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'ON THE CREST OF THE HILL.
The breeze was Rwrot and tfcn lmv lan rMIl
On that far brown hill.
Where the sunset Hn-fril In"? and lntn
Like a smile of fate.
Many and many a time we stood
(Oh, the gods were good!),
"We two, alone, on that lonely heigh
In the fading light.
X.lke shadowy ghosts the sails swept down
Past the quiet town,
Aca -ver the din. white harbor bar
-Shone the first pure star.
Jh. sweet! And I watched its splendor
grow
Throcgh the sunset glow.
With sometimes not of ten the bliss divine
Of your hand In mine. .
-And still the breeze blows over the hill.
And the faint star still
Canines through the dusk, and the boats go by
"'Neath the darkening sky.
-But the star and the wind and the dim. sweet
sea ,
.Art no more for me.
.And co more for me Is the hand I pressed
Oa the hiirs browa srest.
Madeline S. Bridges, in Leslie's Weekly.
SfflfiffDpuDWPC
rUgxT iin,g-
CHAPTEK IL COSTIMJKD.
Lucy, with her proud, impatient
snature, had wondered sometimes at
Olive's sisterly feeling for the Challock
,-girls. There was no one in the village
-who had not been surprised at the
i second marriage of OKve's mother,
the widow Winfield. Why a woman
with her natural refinement should
have taken rough Tom Challock was a
mystery indeed; and yet such mysteries
-are found everywhere. Tom was a
widower with two daughters of his
own, and the girls seemed to take more
kindly to Olive than he did. For in his
coarse way he let her see that he did
not want her under his roof, and she
rsecretly longed to find a shelter else
where. By and by, perhaps sooner
than she dared to expect, Michael
would have made a home for his
promised wife; but, meanwhile, the
waiting was as hard as Tom Challock
could make it. And already Lucy
Cromer had suggested that it would be
r&y
"ARE TOO LOOKDJG INTO MY FCTCBE?"
better to go away and earn her own
ead far off than live in her step
father's cottage.
"Have you said anything to Michael
-about my plan?" Lucy asked, after an
other pause.
"No." replied Olive, with a sigh.
"The time was so short, you know; and
if it came to nothing he would be disap
pointed. Ah! if it could only be carried
out, how happy I should be, Lucy!"
"I believe it will be carried out,"
Lucy said, quietly.
Iler eyes were gazing through the lit
tle window at the bit of evening sky
that could be seen under the heavy
thatch. The sun had gone down, leav
ing that pure and peaceful light that
belongs to the evenings of early spring,
Ind Lucy seemed to gaze as if she
could never have enough of its beauty.
One or two slight tendrils were outlined
larkly and delicately upon that clear
background, and once or twice they
trembled a little at the breath of a soft
-wind. Olive sat silently on her stool
by the couch, her hands were clasped
round her knees, hor heart had gone
out after her lover, traveling away
through the dusk to the great city. She
almost started when Lucy spoke again.
What words were these her friend was
saying?
"When you are in London, Olive, you
will be glad that you once had a home
in the country. You must not let any
thing come between you and your
sweet memories. Yon must not drop
Your habit of watching the clouds and
the changing lights and shades, even
when you have lost your old green
fields- Don't take the world into your
souL
The world is too much with cs: late and soon.
Getting aad spending, we lay waste our
powers.
It is often so with those who go to
dwell in great cities, and earn their
bread there; they lose all their early
-communion with nature, and forget
how well they knew her when they
-were young. Some day, dear, you may
be thankful tc
Have glimpses that will make you less for
lorn.' "
"But, Lucy, I am not going to Lon
don to be forlorn!" cried Olive, re--proachfally.
"Michael is there."
"Michael is there," Lucy said, calm
ly; "and for his sake, as well as for
.yours, say again, don't take the world
into your souL Great artists tell us
that if they paint a landscape without
:a glimpse of sky it depresses the gazer.
.Never let the sky be quite shut out of
.your life. It maysoon be done, Olive;
when we begin to build walls around
us, we don't know how high they will
rise: when we plant our groves we
-can't tell how thickly they will grow.
Always leave an opening through
which "u can see Heaven."
Olive looked at her, and was strurtc
by the light on her wasted features.
Lucy's life was widening at the close;
.her view of Heaven was broader than
it had ever been before, and the glory
that she saw was reflected on her face,
-which was "as the face of an angel.
l JijpvJ, (JtL-JfJiarjn Dun-
VgF
1 S.
"Oh, Lucy," she said, in a timid tone,
"I know you are much wiser than I am,
and I sometimes fancy that you can see
farther into the future than others can.
Are you looking into my future, and
seeing things that you will not speak of
plainly?"
"Do not frighten yourself about my
forecasting, my dear child," Lucy an
swered very tenderly. "I can foresee
no trials in your life that a brave spirit
cannot live through. Only I would
warn you not to part with the rery
portion of yourself which will enable
you to bear those trials. Keep your old
trust in a Power that is over all; listen
to the voices that tell you of that peace
which shall assuredly follow the strife.
Do not let the world so blind and deafen
you that, when sorrow comes, the true
light may shino and the true voice
speak in vain. Oh, Olive, it is not
trouble that is to be feared; it is the
loss of those qualities in us which hlp
us to meet trouble bravely."
"But, Lucy," Olive's lips were trem
bling, "I shall have Michael by my
side, and he is so strong! Think of all
the difficulties he has conquered! Can
I be afraid of anything while he takes
care of me?"
Lucy was silent for a moment. It
was true indeed that she saw things in
Olive's future that she would not plain
ly speak of- It needed only a little
knowledge of humanity to foresee that
this girl'sdeepsst suffering would come
to her through the man she loved.
"I am afraid you don't like him," the
poor child went on. "What has he said
that displeases you? Ah! I am disap
pointed; I thought you would say 1 was
the most fortunate girl in the world!"
Lucv bent forward and kissed her.
"Olive," she said gently, "I shall like
him better when he thinks more of you
and less of that great idol success. 1
see that he is clever, dear very clever
in his own way; and so determined that
he is almost sure to win the things that
he is seeking. Only I could wish that
he had eyes to see the treasures that he
passes by while he runs the race. I
wish that he would sometimes give a
thought to those things that arc not
won by mighty effort, but given freely
given by a Father's bounty and love.
Surelv life need not, be all striving,
Olive."
"Oh no;" murmured Olive with a sigh.
"I feel that it takes a very little to
make me perfectly contented. But men
are different, I suppose; they want far
more than we do, and they must strug
gle till they get it. For my part, Lucy,
I should love to live in a cottage with
Michael, and be just myself. But he
wants me to be more than myself. I
daresay he is right; to him I must seem
a very ignorant uninformed creature."
"You are not ignorant, considering
that you are a village girl," Lucy an
swered. "The old vicar, who helped
Michael so much, must have been your
friend also. It surprised me, when I
first came here, to find a girl who was
a reader and a thinker. Take courage,
my child; you are not as far behind
Michael in the race as you suppose.
And if if our plan is really carried out
yon will learn a great deal with your
uncle Wake."
"Lucy," Olive said, looking up sud
denly, "you have never told me how
vou came to know anything of my uncle
Wake."
A slight flush rose to Lucy's face and
was gone in an instant.
"Mr. Wake keeps a second-hand book
shop in the Strand." she replied quietly.
"A friend of mine, who was very fond
of books, used to take me there often,
and your uncle talked as only those who
read can talk. It was a pleasure to go
to that shop; some of the happiest mo
ments of my life were spent among
those piles of old volumes, and Mr.
Wake's cheerful voice and kind face
can never be forgotten. That man un
derstood everybody, and sympathized
with everybody, I believe. He was a
large man with a large heart. He gave
people chances of snatching little bits
of happiness. Oh, Olive, I think an
old book-shop is one of the most de
lightful places in the universe. If you
happen to be missed, no one thinks of
looking for you in such a dusty, musty
retreat. The most glorious fragments
of life are often hidden away in dull
spots where few can find them. Be
tween the dingy covers of some of these
ancient books one might come upon
poems that sparkled and glowed with
immortal light and beauty. Some of
our brightest memories are shut up, I
believe, in the dimmest nooks and cor
ners of the world!"
Olive looked at her in silent surprise.
The beautiful worn face had grown
young again; the eyes were shining.
"Bat you love the country, don't you,
Lucy?" she asked, after a pause.
"Yes." Lucy's face grew pale and
still again. "Yes, it is good to be here.
I feci that I am resting before I go to
rest."
"I wish you would not talk so," Olive
said, with tears gathering in her large
brown eyes. "Lately I have thought
you better, dear; and Michael told
me that you were not as ill as 1 had led
him to suppose. You could talk and
laugh with him, and it made me happy
to see you so bright."
"I would do a great deal to make you
happy," Lucy answered, stroking the
girl's smooth check. "And now that
the spring has come, Olive, I shall be
gin to teach you my craft- You must
go out to-morrow and gather
'Knots of flowers, and buds and garland gay.
"My fingers have not lost their old
cunning, and I know that I shall have a
quick pupiL"
Olive moved from her seat and sank
down on her knees with her head on
Lucy's breast.
"Do something else for me," she
entreated. "Try to love Michael for
my sake. Try to see him with my eyes
and feel for him with my heart."
Lucy smoothed the brown hair away
from the young face and soothed her
with loving words, as though she had
been a little child. This woman, who
was going out of the world, pitied the
cthar, who had to tread the old. thorny
path. She had been left upon the road
alone: some had hastened on before,
some had loitered and stayed behind;
the hand that had clasped hers had sud
denly loosed its hold, and then she had
stumbled blindly oa in titter anguish
and desolation; bat that misery, too.
had passed away. All that remained to
her now was peace; the end was near;
the tired feet had only a little way
farther to go.
She would not paint a blissful picture
of Olive's future and so fill the girl's
mind with false hopes; nor would she
even promise to love Michael for her
sake. And yet she talked in such a
fashion that Olive forgot her dissatis
faction a dissatisfaction which owed
its origin more to Michael himself than
to Lucy's lukewarm praise of him. She
spoke of the right way of living one's
life: of sympathies that throw out
tendrils and olasp other lives; of that
unspeakable calm which comes to those
who are true and who love truth, even
if their hearts are torn with suffering.
And Olive, hearing her friend speak,
seemed no longer afraid of anything.
She took Lucy's hand and looked at her
with grateful eyes.
"I shall never forget your words,"
she said. "You have made me feel
strong."
CHAPTER TO.
POOR JAKE.
Mrs. Challock did not disapprovo of
Olive's intimacy with her next-door
neighbors; but she was slow to believe
that her daughter could really learn a
useful art from Lucy Cromer. P'ggy
and Jane looked on in wonder .nd
doubt while Olive wove her garlands,
and Tom Challock laughed the whole
business to scorn.
"So Olive wants to go to London and
earn her living, does she?" he said,
about a week after Michael's visit.
"Well, no objection; but don't tell
me there's a living to be made out of
posy-making. It's nat'ral enough that
she should want to be running after
that young man of hers, and keeping a
sharp eye upon him. It's my belief
that he's too high and mighty for
Olive."
"But if he hadn't cared for her he
would not have come here again,"
cried Jane.
Peggy sighed and shook her head.
She was a young woman who was
naturally disposed to see the gloomy
side of life.
"I'm afraid father is right," she said.
"lie is very high, and I think he came
partly to show himself off."
Just then Olive herself appeared at
the open door, and there was a flush on
her face which told that the words had
reached her ears. Her mother, who
sat sewing, gave her a quick glance
and a little nod. She did not wish her
daughter to pay any heed to anything
that Peggy or her father might say.
Mrs. Challock lived on the whole
peaceably enough with her husband;
but although she would not quarrel,
she quietly resented his unkind
speeches about Olive, now differently
he had talked when he came courting
the pretty widow! She was a weak
woman, and she knew that her second
marriage was a mistake, but she would
not let the whole village know her
secret.
"Oh, Olive, what have you there?"
asked Jane, suddenly catching sight of
the figure in the doorway.
"Come and see," said Olive, vanish
ing; and Jane threw down her needle
work and ran after her.
The two girls stood together outside
the cottage, and Olive displayed a
wreath of fern and moss studded with
bunches of violets and primroses.
Even Jane, inexperienced as she was,
could see that the garland was the
work of artistic hands; the flowers had
been arranged as delicately as if a fairy
had touched them; it was "an odorous
chaplet," fresh from the kisses of April
showers.
"And this is your doing," said Jane,
admiringly, "and people would buy
this thing in a London shop? Well, I
am sure they would in spite of father's
sneers, ne knows nothing of great
towns and their ways; old Fenlake at
the inn is a good deal wiser than
father!"
Olive smiled, well pleased with such
simple praise. She was happy this
evening; the light wind ruffled her
thick hair and blew it into little curls
and rings about her temples: her eyes
were full of sunshine. The letter
which had come that morning from
Michael had made her very glad, and
III Ml
pal Kg $y-
"HE'S TOO HIGH AND MIGHTT FOIl OLIVE.
already she had forgotten the words
that Peggy had spoken a few minutes
ago.
"The kingcups will be out soon," she
said. "Lucy tells me that she has
made lovely Bprays of them for the
ladies in town, and yet who thinks of
them here? Only the children, who
gather them by handfuls and throw
them away. They last a long time
with their thick stems and shiny yellow
flowers."
"Your heart is in London, Olive,"
Jane remarked, keeping back a sigh.
"And yours too," Olive answered,
hanging her wreath on a bush, and be
ginning to walk towards the garden
gate. Jane followed, and they crossed
the road, and stood looking across the
field to the low hills. A fresh odor
came from the damp grats. und from
those white violets which grow pro
fusely under the hedgerows in spring;
and above the slopes drifted one or
two fleecy clouds, touched with the
first gold of the suseU The undulat
ing downs, with their soft curves riainy
gently against the sky, are the chief
charm of Hampshire. In this quiet
country, haunted by the tinkle of
sheep-bells and the bleating of flocks,
there is no sternness, no rugged grand
eur; it is a pleasant dreamy land of
pastoral delights, wnere one nau ei
neets to meet Corvdon and Phyllis, he
with b's oaten pipe, she with her "belt
vf straw and iw buds." iust as they
used to be when the world and love
were young.
'Olive. 1 said Jane, resting her arm
on the gate, and speaking in a low
voice, "did Michael say anything about
Aaron in his last letters
"V Olive answered, with a pang of
regret. "Michael has a great deal to
th?nk about, you know. His mind is
full of plans, and he can write of noth
ing else."
"Yes," Jane said, with a patient little
sigh. "I suppose all clever people are
something like Michael, tney are loo
Vmcw with their own ideas to spare a
thought for the dull ones. And yet.
olive's gaze was fixed upon the trkk
TOPS.
what good they might do if they did
give a moment or two to those who are
slow of mind! They were like brothers
once Aaron and Michael."
Olive's gaze was fixed upon the tree
tops, outlined darkly upon the pale blue
of the evening sky: but, although her
face was calm, the pain at her heart
was sharper than ever. She would have
given anything that she possessed if
she could have truthfully contradicted
Jane. Hers was a nature in which
truth had taken such a deep root that it
could never be up-torn. It was always
there, the strong consciousness of right,
the sweet, stern sense of justice and
faithfulness.
"Have you heard from Aaron lately?"
she asked, after a pause.
"I had a letter this morning," Jane
answered, still with the patient sadness
in her voice. "It is a strange letter. It
makes me feel as if he were a prisoner
in Doubting castle. You remember
reading to us about Giant Despair,
Olive? Well, it seems that the giant
has got poor Aaron into his power, and
I am afraid he will make an end of
him."
TO BE COXTLVUEDj
PUTTING DOWN CODFISH.
The Operation of Salting If Much Mora
Dellcata Than One Would Think.
The salting of the cod is done in the
hold. Each "banker" brings from
France its cargo of salt, an ingredient
which, it is needless to say; plays a cap
ital role in the fishing campaign. The
salting is one of the most important
and delicate operations. If there is not
enough salt on the fish, it will not keep;
if there is too much, the fish is black
and moist. A good Salter is just as val
uable to the owner of a "banker" as a
good captain.
Four men are generally employed to
salt the fish in the hold. One, with a
sort of curved trident, shovels down the
salt to the level of the piles of fish al
ready made; the other receives the fish
that are thrown down from the deck,
and passes them to the piler, who
places them with minute care in close
lavcrs; finally the salter comes with his
shovel in his hand, spreads salt over the
layers of fish, and looks after the me
thodical and regular execution of all
these processes. This work has to be
done quickly and well. As soon as the
fish has been washed it ought not to
remain on deck, but be stowed away as
quickly as possible. Furthermore, if
the codfish is not packed regularly,
without the edges touching, and if the
laver of salt is too thick or too thin, the
salting is compromised, and the drying
of the" fish, which is done especially at
Bordeaux and Cette. will give a cod of
poor quality. Harper's Weekly.
HIS MEANS OF SUPPORT.
A Cruel Judc Who Scorned a Good IIus
bmnd'i Plra.
"This makes the third time that you
have appeared before me charged with
begging on the streets of Atlanta," said
the judge, "and although you are a
v oman I will have to send you up for
thirty days."
"Please don't do it. judge," sobbed
the woman. "I have a large family to
support, and what would my husband
and my children do if you were to send
me up?"
"Your husband? Have you indeed a
husband?"
"Yes, your honor," said a man step
ping forward from the crowd. "I am
her husband, and I want to ask you to
be lenient with her. She makes out
like she's too sick to work, but if you
let her off this time I'll see to it that
she works in the future and supports
her family."
"I don't think yon will." said the
judge. "In fact, I am going to let the
woman go and send you up for six
months as a vagrant. You have no vis
ible means of support."
And the man muttered as he was
marched out: "No visible means of sup
port? Good Lord! Ain't my wife in
court?" Atlanta Constitution.
A Sure S!c.
"Why, look at the Beach house. Tt
appears to be on fire."
"Well, it Isnt What yon see is cig
arette smoke. The Pale college glea
club has arrived." -J udge.
RELATIONS-IN-LAW.
Hkits for the Guidance of Toansr
and
Inexperienced Wive.
One of the first questions asked of a
newly made bride is how she likes her
husband's relations, and if circum
stances compel her to take up her abode
with them, the question is usually a
sympathetically pitying one.
Considering the frequent disagre
mentswesee in families it is hardly
surprising if we see occasional troubles
among those of different blood, and
often totally different training. The
patriarchal system, while it would give
unity to the nation, is not without indi- J
vidnal objections. It is the hardest of I
all lessons to learn to accommodate
one's own angles to the angles of others. '
When a newlv-made wife goes to live
with her husband's people she often
loses sight of the fact that she is simply
a daughter of the house, with no more
than a daughter's privileges. In the
flush of her new dignity she is apt to
forget that she is simply on the same
Tooting as her husband's sisters, as far
as the management of the house is con
cerned. While she should aid her
mother by every means in her power,
she cannot expect to give orders inde
pendently, but submit to direction. No
household can be a success with two
mistresses, and most assuredly it is the
part of the younger to defer to the elder,
though it, may not always seem a pleas
ant duty.
Really and truly we don't think any
thing is more difficult than to live hap
pily with relations-in-law. Even where
they love one another, there are so
many little traits and peculiarities
which cause internal vexation, if the
jarring elements never come to the sur
face. There is no remedj- for it. save
everpresent pa tience and kindness; and
the model daughter-in-law must stand
aloof from family disagreements. She
must never side with John against
Fanny, or throw her weight with her
husband in a difference with his parents.
She must always remain neutral, or she
will widen breaches instead of healing
them.
We believe that some of the squibs
and jokes scratched on the walls in
Pompeii make fun of the mothers-in-law.
This estimable member of society
has been an object of derision of cen
turies, just as if it were our fault that
we become mothers-in-law under some
circumstances. Many a mother-in-law
is as self-sacrificing as a mother; many
a man has reason to bles the woman
who stands in that relation to him.
There may be scolds and misjhief-mak-ers
among them, but they would display
the same objectionable traits in any
other relation. The implied dislike to
mothers-in-law is about as reasonable
as the dislike for those unappropriated
blessings, old maids.
We can hardly wonder if the loving
mother shows anxiety for the happiness
and comfort of her married darling.
The mistake is in regarding such inter
est as officious. This is a mistake on
the part of the son or daughter-in-law;
and the mother's mistake L in thinking
that her child's household cannot be
comfortable without her constant super
vision. A young housekeeper is very
tenacious of her dignity: she likes the
pomp and circumstance of domestic man
agement, and the young man just ad
vanced to the proud position of husliand
feels all the dignity of the patriarchs
vested in his person. So, perhaps, the
qualities most needed among relations-in-law
are consideration, kindliness,
and a discreet tongue. If only we all
possessed these qualities what a golden
age we should enter upon! Christian at
Work.
DIDN'T KNOW PEANUTS.
A Merchant Who Hail Never Heard ol
Thee Dainties.
A young Russian groeeryman at
Ekaterinburg obligingly displayed his
stock of goods to Mr. George Kennan.
and incidentally gave him and his com
panion a great deal of information as tc
the Chinese and Russian nuts lying in
open bags on thecounter. Mr. Kennan
describes what follows:
After we had examined them all and
tested a few, the grocer said:
"I have in the back part of the shop
some very curious ones that were sold
me a year or two ago as African nuts.
Whether they ever came from Africa oi
not I don't know, but the people here
do not like the taste of them and will
not buy them. If you will condescend
to wait a moment I will get a few."
"What do you suppose they are?"' in
quired Mr. Frost, as the young man
went after the African nuts.
"Brazil nuts, very likely," I replied,
"or coooanuts. I don't believe anybody
here would know either of them by
sight, and they are the only tropical
nuts I can think of."'
In a moment the man returned, hold
ing a handful of the fruit of a plant
known in science as ArachLs hypogtea.
"Why, those are peanuts!" shouted
Mr. Frost in a burst of joyful recogni
tion. "Amerikanshi peanuts!"' he ex
plained enthusiastically to the grocery
man. "Kushat khorosho" American
peanuts eat very well and he pro
ceeded to illustrate this luminous state
ment by crushing the shell of one and
masticating the contents with an osten
tatious show of relish.
Suddenly, however, the expression of
his face changed, as if the result had
not f ullv justified his anticipations, and
relieving himself of the "African nut,"1
he exclaimed, "They haven't been
roasted. It is necessary to fry,' he
added impressively to the groeeryman.
'Americans always do fry."
"Fry!" exclaimed the young man, to
whom fried nuts must have been a
startling novelty. "How is it possible
to fry them?"
I explained to him that Mr. Frost
meant to say "roast them," but this
seemed to him quite as extraordinary as
frying, and when he was told that the
peanut Ls not the fruit of a tree, but of
an herbaceous plant, and that it grows
underground, his astonishment was
boundless.
His commercial instincts, however,
soon resumed their sway, and when we
left his shop he was already preparing
to roast a quantity of the "wonderful
American underground nuts, with a
view to sending them out again, en
trial. Youth's Companion.
DRAW POKER IN MONTANA.
FftcollaritkB of the Hand I.ocaU Known
as the Looloo. .
It was in a gambling saloon in Butte.
The tenderfoot had taken to the war
path and announced his determination
of relieving a few of the miners of what
spare change they happened to have
about them. Without much trouble he
found a victim who was wiling to try a
hand or two at poker. Luck favored
the stranger from the start and he won
steadily. Finally he drew four aces,
and after the stakes had been run up to
a comfortable figure he magnanimously
refused to bet further.
This is downright robbery," he ex
claimed, "and I don't want to end the
game here by bankrupting you. So,
here goes." He threw down four aces
and reached for the money.
"Hold on," cried his antagonist. "I'll
take care of the dust, if you please."
"But I held four aces see!"'
"Well, what of it? I've got a looloo."
"A what?"
"A looloo three clubs and two dia
monds." The stranger was dazed. "A looloo?"
he repeated. "Well, what is a looloo.
anyway?"
"Three clubs and two diamonds,"
coolly replied the miner, raking in the
stakes. "I guess you aren't accustomed
to our poker rules out here. See there."
As he spoke he jerkedTxis thumb to
ward a pasteboard card whichjSfprna
mented the wall of the saloon. It read:
"a looloobeats four aces
The game proceeded, but it was
plainly evident that the unsophisticated
young tiger hunter had something on
his mind. Within five minutes he
braced up. his face was wreathed in
smiles, and he began betting once more
with his former vigor and recklessness.
In fact he staked his last dollar.
Just at this juncture the barkeeper
stopped in the midst of the concoction
of a Manhattan cocktail and quietly
hung up another card behind the bar
and above the dazzling array of glasses
and bottles.
The stranger threw down his cards
with an exultant whoop. "It's my time
to howl just about now!" he cried, as
he reached for the money. "There's a
looloo for you three clubs and two dia
monds." "Tut tnt!" exclaimed the miner.
"Really this is too bad. You evidently
don't understand our rules at all. You
certainly don't mean to tell me that you
play poker in such a fast and loose, slip
shod way down east do you?' Why,
look at that rule over there."
He pointed directly over the head of
the busy barkeeper. The tenderfoot
read his doom in the handwriting on the
wall. The bit of pasteboard bore this
legend:
"tub looloo cax be played but once
A NIGHT."
The young man has not reached home
yet, but as the walking is said to be
pretty fair nowadays he will be due in
his eastern home about the middle oi
this month. Chicago Blade.
HABITS OF SHARKS.
How Some Aquarium Specimens Take
Their Food.
During the summerof 1SS9 there were
in one of the aquaria of the United
States Fish Commission at Woods Holl,
Mass., three sand sharks, each about
three feet long. They became very
tame, taking chunks of fish, or whole
fish of convenient size, either alive or
dead, from the hand, just as a dog will;
but one had to be careful of one's fin
gers, as it mattered not to the sharks
whether they took fish or ileslu There
was never, to the writers knowledge, a
tendency on the part of the thexe fish
to turn on the back to take food, nor
could one imagine a necessity for so
doing under the circumstances.
In a large walled tidal pool outside.,
however, there were several large
sharks, about six feet in length. These
were fed with fish taken from a potmd
net close by. When the flsh were
thrown in the sharks quickly gorged
themselves with the dead and with the
injured ones which could not swim weflr
but they did not seem expert at catch
ing the active ones, with which the
pool was well stocked. They would dart
after them, sometimes rolling complete
ly over, but the fish were generally
able to escape by darting close to the
wall and into some woodwork support
ing steps arranged around the pooL It
is probable that the sharks would have
had better success in the open water, as
they were unable to move very swiftly
for "fear of striking a wall. As they were
not fed regularly, they sometimes be
came very hungry.
The writer took much interest in
watching them and found that, at times
at least, they took quite as much inter
est in him. At all events, when at high
tide the water was on a level with the
stepon which his feet rested, the sharks
would come npw close, turning on one
side and smiling so benevolently, with
a "comc-in-out-of-the-wet" expression,
that he was fain to get up a step higher,
as a matter of precaution, at least
Whether they were but asking in their
way, as other fishes do. to have some
fish thrown them, or whether they were
thirsting for h uman blood, can only be
conjectured. They were not of the so
called "man-eating" kind. It was in
f ered. however, from those observations
that their actions in taking fpod were,
and would likely be. controlled by the
character or the position of the prey.
There is nothing more probable to the
writer than that in attacking a larger
fish, a " school of fish, or a man. they
would come up beneath to prevent
escape, and considering the position of
the mouth, nothing scorns more proba
ble than that they would at tunes turn
on their backs. It is a mere question
of expediency, however, and not neces
sarily a fixed liabit For an object of
small size it would not be necessary.
Forest and Stream.
Hev. Dr. Primrose (stumbling in tho
hall) "Your father seems to be sparing;
ofhisligh,t" Little Johnnie "Yes, sir.
He's always that way the day after tho
gas bill comes in." Epoch.
"Til see you later, said the slangy
young man. "Iso, George." she mur
mured, "don't say that It's nearly IA
o'closk now." Washington Star.
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