck, and
whisper:
"What do you think now about never
tnarrylug, Auut Violet?" The Huarth
stone. Monkey Iiacipiiue.
One of the monkey cage in the
New York "Zoo" contains a mother
monkey and ber baby. Some visitors
one day gave the mother a chocolate
jM-ppcniiint. She tasted It, smacked
her lips, winked, and put it all into
her mouth only to remove it at once,
and smack and wink much harder.
After a second she repealed her ex
periment, and again hastily removed
the peppermint.
Once more she put the dainty In ber
mouth, but once more took it out
Then, with watery eyes, she laid the
candy carefully on the led? of her
cage, turned her back, walked over
to the ofiposiie side, seized the rails
with both hands, and gazed out as If
she bad never seen a peppermint.
Meanwhile the baby, who bad Iteen
engaged with visitors In a corner, had
returned to the front Seeing the pep
permint, he picked It tip and taste'
it. But his mother's three experi
ments hnd left only a nibble for him.
That disposed of, he, too, walked to
the opposite side, seized the rails, and
stood gazing out with the same nlr of
nttvr absorption as his mother's.
As soon as the latter bad cooled
down she came back again, and look
ed for the peppermint. Not seeing It
she swept with one paw all along the
ledge where she hud left It, but In
vain. Suddenly she ran to the baby,
and twisting bis bead to face herself,
put one hand on each of his Jaws,
pulled his mouth wide open, stuck her
head In, and gave a big sniff. Then
she turned him over and spanked him
soundly.
We don't know that the Latin In
scrlptlons on tombstones stand for,
bat have an Idea tbat, translated Inte
English, they would mean: "He's al
to."
MHHtmillltHHt1H
OLD
FAVORITES 1
t t
lUttHttMIIHHKHHtll
ailrer Thread Anoas the Gold.
Darling. I am growing old
Silver thread among rhe gold
Shine upon my brow to-day
Life is fading fast amy;
liut, my dariiug, you sill b
Ala yvuag aud fair to uie!
CHORUS.
Darling. I aui growing ulJ
Siivw thread among the gold
Shine upou my brow to-day
Life is fading fast away.
When your hair ia silver whits
And your cheeks do longer bright '
With the rose of the May
I will kiss your lips, and say:
Oh! my dariiug, uime alone.
You have uerer older gnjwn.
l.ove cau never mure grow old;
lxck may lose their brown and gold,
C heel a may lade and hollow grow.
But the heart that love will know
Never winter' frust and chill;
Summer warmth is ia tliuin still
Love Is always young tod fair,
What to us is silver hair,
Faded cheeks or stes grown slow,
To the heart that beats below?
Since I kissed you, mine alone.
You have never older grows.
Euen K. Bexford.
The Star.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you sre!
Up ahoTo the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When ho notliiug shimw upon,
Then you show your little light
Tvtiakle, twinkle, all the night -
Tltcn the traveler i-j the dark
Thanks you fur your tiny spark
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark b'.ue sky you keep.
And oficii tliruugh my curtains peep,
I'.r you neer shut your eye
Till the sun isin the kky.
As ymir bri-lit nnd tiny spark
I.iili's the tr.iveier in ( he dark,
'1 in. i rli I knmv not what jou are,
Twinkle. twiiiLle, little slur.
June Taylor.
LIFE IN ENGLISH VILLAGES.
It In Not the IrirHic Korm that Po
tt hiiiu About.
"1 know a village where there are
no fewer Ihuu thirty cottages with
but one bedroom piece, and in each
of these single bedrooms six. seven and
more people are sleeping," says, A.
Muulcliore-Bruce, writing In th'j Ixm
doii Mall about life In the average
English village. "In one of them,
father, mother and eight children hud
dled togcth'f. In another, father,
mother and six children three of
whom are growu up are sleeping. In
these cottager there is one living room
downstairs and no sanitary arrange
ment of any kind. At the back of the
cottages runs an open ditch. It is alio
an open sewer.
"Here, In the very heart of the coun
try, I expect to find abundance of
pure water, abundance of sweet air.
Too oft,en I find neither about the
cottages. Hundreds of villages have
no water supply, though a compara
tively small expenditure could provide
It. I know a village It Is typical of
hundreds where the cottagers have to
go half a mile to get water. A foul
ditch furnishes another village with
the whole of its water supply. Offens
ive refuse heaps lie piled round the
crumbling walls of the cottages. The
wooden floors without are rotten with
sewage.
"Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex contain
many bjcu villages, and other coun
ties. such as Bedford, Cambridge
shire, Wiltshire. Dorset, Somerset
easily vie with them. I could write
of lonely cottages far across the fields,
with no water within a mil, whence
the children morning aftiT morning
walk two miles to school, and drag
their tired limbs that - distance back
again at night and this whatever the
weather; where the postal service
comes but once a week; where the
men and boys walk daUy five or six
miles to and fpm work; where of
drainage there Is none; where of the
simplest fcanitntlun there? Is pone;
where tb' midlcal ollb-er of health
conies not, and where the inspector of
nuisance' is unknown."
GLOVES MADE OF RAT SKIN.
Hide of Koitcut Too small for Kven
the Child's t-ize.
A reisirt comes from Copenhagen
that a great rat bunt lia been organ
ized there and that the skins of many
thousand of the victims are to bo
used in making gloves. If the rat
hunters in the iJaulsh capital cherish
uny such hopes th?y iw doomed lo
disappointment, wys the I'hII Mall (la
zetta Itat skins cannot be made Into
gloves fit for commerce. The belief
that n valuable raw material Is being
neglected here survives only in the
minds "f the Inexpert. The glove
maker knows much Lx-t'er. A Norwe
gian merchant one? came to England
aad Informed a well-known glove
maker hat he bad collected over 100,
000 rat skins and was prepared to re
ceive offers for 't hem. He was fully
convinced that the skins were suitable
for gloremaklng. But the manufact
urer found tbat the largest skin wns
only some six Inches long mid he beld
up s kid skin for the smallest site
of glove, a child's, which was eight
Inches long, and asked bow be was to
cut sack a glove 'out of rat skin.
TTi.ii he took up the smallest kid
skin for s busy's glove, eleven Inches
long, snd wbwi he asked bow that was
to be cut out of s rst skin the Norwe
gian merchant laughed st the ides snd
went sway disappointed. The best
offer be got for those skins, which b
had collected with so much care, was
3 shillings s hundredweight from a
man who was willing to boll them
down for glue.
A famous glovemaklng firm baa a
collection of curiosities relating to ths
trade, and one of them Is the largest
pair of gloves ever made out of a
rat skin. The belief that sucb skins
could be made into gloves wss lsid
before the managers so confidentially
that they resolved to put It to the trial,
and they ordered . a number of ths
skins of the largest rats which could
be found in Grimsby. But the rat is
a fighting animal, aud bears the marks
of many battles ou hi body, and U
was found that the skins were sa
scarred aud torn that It was with the
utmost difficulty that perfect pieces
large enough for the purpose could bs
obtained. In the end. after ten skins
had been used, a pair of gloves wal
cut and made, and they are retained
lu the collection to this day. But they
are so small that they would fit only
the smallest, of small boys. Thus it
was shown that however che.iply rat
skins might be obtaini'd they would
offer no advantages to the glovemaker.
The rabbit skin Is equally useless for
th'.s purpose, snd humane jieople may
also dismiss from their minds the fear
that the skins of pet dogs are mad
Into gloves. The dogskin glove of
which we used to hesr Is made out of
the skin of the Cape goat.
WIT BUBBLES IN TOASTS
Soaae Ilamoroaa ftentiaajent I'ithll)
Kl pressed at Banquets.
A publisher once gave the following:
"Woman, the fairest work In all crea
tion. Tho -d!tiou Is large and no mas
bhould be without a copy."
This ia fairly seconded by a youtb
who, giving bis distant sweetheart,
tald: "Delectable dtur, so sweet that
honey would blush In her presence aud
tr-acle stand appaUid."
l'urther Li regard to the fair sex,
we have: "Woman, she n-eds no eu
logy; she speaks for hen-elf." "Wo
man, the bitter half of man."
In regarl to muirltnony some bache
lor once gave: "Marriage, the gati
through which the happy lover b-avei
his enchanted ground and returns tc
earth."
At the marriage of a dmf and diiml
collide Kut.ie wit wished them "un
speakable bliss."
At a supper given to a writer d
coiii'-dies a wag said: "The writer-!
very good health. May he live to be al
old as his Jokes."
from a law critic: "The bench and
the bar. If It were not for the bai
there would be little use for the bench.
A celebrated statesman, while din
ing with a duchess on her lght!ell
birthday, In proposing her health, said
"May you live, my la ly duchess, uu
til you begin to grow ugly."
"I thank you, sir," she said, "an
may you long continue your taste fu)
antiquities." London Tit Bit.
I toman lirlcka.
The rebuilding of the campanile h
Venice has begun. It is expected tha:
the structure will be finished by 19O0
Although the fall of the tower was i
deplorable loss, some good attendef
It In the opportunity It gave acheUo
gists to examine the bricks.
It was found that the bricks haf
ben used In arches, fortifications, thi
tops of walls and In other ways befon
they were built Into the campanile, ant
that they are not Venetian but Ilomai
bricks.
The ancient bricks were made It
slices, for In insny the lsyers could lx
seen undisturbed. It Is said tba
bricks made this way can bear i
gieater weight than modern bricks.
The bricks examined were of th
first ctiitury. One of them bore the
Imprint of a horseshoe, which maj
prove that the Itomans used a horse
shoe like ours, although It is genet
ally believed that their borsehou
were strapped ou, not nailed.
The Art of LUtonlng.
There Is a grace of kind Ilstenln,
as will as a grace of kind speaking
Since men listen wllh an abstractet
air which shows that their tboughu
are elsewhere, or they seem to listen
but by wide answers and Irrelevan
questions show tbat they have beci
occupied wllh their own thoughts ai
being more Interesting, at least It
their owu estimation, than what yoi
have been saying. Some Interrupt atj
will not hear you to the end. Somi
bear you to the end, and forthwith be
gin to talk to you about a similar ex
per lei ice which has befallen them
t-elvs, making your cose only an Illus
tratlon of their own. Some, mean
lug to be kind, listen with such a do
termlned. lively, violent atentlon, thai
you nre at once made uncomfortabli
and the charm of conversation Is at ai
end. Many persons whose tnanneri
will stand the test of speaking breal
down under the trial of listening. "
A True Portrait.
The widow was taking her first loot
at the bust of ber beloved husband
The clay was still damp. 'Tray ex
amine It well, madam," said the sculp
tor. "If there Is anything wrong 1
cau alter It."
The widow looked at it with a mix
ture of sorrow and satisfaction.
"It Is Just like him," she said, "i
perfect portrait bis large nose tbi
sign of goodness." Here sbe burst
into tears, "He was so good! Mak
the nose a little larger!"
It will ruin an msa to be ben
pecluML We nerer knew sucb a uai
to amount to aathlag.
SAVtD Tiff WttOU fAJdX
Two huntsmen were out on lake,
rowing, i'roui the rushes emerged a
mallard surrounded by a brood of
tiny balls of feather, and the mother
duck headed the way across am arm
f the lake. One of the observers teUs
the story In Forest snd Stream:
When they were too far awsy faon
their biding place to turn back we
closed in upon them, drawing closer
snd closer; and with every stroke of
our oars the mother bird quacked en
couragingly to ber brood to hurry
along, the little ones giving out plain
tive peeps that no doubt went deep
Into the mother's heart
Wondering whether on our approach
the mother bird would abandon ber
brood, we rowed close alongside of
her. when we could easily have dis
patched ber with an oar; but with one
eye upon us aud the other upon ber
brood, she swam along In the lead,
simply unmindful of the danger t
herself. By this time the little sues
began to string out until they formed
a thin, feathery peeping line behind
the mother.
There was one little fellow who
could not keep up, and who was a
yard or more behind the end of the
Hue, aud who struggled and peeped
bravely but slowly aud weakly along.
I'pon him the attention of the mother
was bestowed. Her voice seemed di
rected toward him, and ber gase, as
The turned her head, concentrated
tipon him. It was sucb a sight as one
but seldom has the opportunity to wit
ness. Allowing our boat to rest quiet we
kept close watch on the mother, who
took the opportunity to spring clear
of the water and fly to the little one.
In a moment the feeble aud tired
duckling was snug upon Its mother's
back, and with a gladsome quacking,
faltitly echoed by the peeping of the
rest of the brood, she once more led
the aquatic procession. In a few mo
ments they were within the welcome
rushes, and we saw them no more.
THE FIREMAN'S RISK.
I n volifiu 1 1 uu (lie l'anuer Iue to I lc
Iriial Min W.
Une of the objections to the erection
jf eiee.ric ulna on lol.-s lu citiis is
ibi- hii.diaiiee whah such wiles olfir
to fice ucve-s to a burning building,
by uieuu of ladders nud lire towers,
it is lit times nlw Iiecissary to cut
eucb wiies to afford uccos to a buru
iu,' building a wiik which Is not
highly upprcciutcd by the hie lighters.
Another dilliculty presents Itself also,
t.umily, the danger lo tho tiretuea from
electric shocks due lo current carried
lo the ljo.zle by the stream of water
when It comes in contact with live
wires. Such shocks have more thus
once been of BuUicIciit strength to dis
able firemen for a time, bat, so far as
Is known, no fatalities due to this
cause huve occurred. lu order to as
certain to what extent firemen ate
subject to risk of life, If at all, wbea
the stream of water thrown from the
hose strike against live wires, a
scries of experiments were reecatly
undertaken In Germany. They wui
made with pressure of 0,000 volts al
ternating current, and 550 volts dlrvet
current The stream of water was di
rected against a portion of the wires
from which the insulation bad been
previously removed. With the fl.OOa
volts pressure It was found that the
resistance of about one foot of ordin
ary hydrant water reduced the poten
tial of the current to a point when it
was not dangerous, but the effects
were not pleasant When the resist
ance of the water was lowered by the
addition of 0.05 per cent of soda the
minimum safe length of the stream
was Increased to about forty Inches.
Vlth MO volts direct current a danger
bus voltage was not reached with pure
hydrant water, but with the same
percentage of soda In the water harm
ful potentials were Indicated by the
volt meters used In the tests when the
oin aiu of wafer was only three inches
ling. Ou the whole, the results of the
expe,!uwu5 showed that the danger
to firemen from the contact of water
from the hose with live wires carrying'
high potentlnls Is not ordinarily so
great as has been generally supposed
hitherto. This, however. Is no reason
for lessening the precautions looking to
the safety and best Interests of all con
cerned In this matter. I'hUadelphla
Uecord,
l'ri-ak Taxr.
Freak taxes are nothing new under
the sun. In London there used to be
a window tax. every householder hav
ing to pay so much for every window"
In his dwelling. In the days of
Charles 11. the British capital had a
tax ou chimneys, which produced
many a pound to gild the pleasures of
the merry monarch. There was, the
imrm nt nn bleu behind the chlinner
tax. for London was beginning to get
smoky theu, and It was thought Unit.,
by taxing chimneys 'their n amber
would be reduced and there would be
less sn)oke.
i jj f .
, A New Scheme. ' , . .
"Say, boss," suld the thin beggar,,
'won't yer help a poor, eick inaoi A ,
kind doctor gimme a prescription an'
I'd like ter use It".. ' ' '
"And you want me to pay for tba
medicine?" Inquired Mr. Ooodart
"Oh, no; I got the medicine all right,
but It's to be took before meals. I
thought mebbe you'd gimme tbe price
o' one o' tbe meals." Philadelphia
Press.
When there la a sudden shouting on
tbe streets, a woman aJwaye looks
town In an alarmed way to as If ber
tklrt la coming oO.