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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (March 16, 1894)
JANE JQNE8. Jana Jones 1 >eps a-wbisperln to ma all i time An says: “Why don’t you make It a rule To study your lessons an work hard an leu. An never be absent from school* Remember the story of EliUu Bnrrltt, How be dumb up to the top. Sot all the knowledge ’at he ever had Down In the blaekamithin shop.” Jane Jones she honestly said it was so. Mebbe he did. I dunno. "Course, what’s a-keepln me ’way from the A not never havln no blaeksmlthin shop. As said 'at Ben Franklin was awfully pi><r, But full o’ ambition an brains. An studied philosophy all ’Is hull life. An see what be got for his pains. He brought eleotridty out of the eky With a kite an the ligbtnin an key. 8b we’re owln him more’n any one else Tor all the bright lights ’at we scp. Jane Jones she uctually said It was so. Mebbe be did. I dunno. "Coarse, what’s alters been hinderln me knot bavin any kite, Ughtnin or key. Jane Jones said Columbus was out at the! ■. When he first thought up his big scheic . An all o’the Spaniards sa Italians, too. They laughed an just said 'twas a dreuu . Rot Queen Isabella she listen'd to him An pawned all her Jewels o' worth An bought'm the Santa Marier an said, “Go hunt np the rest of the earth.” Jane Jones she honestly said It was so. Mebbe he did. I dunno. "Course, that may all be, but you must allow lbey ain’t any land to discover just now. —Ben King In Southern Magazine. LITTLE CHERUB. Surely never was there more gallant dripper than Captain William Innes of the rakish freighter British Prince, and never hardier boatswain than Charles L. Lastadins. The skipper is from New eastle-on-Tyne and has followed the sea 88 years, or since he was 16 years old. He has a fine brown beard, and the re sonant voice that comes throngh it might be heard above the strongest gale that ever thrummed on the British Prince’s rigging. The boatswain is a yonng Swede, who has suffered shipwreck more than once. Bat the captain and all the ship's company never thought of him as a foreigner, but as a fellow sailorman with a big heart. The British Prince when laden has less freeboard than the common freighter from Mediterranean ports. So when she breasts the wintry seas she sometimes buries her fo’castle head in the ferment. She had a rough voyage from Gibraltar, and her coal got so low in the bankers that Captain Innes decided to put in to 8t. Michael, in the Azores, for a fresh supply. There he found stancher steam ships than his that had lost lifeboats and headgear and had many inches of water in their holds. The British Prince made good weather sf it from the Azores until she was about 460 miles east of Sandy Hook. A gale came howling ont of the southwest, combing np seas that, in the picturesque language of the skipper, looked like “granite cliffs.” Darkness was just set ting in. The cook wanted some fresh water and, like most cooks, being a landsman and somewhat timid, he asked file boatswain to get it for him. The pnmp of the fresh water tank is on the main deck under the forecastle head. It was hazardous to attempt to get at it while the seas were boiling as they were, but water must be had, and a sailorman and Boatswain Lastadins determined to get it. The sailorman got a bucket, and running forward dodged under the fore castle head. Boatswain Lastadins went ont on the flying bridge to take the buck et from the sailorman when the chance tffered—that is, when there was little probability of a sea coming immediately aboard forward. The flying bridge is a board walk with a rope railing run between 2 inch iron tianchions, connecting the fo’castle head with the forward part of the hurricane deck. The main deck is seven feet be low. The boatswain intended to reach down, grab the bucket and run aft along the flying bridge to the hurricane deck, leaving the saUorman under the shelter «f the fo'castle head to take another chance between seas. “I had just got ready,” said the boat swain, “to take the bucket, when the tiiip gave a plunge. I looked np, and there ever the port bow I saw such such a sea as I hope I may never see again. I knew it was coming aboard, and I knew I had no chance to get out of its way. If I ran aft, I thought, it would pick me up be fore I got off the bridge and carry me away. So I thought the best thing to do was to make fast to a stanchion of the lying bridge. So I wound my arms and legs around it, hugged as hard as I knew how and lowered my head to take the sea. “Everything seemed to give way when tile sea hit me. -1 might just as well have caught hold of a rope yarn as that stanchion. I thought it was all up with me and the British Prince until I found myself on the crest of a wave striking •ut for the ship, which was riding as if die had shipped only a backetful. I struck the water maybe five fathoms off tiie starboard bow. I saw the form of the second officer—Thomas Jones—on the bridge as I swept along the ship’s aide. He grabbed a lifebuoy from the rack, and I saw it come sailing toward me. It was a good shot, or I might not be telling about it now. The buoy almost ringed my bead. I grabbed it and forced it over my shoulders and under my arms. “As 1 was swept aft along the star board side of the ship I saw Captain Innes running forward. He saw me, too, for he shouted: 'Keep up a stout heart. Well save job if we can.’ But it was getting vary dark, and I was three ■hips’ lengths astern before anything eould be done aboard the ship. My heart sank, and I gave myself np for lost. I had been striking out for the ship, but when I saw her going ahead I stopped all •Sort to save myself. Bat it takes a long time to stop and reverse engines, and pretty soon I saw the ship backing to ward me. “That made my heart bound, and I yelled with all my might and tried to make some headway against the seas, which sometimes turned me over and ever. I was afraid that the ship would hack against me, and that I would be socked under by her propeller and drowned or killed Iff the blades. I saw 1 fee propeller whirling in the air when ever the ship went down into the trough 1 of ths sea. I shouted, 'Don’t back on top of me,’ as I thought they couldn't see me in the darkness. “The ship drew nearer and nearer, the captain keeping me on the starboard hand. All the men had gathered at the starboard rail, and as the ship passed me they hove lines and buoys to me and | shouted to me to keep up heart. I was once within half a fathom of the star board rail when a sea swept me forward and clear around the bow on the port side. I was away astern in the darkness before the ship could be stopped, and I almost lost hope again. But I kept sing | lug out and could hear the voice of the captain and the cheers of the men com ing down on the wind. “Tbe captain couldn’t see me, but he took my bearings from the sound of my voice by a star, and coming around he steamed down toward me, and going around me came up on my starboard. I was full of salt water and so played out and cold that I hadn’t much strength left when I saw all the men gathered along the port rail waiting to save me. The mate threw a life buoy and a line, and I caught it and put it on. I caught another line, too, fearing the first one might be carried away, and that’s ail I remember clearly until I heard all the men cheering. Up to then I thought I was still in the sea.” The captain was in his cabin taking his tea, as he puts it, when a man rushed to the top of the companion way and shouted, “Man overboard, sirP’ The captain had just poised a piece of meat on his fork and was about to put it in' his mouth. Some skippers might have serenely finished the meal. But Captain Innes got up the companion way and on deck as if his own son were the man who was overboard. He dimly saw the boatswain sweeping astern. As he passed the engine room on his way to the bridge he shouted to the engineer, “Stand by to stop those engines.” Then he flew to the bridge and laid his right hand on the “telegraph.” “Stop and reverse” were flashed to the engine room, and the captain’s voice rang ont, “All hands to starboard with lines and buoys P* All hands were there even before the summons came. “Our only hope in saving him lay in picking him up with the ship,” said the captain, “for no boat could live in the sea that was running. I have seldom seen anything like it. The gale was so high that it combed down the crests, and all the water we shipped was solid green. When I backed the ship down to the bo’s’n, I saw him struggling bravely in the seas. He had the life buoy that the second officer threw to him under his arms, and his body was well ont of wa ter. I determined to save him if he could hold out until I could fetch him alongside. We missed him the first time, and he was carried forward around the bow to the port side. He kept up a lusty shouting, and we answered back. “We were going ahead a bit, when he was whirled around to starboard, and as the night had well set in, and I could not see half a ship's length away, we soon lost him. But I turned on the bridge and got the hearing of his voice by a star, and I kept that star in sight when I put the helm hard a-starboard and bore down in the direction of the star. We had lost his voice altogether, but as we steamed toward the star we heard it faintly over the rush of the wind and the swash of the seas. We caught sight of him too late to pick him up as we steamed past, so we came up with the wind again, with the bo’s’n on our port hand. “We 6teamed slowly, so the men ranged along the port rail, each with a line or a buoy, had a chance at him. I knew by the cheer that went up that he was saved, and I felt like cheering my self. He was just half an hour in the water, and if he hadn’t been a plucky man he would be there now. The poor fellow didn’t know he was safe for a min ute or so after he was hauled aboard. He clung to the rail so tightly that the men had to break his grip. He shook with the cold like a leaf. I took him below and gave him three glasses of brandy and some hot coffee. Then the steward rubbed him down with whisky, and he was good for work next morning.”—Ex change. Showman Monk Pelted With Fruit. A religious riot in miniature has taken place at Nantes. Some Catholic youths were passing through a fair when they caught sight of a booth labeled “Sanc tum Sanctorum.” The showman was dressed in the rough robes and cowl of a Capuchin monk and professed to show inside several relics or curiosities, in cluding the apple which tempted Eve and the whale which swallowed Jonah. The youths, who vere about860 strong, called on the profane Barnum to desist from his mockeries, but he only re doubled his patter and directed more at tention to his show. A neighboring orange merchant had to bear the conse quences of all this, for his stand was pil laged by the Catholics, who pelted the showman with the fruit of the Hesperides until he had to retreat inside what he had really to use as a sanctuary for his own protection. The police then came up and charged the rioters, who wanted to wreak more effective vengeance on the insulter of religion.—Paris Corre spondent. A Famong Wine. The Emperor William’s present to Prince Bismarck consisted of a dozen bottles of the famous Steinberg cabinet of the great comet year, which is the finest and rarest wine in the imperial cellars and remarkable both for its fra grance and for its strength. The gift is worthy of the occasion, for all such wine is absolutely priceless, and it is prob ably <mly to be found in the cellars of she emperor and of the Duke of Luxem burg, except for any stray bottles which may yet be hidden away in a few conn try houses. The old Emperor William sent half a dozen bottles of the same Wine as a present to the queen in 1887, and ft was brought over by the Em peror Frederick, then crown prince, himself. Fine Rhenish wines get more and more scarce every year, for there has not been a really first rate vintage since 1168.—London World. THE KING HAS PETS. THI8 REFERS TO THE LION AND LIT TLE ANIMALS HE LOVES. A Professional Trainer of Wild Animals Tells Some Interesting Incidents—The Fearlessness of Pigeons Among the Kings of Beasts. The way lions treat the tiny creatures of animal life is a study. It may be that there is some animal language, and that the legend of the little mouse which sav ed the lion’s life by gnawing the net has become known to the denizens of the jnngle and handed down as animal folk lore, or it may be that the king of beasts has a positive contempt for anything ex tremely small, but it is nevertheless a fact that lions will not attack tiny ani mals when they are put together. Pro fessor Edward Darling, than whom there is no more profound student of a lion’s life and character in the country, has made many curious experiments with his five big beasts. “I never saw a lion kill a rat or a mouse,” said Professor Darling, “and I have had many of them pnt in the cage with my five lions. My attention was first drawn to this when I was on my way from London to Batavia, in Java, on the ship Rotundo. I had my five lions with me, and in the quarter of the ship in which they were housed were many rats. One day I saw Leo, my favorite lion, lying down and holding between his paws very loosely a monster ship rat. I thought perhaps that the cat instinct in the lion had made him catch it and that he would probably play with i1 awhile, then eat it, and so I watched. Im aging, however, my surprise when I saw him loosen the rat, and the rat made no attempt to get away, bnt ran up and over his gigantic paws and played with him. “We were a long time making a trip, and every day this ship’s rat went into Leo’s cage, and the two played together as gently as two little children. I made several attempts to capture the rat, hop ing that perhaps I might taka it ashore with me, bnt I could not succeed, and I promise you that old Leo did not like at all my attempting to interfere with his pet. When we got to Java, we had to take the lion out, and Leo had to lose his pet. He could have killed that rat a thousand times, but he never did it. “There was another instance subse quent to this where Leo had a pet rat, which makes me believe that the lion has a real fondness for the rodent. It was in 1881 in Calcutta. We were playing at the Maidan, one of those gigantic places in far India, and when I went in to see my pets one morning I saw that Leo had found another rat for a pet. My five lions were all together, bnt this rat would play only with Leo. There were many other rats in the place, bnt the other lions would not look at them. It seems to me to be a fact that the lions consider these little animals too small to be touch ed. I have known of rats being found dead in a lion’s cage, bnt I believe that they were simply killed by the lion roll ing on them or stepping on them through carelessness, bnt lions never eat them. “In Hamburg once I knew a case of a sick tiger to whom it was deemed neces sary to give some fresh, warm blood to tone up his system, and to further this end a live rabbit was pnt in the cage with the tiger. One would naturally suppose that the tiger would have killed it instantly, bnt such, however, was not the case. The tiger played with the rab bit for days before he would touch it. He finally killed and ate it. “Now, my theory is this: A lion, or a tiger, or in fact any wild animal kept alone, grows very lonesome. In their natural state wild beasts always ran in pairs. They love companionship, and when pnt alone they become so lonesome that when another animal, even though it is a rabbit, is pnt in the same cage with them, they refrain from killing it so as to have its companionship. We have heard of many instances of men being alone—shipwrecked, if you like—making strange friends. Why not a lion? It al ways made me feel rather bad to think of this tiger in Hamburg killing his little friend. Still even men at times turn on their friends. “Now, there is another peculiar thing about Hons,” added Professor Darling, “and that is that they will not eat the flesh of a fowl. You might tempt them with a canvasback duck or the daintiest squab, but they would refuse it. This is a scientific fact. I have tried it many times. I remember once having a swan which had broken its wing. We killed it, dressed it carefully and threw it into the cage of the Hons, but they would not touch it, and it finally had to be taken out and thrown away. I have repeated ly pnt pigeons alive into the cage, just to see what they would do. I have thrown grain down among the lions, and the pigeons have actually got down and hopped around the big brutes, even hop ping on their backs, the lions making no attempt to disturb them, even seeming to enjoy their companionship. “Now, there is something strange about this which is rather difficult to ex plain. To my mind it argues that a lion is not brutal in his instincts. Savage he undoubtedly is. Fierce at all times, but fierce with justice. I believe every one of my Hons has a conscience. 1 know every one of them knows the difference between right and wrong. They know their wondrous power and are charita ble. They would never attempt to in jure something which in no way could do them harm. The study of a Hon—his habits, character and capabilities—is one of the most interesting 1 know. It offers a field as yet comparatively unknown, bat the more an goes into it the more time one takes to find out just what a Hon is and the mare he is convinced that he has, rightly been named the king of beasts!”—New York Tribune. Wife—We moat have a piano. Hatband—We are neither of at mu sical. Wife—I know, but what is home with out* piano lamp?—New York Weekly. HOE YOUR OWN ROW. ttlii ProfitlcM Profoedliif to Carry Cooli to XeveMtlB. There are more ways than one, my son, of carrying coals to Newcastle, and in almost every case it is a profitless pro ceeding on the part of the person engiy* ed in it. Th urefors, my son, have nothing to do with (hat kind of traffio—that is to say, do not encroach upon another’s preserves exoept to admire. Do not attempt to stock them with your own gome. When a man is a salesman in a dry goods store, do not attempt to instruct him by the ventilation of ideas of your own. If be be an actor, do not intrude upon him any of your amatenr notions. If a clergyman, refrain from Scriptural citation and exegesis when in his oompa ny. If a professional humorist, racist, as it were the evil one, all temptation to facetionsneBS and paronomasia. If a me chanic, do not presume to give him points In his calling. Bnt, on the other hand, my son, do not attempt to interfere with hie speaking or his calling, profession or specialty. So long as yon listen yon make no mistake, and the wing of friendship molts no feather. Give ear to the story of his experiences at the counter, bnt interject none of your own; listen to and applaud his spoutings, bnt spout not yourself; receive with be coming reverence his interpretations of holy writ, but meddle not yourself with that which the lay mind is not supposed to be able to cope withal; listen and laugh at his wit and whimseys, but hazard no joke of your own; attend while he relates his mechanical achieve ments, but vannt not yourself in the same line. It is a common mistake, my son, to suppose that because a man delights in talking about a certain something in which he iB proficient, he loves to hear every babbler that falls in his way des cant upon the same subject; that because it pleases him to exalt himself in a given direction he likes to hear others in the same direction exalt themselves. When a man knows a thing thorough ly—or thinks he does, which amounts to the same so far as he is concerned—he is quite ready and willing to instruct others, but he brooks no incursions by others into his peculiar domain. When he has finished the exposition of his wares, it is time for you to show up yours, provided of course they are of an entirely differ ent line. There must be reciprocity in the com merce of conversation, an exchange of complementary commodities. Each must give what the other lacks and receive in return that in which he is wanting, else there can be no trade, no harmony. You would not ship oranges to Flori da, ice to Nova Zembla or hot air fur naces to Sahara. Then why carry coals to Newcastle? Therefore, my son, let each man pad dle his own canoe as it best pleases him. Admire, applaud, if yon will—and it is your best hold—but don’t put in your oar, though he be swamping.—Boston Transcript. An Affecting Tale. Barber—Poor Jim has been sent to an insane asylum. Victim (in chair)—Who’s Jim? “Jim is mv twin brother, sir. Jim has long been broodin over the hard times, and I suppose he finally got crazy.” “Hum! Not unlikely.” “Yes, he and me has worked side by side for years, and we were so alike we couldn’t tell each other apart. We both brooded a good deal too. No money in this busine63 any more.” "What’s the matter with it?’ “Prices too low. Unless a customer takes a shampoo or somethin, it doesn't pay to shave or hair cut. Poor Jim! I caught him tryin to cut a customer’s throat because he refused a shampoo, and so I had to have the poor fellow locked up. Makes me very melancholy. Sometimes I feel terry I didn’t let him slash all he wanted to. It might have saved his reason. Shampoo, sir?’ “Y-e-s, sir.”—New York Weekly. Afrloan Ante. Dr. Sharp gives the following extract from Dr. Livingstone’s "Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambezi:” "We tried to sleep one rainy night in a native hut, but could not because of at tacks by the fighting battalions of a very small species of formica not more than one-sixteenth of an inch in length. It soon became obvions that they were un der regular discipline and even attempt ing to carry out the skillful plans and stratagem of some eminent leader. Our hands and necks were the first objects of attack. Large bodies of these little pests were massed in silence round the point to be assaulted. We could bear the sharp, shrill word of command two or three times repeated, though until then we had not believed in the vocal power of an ant. The instant after we felt the storming hosts over head and neck.”— New York Ledger. Count PrimolPs Camera. Count Primoli is a familiar figure in Parisian society, spending a portion of the season each year at the hospitable house of his aunt, Princess Mathilde, in whose salons he formed the acquaintance and acquired the warm friendship of the popular novelist, Paul Bourget. He is noted as being, with the possible excep tion of the Due de Moray, the most suc cessful amateur photographer in Europe, and has spent enormous sums on various perfected apparatus connected with this particular fad.—New York Herald. She Ought to Knew. Miss Imogen Guiney, who entered po litical Kfc to the extent of seeking the postmistress-ship of her town, says that no woman can earn a livelihood at po etry—the statements of Ella Wheeler Wilcox notwithstanding. "Your account has been standing a long time, Mr. Dukey.” "Then give it a seat, my dear Shears.” "Very glad ts, sir; shall we make it a leceipt?”—Louden Judy. THE 0 ENTEEL POOR. "OH, THE PiTY OF IT!" ONE EXCLAIMS WHEN CONSIDERING THEM. Straining to Maintain a Poultion Beyond Their Mentis-An Anecdote A boat Peo ple Who Manege to Get Along and Get Along by Managing. Do you know that there is a class of people whoeuffer and of whom the world never hears? 1 mean those whom we are apt to call the genteel poor. They are always with us. In my life I have lis tened to b great many queer stories about them, and they are really to be pitied. They are, many of them, single women of uncertain age, who are obliged to live on infinitesimal incomes and with an amount of style. They can’t bring their ideas down to the level of their for tunes. They have always been used to certain things, and they must havs or at least appear to have them. They can live only in a particular part of town, no matter if the rent consumes the biggest part of their funds, and they must do other things in just proportion. How do they do it? Why, with an amount of in genuity that would be valuable in a bet ter cause. They “manage.” That is the word. The genteel poor “manage” to gat along and get along by “managing.” Take a case that I happen to know about. They were a pair of sisters who rented apartments. I am not afraid to assert that they lived on samples. They went from one grocer to another and collected, little by little, almost all the things they needed for their meager menage. Sample cans of soup furnished tlieir table at many a midday meal. Their cracker jar was a wonderful mixture of different brands. They did so like a va riety, they said. Their bonbon dish was replenished in a way that seemed little short of stealing. They would make pe riodical calls at various confectioners and at each take a bit of candy from the piles that were exposed to view. Hidden in a bag, or in a muff if it was winter, the aggregate of this booty when taken home formed quite a dishful and helped out at their afternoon receptions, which, in accordance with their ideas of hospi tality and the traditions of their family, they always gave during the season. I used to wonder how they felt when they knelt on Sundays before that gor geous shrine which they affected and gave the response to that solemn admo nition, “Thou shalt not steal,” but I fancy they thought it was perfectly le gitimate. They always dressed in black, and 1 am sure I don’t know how they “man aged” their wardrobes. I suppose the bargain counters helped them out, and I fancy their gowns were sometimes mado by a very swell dressmaker whom years ago they employed as a seamstress and introduced to their wealthy friends. Ey this the woman was enabled to get a footing, and no doubt gratitude prompt ed her to give them some help in the re construction of their wardrobes. But this was long ago. I wonder if the younger sister, who now occupies a position as the wife of a wealthy man, is aware that I know all about the gown she wore when she met the man who emancipated her from the thraldom of petty economy. I doubt it, but I do, and I am going to tell you. The two women had been invited to a dinner given by a 6well friend. The elder could not go on account of ill health, but the younger must. Then came the question of what to wear. Ev erything had been exhausted, and there was no money for a costume. At last, in despair, the younger woman opened a trunk filled with clothing from the rec tory—their childhood’s home. She had it! Within its depths there was the black silk robe that her father had worn. It was heavy and of beauti ful texture. Its ample folds would make a short skirt and part of a waist. While in a quandary as to what would fill out the deficiency she saw beneath the velvet pall that had covered her fa ther’s coffin. It had been the last loving tribute of a sick parishioner. Here were the train and another part of the waist. Did no thought of its association with the dead man or remembrance of the sol emn service return to her, you ask? Not a bit of it. Beneath it, crumpled up in many creases, was the crape that had draped the altar. Behold what a cos tume was evolved! A long train of vel vet over a skirt of heavy black silk trim med with folds of crape, whose somber blackness served to make still whiter the neck displayed beneath the decollete cor sage. She was elegant indeed, and at the dinner she played her cards so well that she captured an extremely eligible bach elor, and her struggles were over. But think of it! I know you’ll say, “Oh, the pity of it!” You have often heard the saying: “God help the rich. The poor can beg.” I say the Lord’s poor will be taken care of, but pity, oh, pity, the genteel poor!—Boston Herald. A Real Swell. The tramp had called at a house where there had been a party the night before and had been given a very good meal at the kitchen table, with the lady of the honse superintending the feast. She was a good hearted woman, and thinking the wanderer might appreciate a dainty she had added a dish of ice cream to the menn. She pot a spoon beside it, and in a minute or two he was ready for it and she stood by to note his enjoyment. “I beg your pardon, mum," he said as he picked up the spoon, “will yon be kind enough to give me a fork to eat this cream with?” and the good woman almost collapsed.—Detroit Free Press. HU Planet*. A young gentleman was passing an ex amination in physics. He was asked, “What planets were known to the an cients?” “Well, sir,” be responded, “there were Venus and Jupiter, and”—after a pause —“I think the earth, but I am not quite certain.”—-London Punch. THE BALLOON IN BATTLE. Dow It IiMumkciI mul Information Trans mitted and Received. Balloon and wagon have formed a jnnc tion and are ready to Btart with the troops. Away goes tho wagon, with the balloon banging on to its tail, while the attendant sappers on each side keep it steady. The train moJ.i along at a good ronnd pace, easily keeping np with or even passing tho infantry, and makes for the particular spot at which it has been determined to commence balloon opera tions, which is usually on the top of a good high hill. An ascent is an easy enough matter and is soon accomplished. The balloon is securely fixed to the end of the wire rope, and the two men who are to ascend take their places. At the word of com mand the men who have been holding down the car let go, and up shoots the balloon, unwinding the rope as it rises and allowed sometimes to ascend to a height of 1,000 feet And suppose the officer receives instructions to move the position of the balloon, is it necessary to haul it down? Not a bit of it. A man is placed at tho end of the wagon who carefully guides tho connecting rope so that it cannot get entangled or run risk of being cut, and away goes the wagon, sometimes at a trot across fields and up and down hill, until the balloon itself is a long distance away from its original station. Next, suppose that it is neces sary to lower the balloon. Is it needful to wind in all the wire rope that has been paid out from the reels? No such thing. The balloon is brought to earth in a much more expeditions manner. A long, 6tout pole, in the middle of which is a pulley wheel, is laid across the rope. Half a dozen men seize tho pole and run it along the rope, arid their weight soon brings the balloon down to the ground. Passengers cau then be ex changed, or any other operation can be carried on, and then tho men run the pole back, and np shoots the balloon again many hundreds of feet into the air, without having been away from its exalted position more than a few minutes. But it is not necessary to lower the bal loon in this or any other way whenever it is required that messages should be exchanged between those below and those aliove. There aro various contrivances for doing this. Sometimes, for instance, a wire is attached, through which mes sages can be sent to a telephone. Another plan is to send messages down the wire cable. A little wire hook is fastened around the cable, and the letter or pa per. weighted with a hmal5 sujidbag, is sent fluttering down. The human^rpice, it may also be added, can be heard bo-, h from a considerable height and depth, so that verbal communication is not difficult if there is no wind.—Good Words. SeiM.it!vo Horses. Harsh treatment, though it stop short of inflicting physical paiu, keeps a nerv ous horse in a state of misery. On the other hand, it is perfectly true, as a be sotted but intelligent stable keeper once observed to me, “A kind word for a hoss is as good sometimes as a feed of oats.” A single blow may be enough to spoil a racer. Daniel Lambert, founder of the Lambert branch of the Morgan fam ily, was thought as a 3-year-old to be the fastest trotting stallion of his day. He was a very handsome, stylish, intel ligent horse, and also extremely sensi tive. His driver, Dan Mace, though one of the best reinsmen in America, once made the mistake, through ill temper or bad judgment, of giving Daniel Lambert a severe cnt with the whip, and that sin gle blow put an end to his usefulness as a trotter. He became wild and ungovern able in harness and remained so for the rest of his life. In dealing with a horse more than with most animals one ought to exercise pa tience, care and above all the power of sympathy, so as to know if possible the real motive of his doing or refusing to do this or that. To acquire such knowl edge and to act upon it when required is a large part of the ethics of horse keeping.—Youth’s Companion. Abrogating the Fees. Mrs. Pigg, a very charming and viva cious widow, called recently on a legal friend of hers to consult him on a matter of interest to her. “You know, sir," she said to him, “that when the late Mr. Pigg died he left me all his fortune, much to my satisfaction, of course, but he handicapped me with the name of Pigg, which I must say I don’t like.” “Well,” ventured the attorney, “I pre sume a handsome woman isn’t especially complimented by being left a Pigg.” “I should say not,” she laughed. “Now, what I came to see you about was whether or not 1 must apply to the legis lature to get it changed.” “Um—er.” he hesitated as if wrestling with a great legal problem, “um—er— yes, but an easier way is to apply to a parson, and I’ll pay all the expenses my self.” It was sudden, but a widow is never caught napping, and she appointed that evening for another consultation.—De troit Free Press. Royal S«rman Dinners. A characteristic of all dinners given to the court and military officials by the em peror and empress of Germany is that there is always provided a dish of sweet meats, which holds as well pictures of the royal pair and their children, each bonbon having a likeness painted upo 1 it. And when the hosts retire there is something approaching a scramble among the dignified officers and functionaries for one of these much valued souvenirs to take home to equally eager wives and daughters.—New York Times. In the Fashion. Mrs. Jackson Parke—What in the world is keeping yon up so late? Mr. Jackson Parke—I am writing an article for the papers on “How I Killed My First Hog.” These literary chaps, with their stories of how they wrote their first books, are not going to have the field all to themselves, not by a jugfuL— Indianapolis Journal.
