anyhow
It is the only bow (ring) which
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To be had only with Jas. Boss
Filled and other watch cases
stamped with this trade mark, vs#
Ask your jeweler for pamphlet.
Keystone Watch Case Co.,
PHILADELPHIA.
SAILED THESEAS 38 YEARS.
One of His Experiences.
For thirty-eight years Capt. Loud followed
the sea, most of that time as master of a ves
sel, and upon retiring from the water was ap
pointed by the Secretary of the United Stales
Treasury to superintend the seal fisheries in
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I had been treated by eminent physicians
in New York and San Francisco without ben
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j udicious use of these most valuable remedies,
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as X was.”—Capt. A. P. Loud, Hampden, Me.
Dr. Miles' Restorative Nervine and New Cure
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THE MAGIC MIRROR.
Dim clouds across the field there float.
Aid shadows slowly form, combine
And gather shape. A tiny boat
I s*e, tossed in the foaming brine.
O rower, wait! Bravo rower, 6tayl
Nay, boat and rower fade away.
Again the dim clouds gather o’er
And slowly shape a battlefield.
And, dead or living, wounded sore.
One lies beside a broken shield.
O warrior, canst thou hoM or hear?
Nay, for the visions disappear.
Fling down the shining surface bare.
An idle tale it tells to me.
The shadowy form I image there
I tracoin earth and air and sea.
Earth, sea and air from pole to polo
The magic mirror of xny sonl!
—May Kendall in Longman’s Magazine.
A VALUABLE VALISE.
Returning from New York city by the
E-railroad a few years ago, I bought
of the train boy a cop}" of a Cincinnati
paper, in which I read a long account of
the robbery of the City National hank
of L-, Ky., and the sudden disappear
ance of its teller, Harry W. Swope. As
usual in such cases, he had been a trusted
employee, a member of the church and a
society young man. The robbery was a
particularly cool one, the gentleman
having quietly slipped $90,000 in notes
into a valise on the previous Saturday
afternoon after bank hours and walked
out into the cold world.
That was the last seen of him, and it
was not until after the hank opened on
Monday morning that any one suspected
anything wrong. The aifair created an
immense sensation. “Society” was shock
ed, the church scandalized and the bank
directors furious. The newspapers print
ed long stories of the Dr. Jelcyll and Mr. 1
Hyde sort of existence the young man i
had led for a number of years, and i
numerous friends of the “lately depart
ed” knowingly shook their heads as they
told the reporters that they knew some
thing like that was sure to happen soon, i
This sensation so interested me that j
when I reached Cincinnati 1 scarcely !
realized the express was, as usual, an i
hour behind time and had failed to make
connection with the train to L-. I
should therefore be compelled to take
the lest train going west that night, i
which would cause mo to stop over night !
in a one horse town in Indiana that did !
not contain a comfortable hotel.
I knew Mr. Swope by sight, having !
come in contact with him on a number j
of occasions while doing business with
the hank of which he was teller. The
L-papers I bought in the Union de
pot gave further details of the affair
and contained also the announcement
that the bank directors had offered a re- I
ward of $1,000 for Swope’s capture and 1
10 per cent of the cash returned, which
would make a total of $10,000 if the ras
cal was caught before he got rid of his
booty.
After eathas an unsatisfactory lunch I
took a seat in the general waiting room
of the depot and ruefully awaited my
train. As I did so I noticed a young man
approach my seat, and placing his va
lise on the floor alongside my own, to
which it bore a strong resemblance, sit
down while he looked cautiously around
at the clock on the wall and then at the
officials moving about.
How long he sat beside me I don’t re
member, but after a time he slowly arose
and walked over to the telegraph office
at the farther end of the room. Before
he came back a strong lunged individual
in uniform stepped up to me and bawled
out the names of the towns which the
train about to start was bound for. Hur
riedly picking up my valise, I made
straight for the gate and was soon aboard
my train for the west.
The journey was made with the usual
discomfort and monotony. The depot
at N- Y-, Ind., where I had to
stop over from 10 p. m. till 5 the next
morning, had been rebuilt since my last
visit to that town, and remembering too
well my hotel experience there a year
before I resolved to spend one night in
the depot waiting room with a few
other passengers who shared my mis
fortune.
All that night the face of the stranger
who had occupied a seat beside me in the
Cincinnati depot haunted me. There
was something about him that reminded
me of Teller Swope. He was just his size
and build. His mustache, to be sure,
was wanting, but that he should shave
off this appendage was to be considered
a matter of course. The gold spectacles
he wore very much resembled those I
had associated with the face of the intel
lectual looking teller, and I had observed
on his fingers a number of rings, jewelry
that Mr. Swope was said to be very par
tial to. As I turned the matter over in
my mind the more con vinced I felt that I
had lost a splendid chance of capturing
the thief and securing a §10,000 reward.
When 5 o’clock at last came round, 1
boarded the train for L-, not in the
best of humor, and two hours later ar
rived at home feeling very blue. After
taking a slight breakfast, I went down
to the office, where the big robbery was
still the talk of the clerks. Each of
them had a theory of his own as to
where the thief had gone, and when they
appealed to me for my opinion I dole
fully recounted my experiences of the
previous evening. Of course they unani
mously agreed with me that I had very
foolishly allowed the fugitive teller to
slip out of my fingers.
Just before going out to lunch a mes- ;
senger boy languidly entered the office
and handed me a note from my wife.
Thinking it was the usual commission to
get a yard or two of “goods like the sam
ple inclosed,” I thrust it into my pocket
and started out to dinner. I had not
gone far before I suddenly stopped and
took out the envelope the boy had given
me, opened it and read it. At first I conld
not understand what it all meant; then
I turned it over and went through it
again. It ran as follows:
Dear George—Come home at once. In open
ing your valise to get yonr soiled linen to send
it to the laundry I discovered it packed with
bank notes! What does it mean? Is anything
wrong? Come home at once.
My first thought was to hasten home,
but upon reflection I resolved to step
around to the hank and acquaint the
officials there of mjr discovery. I found
the president of the bank in his private
office engaged with several lynx eyed in
dividuals whom 1 suspected from their
appearance to be, as it turned out they
were, detectives.
When I was granted an interview and
explained my discovery, it created, very
naturally, a sensation. At first the old
gentleman was inclined to regard me as
a crank, but when I asked him to allow
a clerk to accompany me home he seemeu
to be satisfied 1 was in earnest. He con
sented to my proposal, but after a mo
ment’s thought he said an escort was un
necessary, thinking doubtless that the
handsome reward would be a sufficient
inducement to insure the safe delivery
of the precious valise.
As I left the bank and turned up the
street in the direction of home I was
joined by a young man who came run
ning out of the bank after me, hatin hand.
He said "the old man” had reconsidered
the matter and sent him to accompany
me back with the: money. This seemed
to me to be quite satisfactory, and as the
fellow was a very genial young man we
immediately fell to discussing the rob
bery of his bank. He congratulated me
on my good fortune and knowingly hint
ed that ‘ ‘the old gentleman” wquhl treat
me cleverly in the way of reward.
1 said this young man was a very
genial fellow, but somehow I soon be
gan to feel an instinctive distrust in him.
I plied him with questions concerning
the habits and business methods of the
missing teller, but he returned evasive
answers. In one or two littla'things he
contradicted himself, and finally, when
I unexpectedly asked him how long be
had been employed in the bank, he re
plied, after looking at me in a dazed sort
of way, “Oh, about a year or two.” At
once the thought came to me: Yvliat if
my “escort was one ot tpe young meul
had seen outside the president’s office.
Perhaps he had overheard our conversa
tion and had planned this neat little
scheme of playing the role of a clerk of
the bank sent me for “protection,” as he
insinuatingly put it. If so, I readily saw
that he intended to make an effort, to get
his hands on the valise and then seize
the first opportunity to hid me goodby.
This theory was strengthened when 1
noted that my “protector” seemed grad
ually to become very uncommunicative,
and the conversation during the rest of
the journey referred to passing objects
and sights. Try as hard as I could I failed
to get anything satisfactory out of him ;
concerning the robbery.
When I reached home, I politely asked '
the young man to take a seat in the hall;
while 1 stepped up stairs to get a glimpse
of the treasure. 1 found my wife at the !
head of the stairs, very excited. In an '
adjoining room we examined the v.dVv, ,
and at a rough estimate we placed the ,
amount at about the figure tho newspa-'
pers said Swope had carried off with
him—somewhere about §00,000.
I did not tell my wife of my suspicions
of the young man down stairs, hut 1 re
solved at once to arm myself in order to
be prepared for the worst. It is a well
known fact that in Kentucky the sixth
commandment has long ago been de
clared unconstitutional, and I quickly
made up my mind that if my bodyguard
showed any^igns of playing me false 1
would let him have a dose of cold lead.
Contrary to my expectations the young
fellow made no offer to carry the valise
as we started on our journey back to the
bank. At the end of the short street on
which I lived we stopped to take a car.
My friend had again become very affa
ble, and as we stood on the corner he of
fered me a cigar. I took it, thanked
him, and placing my valise carefully on
the ground between my feet I struck a
match to light it. Just as I was in the
act of doing so I received a blow from
the left that sent me staggering into the
middle of the street. At the same mo
ment my “protector” disappeared in the
UL-uer uireuuuu.
“Look here, young man,” said a gruff
voiced fellow in uniform at my side as he
shook me violently, “I thought you told
me you were going to take the train west
tonight. It has just pulled out, and You’re
left.”
Opening my eyes I looked around the
waiting room in a confused way and
reached for my valise.
It was nowhere to be found!
My brusque arouser instantly took in
the situation, and with a look of intense
disgust on his face said as he turned
away:
“I guess that studentlike sport who
was sitting beside you has taken care of
your baggage. He passed me a few
moments ago on his way to the train
with a couple of valises. Next time you
go traveling, young man, you had better
take some one along with you to care
for you while you sleep.”—St. Louis
Post-Dispatch.
A Transporting Tale.
Charlie Ryan, who handles the passen
ger business of the Chesapeake and Ohio
railroad from Cincinnati, has also to
handle some passenger business that re
quires Napoleonic genius—to wit, the
pass fiends. One of these, a sleek, insin
uating fellow, walked into Ryan’s office
one day in June.
“Ah,” he said, “is this Mr. Ryan?”
Mr. Ryan didn’t deny that it was.
“Ah, well, I called to see if I couldn't
get transportation for myself over your
road to White Sulphur.”
Mr. Ryan smiled divinely.
“Certainly, sir, certainly: all you
want.”
“Ah, many thanks. Do I get it from
yon?”
“Oh, no, sir,” bowed the polite Charles.
“You get it at the ticket office down
stairs. We don’t sell tickets up here,’1
and the man was so overcome that he
went down stairs and actually bought a
ticket.—Detroit Free Press.
The Convolutions of Soup Creek.
Soup creek, in McDowell county, W.
Va., is a remarkable stream. The creek
passes a hamlet called Vivian, and about
a mile below returns, runs around a
tract of land about a half mile wide, and
then passes under itself. This freak is
caused by the lay of the land, which
sinks spirally.—Exchange.
INVITING OLD AGE.
SOME OF THE WAYS IN WHICH WOM
EN LOSE THEIR YOUTH.
Mothers Neglect Tlieir Own Needs In Ex
aggerated Devotion to the Children.
Those Who Claim the Immunities of Ago
When Only In the Midday of Life.
The oldest woman I ever knew wa9 28.
At marriage the graces of girlhood passed
forever from her life. Economy became
the god enthroned on every altar of her
home. Ruffles and ribbons were the
insignia of levity and extravagance.
Dresses robbed of a yard or two grew
ungracefully short and narrow. Books
and papers were regarded as luxuries—
not necessities. An hour spent in read
ing left a feeling of guilt for wasted time.
Devotion to “Will and the children”
came to mean self assumed slaver}’.
Luster left the eye, elasticity the frame.
Through a mistaken sense of duty she
grew unkempt, narrow sonled, repulsive.
It has been said that the true age is what
we look and feel. I have known sweet,
fresh faced women of ”0 who were
younger than she.
In the great middle class of America
the wife too often invites age by concen
trating all ambition in money getting.
To sav'e the wages of servants she de
stroys the joy of life, the buoyancy of
health. Pushing the growing daughter
to the front, she sees less and less of
society, dresses with increasing plain
ness and siuks to a household drudge,
self made and valued at her own esti
mate.
Thirty-five has no more right to the
styles and tone of 70 than to those of 17.
The appropriation of the one is scarcely
less ridiculous than the assumption of
the other. Far better than the expen
sive boarding school is the example of
the mother in imparting to the daughter
the faultless taste of dress, the gentle
repose of manner, the gracious spirit so
admirable in woman. A part of the
money devoted to the education of the
daughter would be well spent in procur
ing to the mother the time for self cul
ture. As the fair, snowy page is not so
useful or beautiful as the one written
with pure, uplifting thought, so the im- !
mature maiden is les3 valuable to homo
and society than the ripe, cultured worn
People of 40 and 50 should not shelve
themselves and claim the immunities of
age. They are in the midday of life; the
time for the exercise of knowledge,
power, grace and beauty, for the up
lifting of humanity. These gifts may
be enhanced bv dress and manner. The
influence of tho attractive, self respect
ing wife, mother, sister or friend is more
potent for good than that of the one with
neglected person and unlovely mind.
Discontent invites age. Indulging the
nurest of the dissatisfied is destructive
to looks and temper. In his “Story of a
Country Town” Mr. E. W. Howe says,
“Be contented if it kills you.” The ad
vice is not so had as it looks. Content
ment and stagnation are not necessarily
synonymous. One may he free from
worry while striving for higher planes
or woi?k. Woman should have the cour
age of repose. It is infinitely better than
the morbid conscientiousness that goads
to endless toil. Effective work requires
effective rest.
Judicious mental work may help to
lift one out of the ruts of premature eld
age. Read and think of what you read.
Don’t use your mind as if it were a
sieve and you were trying to see how
much you could pour through it. There
is a belief extant that knowlege, if
gained at all, must be acquired in youth.
Fallacious theory! Behold Galilei at
threescore and ten pursuing his studies
with unflagging zeal, Cato beginning
Greek when advanced in years, Ogilby
commencing classical studies when past
50! Gladstone is as much the student
today as when the bloom of youth man
tled his cheek.
Be kind to the feelings and fancies of
youth. If they prove perennial, so much
the better. Don’t forbid yourself glad,
recreative thought and action. Don’t be
ashamed to make yourself as pretty as
you can. A sensible woman may feel a
thrill of pleasure innocent as a maiden’s
when receiving a glance of respectful
admiration from a manly man. Smile
without affectation, be pleasant without
being silly—in short, he young as long as
you can.—Alva Rosse in Kate Field’s
Washington.
Cradles Hundreds of Years Ago.
In manuscripts of the ninth and tenth
centuries we had pictures of cradles
formed of part of a tree trunk dug out,
with holes bored through the sides for
the passage of straps intended to tie the
baby down in his bed. These dug out cra
dles are still common in modern Greece.
When we come to consult the manu
scripts and bas-reliefs of the fifteenth
century, we notice that the cradles are
no longer mere baskets or beds on rock
ers, but little swinging beds suspended
between two pillars, the prototype of the
modern bercelonnette.—Harper's Bazar.
Yes, It Is Strictly Grammatical.
The following is quoted from a lead- 1
ing article in the New York Tribune:
“By his death the community loses
the foremost and the best of American
actors, and one of the greatest trage- i
dians that have ever lived. ”
To settle a dispute, will you kindly j
state whether the above is strictly ac- :
cording to English grammar?—New York j
Sun.
An Author's Apology.
A clever story whose hero is a young
rector -speaks of his removing his “bi
retta” during a protracted walk. “I
wantonly put it on his head,” says the
author, with a laugh. “I knew he ought
not to roam the country in that head
gear, but it was so becoming that I let
him do it.”—New York Times.
Graphic.
A schoolboy the other day being told
to describe Jacksonville, Fla., said, “It is
a great summer resort in winter.”—New
York Tribune.
AT THE OLD TRYSTING PWACE.
The dead leaves malic at my feet.
The moon is shining brightly:
Something has softly dimmed my eyes.
Across the path one slrnuow lies.
The path two trod so lightly.
It was upon a night like this
Love left us only sorrow:
I held her little hand in mine:
That parting is to me divine.
Then there was'no tomorrow.
Since I have learned life’s lesson well
Hearts are not easy broken.
Tonight all joys I have forgot:
There’s something sacred in this spot.
Where sweet goodbys were spoken.
I’d feel less lonely with myself
If I were broken hearted:
Would I could live that night again.
With all its sadness-sweetened pain.
When love from love was parted!
—Lippincott’s.
What a Young Man Did.
A college graduate had hardly received
his diploma before he was compelled to
face poverty and family disgrace. His
father, who had been reputed to be
wealthy, was an embezzler and a fugi
tive from justice. His mother and sisters
were entirely dependent upon his modest
earnings in a broker's office.
He had planned taking an advanced
course of professional study in architec
ture. His ideal occupation had to he
abandoned. He was in love with a
charming girl, hut ceased to visit her
since marriage was out of the question.
An opportunity for a year's travel in Eu
rope at a friend's expense was given up.
Year after j’ear he maintained a hard,
bitter struggle to make a living at un
congenial employment for his mother
and sisters, to support his father abroad
and to overcome prejudice caused by the
family disgrace. He became a success
ful business man, but was prematurely
gray at 40. His life was haunted by the
ghosts of liis youthful hopes.
Such lives do not furnish material for
exciting stories. They are dull and pro
saic, hut nre nevertheless heroic. To
give up all that is dear to youth and to
bo loyal to family obligations sometimes
is a crowning triumph of unselfishness.
—Youth’s Companion.
Many Ministers Present.
Ex-Secretary Lincoln, while United
States minister to England, wished to
get into Westminster on the occasion of
a special service there. Archdeacon Far
rar had told Mr. Lincoln to go to the
east door of tiie cathedral to avoid the
crowd and to inform the usher that he
was the American minister, so that he
could he conducted at onco to the arch
deacon’s pew. When Mr. Lincoln sent
in his name and title, the usher came
out and said, with surprise, “For gra
cious’ sake, how many American minis
ters are there!” It seems that several
gentlemen of the cloth had each deftly
made his way into the church hy inform
ing the usher that ho was an American
minister.—San Francisco Argonaut.
What Could He, Indeed?
A group of women in China got hold
of a fashion magazine from the United
States. After examining it carefully for
some moments one of the number said to
a missionary who had been talking to
them against “foot binding:” “China
women pinch foot. You say China wom
an velly had. Melican woman not pinch
foot. Melican woman pinch here,” laj'ing
her hand on her waist. “Life here, life
not in foot. Melican woman velly much
more had than China woman.” What
could the missionary say!—Louisville
Kecorder.
Five Years* Bank of England Paid Notes.
The stock of paid notes for five years
in the Bank of England is about 77,745,
000 in number, and they fill 13,400 boxes,
which if placed side b>’ side would reach
2i miles. If the notes were placed in a
pile they would reach to a height of 5?
miles, or if joined end to end would form
a ribbon 12,455 miles long. Their super
ficial area is rather less than that of Hyde
park. Their original value was over
£1,750,626,000 and their weight over 90?
tons.—London Tit-Bits.
Followed Plenty of Advice.
A Connecticut farmer who wished to
paint his barn asked all his neighbors
what would be the best color. He ac
cepted the advice of every ohe of them,
and there never was a bam that showed
as many colors as this one when the
work was done.—New York Times.
A Siamese Ceremony.
The removal of the topknot of a Sia
mese prince, which indicates that he has
reached manhood, is accompanied by im
posing ceremonies which last several
days. The governors of all the prov
inces are expected to be present with
gifts.—Philadelphia Press.
A Ring on Hi6 Hands.
“Is Harldns worrying over the fact
that Miss de Riche jilted him?”
“No; but it annoys him exceedingly
to think that the ring she gave back was
purchased at her father’s store and paid
for, too, by Jove:-’—Harper's Bazar.
The Fact Remains.
Miss Azuro Hughes—I emphatically
deny that the educated woman is
ashamed to admit her age.
Giglamps—But all the same I notice
she doesn't put her college year after her
name.—Vogue.
Hortensius, the Roman orator, had a
memory so wonderful that on a wager
he spent a whole day at an auction, and
at night repeated all the sales, the prices
and the names of the buyers.
The properties and use of the mariner's
compass were known to the Chinese cen
turies ago. It was brought to Europe in
the thirteenth century and first used on
the Mediterranean.
The smallest tree in Great Britain
grows on the summit of Ben Lomond. It
is the dwarf willow, which is mature
when it attains the height of 2 inches.
A map of Ireland made of hairs taken
from the heads of the different members
of the McLean family is in the possession
of Mrs. A. McLean of Pelham, Ga.
Ancient Girdles.
Ancient girdles were in some >*espocts
like the chatelaines not long ago so much
i tl:e rage among the ladies, bet they dif
! fertd th'Tcfroiu in being more useful,
I more comprehensive in regard both to
i &ex and to articles worn, and when com
j pletely furnished miv< <•< islly. It is
I partly for this last r ■ on that we find
girdles bequeathed as precious It irlooms
wul as valuable pn -ents to keep the
giver's memory gre. u after d . They
were not infrequently of g: ■ intrinsic
value. One of King John's girdles was
wrought with gold and nt-d with
gems, and that ui' tiie widow of Sir
Thomas Hungerford, bequeathed in 1504
to the mother church of Worcester,
was of green color haraosst d with silver
aud richly jeweled.
Not a few wealthy commoners were
able to afford the luxury of gold embel
lished belts and were not superior to that
pardonable vanity so long as nu regula
tion prohibited them. Those who have
studied our social history will not be
surprised to learn that enactments were
passed restraining them. Edward III
forbade any person under the degree of a
knight from wearing girdles, gilt or sil
ver, unless he should happen to be nu es
quire of substance valued at more than
£200, when a reasonable embellishment
was tolerated. Henry IV confirmed this
regulation, but it does not seem to have
been stringently enforced, for Edward IV
was constrained to impose a penalty of
40 pence upon the wives of servants and
laborers who should have the pertinence
to aspire to be as good as their masters’
spouses.—Chambers’ Jonrnal.
' t-ie 3Iost of iloiisrliolri I’ctf,.
Whatever beast is kept it should have
; its own quarters in which it is a* home
I and free from intrusion and to which it
I can retire when it chooses. This home
should be kept clean and sweet by fre
! quent changes of bedding and the use ct
soap and water. No one lias a right to
keep an animal in confinement who finds
it toomuch trouble to at tend to its 1, alth
and comfort. It should lie regularly fed
on food that is most healthful for it, and
what is quite asossential toil: in no.-.:
and consequently to its health, it ; ,iould
be talked to and noticed as much ns any
body.
I am certain many animals ati l bw-ls
suffer and die in our homes from pure
loneliness and from being regarded by
their human neighbors as creataivs of
an altogether different nature. Whereas
the truth is, if one will but cultivate
their acquaintance, he will be astonished
to see how the dullest and most stupid
will wake out of its apparent torpor and
show understanding and character.
I know a family very fond of pets, in
which the creatures show most extraor
dinary individuality. Their cats do
things no cat was ever before known to
do; their parrots and other birds show
what we call human nature in a won
derful degree, and their dogs almost
talk. The reason is plain; the animal or
bird is made one of the family. Jt is
talked to and petted as well as cared for.
Its intelligence develops, and the beast
becomes very like the human being.—
I Olive Thorne Miller in Harper's Bazar.
A Gleam of Saiishine.
I stood in the great courtyard of Sing
Sing prison two days hr fore the famous
escape of Roehl and Pallister. The genial
keeper had shown us everything and ev
erybody of the hundreds of prisoners
save the fatal five in the condemned
cells. We had seen the workshops, the
dining room, the tiny sleeping apart
ments, the chapel painted by a convict's
pencil with scenes from the “Prodigal
Son.” As we turned to go away the at
| tendant called to me:
“Look yonder.”
There was a little girl, the daughter of
an official of the prison, surrounded by
three men in stripes. How they kissed
her innocent face and almost worshiped
her as she stood among them with the
sunlight playing around her slender
form!
“Strange thing, sir, but these fellows
do so love children!” said the keeper.
“If we only let them play where the
prisoners can see them, they will watch
them by the hour and spend days in
making little toys for them. Ay,” con
tinued he, “and robins, mice, rats, any
thing alive, they will catch, tame and
cherish.”
The scene in the grim, gaunt prison
was a fascinating one. As the great iron
i gate clanged behind us I turned and
[ looked again. The group was still there,
gilded by the April sunlight.—Hew York
Ledger.
A Cyclist Catches a Train.
“We have all seen men run for a train,”
said a traveler. “The other day 1 saw a
man make a break for one on a bicycle.
We had halted at a station from which a
straight, level road ran back at a right
angle to the railroad. At a considerable
distance up that road we saw a man com
ing on a bicycle. A man afoot couldn't
have got anywhere near ns from that
distance, and it didn't seem as though
the man on the wheel could get within
rods of ns, hut he came down tin' street
whizzing. When lie had come about
half the distance, the conductor gave the
signal to start, and the engineer sounded
the whistle and started the train. It
was astonishing how fast the man on the
wheel was coming now. There was a
broad, level space around the station.
The bicyclist swept over this in a great
curve that landed him alongside the bag
gage car. Dismounting, he lifted his
wheel up to the waiting hands of the bag
gage master. A fraction of a second lat
er the steps of the first passenger car
came along, and the bicyclist stepped
aboard a winner.”—Hew York Sun.
About How He Felt.
Mr. and Mrs. Fitts were out driving.
“I wonder,” said she, “just what the
poor horse’s feelings are? It must he
just horrid to be driven and dragged
around, without any idea as to where
one is going, except as some one directs.1'
“I fancy lean appreciate his feelings,”
replied Mr. Fitts calmly. “I imagine he
feels just about as I do when you take
me out on a shopping trip.”—London
Tit-Bits.
