TO A CAT.
Stately, kindly, lordly friend.
Condescend
Hero to sit by me and torn
Glorious eyes that smile and burn*
Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed—
On tho golden page I read.
All your wondrous wealth of hair,
Dark and fair.
Silken, shaggy, soft and bright
As the clouds and beams of night.
Pays my reverent hand's caress
Bock with friendlier gentleness.
Dogs may fawn on all and sotuo
As they come.
You. a friend of loftier mind.
Answer friends alone in kind.
Just your foot upon my hand
Softly bids it understand.
1
Morning round this silent, sweet
Garden seat
Sheds its wealth of gathering light.
Thrills 1he gradual clouds with might.
Changes woodland, orchard, heath,
I Lawn and garden there beneath.
Fair and diin they gleamed below.
Now they glow
Deep as even your sunbright eyes—
Fair as even the wakening skies.
Can it not or can it be
Now that you givd thanks to see?
May not you rejoice as I,
Seeing the sky
l Change to heaven revealed and bid
Earth reveal the heaven it hid
All night long from stars and moon.
Now the sun sets all in tune?
What within you wakes with day
Who can say?
All too little may we tell.
Friends who like each other well.
What might haply, if we might,
Bid ua read our lives aright.
—Athena?um.
ITIS GLASS EYE.
He was tall, dark and to my taste al
together charming.
Last evening for the first time we walk
ed in the winding alley of the park. The
straight nvetfte which stretched itself tin
der the windows of the house had been un
til now the only witness to our confidences.
I loved dearly this avenue, with i!c great
oak trees placed at regular distances apart,
the benches f 'rtalkingquiteatone's ease,
the green grass all around and beyond.
When one wandered off a bit, the huge
window panes seemed by the light of the
setting sun great wide open eyes all smil
ing at our happiness.
“Walk along the avenue with M. de Va
lente, Angele,” my mother had said tome
at the beginning of our engagement. “The
alleys of the park are altogether too damp. ”
And I walked along the avenue, gently
resisting Raoul—he was named Raoul—
who appeared to have, 1 do not know why,
a marked preference for the covered alleys.
“Mamma says the alleys are damp.
Had we not better remain here?”
That evening, however, my head was
turned, and something tugged at my heart
strings—he was to leave the next day to
hunt up some paper necessary for our mar
riage.
Eight days without seeing him! How
could I live? And he, taking advantage of
my trouble, made me turn into the damp
alley, which, by the way, in spite of its
had reputation, seemed to me as dry as
possible.
“My Angele, you are not going to for
get me during these eight days?”
*‘Forget you! Ah'”
I would have lifted my hands to take
heaven as a witness that such a thing could
never happen if he had not held them
tightly clasped inhisowD. It is not my
habit to lose myself in sentimental protes
tations—my vivacity forbids it—and this
time not more than at others did I play
my nature false.
“Raoul, yon love me, do you not? Well,
then I wish to tell you all my faults. I
shall be more tranquil if you know them
beforehand. You would see them sooner
or later, so listen. I am very willful. I
will not yield to yon—you may as well
make up your mind to it. Then I am quick
as gunpowder. I stamp my foot, I scream,
I even cry at times. Happily all this passfcs
quickly. Besides that, I am a coquette,
like all women. You will not be jealous,
Ihope. And theD. what else? I can’t quite
tell—a little gormand at times, not wicked,
not deceitful—I find nothing else. So
much, then, for the moral side. As for the
physical, what can I have wrong there?
You must know that also. Ah, one of my
finger nails is not quite the same as the
others—look, bnt it seems to me that isn’t
too ugly.”
And releasing my hand I showed him a
little pink nail, a little squarer than the
others, a very innocent eccentricity of na
ture. Raoul laughed and wanted to kiss
it, hut I drew away my hand.
“I have also lost a wisdom tooth, which
is lost forever, alas, so I can never he alto
gether wise. They took it out because it
came too soon. Now. sir, it is your turn.
Confess yourself. ’ ’
Raoul, visibly emharassed, remained si
lent.
“Go on. Have a bit of courage. You
may be quite easy. I shall not scold. I
do not know your faults, but it is quite
certain you have some. In the first place,
you are nearsighted, for yon wear a mon
ocle instead of an eyeglass, with which, it
seems to me, you would see much better.
Mamma says that glass causes yon to
make such fearfnl faces, but I don’t think
so. You please me as you are. However,
take ont. the glass so that I can see how
yon look when your face isn’t crooked.”
I had seised with a little, gentle gesture
the string of the monocle, when Raoul
stopped my hand.
“No, my little Angele, leave it there.
Without it I should no longer see you. I
am nearsighted—very nearsighted, it is
true, and I want to see you, Angele, for
you are the joy of my eyes.”
Then, before even I had time to think,
he had taken me, drawn me to him and
covered my eyes and my hair with kisses.
“Raoul, how naughty of you! Enough
of that, if you please!”
“Why naughty* Are you not my fiancee,
my darling little wife?”
“When I am your wife, it will be quite
different. Let me go. I will not remain
here—it is too dark under these trees.”
I had succeeded in releasing myself and
holding down my hair, which under those
•oft kisses was flying in all directions as
if charged with electricity. I escaped by
running to the avenue. There was no lon
ger any question of making Raoul confess.
Blushing violently, I was thinking of quite
different matters.
The next day he was gone. What a
frightful moment his departure when
standing on the front steps I had turned
away my head so as not to see Joannes
gather up the reins, the horses pull togeth
er, the victoria sway—in a word, so as not
to see they were taking him away from me.
Papa had gone with him to the station,
while mamma and I breakfasted together.
It was dismal in the extreme.
Mamma ate as usual, which I couldn’t
understand. As for myself, I ate only a
very little, just enough to sustain me, and
•Ten that with difficulty. Every mouth
ful stuok in my throat.
In tho midst of the breakfast Justine
opened the door.
‘‘Madame, M. de Valente has left his
glass eye is his room. Shall it be sent to
him?"
Had the heavens been opened to let fall
on the table the sun and the moon I could
not have felt a greater shock. The end of
the world will perhaps be nothing to equal
it. I repeated, with horror:
“His glass eye, Justine?”
“Yes, mademoiselle. It is on the wash
stand.”
Mamma grew pale, hut remained calm.
“Very well, Justine, you may leave the
room. We will see if it is necessary to
send it to him.”
I had only two alternatives—either to
faint away or burst into convulsive sobs.
I chose the latter.
“Mamma, mamma, he has a glass eye!
Good heavens, is it possible? How horri
ble! I shall never console myself! I shall
die of grief!”
“Calm yourself, my child, calm your
self. It is ridiculous to put yourself in
such a state. This gentleman has deceived
us, that is all. I always thought he had
rather a queer expression.”
Mamma had risen, and I was sobbing
on her breast.
“Why did he not tell me? I, who had
avowed all my own defects—the nail, the
wisdom tooth and the anger—all, every
thing! Dear me, how unhappy I am! And
only last evening he bad said, ‘You are the
joy of my eyes.’ Heshould havesaid, ‘You
are the joy of my eye.’ Ah, it is dreadful,
dreadful!”
“Come, quiet down. Don’t cry like that.
I tell you it is ridiculous. Think no more
about it. Try to calm yourself. How un
fortunate it is that things have gone so
far! Only eight days before the wedding
and everything ready! Well.it is a good
thing we found it out in time.”
I hardly listened. One question burned
in my throat.
“He has another eye to change with,
maipmn. and this one which he has used
is probably put in water to cool.”
Mamma was horribly worried. I knew
nothing whatever about it. I have never
known any one intimately who had a glass
eye and do not care to know how they man
age.
She continues a little monologue all to
herself: “It is pleasant. All this trous
seau, marked with a V. We never will
find the same initial again, and my hus
band will listen to no one else. He was
charmed with this gentleman at first sight.
The references were perfect. The Jesuit
fathers, his colonel and every one. That
is so like a man—one can never count on
them. A pretty discovery indeed! I al
ways thought there was something ex
traordinary about him. The individual
never pleased me, and I was quite right.”
I had raised my head. The vision of the
glass eye gazing at me from the depths of
the wash basin still troubled me profound
ly. But another vision came also to my
memory.
I saw again my fiance, so good, so ten
der. I heard once again all our prospects
for the future, all our plans made together,
and suddenly it seemed to me to be last
evening, and a rain of kisses was falling
on my hair. I had not told mamma about,
these kisses, but I felt that I loved Raoul
with his one eye, and that nothing would
induce me to give him up. All my cour
age came back to me.
“Mamma. I am sure he lost that eye in
some honorable, magnificent way. It is a
wound of which he should be proud—in
saving some one perhaps from a fire, in
sacrificing himself, it is certain—he is so
good, he has such noble sentiments. I
quite understand he would dislike confess
ing it.”
“What do you say? Are you quite cra
zy? Do you think I am going to allow you
to marry this man with such an infirmity?
You, beautiful as you are and only 17, and
with your fortune too? No, a thousand
times no, my child. Do not forge yourself
a romance of devotion and sacrifice—it is
perfectly useless. I will never consent to
your marriage with a man with one eye.
Should he lose the other, he would be quite
blind, and how agreeable that would be!”
“But. mamma, I will be his faithful dog.
I will lead him, I will take care of him and
will love him in spite of his infirmity, in
spite of everything which interferes to sep
arate us!”
I was in an extraordinary state of exal
tation. My sobs began again harder than
ever and did not promise soon to stop,
when Justine re-entered the room, her hon
est face showing every expression of as
tonishment and stupefaction.
“It isn’t possible that mademoiselle can
put herself in such a state because M. de
Valente has forgotten his eye. At all
events, he can buy another if he needs it
before this evening, and he won’t throw
himself in the river because he hasn’t that
thing in his face.”
And Justine showed me, hanging deli
cately at the end of her fingers, Raoul’s
monocle that I knew so well, with its round
glass encircled with tortoise shell, which
seemed to me for the moment like a lumi
nous halo. My emotion forbade my speak
ing. Mamma, however, went quickly to
ward Justine.
“Is that what you call a glass eye, Jus
tine?”
“Certainly, madame. It seems to me
that’s the name for it. In any case, it
doesn’t suit M. Raoul, and mademoiselle
would do well to give him spectacles when
they are married. It is strange that men
of the present day think it pretty to look
with one eye—like that. It must be very
difficult to keep it in place. I should never
know how.” And Justine, with a com
ical grimace, stretching her mouth and
turning up her nose, tried to introduce the
monocle underneath her right eyebrow. I
could contain myself no longer. My tears
and sobs turned to idiotic laughter, I was
so content—so happy!
It is now 25 years since all that happen
ed.
Raoul has been an excellent husband,
quite as unendurable as that order of indi
viduals always is. He has worn spectacles
now for a long time, and when he wishes
to see anything looks with his two eyes.
The monocle is buried in a bureau drawer.
I keep it a9 a relic of tears and laughter
and shall will it to my grandchildren if
God gives me any. My daughters are en
gaged, and I have already told them that
the alleys of the park are cold and damp
in the evening. Each one has his turn in
this world. Life passes, and very soon
there will be nothing left of our household
but my fiance's glass eye.—Translated
From the French For Short Stories.
The Tropical Nose.
Dr. William C. Braislin shows that in
negroes the nasal canals are wider, short
er and less deep than in other races, and
thereby less protection is afforded the
lnngs. The author believes that the Afri
can nose, being adapted to a tropical cli
mate, is not suited for the colder climates,
and that in this lies the greater suscepti
bility of the negro to consumption and !
other diseases depending upon irritating
qualities in the atmosphere.—Science.
A PHILOSOPHER.
Ratbbnrn sat in the little library of the
home of his friend whose daughter he wns
to marry. He laid down a volume of
Schopenhauer’s essays and mused, “Peo
ple who live in such security and comfort
as I enjoy have little opportunity to put
philosophy into practice.”
He rose and entered the drawing room,
where he saw a young man who had just
been shown in.
“Why, Escott,” he said, hastening for
ward to shake hands with the youth. “I
thought you were in Loudon.”
“The house called me back,” explained
the young man, whose face wore a pensive
expression.
“You don’t look exactly well, my boy.”
Escott smiled and sat down.
“I’ve been bothered some,” the youth
said embarrassedly. Then in'au outburst
of candor he added: “You see, before I
went away I thought I was soon to marry.
We didn't have her father’s consent, but
we thought fiat would be all right. Well,
her father wanted to marry her off to some
friend of his—she didn’t even tell me his
name—and she decided to please her fa
ther.”
“Do I know her?”
“ It would hardly be right to tell you
who she is. although you are an old friend
of mine. You might misjudge her.”
“Not at all,” replied Rath burn, congrat
ulating himself on the occasion to apply
some of his philosophy at last, if only in
another case.
“She may have been quite right. Her
obligations to her father may outweigh
her duty to you. The multitude magnifies
the importance of love. The love of man
for woman, or vice versa, is not by any
means the highest or most meritorious
thing that can engage a human being’s
thoughts. There are other and loftier
things than love. A man who resigns him
self entirely to love is not worth taking
seriously. I wouldn’t give much for a per
son who couldn’t overthrow a disappoint
ment in love.”
“I know all that,” said the younger
man gloomily. He rose and paced the
room, stopped and heaved a sigh. Pres
ently he resumed:
“A man is a fool, I admit, who overes
timates love. Yet it is every man's pre
rogative to make that kind of a fool of
himself at some period of his life. As far
as I know, though, you have escaped.”
Rathburn laughed guiltily. “No, I have
not. I’ve been caught at last. But my
being a fool doesn’t prevent me from know
ing that I’m one. I do think a great deal
of love at the present moment. In fact,
I’m going to marry.”
“Congratulations, old fellow! Who is
she?”
Rathburn pointed to a portrait. Escott
looked first as if he doubted the correct
ness of his vision. Then he stared in open
mouthed astonishment.
“Are you surprised?” asked the elder
man.
“Why—yes—I never imagined that you
were the one.”
It was now Rathbum’s turn to be as
tonished. But he speedily controlled him
self. When he spoke a moment later, it
was with quietness and coherency.
“My dear boy. neither did I imagine it.
So she loves you? I half suspected there
was some one. That gives you the privi
lege of being the fool in this case, and me
the opportunity of acting the philosopher.
I love her, I acknowledge. But even at
this moment I see clearly that there are
greater things in this life than love, and I
know that I shall outgrow this little expe
rience. She belongs to you. But I’d rather
you'd tell her I said so. I’ll see her fa
ther.” And he started toward the door.
“My dear friend,” murmured Escott, in
whom gratitude was too great to find ad
equate expression on the instant.
“H’sh!” replied Rathburn, motioning
toward the doorway curtains at the rear
of the drawing room. Escott looked. The
girl stood there. She had evidently heard
Rath burn’s speech of renunciation, for she
dropped her tearful, smiling eyes and
stood waiting for Escott to approach her.
A moment later the two young people were
vaguely conscious of the closing of the
outer door.
Rathburn, walking down the street,
forced his breath to a regular and temper
ate pace and compelled every other feel
ing to give way to a pardonable pride in
having proved the practical efficacy of phi
losophy in the small affairs of this little
life.—New York Press.
Miss Merrifield’* Mistake.
Miss Merrifield accepted the offer of Mr.
Brook’s escort from Mrs. Symonds’ recep
tion. Miss Merrifield adored Mr. Brooks
and more than half suspected that Mr.
Brooks adored her. In fact, she hoped for
a declaration that very night.
Just as the pair stepped on the porch
Mr. Brooks was called back by the host
ess. A moment later Mr. Enfield passed
through the door, and seeing Miss Merri
field apparently unattended silently offered
her his arm. She, supposing him to be
Mr.Brooks, took it eagerly, and they start
ed up the street together. Mr. Brooks fol
lowed, muttering curses on the fickleness
of woman.
A little before;eachingthehouseof Miss
Merrifleld Mr. Brooks, still walking be
hind, saw the young lady break away from
her escort, rush frantically up the steps
and disappear within doors, and his soul
rejoiced at these signs of a quarrel. Some
how the whole thing leaked out the next
morning, and before night the friends of
all the parties knew exactly what had hap
pened. *
It seems that Mr. Enfield, piqued at
being called Mr. Brooks by his absent
minded companion, had said, “Please,
Miss Merrifleld, don’t call meMr.Brooks,”
at which she, confident the declaration
had arrived at last, had murmured,“What
shall I call you, dear?” And then the cruel
disallusion had come, “Why, call me Mr.
Enfield, of course.”
Miss Merrifleld is reported to have gone
sonth.—Harper's Magazine.
A Sensitive Tenor.
Roger, the celebrated French tenor, was
exceedingly proud of his profession and
was apt to take offense at the least slight,
whether intended or not. On one occasion
he was engaged for the sum of £60 to sing
at the house of a rich financier, who thought
it the correct thing to have the principal
singers of the day at his house parties.
Roger sang his first song magnificently,
but not the slightest attention was paid
him, the guests talking their loudest.
Presently the host thought that it was
about time for another song and sent for
Roger, but he could not be found and was
seen no more. On the following day Mr.
Plutus was surprised to receive from Rog
er notes to the amount of £80 with the fol
lowing words:
“I have the honor to return the £60
which I received for singing at your par
ty, and I beg to add £20 more to make up
for having so greatly disturbed the con
versation of your guests.”—London Tit
Bits.
ANOTHER VICTIM.
An Aged Michigan Woman Loira SI2,000
on the Mom Grown Gold Brick Swindle.
With eyes brimful of happy anticipa
tion an aged woman presented two
"kings” of bright metal to the chief
weigher at the mint. She believed that
the two lumps of metal were gold worth
$30,000. and when informed that they
were but copper and zinc, worth $2 or
$3, she turned away with a heavy heart
and sought the train to bear her back
to her home in Jackson, Mich. She bad
paid $12,000 for the stuff and had jour
neyed all the way east to realize upon it.
The story of the unfortunate woman’s
loss was told to the mint officials. She
was Mrs. Harriet Morgan, who resides
in Jackson, and with her were her son
in-law, Charles Helleg, and Dr. Blanch
ard. the family physician. Some 13
years ago Mrs. Morgan, who is quite
wealthy^ had advanced to a nephew $6,
000 to start a business. He was profuse
in his expressions of gratitude and prom
ised that as business prospered with him
he would return the loan with ample
interest. The nephew went away, and
his aunt heard nothing of him until re
cently. She had about abandoned hope
of securing the return of her loan, when
one day a stranger came to her with the
announcement that he represented her
nephew. The latter had prospered well
in gold mining, and as an evidence of
his success had sent her two gold bricks
or "kings.” These weighed fully 85
pounds and were worth $30,000. These
the nephew desired to present to his
aunt in return for her loan and another
small payment. Mrs. Morgan, delight
ed, paid the stranger $6,000 and re
ceived the "kings,” which she guarded
carefully.—Philadelphia Record.
STATESMEN WORRIED.
A Great Question Wliich Is Agitating the
British House of Commons.
The great question whether waiters
ought to be tipped is just now agitating
the ho jse of commons a good deal more
than the fight with the lords over the
employers’ liability and parish councils
bills, of which, truth to tell, everybody
is getting a bit tired. But the tip ques
tion affects the private pockets of the
honorable members, and their interest
in it is consequently keen. It has al
ways been the rule in the commons that
the waiters in the dining rooms should
not receive tips because living wages
are paid to them, but of late years tip
ping has pretty generally prevailed,
and the men learned to expect tips as
much as though they were common cafe
waiters. A goodly proportion of the
members, however, refused to counte
nance the system, with the result that
they have of late found themselves neg
lected. Recently there have been so
many complaints that the kitchen com
mittee solemnly appointed a subcommit
tee to inquire, and the result was the
issuing of an order prohibiting waiters
from receiving tips and granting to
each waiter an increase of a shilling a
day. The waiters calmly pocket the
shilling, but continue to take the tips
whenever they get a chance, and it has
become a question what shall be done
with the honorable and right honorable
gentlemen who thus defy committees
and subcommittees.—New York Sun’s
London Letter.
A SNEEZING BEE.
Red Pepper Was Thrown on a Hot Stove
With the Regulation Results.
Some one threw red pepper upon a
large stove in Tappen’s billiard rooms
at Patchogue, N. Y. The pepper started
the habitues to sneezing, and thejr
sneezed loud and long. The odor of the
burning pepper soon drove everybody
from the room.
The fumes rapidly spread through the
building. The Order of Foresters was
holding a meeting in the large hall on
an upper floor. The members began to
sneeze. They sneezed hard. The chap
lain of the society tried to maintain the
dignity of his position, but he, too, soon
joined in the sneezing bee.
The assembly marched down stairs
sneezing at every step. They were soon
joined on the street by lawyers, doctors,
editors, printers and business men, who
had been driven out of their rooms in
the building. The fumes were so strong
that passersby had to walk on the oppo
site side of Ocean avenue.
The joke will cost Tappen the use of
his rooms, as the owner of the building
has notified him to vacate within 10
days. Tappen, it is said, will prose
cute the perpetrator of the joke if dis
covered.—New York Times.
A Murderer’s Light Sentence.
During the cholera scare in Vienna
Borne months ago a rule was made for
bidding persons visiting restaurants to
squeeze small rolls on the tables to test
their freshness. One day an army cap
tain went to one table after another,
handling the bread before he selected a
roll. A master baker, also a visitor,
spoke to him about it. The captain gave
a hanghty answer, waited for the baker
outside and stabbed him. The victim
died instantly.
The baker’s death caused a great
commotion. The funeral was attended
by many thousands and proved that the
people’s sympathies were with him.
Now the officer has been sentenced to
six months’ arrest in barracks, and he
will be permitted to keep his rank when
he has finished his term. One cannot
help wondering what the sentence might
have been had the baker stabbed the
officer.—Vienna Letter.
Prince Henry’* Yacht.
Prince Henry of Batten berg is bitten
by the yacht racing mania, and Mr.
Watson, the well known designer of the
Valkyrie and the Britannia, bas re
ceived orders to “create” a fast running
craft for Prince Henry which will
break the record of all former occasions.
Hanson, who is building tnis coming
wonder, has received orders to push for
ward with the work as quickly as pos
sible, which looks as if Prince Henry
was anxions to measnre swords, or ships
rather, with foemen worthy of his steel,
'ir planks.—Paris Herald.
BILLY GREGG.
Reginald Babbington Tompkins live*
down Crystal palace way in the great me- 1
tropolis of London There is no harm in
that, fur many good and estimable people
live within sight of the great glass house—
the proximity of which seems to make them
chary about throwing stones. Consequent
ly Tompkins was loth to tell Billy Gregg
Just what he thought of him.
Billy looked upon the wine when it was
red (in a Burgundy bottle) and white (in a
bottle of champagne), fbe color didt not
matter to. Billy so long as the wine was
sound and old. Youth and age never get
along so hilariously as when the young [
man about town and old wine from the cel
lar meet.
So the wicked Billy Gregg went on his
way rejoicing, aided by the lampposts and
cautioned by the police, until one night
a new world burst upon him- The new
world was peopled principally by animated
nature—monkeys and baboons such as nev
er were harbored by the Zoo; but the chief
inhabitants, besides Billy himself, were
snakes.
\\ hen Biliy emerged from this zoological
horror, he determined to reform. He re
solved to proceed with caution. He did
not go so far as to abjure liquor altogether
—he felt that was asking too much of his
system—but he resolved to drink method
ically, and he began to drink secretly, which
is a dangerous thing for a man.
Tompkins called upon him in his cham
bers one day and saw at a glance how
things were going. So he invited Billy to
come down and,visit him from Saturday to
Monday in the virtuous precincts of the
Crystal palace.
Tompkins was wise and said nothing of
reform to Gregg, but he prepared a little
surprise for him.
Billy said that his nerves had somehow
gone wrong, and that he would be glad of
a day or two of quiet with the grateful anil
comforting sight of the Crystal palace be
fore his eyes.
Now, it happens that in the grounds of
the Crystal palace and in an unfrequented
part of them, for the crowd as a general
thing haunts the immediate vicinity of the
huge building itself, there is a lake with
numerous islands and a quiet shady walk
around its borders. This lake is situated
in a wooded dell in the low grounds as far
is possible from the big building. It is a
quiet spot of soothing natural beauty, but
art has added a peculiar horror to it.
On the islands, and by the margin of the ,
;ake, and here and there in the water have !
oeeu placed huge reproductions in some j
waterproof material of the antediluvian i
animals which scientists, doubtless suffer- j
ing from the strong drinks of former days, :
have imagined the earth to have been pop- J
ulatedwith. No sane man believes that such
creatures ever existed on any planet called
into being by an allwise Providence.
The punishment fits the crime, and the
names are as horrible as the animals them
selves. There is the anoplotherium, the
iguanadon, the palaeotherium and other
uncanny appellations.
Long, giraffelike necks project up into
the air from great bloated bodies. Winged
sea serpents stand erect in the water. Huge
elephantlike creatures, with bodies like bal
loons and ears like wings of satan, clamber
up over the islands. Ghastly nightmares
meet one at every turn along the walk that
fringes the margin of the lake. A ghost
haunted graveyard at midnight is a cheer
ful, enlivening spot compared with that
lake at any time in the 24 hours.
On Saturday afternoon Tompkins warm
ly welcomed his friend Gregg and took
him down the shady paths that led to the
margin of the lake.
Gregg did not care much for country
walks. They were not in his line, but he
accompanied bis friend uncomplainingly.
“What I like about this,” said Tomp
kins, “is the refreshing quiet and rest.
Five days out of the six in these parts of
the grounds you meet nobody; nothing
meets the eye but the sylvan”—
Gregg nervously clutched his arm.
“For mercy’s sake,” he cried, “what's
that?”
“What’s what?” asked Tompkins, look
ing calmly at his friend.
“What is that coming out of the water?'
Tompkins gazed serenely around, anc
looked at his friend with a certain surprise
upon his brow.
“I see nothing,” he said. “What was it?
A rat perhaps.”
“No, no,” gasped Gregg, drawing his
hand across his eyes. “It was not a rat.
It was nothing. My imagination perhaps. ”
“Your nerves are overstrained,” said the
innocent Tompkins. “You have been
working too hard.”
“That’s it; that’s it,” assented Gregg,
with a tremor in his voice.
“Well, as I was saying,” continued
Tompkins, “the sylvan beauty of this spot
makes it a favorite ramble of mine, espe
cially in the evening. It has a soothing and
calming effect, especially after a man has
put in a hard day’s work. A restful scene
like this, the smooth water in the evening
light, the twitter of the birds, the sight of
some gentle hare or pretty squirrel on
the”
Billy Gregg suddenly put his hands on I
the shoulders of his friend, and his body
swayed to and fro.
“For heaven’s sake,” he cried, “look at
that island and tell me what you see. What
is that creature with a body like Somerset
House and ears like Battersea park, climb
ing up out of the water? You don’t mean
to tell me there is nothing there?”
Tompkins looked at his friend with well
assumed amazement on his face.
"Gregg,” he said, “there is something
the matter with you. You are not in the
usual state of health. Does not your own
good sense show you that there can be no
such animal as you describe?”
“I know it, I know it. Tompkins,” he
cried suddenly, clinging to bis friend, “1
have lied to you. I admit it. I’ve had ’em
before, but never in this shape. Tompkins,
I have been drinking too much. Take me
home with you and write out a cast iron
pledge, and I'll sign it 16 times. Call in all
your friends to witness it, but for God’s
sake let us get out of this quiet, peaceful,
sylvan retreat.”
Gregg's reform has been so comblete that
he now lives at Brixton, but he breathe*
uard when anybody mentions the Crystal
palace in his hearing.—Luke Sharp in Be
troit Free Press.
An Enemy of Sewers.
The eucalyptus tree is the greatest de
stroyer of a sewerage system known t$ <he
municipalities. The fibrous roots wil-1 pen
etrate the smallest possible opening at the
pipe connections, and once into the sewei
pipe will grow and expand until the sewer
is entirely choked up, and in a number of
cities it has been found that the pipes have
been broken. The planting of trees of this
variety should be discouraged. In some
sities ordinances have been passed compell
ing property owners to cut down all trees
of the gum variety for the protection of the
sanitary condition. -• Modesto Xews.
A I>t«cuHHlon »*» Kr«*«* C oul,
The rabid editor of a free trade paper
in Dover, N. H.. lately told a working
man that fre<- coal would bea groat liene
fit to him The discus-ion which follow
ed was in the m m as follows:
Laborer—You have admitted that the
present depression is largely due to the
uncertainty and delay in tariff legisla
tion.
Editor—Certainly. Every one admits
that.
Laborer—How much do you think 1
would be benefited by free coal?
Editor—Coal from the Driiish prov
inces can be delivered here at a good
profit at $4 per ton, and you now pay
$6 .50 per ton, and you could save $2.50
I>er ton with coal on the free list.
Laborer—I understood you that the
tarifl raised the price of an article just
the amount of the duty. How. then, will
the repeal of a 75 cent duty on a ton of
coal reduce the price $2.50 j«:r ton?
Editor—Oil. that will be the result of
competition, and the Pennsylvania min
ers cannot compete with the miners ol
Nova Scotia.
Laborer—n hat will become of the
Pennsylvania miners?
Editor—Of course the mines will he
closed until the miners will work cheap
enough so that they can also sell coal at
$4 a ton.
Laborer—Then the new tariff is in
tended to reduce wages?
Editor—Oh, no indeed, that is not the
object, though no doubt the wages will
be incidentally reduced at first in many
directions.
Laborer—1 use half a ton of coal a
month, and you say that with free coal
I could save $2.50 on a ton or $1.25 pe.
month on my coal bill. Now, my wages
have been reduced 28, per cent and yon
have admitted tiat the agitation of the
tariff question caused the depression
which reduced them. You have also ad
mitted that incidentally the proposed
tariff itself would reduce wages. Before
reduction my wages amounted to $2 per
day. Now please explain how I am ben
efited by saving $.1.25 a month on my
coal bill while I lose $21.84 a month on
my wages. I can hardly see where the
saving comes in.
Editor—It is evideut that you and I
do not think alike on the tariff question.
Good night, sir.
This conversation took place in the
presence of several witnesses and illus
trates fairly well the effects of the pro
posed Wilson tariff on labor.
Farmers ami Fre«* Trade.
English agriculturists are not satisfied
with their experience of free trade. A
correspondent in the Mark Lane Express
of Jan. 8, Mr. James Hunt, 12 Hampton
Park, Bristol, wrote:
“If we are to compare nation with na
tion, we can give proofs that American
protectionist artisans are earning and
saving more money than English free
traders are."
The writer concludes his communica
tion with the following significant paral
lel:
A FALSE PROPHET.
borne of Cobdens as
sertions that con
verted Peel and
Gladstone:
Land would not be
driven out of cultiva
tion by the repeal of
the corn laws.
Land owners have
nothing to fear from
free trade in com.
In a country grow
ing in population and
advancing in prosper
ity land always in
creases in value and
without any help from
the owners.
The land of Eng
land would produce
25,000,000 quarters of
wheat per annum.
We should always
have a natural protec
tion of 10s. (id. per
quarter on wheat in
the shape of carriage
from abroad.
We might as well
doubt that the sun
would rise on the mor
row as doubt that in
10 years every civilized
nation on earth would
have followed our free
trade example.
Proofs of false proph
ecy:
Nearly 2,500,000 acres
have been driven out.
Rents and agricul
tural land values have
fallen from 30 to 50 per
cent.
If all the land in cul
tivation 20 years ago
was w orth £50 an acre
and has fallen 40 per
cent, that is a loss of
£20 an acre.
In 1802 we grew 17,
000,000 quarters, in 1802
about 7,000,000.
Freights for wheat
are now below 2s. a
quarter, and it has
been carried free, as
ballast.
Not a single nation
on earth has followed
our example, and all
are heavily taxing our
goods in return for a
free market here.
Free Trade In the South.
The late Henry W. Grady very tersely
described the effects of free trade: I at
tended a funeral in Pickens county, Ga.,
of a poor man. They buried him in the
midst of a marble quarry. They cut
through solid marble to make his irrave,
yet the little tombstone they put above
him was from Vermont. They buried
him in the heart of a pine forest, and yet
the pine coffin was imported from Cin
cinnati. They buried him within touch
of an iron mme, and yet the nails in his
coffin and the iron in the shovel that dng
his grave were imported from Pittsburg.
They buried him by the side of the best
sheep grazing country on the earth, and
yet the wool in the coffin bands and the
coffin hands themselves were brought
from the north. The south did not fur
nish a thing for that funeral hut the
corpse and the hole in the ground.
There they put him away, and the
clods rattled down on his coffin, and
they buried him in a New York coat, and
a Boston pair of shoes, and a pair of
breeches from Chicago, and a shirt from
Cincinnati, leaving him nothing to carry
into the next world with him to remind
him of the country in which he lived, for
which he fought for four years, but the
chill of blood in his veins and the mar
row in his bones.
Cutlers Get It In the Neck.
The total imports of cutlery during
the fiscal year ending June 30,1893, were
valued at $1,156,000, and this, too, when
the American manufacturers of cutlery
received from 63 to 96 per cent ad valo
rem protection, or an average of 80 per
cent. The Wilson bill proposes to re
duce this protection to 45 per cent, thus
openly increasing by 35 per cent the busi
ness of the foreign manufacturers. This
means a loss of 35 per cent to wage earners
engaged in making cutlery, unless they
can induce all good Americans to buy
nothing hut the American goods through
a patriotic interest for American indus
tries.
