Going to
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If so, buy one that cannot be stolen. The I
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BOWS. _
Here’s the Idea:
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PHILADELPHIA.
The Human Electrical Forces!
How They Control the Organs
of the Body.
The electrical force of the human body, as
the nerve fluid may be termed. Is an espe
cially attractive department of science, as it
exerts so marked an influence on the health
of the organs of the body. Nerve force is
produced by the brain and conveyed by
means of the nerves to the various organs of
the body, thus supplying the latter with the
vitality necessary to in
sure their health. The
pneumogastric nerve, as
.shown here, may he said
to be the most important ,
of the entire nerve sys- I
tem, as it supplies the j
heart., lungs,' stomach, I
bowels, etc., with the
nerve force necessary to
keep them active and
healthy. As will be seen
by the cut the long nerve
descending from the
base of the brain and
terminating in the bow- <
cis is the pneumogastric, k
while the numerous lit-fl
tie branches supply the!
iieart, lungs and stom-fl
ach with necessary vl- ■
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becomes in any wav dis-1
ordered by Irritability ■
or exhaustion, the nerve I
force which it supplies 1
is lessened, and the or- ]
gans receiving the di- I
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Physicians generally fail to recognize,
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The noted specialist, Franklin Miles, M. D.,
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TALES FROM
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\
YOU HAVE
BACK-ACHE
CONST! PAT'Cf'3
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IRRITATION at <
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DEPOSITS ?
USE A K“R''OU|ouok j
Oregon Kidney Tea.)
.THESE SYMPTOMS iNDiCATE ;
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U CL*AN**^1^*arKm™.!
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fefhstr^ DR. R. W. BAILEY,
trance. OMAHA, - . . - NEB. .1
AT EVENING.
Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold.
The sweet young grasses wither on the wold.
And we, O Lord, have wandered from thy fold.
But evening brings us home.
Among the mists we stumbled, and the rocks
Where the brown lichen whitens, and the fox
Watches the straggler from the scattered
flocks.
But evening brings us home.
The sharp thorns prick us, and our tender feet
Are cut and bleeding, and the lambs repeat
Their pitiful complaints—oh, rest is sweet
When evening brings us home.
We have been wounded by the hunter’s darts.
Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts
Search for thy coming—when the light departs
At evening bring us home.
The darkness gathers. Through the gloom no
star
Rises to guide us. We have wandered far.
Without thy lamp we know not where we are.
At evening bring us home.
The clouds are round u?, and the snowdrifts
thicken.
O thou, dear Shepherd, leave us not to sicken
In the waste night; our tardy footsteps quicken.
At evening bring us home.
—Exchange.
A DUEL IK THE DARK.
Up to the time when occurred the in
cident which I am about to relate I had
been what is called an unlucky fellow,
having an unfortunate propensity for
stroking the wrong way and unwitting
ly bringing down upon myself the ill
will of the people with whom I came in
contact. A friend once tried to explain
this misfortune of mine on the theory
that the electric fluid with which I was
charged was of the antagonistic order,
and that I was in no way responsible for
the enemies that I made.
At this time I was in Paris, having
been sent there by my friends, who were
then making an effort to procure for me
a position of some importance. In view
of my fatal incapacity for doing or say
ing the right thing at the right time,
they deemed it indispensable to my suc
cess that I should he at a safe distance
until the matter was decided.
That I should choose Paris for my place
of retirement was but natural, since a
young lady in whom I felt a somewhat
absorbing interest was at the time stop
ping in that city.
a Amu uecuiuo acquamieu wim ner in
my college days and was sure that she
at least felt no antipathy to me. Her
father, who was a retired army officer,
took a very decided dislike to me at
bight and gave as a reason that I had
“no fight” in me. The arrogant manner
in which he treated me in those days
left no room for doubt that he consider
ed me a coward.
Shortly after my arrival I met the
young lady by an appointment which
was clandestine only so far as that I
was aware of her father’s absence from
the city on that day. It was evening
when, somewhat fatigued by our sight
seeing, we entered a cafe on one of the
boulevards for lunch.
As we passed through the broad en
trance we encountered two men who
were lounging against one of the pillars.
The larger and much the stronger of the
two was carelessly brushing the floor
with his cane. Just as we reached him
he, if not intentionally, yet with an in
difference to the rights of others that
was inexcusable, switched the stick
against us in such a way as to tear a
part of the lady’s lace dress. I was in
dignant, and a glance at her flushed face
made me feel that I must do something
to show my resentment.
This feeling was strengthened when I
observed the indifference which the fel
low displayed in regard to the affair.
He made no attempt to apologize, and
when I remarked, “You were very care
less, sir!” he gave me an insolent stare
that angered me beyond control, and for
getting for the moment everything else
I spoke to him sharply. He made no re
ply, but extending his cane entangled it
in the lady’s dress so that the delicate
fabric was again torn for a yard or more.
The man with him, a much younger
person, started as if to check him, but
the movement was not decided enough
to make it quite clear what his intentions
were.
I was frantic with passion, and with
one blow struck the fellow to the floor,
then hurried my companion away from
the scene. The expression of surprise up
on the faces of the bystanders did not
escape me, and I realized intuitively that
I had dared to assail a man of more than
ordinary importance.
We were hardly seated when the young
er man came to me, and bowing said, “I
beg monsieur’s pardon, but my friend
whom monsieur felt called upon to re
buke wishes to exchange cards.”
He held toward me an ordinary visit
ing card, which I took without glancing
at it and handed him one of my own.
Courteously thanking me for the favor
and again begging my pardon, he with
drew.
“Oh, how thankful I am that you
knocked that brute down!” exclaimed
my companion. “How I wish that papa
could have seen you! I will tell him of
it, and he will never—no, never—again
call you a”
She suddenly checked herself and did
not finish the sentence, but I knew well
enough what she would have added—her
father would never again call me a cow
ard.
It did not trouble me then. I felt very
brave and smiled down upon her spar
kling eyes with a “that-is-an-everyday
sort-of-experience-with-me” expression.
After lunch I escorted her to her home,
then returned to my hotel and very soon
retired.
I had not finished dressing next morn
ing when the door of my room was sud
denly opened, and a man entered unan
nounced and apparently in great excite
ment. I was not surprised at this ab
ruptness when I saw that it was my ec
centric friend, Wilson, whom I had
found living in the city.
Without a word of greeting or apology
he exclaimed: “Well, you have done it!
I congratulate you upon your notoriety.
I came early and have not stopped for
ceremony, because I wished to be the
first ta pay homage to the latest Parisian
hero.”
I stared blankly at him, vainly trying
to comprehend what he was driving at,
but supposing that this was only another
exhibition of his whimsical character.
“Did you know who he was when you
struck him?” he continued.
“Know whom?” I queried.
“Why, the man you struck last night,
of course.”
“I do not know, nor do I care,” I re
plied indifferently, but wondering how
Wilson had heard of the affair.
“Well, it was no less a personage than
M. le Baron, the noted duelist.”
“What! not the man who, it is said,
has killed his dozen?” I questioned, no
longer indifferent.
“The same. The morning papers are
full of the affair.”
I explained the circumstances.
“Le Baron had evidently been drink
ing too much,” pondered Wilson.
“What will be the result?” I anxiously
inquired.
“Duel,” was the laconic answer.
I could not suppress a feeling of faint
ness when it flashed upon me what
would be the result. A duel with M.
le Baron meant almost certain death.
A refusal to accept a challenge would
ostracize me from society, and more
than all else would lose me forever the
love of the one being above all others
whose affection I most wished to obtain.
I knew the young lady and her father
too well to suppose that they would
look upon me again if I in any way
showed the white feather. The matter
was taking on a decidedly unpleasant
aspect. I looked at Wilson. He was
busy stabbing a fly which was crawling
along the floor minus a wing.
“Do you think he will challenge me?”
I inquired nervously.
“Challenge you!” he repeated con
temptuously. “Challenge you! Why,
it is proverbial that Le Baron would
rather fight a duel than eat. Challenge
you! Why, of course he will, and I
came here this morning expressly to of
fer myself as your second. Of course
your position as principal in this busi
ness is more glorious, but then it is more
dangerous. Shall I meet the messenger
when he comes and make the necessary
arrangements?”
“Certainly, said 1, “and thank you,
but I trust the matter is not so serious
as you make it appear.”
“Oh, it will come out all right if you
will follow my directions implicitly, but
you may be very sure the challenge will
be sent this morning. Remember you
are to leave the whole thing to me.”
We were still talking over the affair
when a card was brought me, upon
which I read the name of Adolphe Bosch
er, captain Thirty-third cuirassiers.
“He is Le Baron’s second,” declared
Wilson as I read the name. “Let him
come up.”
The captain on presenting himself ex
pressed much regret at being called up
on to perform “an unpleasant duty,”
but was interrupted by Wilson, who ex
plained to him that his visit was not un
expected, and that he himself had been
requested to act for me. He suggested
that they immediately depart to make
the customary arrangements, to which
Captain Boscher assented with more
apologies.
Left to myself, I began pacing up and
down the room, anxiously reviewing the
situation. To refuse to fight this man
was out of the question. Life, I felt
sure, would not be worth living without
the woman I loved, and if I declined the
challenge I should never be allowed to
look upon her face again. On the other
hand, to meet Le Baron was, in all prob
ability, to meet my death. A cold shud
der crept over me at the thought. That
was the only thing to do, however—to
meet the fellow and let him kill me. I
should then at least have the satisfac
tion of knowing that my beloved one
would honor my memory.
The hours passed as only the hours can
pass to a man who believes that he has
but a short time to live. About noon I
received a note from Colonel Russell, the
father of my dear girl, in which in his
brusque way he informed me of his
knowledge of what had occurred and
expressed the hope that I would meet
the scoundrel and kill him. If I did, he
would like to see me afterward.
In the afternoon Wilson returned with
the announcement that all the arrange
ments had been made.
“It is to occur tonight,” he said.
“Tonight,” I repeated. Why such
haste?’
■ vm, 10 get n. ou. your rniuu. auu we
have selected swords.”
“Swords!” I echoed. “I know no more
about handling a sword than a child!
You must have known that Le Baron is
credited with being the most expert
swordsman on the continent. I should
think you might at least have chosen pis
tols. That would have given him advan
tage enough, heaven knows, but swords
—I don’t know the first rudiments of
swordsmanship. It is murder, cold
blooded murder, and you are an acces
sory!”
“Pooh! it is all right if you don’t so
entirely lose your head as to be unable
to follow my instructions.”
“Where is this assassination to take
place?” I inquired, paying no heed to his
remark.
“In the cellar of a deserted building
just outside the city, and we must get
ready at once, for it is booked for 10
o’clock, and we have some distance to
ride. You make your preparations, while
I run over to my lodgings and get some
articles which we shall need.”
He left me, and I attempted to get
ready. First I sat down and wrote, or
attempted to write, several letters. In
my nervous excitement I could only dash
off incoherent and broken sentences,
which told nothing save my overwrought
emotions. I did not realize this at the
time, did not realize anything but that I
was to be killed without even a chance
to defend myself, fora sword in my hand
was as useless against my opponent as a
cannon would have been.
On Wilson’s return we immediately
proceeded to the carriage which he had
in waiting and entered upon our jour
ney. I felt as if riding to my own fu
neral. On the way Wilson commenced,
“The duel is to be in the dark without
any light whatever”
I interrupted him angrily: “In heaven’s
name, Wilson, what is your purpose?
Why, I will not £s! I will not”
“Oh, stop!” he put in. “Show a little
manhood. Pull yourself up and hear
me through. The duel, as I was saying,
is to be conducted in a dark room. Thgy
objected to this when I first proposed it,
but on my naming swords as the weap
ons they consented. Yon and Le Baron
are to be locked up in a room without
any light and remain there until one or
the other is killed or disabled or begs
for quarter. And now for my directions
to you: Just before you go in I will hand
you a glass of wine ■which you must
drink and, without stopping an instant,
enter the room selected for the combat.
Don’t delay one moment after drinking
the wine, or it will be bad for you. Do
as I say, and you will be the victor. Ask
no questions, but do as I direct.”
I did not half comprehend him, but
caught at the assurance that he under
stood what he was doing, and I felt a
slight hope that he could and would find
some way out of the difficulty.
Some miles from the city we turned
into a private way which led to a desert
ed chateau.
M. le Baron, Captain Boscher and the
surgeon were already on the spot. With
the slightest recognition of one another
we descended to the basement, carrying
hut one lantern to illumine the way.
The room in which the duel was to
take place was about 10 feet square,
without window’s and with but one door.
It was very high and the walls were
built of split stones. I looked eagerly
about, but could see no chance for out
side aid to reach me. I should have been
mortally nervous had not the lofty and
supercilious air of Le Baron aroused my
anger.
The final arrangements were quickly
made, and we each took a comer, sword
in hand. The conditions were briefly
restated, that there might be no misun
derstanding—we were to remain each in
his corner until the door was shut, when,
after waiting one minute, the signal
would be given, and we should be at
liberty to slash each other as much as
we could, the fight to continue until one
or the other was unable to carry it fur
ther.
my corner was tannest irom tne en
trance and opposite it.
After the seconds had left the room,
taking the light with them, Wilson on
some pretext or other returned and
handed me a small flask. Then turning
me about so that my back was toward
the open door, through which the light
was streaming, he whispered:
“Drink this, but do not turn Until I go
out and shut the door, and after the duel
is ended, before the door is opened, close
your eyes tightly and keep them closed
until I come to you and bandage them.
Say that they are hurt. Your life de
pends upon following my directions.”
Before I could reply or question, he
left me, and the door was shut. The
liquor I had swallowed seemed to course
through mv veins like lightning. My
head felt strange and my eyeballs began
to prickle. I turned and was surprised
to see what an immense volume of light
poured through the small keyhole. As I
looked it increased until the room was so
light that I could distinctly see every
part of it. I glanced at my antagonist
and beheld him so plainly as almost to
be able to distinguish his features. He
was adjusting something inside his shirt
front. I was about to call attention to
the breach of the condition that the
room should be in total darkness when
the signal was given to make ready.
Le Baron grasped his sword and leaned
forward as if he were endeavoring in
the dim light to make out something in
front of him. At the second signal he
stepped heavily forward, but surprised
me by quickly springing to one side and
then moving stealthily toward the cen
ter of the room. I could not understand
his tactics and did not move. He swung
his sword fiercely with a downward
sweep, then to the right and left and all
around him, acting like a blind man
sticking at an invisible enemy.
Again he moved in my direction, go
ing through the same performance, and
this he repeated several times until he
came so near me that for safety I moved
to one side.
“Where are you? he grumbled, swing
ing his blade around,
“Here,” I replied, and as he moved in
my direction, brandishing the sword, I
stepped aside again, but he kept on in
the direction of my voice. For a mo
ment he stood still, swaying the weapon
like one who depends solely upon his
sense of touch. I was so near him and
the opportunity was so tempting I gave
a lunge at him. He made no attempt to
ward off the attack, and my sword
touched him. Then he turned quickly,
slashing the air in a circle, but making
no motion toward me.
It dawned upon me then that he could
not see as I could, and I was not long in
taking advantage of this. I could easily
keep out of his reach, while he was com
pletely at my mercy. I compromised
with myself on the advantage I appar
ently had over him and did not attempt
to kill him, but I most cruelly disfigured
his face, cutting it until I feared he
might die from loss of blood.
It could not have been half an hour
when I saw that he was growing weak,
and I ended the farce by knocking him
senseless to the floor. Then, closing my
eyes and holding my hands over them, I
called for help. Wilson, the captain and
the surgeon came running in.
My friend hastened to me. saying:
“Your eyes are hurt! Here, let me put
this handkerchief over them while mon
sieur the surgeon attends to Le Baron.”
He deftly placed a thick bandage over
my eyes, and refusing the proffered aid
of the physician he led me up stairs and
to the carriage which was to convey me
back to the city and my hotel. Le Baron,
I afterward learned, was badly “cut up,”
both physically and mentally, but none
of his wounds was dangerous.
On the way home, when I asked for an
explanation, Wilson said:
“Well, you know I have made chem
istry an absorbing study. Once, while
compounding digitalis with some chem
icals, I tried its effect upon a dog and
discovered that he could see in the dark
est room, running with perfect ease
while I had to grope my way along. On
bringing him to the light too suddenly
afterward, I sacrificed his eyesight to
my curiosity, for he was thenceforth al
most totally blind. Only after several
trials did I sufficiently understand the 1
workings of this compound not to injure
the animal experimented on.
“Except myself I have never tried it
on any human being until tonight. It
is a secret that I am not ready to give to j
the world. You must remain in your ,
room tonight, and tomorrow you can
have but little light. I will be with you.”
The morning papers gave a full ac
count of the defeat of the great duellist
Le Baron and highly praised the courage
and skill of his American opponent.
During the day Colonel Russell called,
but learning that I could not see him
left congratulations and told Wilson
that he hoped I would call on him as
soon as I was able to be out, as both his
daughter and himself were very anxious
to see me. I called that evening and
learned that I had won the admiration
of the father as I had the love of the
daughter.
In a short time I received a cablegram
from my friends at home telling me that
the country had heard of my fight, and
every one was wild over my valor. My
position was sure.
I returned to my home with a lovely
wife and a most flattering reputati-'nfor
courage, all obtained by vanquishing a
bully with the aid of an “eye opener.”—
Charles E. ifoag fti Romance.
Mr. McQuade’s Crest.
“Dinnis,” 6aid Mr. Hurlihy to Mr. Mc
Quade, “since the grocery business has
prospered so foine wid ye, an you’re put
tin on the bit av shtyle, you’d oughter
be afther bavin a crist an a monnygrum,
man, along wid iverything ilse.” “A
crist an a monnygrum,” repeated Mr.
McQuade dubiously, “an shure, where
would Oi be afther foindin ’em?”
“A monnygrum’s aisy made in a min
ute by a tasty man,” said Mr. Hurlihy,
with condescension. “Oi c’d twine yez
a D, an an M, an a Q if Oi once put me
moind to it, but a crist ain’t quite so
simple. It’s got t’ be an animile or a Ag
ger av some sort that’ll have a riference
to the fayther an gran’fayther av yez,
an sometimes there’s a couple av wur
ruds goes wid it.”
Jrmvat Kind av wurruasr inquired
Mr. McQuade.
“A motter, man, settin out the princi
ples av yure family an ancisthors,” re
plied Mr. Hurlihy, with a comprehensive
wave of his hands.
“No nade for yez to say anuy more,”
cried Mr. McQuade, with an expression
of great relief. “Oi’m thinkin Dinms
McQuade’ll have a crist wid the best av
’em if that’s phwat’s wanted.-’
“An what’ll it be?” inquired Mr. Hur
lihy.
j “A hin,” said Mr. McQuade, with de
cision, drawing an imaginary biped in
the air with a sturdy forefinger; “a hin
wid a broight eye on her, her roundhead
bint forrud an her ligs jist a-goin, an
round the head av her the wurruds that
gran’fayther shpoke to me fayther man
ny’s the toime when wurruk was slow
comin an fayther was loike to fale dis
cooraged. ‘Kape scratchin!’ the ould
man ’d say, an good advoice it was.
Oi’m thinkin there aint inanny c’d have
a betther crist than the McQuade’s!”—
Youth’s Companion.
Why We Do Not Take Scalps.
If war is ^happily still prevalent, it
is at least war in which every clan
is fighting with its neighbors, and where
conquest means slavery or extirpation.
Millions of men are at peace within the
limits of a modem state and can go about
their business without cutting each oth
er’s throats. When they fight with other
nations, they do not enslave nor mas
sacre their prisoners.
Taking the purely selfish ground, a
Hobbes can prove conclusively that
everybody has benefited by the social
compact which substituted peace and
order for the original state of war. Is
this, then, a reversal of the old state of
things—a combating of a “cosmic proc
ess?” I should rather say that it is a
development of the tacit alliances and a
modification so far of the direct or in
ternecine conflict. Both were equally
implied in the older conditions, and both
still exist. Some races form alliances,
while others are crowded out of exist
ence. Of course I cease to do some
things which I should have done before.
I don’t attack the first man I meet in
the street and take his scalp. The reason
is that I don’t expect that he will take
mine, for if I did fear that, even as a
civilized being, I should try to antici
pate his intentions. This merely means
that we have both come to see that we
have a common interest in keeping the
peace. And this, again, merely means
that the alliance which was always an
absolutely necessary condition of the sur
vival of the species has now been extend
ed through a wider area.—Contemporary
Review. _
Two Views of Scripture Reading.
At the American chapel at Luzerne a
Protestant Episcopal minister from this
country (low church) read the lessons
with such naturalness of manner and
propriety of emphasis as to elicit the ad
miration of a visitor, who afterward re
marked, “How delightful to hear the
Scriptures read with such sense and feel
ing!” She was surprised to hear the sis
ter of a high church rector, American
! also, exclaim: “I can’t agree with you.
I think it almost blasphemous for a man
by such stress and emphasis to impose
his own interpretation on the word of
; God. The Scriptures should be read in
i monotone.”—Christian Advocate.
Altogether Too Rasy.
George is a plain, matter of fact boy,
outspoken and honest, who does not per
mit anything to ruffle him. At his ex
aminations some of his answers were
much like the boy. When he was asked
what was the difference between decimal
and common fractions,he replied prompt
ly and with the air of that question be
ing almost too easy:
“Oh, a decimal fraction has a point,
and the other hasn’t.” — New York
Times.
A View of the Common Herd.
The society journal Vogue has as one
of its correspondents an alleged member
of the “Four Hundred,” who writes as
follows: “What is the attraction yearly
at the horse show, which is always
jammed to the doors? The horses? No.
Society in the boxes, and the people
cheerfully pay tlieir money to he able to
gaze at the beings so far removed from
them, cisstimtiug an inner circle. It
was thiMeeling which caused Broadway
to be choked with a howling mob on the
day of the wedding of Miss Bradley
Martin to the Earl of Craven, and it is
this same impulse which prompts the
crowds in the upper tiers at the opera
and in the orchestra stalls to spend the
time of the intermissions in gazing
around the house at the fashionables as
if they were waxwork from Mine. Tus
saud's or the Eden Muses and t blowing
them up by aid of the little printed list
on the bill, whereby each box owner is
conveniently numbered and catalogued.
“We stand as royalty does abroad, and
we are prepared for this homage. Those
who cannot see us read of us, but unfortu
nately frequently through the medium of
writers who commence their observations
in the style of one who a few years ago
started his paragraph in this way, ‘I
dropped in at Mrs. Astor’s last night,’
and evoked, consequently, the pungent
reflection of Mr. Joseph Howard, Jr., a
writer of the people, who evidently knew
his man:
“ ’Dropped in at Mrs. Astor’s! Good
heavens! for what—the ash barrel?’ ”
V/Ahhington'ri Cabin.
There are few buildings that attract
the admirers of Washington that have
more of interest in them than a decaying
cabin which stands alone in an old pas
ture field a half mile from Berrvville, in
the beautiful Shenandoah valley of Vir
ginia.
The old cabin was the home of Wash
ington when he was a surveyor. He
came here direct from the maternal roof
to begin the arduous and at tho time
dangerous work of surveying the lands
of Thomas, Lord Fairfax, who owned
all the nortftrn part of Virginia under
the king’s patent. The work was ardu
ous because of the physical aspect of the
country, then a dense wilderness, and
dangerous because of the character of
the inhabitants, who were principally
Indians or scarcely less wild trappers or
Squatters upon his lordship’s domain.
Washington had been selected by the
nobleman because of his belief in the
youth's ability to cope with these ele
ments early in 1748, just after the com
pletion of his sixteenth year, liis only
companion being George William Fair
fax, nephew of old Lord Thomas.
Whether these boys erected the build
ing or found it already m place history
does not state, but well authenticated
tradition says that they built it them
selves. That they used it for an office,
kept their instruments there and slept
in the upper room there is ample proof.
—Washington Post.
Cementing the Russian Empire.
The czar of Russia shows undoubted
sagacity in adopting the best physical
means to hold together his vast empire.
He liar, pushed the transcaspian military
railway southeastward until it has al
most reached the frontiers of British In
dia and China, the two powers most
likely to dispute with him the acquisition
of further dominion in Central Asia.
Having thus assured the safety of the
Russian position in the southeast, he has
undertaken a more stupendous work in
beginning the construction of an un
broken line of railway to connect Eu
ropean Russia with a port on the Pacific
ocean. The whole length of the Asiatic
or main Siberian line is 4,800 miles.
The estimated cost is $200,000,000. The
work, which is now progressing from
both ends toward the center, is to be
completed in about 10 years. There will
then be a stretch of railway, all located
upon Russian territory, about 6,000 miles
in length, holding European Russia and
Asiatic Russia firmly together with a
continuous band of steel. Until the pro
posed railway running north and south
to connect the two Americas shall have
been built there will be nothing on earth
to rival this great stretch of eastern and
western railway across the Russian em
pire,—Omaha Bee.
Folly of Hoarding.
It is really remarkable that so many
people in this country, who have funds
from which they might earn a good rate
of interest, persist in locking up notes in
safe deposit vaults or pack them away in
old stockings. Money will earn today
large returns, with the best of real es
tate security as first class collateral to
protect the lender, and yet a great mam
individuals, waiting for they know not
what, decline to take advantage of what
is an unusual opportunity for making
money. The currency of a country is
intended to circulate as evidence of cred
it. If it does not, it becomes absolutely
useless to everybody. In a famine a com
munity would be no better off if it locked
up millions of barrels of flour than if it
had none at all. The same is precisely
true of money.—Washington News.
Browning to Coleridge.
Browning loaned Lord Coleridge one
of his works to read, and afterward,
meeting the poet, the lord chief justice
said to him: “What I could understand
I heartily admired, and parts ought to
be immortal. But as to much of it I
really could not tell whether I admired
it or not, because for the life of me I
could not understand it.” Browning re
plied, “If a reader of your caliber un
derstands 10 pet cent of what I write, 1
think I ought to be content.”—San Fran
cisco Argonaut.
A Hard Conundrum.
Of the 1,300,000,000 or 1,400,000,000 of
people populating the earth, how many
may be said to dominate it? Is the di
rection of all affairs sublunary in the
hands of more or less than 10,000 men'
and women? I do not mean as elected or
hereditary rulers of nations merely, but
persons in the capacity of rulers, finan
ciers, priests, soldiers, writers, states
men, etc.—Cor. New York Sun.