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Si.i ": 2H! IIFAYE TE GAZETTK OLU13E I. LAFAYETTE, LA., SA'TEDAY, APRIL 1, 1893. NUMBER 4. r ieHrND -THE nILt. :, Zlbeily wan Wg: he could not knw # - wesnºwayard - urrn~,, ow L^fr:" ,-. in eaa"rly shallows bound., ' 7 - sud shallop ran aground. S-- ashamed of his disgrace S w not uoof me in the face., s +or.,mothur, every man," sala be. S ae scorn, and only scorn, for me; I musa go forth wath alien men -Ani grappleo with the world again. Scannot stay and face the truth Among thepeople of my youth. - Whe- men are strange and scenes are new There may be work for me to do. And, when I have redeemed the past, I will ome back to you at last. " And so I watOhed while my boy, Will, Went down behind the hill. Rie climbed the hill at early morn Beneath whose shadow he was born, Be stood upon its highest place. The sunrise shining on his face; He stood there, but too far away Por me to see his tears that day; My thoughts, my fears, rconnot tell A-m e bl.hack his sad farewelL ndinCn f1* , and ray boy, Vill, Went down ind the hill. Went down the hill; hencefor -for me One jlcture in my memory Crow10s every other from its place A boy-with sunrise on hji face; Rils sunrise-lighted face~aee The sunset of all joy to me, Per when he turned him from my sight The morning mixed itself with night, And darknecs came, when my boy, Will Went down behind the hilL The world is wide, and he has gone Into its vastness, on and on, I know not what bocts his path, What hours of gloom, what days of wrath. What terrors menace: him afar, What nights of :;torm without a star, What mountains loom above his way, What oceans toss him night and day, What fever blasts from desert sands, What deatb-col* winds from frozen lands, What shafts of sleet or sun may blight My homeless wanderer in his flight; I only know the world is wide And he awaroam by land and tide. " lh ide, ah met in every part, But narrower than his mother's heart Ajoyle.,s heart since my boy. Will, Went down behind the hilt 1 know he bravely fights with fate, But, ah, the hour is growing late; I watch the hill by day and night, It dimly looms before mty sight. SAnd ast the twilight shadows fall; The night is glooming over all; S But in my boy a faith is give:, As saints of old had faith in heaven: 1 know that he will come acaln, His praise on all the lips of me'n:~ Be will come back to me at last With deeds that shall redeem the past, Nor desert plain, nor mountain steep, Nor storm, nor thunder on the deep. Nor tempest in the east or weRt. Shall hold him from his mother's bre~at. And though the world grown bllnd and dumb. I feel, I know, that he will come; Audi am waiting for him still. And watch the summit of the hill: sOletimes I think 1 see him stand And wave a welcome with his hand, But 'tin a cloud upon the rim Of sunset-and my eyes are dim - 'TIs but a mist made by the tears That thicken with the growing years. I watch while thoere i light to see And dream that he rill come to me: And though tis dark within. without, I will to-t shame him by a doub,; The all-enfolding night draws ,enr, But he will orme-I will not fear But. sh, 'tis long since mi; boy, Will, Went down behind the hill. -S. W. Foss. in Yankee Blade. ONE KLND OF CRANK. Bow He Makes Lots of Trouble for Hotel Men. A New York Clerk Tells of a Curlous Sort of Vanity Some People Are Abmlcetd*Vitlath-Catchlg an Unwary Countryman. "Is Mr. Henry Wilson in?" The man who put this question to the clerk at the Fifth Avenue hotel the other night was attired in evening dress and had- thrown open his over coat so as to reveal his expansive shirt bosom with its twinkling diamond studs. He affected the elegant in his attitnde, also. and swung his silver Dandled cane with an air of impor tance. His physique, voice and face were deAlggned to aid him in hin attempt t to create an impression. lie was tall and broad-shouldered, had big features and'.an aggressive ,lack mustache, and|is voice was deep and sonorous. He looted like a man who might try to bulldoze another of lesser frame. The clerk looked up at hint with a j bland smile, ut made no pretense of looking at the key rack, as is his cus- t tom when he wants to learn whether a E guest is in his room or not. Neither r did he look at the register nor nt h;s list of the day's guests. lie simply 1 said: "Mr. Henry Wilson, did you say? There is no such person stopping f The inquirerilooked a little taken aback, and a frown passed quickly I ouer his face. When he spoke, the t tone of bir voice suggested that he felt g the clerk had estimated him properly, g but he was impelled to make an at- a tempt to change the clerk's theory. s "•Is that so?" he asked in r.rrprise L • that was evidently assumed; "when did he leave?" c "Idon't remember his having been here," said the clerk, in a tone full of t meaning. "Oh, pshaw; you must be mistaken," said the man, fretfully. "VWhy, I am n eertain he was here a week ago. I have a telegram from him askling me p to meet him on last Wednesday. Un fortunately, I was out of town when the telegram arrived, and it was not forwarded. Wilson is the big million- ft aire contraetor from Chicago, you know b h The last sentence was spoken so ;N oildly that the men standing around, n and even those on the settees, heard it o1 md looked at the speaker. b •"He did not stop ltere," said the sl elerk, ctn a monotonous, oh-you-make- fi mo-tired tone. I' "You are quite sure?" said the man, et switching from the confident to the fc concilatory. et "Ponitive," said the clerk, turning d< away. ti, The man eoncealed the fact that he c as disconcerted very cleverly. lIe -q picked a toothpick out of the box on th the e4tWr, and Out it between his pl tips, w mu appearance of one lost in m thughth Then he turned around and I iear'tned with his back ragainst the clerk's desk. His atWude was studied- fa ly elegant, e eoaoid unmindful of ea his rri r to e loosura to be looking ti ower tbe beads . the men on the settee Os across tlp lobby. The clerk looked at F him occasionally in mingled anger and asaniement. Presently the man walked out into the center of the lobby, glanced slowly aroun and walked deliberately out of the ho)el through the writing room and the ladiesiantrance. "I wish somebody would invent a sure crank-killing machine," said the cler>jafter the man had disappeared. "That fellow was the sixth to-night." ,w "What do you mean?" asked the re porter. "I mean," he replied, "that that fel low knew when he came here that no such man as he inquired for had ever stopped here. In.. fact, the name he mentioned was all there was of his pre tended friend. When he came here and asked for the myth of his own creation, he knew that he was simply bothering me. What was his object? Oh, simply to create an impression on the people standing around. Did you notice how his voice rose when he talked of the myth as 'the big million sire?' Don't you know there are men who are constantly craving the noto riety that is associated with riches? Haven't you heard men in restaurants, elevated trains, horse cars, barrooms and elsewhere talk about 'big deals,' bonds, vast sums of money, their social positio .Antes y with great men, and all ha sort of thing? Of course you ave, and have known all the time that they 'were merely faking. Well, that sort of man comes in here neatly every day and an noys the life out of us. This fellow you saw has been here so many times I am dead on to him. IIe wants to show off his clothes and imitation diamonds, and m alce people think he is a big gun. Most of them are not so well dressed as he is. Some are countrymen who hare heard a good deal about our lobby and the men who frequent it, and ask ques tions about persons who don'tlxist as an excuse for coining here. They seem to think that being seen in conversa tion with the clerk gives them a sort of right to stay here and satisfy their curiosity. They have an idea the de tectives will come around and order them out unless they do something of the kind. I frightened one of these fellows nearly out of his wits one night lie was a perfect jay, and stnttered. IIe asked if 'lloward Johnson' was in. "'Yes,' I said, 'there he is.' and I pointed out our detective, who was , standing close by. 'Mr. Johnson,' I said, 'here's a man wants to talk to you.' I winked to the detective and lie tumbled. 'What did you wish of me, sir?' lie said, crowding him up into this corner. The fellow turned blue with fright. 'I g-g-gness I m-m-ade a m-m mistake,' he stutterc:l. 'You asked for Howard Johnson,' I rid:l., aeVercry. 'And that's my name.' said the detec tive, taking the hint. 'Y-v-yes,' said the fellow. 'b-b-hut I g-g-guess y-you air a d-d-differcnt Il-1l-Iloward.' lie kept edging off as far as he could, and finally bolted. "Some of the cranks got up great cock-and-bull stories. One fellow called the other night to know if a nMr. Harris had left a pair of opera glasses for him. There had been no such guest here. During the last cam paign, when the papers were full of stories about the big men here, we had a as many as thirty or forty cranks pes tering us every day. A favorite trick with some of them was to wait until the papers announced the departure of a big gun, and then come here and pester us with questions about when he would return. Tney alwafs pre tended surprise when told lie had gone without leaving messages for them, and would try to talk confidentially with us, in tones loud enough to be I hearj fifty feet away, about their inti mate relations with the big men. We vwe overrun with them, and found it. difficult to attend to our business, for they stuck like leeches. It vwas a grxeat relief to see them drop oty after the campaign, but we are ,.till annoyed by enough to make us sore at tirres."--N Y. Sun. All Abot,,t tOrls. (;'rls don't have any aim in life but just to get married. Pooh! I wouldn't get married for fifty dollars! I'm going to bhe an author S hen I grow up. I'm gathering the material for my book now. It's going to be all about how dudes and such like propose, and the lies they tell, and swh-at the girl says. I hide b hind the curtains or under the sofa every time I see one of sister's fellers begin to look sneaking. I can tell 'em every time. I'm experienced. WVel, the other night I laid for Mr. Puttihead. Ile was pretty badly rat tied, and when lie got about to the point he muttered and stuttered and gobbled so that I couldn't make head nor tail of what he said. I forgot my self, and stuck my head out from under the sofa. "Louder, please!" says I. "I didn't catch that la.st remark." Well, sir, Puttihead fainted and sis- 1 ter screamed bloody murder, and Da rushed in and hauled me out into the woodshed, and, oh, if he didn't raise a my coat in great shape! s That is all I know about girls at v present -National Tribune. a Teeth of tire Neghro. The old-time colored man was noted b for the brilliant whiteness of his teeth h -a qality which is not inherited by n his descendants of the present day. t Nowadays the teeth of the negroesdo t not seem to be nearly as good as those c of his white brother. The reason is to d be found in the change of food. " The slaves had plenty to eat. but the food a given them was of the simplest kind. ti Pork. meal, potatoes, and such veg- tl etables as they raised themselves, n formed their bill of fare. Now they i eat all sorts of indigestible stuff, out- ti doing the white people in this direc- ii tion, showing a particular fondness for e candies and sweetmeats. The conse- a quence is that in a single generation c the ivory teeth of the slave have given o place to the decayed fangs of the freed ft nman.-St. Louis Olobe-Demnocrat o -Tnhkwell--"Tf your story was a flat .i failure, wly is it sellinr lire hot d, cakes?" Blotter-"I had it bound with a the title on the last pag'"-Inter o0 Ocean. *S at A VISIT TO WHITTIER. d oate Efeetive Mide-Lights Thrown on the Character of the Poet. The memory of a visit to Amesbury, made once in September, vividly re mains with me. It was early in the month, when the lingering heat of summer seems sometimes to gather fresh intensity from the fact that we are so soon to hear the winds of au tumn. Amesbury had greatly altered of late 1- years; "large enough to be a city," our friend declared; 'but I am not fat enough to be an alderman." To us it e was still a small village, though some what dustier and less attractive than when we first knew it. n As we approached the house we saw n him from a distance characteristically : gazing down the roa r us, from his n froptyard, ad a the rat li suddenly dbTW peg,, ce or again to meet us, quite fresh and quiet, from his front door. It had been a very hot, dry summer, and everything about that place, as about every other, was parched and covered with dust. There had been no rain for weeks and the village street was then quite inno is cent of watering carts. The fruit hung g heavily from the nearly leafless trees, and the soft thud of the pears and ap I plea as they fell to the ground could be heard on every side in the quiet house e yards. The sun struggled feebly e through the mists during the noontide a hours, when a still heat pervaded rath er than struck the earth; and then in the early afternoon and late into the next-aorning a stirless cloud seemed to cover ,e face of the world. These mists were much increased by the burn ing of peat and brush, and, alas! of the very woods themselves, in every direc tion. Altogether, as Whittier said, quaintly, "it was very encouraging weather for the Millerites." His niece, who bears the name of his beloved sister, was then the mistress of his home, and we were soon made heartily wel come inside the house, where every thing was plain and neat, as became a Fr riend's household; but as the village had grown to be a stirring place, and the house stood close upon the dusty road, such charming neatness must sometimes have been a ditlicult achieve mente The noonday meal was soon served and soon ended, and then we sat down behind the half-closed blinds, looking out upon the garden, the faded vines and almost leafless trees. It was a cozy room, with its l"ranklin stove, at this season surmounted by a bou quet, and a table between the windows, where was a largeobouquet, which Whittier hll;'self had gathered that mornihng in anticipation of our arl i',; lie had seemed brighter and better than - we had dared to hope, and was in ex cellent mood for talking. Referring again to the Mlillerites, who had ben so reanimated by the mists, he said he had been deeply impressed lately with their deplorable doctrines. "Continu ally disappointed because we don't all burn upon a sudden, they forget to be thankful for their preservation from the dire fate they predict with so much comnlacency. " lie had just received a proof of his poem, "Miriam,."',jith the introduction, and he could noilbe content until they had been read aloud to him. After the reading they were duly commented up on and revised until he thought lie could do no more, yet twice before our departure the proofs were taken out of the handbag, where they were safely stowed away, and again more or less al tered. 1Whittier's ever growing fame was not taken by him as a matter of course. "I can not think very well of my own things," he used to say; "and what is mere fame worth when thee is at home alone, and sick with headaches, unable either to read or to write?" Neverthe less he derived very great pleasure and consolation from the letters and trib utes which poured in upon him from hearts he had touched or lives lie had quickened. "That I like," he wouv,t say; "that is worth having." But he must often have known the deeps of trouble in winter %venings when he was too ill to touch book or pcn, and when he could do nothing during the long hours but sit and think over the fire. t WVe slept in Elizabeth's chamber. The portrait of their mother, framed in autumn leaves gathered in the last aut umn of her life, hung upon the wall. Here, too, as in our bed room at Dick- t ens', the diary of Pepys lay on the table. Dickens had read his copy faith fully and written notes therein. Of thts copy the leaves had not been cut, but with it lay the "'Prayers of the Age," and volumes of poems which had r all been well read and "'ickwick" up on the top--Annie Field, in Ilarper's r Magazine. ANIMALS IN WET WEATHER, c Their Hablts and tIntlncts Ii Regard to g Sheltering Thrmselves. The reluctance with which most hu man beings face voluntary exposure to such (wet) weather will account for our very limited knowledge of the shifts m and devices by which our wild ani ma s endeavor to avoid the worst discomfo i a which it brings. inut those who are t bold enough to go forth in all weathers I know by experience that in all but the a most open countries there are generally i to be found some cosey corners to which b the rain does not penetrate, or which, I even it not fry, are sheltered from the q direct access of the driving drops. t Animals, birds especially, while 'I showing the utmost dislike to endure c the storm, are by no means so clever in s the use of such natural shelters as r might be supposed. Hares, as a rule, lI leave the open country and seek shel- is ter in the woods; and stupid as they are a in circumstances new to their experi- d ence. as when suddenly chased, or in h avoiding snares and traps, they show a considerable ingenuity in securing their g comfort They nearly always make a h form near, but not touching, the trunk o of some large tree. Thus, while securing sl the shelter of the stem and overhanging si imbs, they avoid the water which drains b down to the main column and forms, as any one may see by .ooking at the foot b of a large timber ree in a meadow, a tiny canal at the base of the trunk. The writer has petines seen hares, not lying in their , but sitting up in such places, as a laborer shel ters behind a h. k. Where there are no woodlI y creep under the irregular over cornice made by Le the crumblin of the n Id be neath the roo hedge-banks and r there scratch" - pug and dry re treat. . 1 Rabbits AVualI3 keep under ground in their. urrows, only coring out to feed, unles.heir les are flooded, as often happeBs at a lonz curse of wet They tbtp l, the warren alto gether, and lie out' nong the turnips, or even on the opet stubbles, huddled up into the snall_ possible space, as if they had lost ~faith in the possi V bility of finding ehqr shelter. Rats have the strongq't,]possible dislike to damp. an on - t approach of -r the stacks and farm buildings. Thosec which spend their lives along the banks of rivers " and brooks-a semi-aquatic breed of g and rats which resemble the true water rats in all but their vegetarian diet-have a sim ple and clever resource for wet ather. They leave their holes in the g 6anks, and go up into the crowns of the pollard willows which fringe the streams and line the hedges; in these C they find warm, dry, and well-drained winter lodgings, safe even in flood-time; P for their powers of swimming enable them to shift from tree to tree, and the swarms of snails and insects which shelter in the hollow trunks provide them with food for a "rainy day." Foxes often lie in these large. hollow pollards during very Qt weather; and the writer has seen an otter slip from the crown of one of them into the Cher well during an autumn flood. But foxes more often prefer to lie still for hours curled up in the high grass and brambles in some thick double-fence, or dry furze-brake.' Sometimes, in heavy rain, they are so reluctant to leave their dry quarters, that they do not move until their disturber is close upon them; arnd the comical, half-re luctant, and wholly Buiky look of an i old dog-fox, as he stands hesitating be tween prudence and comfort, should ap Speal to the most unsympathetic sports man. horses and cattle never look so mis erable as when standing exposed to cold and driving rain. Every field in which cattle are turned loose shculd have some rude shelter provided, how ever rough and hardy the stock. If left to themselves in a state of nature, they would travel miles to some banik . thicket,which would at least give o.; against the wind. Shtnt up betaeen n four hedges, they are denied alike the aid or l l.^lS ft_.tetlkought and of their own instinct. ewi-'s vignettes of old horses or unhapp} doskys.L ; huddled together in driving' srhowers on s ..._ bleak common. elpress a vast amount of animal misery in an inch of woodcut. It seemns strange that no animal, unlecs it be the squirrel, seems to build, itself a shelter with the express object of keeping off the rain, which they all so much dislike. Monkeys are miserable in wet, and could-easily build shelters, if they had the sehse to do so "As thie creatures hop disconsolately aliong in the rain," writes ]Mr. Kipling, in hirs "Beast and Mlan in India." "'or ·rou ch on branches, with dripping baces set against the tree-trunk as shelter from ! a driving storm, they have the air of being very sorry for themselves.'" But even the ourang-outanry. whiicih bIuilds al small platform in the trees rn which to sleep at night, never seems to think of a roof, though the Dyaks say that when 1 it is very wet it covers itself with the leaves of the pandanus, a large fern. Birds, some of which carefully roof in the nests in which they rear their young, and even, asI in the case of the swallow, choosei some existing roof, such as the eaves of a house or a projecting cliff, tr cover the nest, when built of materials which r wet would destroy, seem incnapa;ble of making a waterproof house' for them selves. (;rouse and all the fowls of the open moorlands go to the most open , and exposed spots, in rain avoiding the thick heather and even the "" peat- t hags," in whose hollows they might 1 find shelter. Partri'dges huddle under r the fences, or lie on the driest arid ' barest places on the fallows, apparent ly caring less for shelterabov, than for a dry soil beneath them. Rooks often flock into thick fir-trees, or in summer Ii take refuTge in the old and close-gro,w ing oaks which line the roadsides. But I the small and helpless birds, yellow hammers, buntings, chaffinches and A linnets seem quite bewildered by the n beating storms. They creep into cart- t ruts or behind tufts of grass: often tlhey take refuge under the big Swede tur nips round the edlges of the fieldis, where they are so numbed and cramped A by cold and wet that they may be caught by the hand, or are picked up by stoats and rats, humble an i uincon stcered victims of the "plague of rain and waters." -London Spectator. n A Mnlodlh Material. For the best dresses that women of p moderate means keep for special occa sions there are various inexpensive j satin fabrics that wear and look much fr better than silks of similar low price. t For the present season the satin surahs t are not heavy enough, and "real satin" is too costly, hence the careful shopper's buys the satin duchess or merveilleux, ti because its surface is closely woven in stead of showing a broad serge-like a twil that cheapens the effect at once. These come in olive and moss 1'reen, copper red, maroon and golden-brown , shades, as well as in black. at prices hi ranging from eighty cents to one dol- i lar and twenty-five centsa yard. Llack I L1 is first choice just at the moment, and Ft a skirt of this material now in the rl dressmaker's han-.s is made in the still ti highly popular enlarged bell shape with I a plaited ruche, with rows of jetted J. gimpabove for trimming. This one skirt , has, to be worn with it, a stylish coat i 1 of satin brocade with cape-collar and or sleeves of velvet, an Eton jacket of .rn satin, like the ,akirt, opening over a h blouse waist trimmed with the jetted a gimp; and a low-cut sleeveless corselet n 1bodice of plain black velvet to wear th with guimpes and fancy waists. -N. Y. Ft l'ost o I, EATING DINNER MECHANICALLY The Walter Does Everythlogl But Swallow : the Food a.d urluk. On a recent evening a big man with a e heavy walk entered a well known cafe Y on upper Broadway and sank wearily into a chair at a table. He was abon fifty years old and had the appearance of a high liver. His face had the pecu liar purplish-red color which is some times ascribed to burgundy and some times to champagne, but is always due 6 to indulgence of the appetite for good 'f things. His movements indicatedathat he felt sluggish, and it would have cre ated no surprise in the observer to have been told that he was liable to apo s plexy. lie seemed preoccupied, and -glanced listlessly about the room. S Presently a waiter came up tohim. He was about the same age as the man at f the table, but was quick and active. 1 *Good morning, Mr. Jones," he said, briskly. "'We have some nice turtle soup and some excellent roast grouse." "All right, James," said the other, e absent-mindedly. "Some potatoes chateau and a lettuce salad?" t "Yes." The waiter went away and returned presently with some illustrated papers, which the man took from him without so much as looking up. The soup was 3 brought on and ladled out by the wait er, who then took the napkin and spread it carefully over the man's lap. ° He brought on a glass of sherry, al · though the man had said nothing about a it, and set it down beside his plate. The man did not notice it, but began to v eat his soup greedily. "You are forgetting your sherry, sir," said the waiter, respectfully. Mechanically the diner reached out and carried tie glass to his lips. The r waiter watched him as carefully as a mother does her child, filled the glass of water when it was empty, replaced 1 the napkin when it slipped down, and in other ways saw to it that the diner was comfortable. The soup was fol lowed by the roast, potatoes, and some celery. The latter had not b en or dered, either. The grouse was carved by the waiter, who also served the po - tatoes and picked out the tender pieces I of celery. "[)o you want your champagne, sir?" he asked. "\Vhat champagne?" demanded the ~ [ner', querulounly. "You havrd a half bottle left from last night. sir." "lring it on, then." T'e waiter returned with a half Iempty bottle. A rubber cork tightly pressed into the mouth had preserved the sparkle. Through the remainder of the mneal the waiter never relaxed his watchfulness, although he had to wait on two other tables. \Vhen the diner had finished his coffee he started LG ~. ..'.'T,, waiter, who happened to be at another tatibm, Jn..t;is n se "\Vait a moment, Mr. Jones," he said; "you must take your pepsin." '"Then why the deuce don't you bring it?" "Right away, sir." In a moment he had rushed out of the room and returned speedily with a bottle andespoon. He mixed up a dose in a glass and handed it to the man, Swho drank it with a wry face. Then the waiter brought a finger bowl and a cigar, of which he cut off the end. lie = waited until the man had slowly put it between his lips and then he struck a match and applied the light The man puffed so slowly that the match had burned down to the waiter's fingers and scorched them before the cigar wvas thoroughly lighted. The waiter now helpedjthe man on with his overcoat, adjusted his silk mutfer, buttoned up the coat and hanled him his cane. "Good night, Mr. Jones," said the waiter, as the man toddled away. An indistinct mumbling was the only re The head waitler explained. "That nman Jones," said he, "has been coming E here for fifteen years and always has t the same waiter. Ile's a grouty man, a but not had hearted, lie's a chronic t dyspeptic, but you see he won't deny I himself much. Yd'm noticed he didn't c tip the waiter? That's because he pays I him once a week and generously. le pays his meal checks the same vay.v. The waiter knows his habits absolute- e ly, and, as you saw, does not require ' any orders. lie knows that he wants a certain things always, and understands a his tastes well enough to be able to a sug~est a satisfactory menu every time. I have an idea the old fellow will re member his waiter in his will. lie gives him lots of prevents. as well he C might, for the waiter does about every- t thing except eat and drink for him."- t N. Y. Sun. a THE MILLIONAIRES' MALADY. A dlental Disease which V. the Outgrowth v ff time Porseslon of (treat Wealth. There is reason to think that great wealth begets a mental disease akin to C those forms of paralysis which affect a minute portion of the brain. It is not to be denied that the very rich, as a 1 lass, show as much sense as other peo Iep. Those who have made their own fortuneos may well have narrowed their hinds in the process. They probably , fell into a groove, and we must not look to themn for sympathy with new ti tlhoughms or projects. But the majority -in Europe, at least-inherited wealth t and they passed through the same training commonly, imbibed the same ideas as the rest of us. We knew some jf them at school or at the university, where they were much like other youths , --.qually interested in the "queStions" a which took their fancy. They mayeven have promised in all sincerity to aid in h solving a problem of some kind when they came into their own, and looked forward to the work with pleasure. If the promise be forgotten when that N time arrives, no reasonable person will :ondemn th. To find one's aelf in the ;aternal seat. surveying landsall one's te iwn, as far as eye can see. or reckoning ci ap the money-bags, is not less exciting, cr arobably, when that day has been an- al ireipated from childhood. But in a he ;hort time the situation Ucomes famil- al ar. and then that reasonable person, if he nexperienced, looks for fulfilment of th the promise. iBut rarely indeed is he w rratified. The mental disease has w round a lod-ment His rl friendmay tc Y atill take interest in the question, what. ever it be. But somehow his mind can no longer grasp the obvious fact that a he himself might settle it, once for all, fe by-applying no great proportion of the y money which lies idle at his bank. It is clear, also, that this malady :e grows more common, and intensifies. - When the rich were by no means so e- many or so wealthy as now, they .. founded all sorts of charitable institu 1e tions-schools, colleges, chantnes, hos d pitals. At present they subsclrbe just at like anybody else, and their contribu e- tion often enough is not more liberal re than that of men whose capital is no p. greater than their income. In the ,d building of churches alone do a few of o them make show of rivaling their fore Le fathers' munificence. But those sub st scriptions acknowledge the obligation. A millionaire who flatly refused to do 1, anything for his fellow-creatures could le not be charged with inconsistency at least. But he who gives a hundred r, guineas or so, when piling up hundreds of thousands for probate, admits in ef * fect that he ought to do what he can. But if he chose, what could he not do? Our hospitals, for instance, make des ,d pairing appeals year by year. Their , emissaries beg in the streets. They it work through the directory, and write I to each householder. Their boxes stand t. in every public place. Of late they d have addressed workingmen. But all x the while there are hundreds of capital 1 ists-not less kind-hearted nor less in It telligent than other people-who could set the largest of them on its legs for o good and never feel the sacrifice, thou sands who could do the like without re ducing an item of expenditure. The action would be pleasant, one might t think, and certainly it would honor. e Why do none of them perform it? Be a cause, we apprehend, their perception s is dulled by the strange malady which d attends great wealth. I The diagnosis becomes more reason r able yet if we look beyond the calls of philanthropy to personal interests. Du · ties which are shared by all, such as that of relieving distress, may be over t looked by busy men-and all million aires are busy somehow. But it may bts s said that each of them cherishes somu private fancy-art or archmeology, sel ence in one or other form, horticult, ure, or sport at least. But very few e are they who use their opportunity even here. Many work hard-but only t in the same groove with men who labor at the identical task for their livelk hood. Take the easiest and commnoness of such tastes. The millionaire who devoted a hundred thousand pounds toJ horse-breeding, consulting men of set r ence as well as experts, might do enc 1 less good, with continual delight for himself, and found at least a new straitO of thoroughbreds. But millionaires dot i not show enthusiasm for sport com monly. Some, as is known to the so lgct, apply themselves to science, and " Qspen py which would represent fabulous sum to t t ý ". t but to them must be a trifle, in expcr'. ments and researches. We have heard, indeed, of a bold and costly undertak ing which an eminent personage, still living, projected in his youth. lit, caused a magnet to be built of such size and power as had not yet been im agined. It was his intention to charge this gigantic object without witnesses, so as to enjoy the unparalleled result in selfish solitude. Happily, a great authority called at the moment, and received an invitation to assist. When he saw the preparations, his face paled. Neither he nor any one else could foretell what wvould happen if that twent-foot magnet were set to work; but it was probable, at least, that the house would fall. The thing still remains uncharged-or did a few years ago. lint it is not re corded that this gentleman has devised any such scheme since he camne in .o his patrimony. Millionaires of culture mnut hI, inter ested in antiquarian researches iiwhich throw light upon the past. They e~r,n mnonly subscribe, indeed, when an e-n terprise of the side is launchedl. lint how much does English ar-luehwlory owe to them? WVe believe that twenty pounds was the largest contribuntion Thomas Wright could emrsua,'e a ny rich patron to advance towards un,.ov ering Uriconium. Poor men dlid w-hat was done mostly, and now that won derful city is reburied. Silchester is another instance of our own day. Iut, 1 after all, British archmnoloyv is n "one horse" pursuit The remains of Italy and Greece appeal to the imagination in a very different degree; and not to our English millionaires alone, but to those of the civilized world. Which of them at any time has responded to that t appeal beyond here or there offering a little check, such as poor authors and p professors rival?--London Saturday Re- a view. t Hlack One tear and White the Nmot. t A woman app-ared ch the streets of Canton, Mich., recently who attracted a much attention. She has a perfectly t white face and hands and short kinky t hair, with the features of a negro. The woman said that she was born black and remained so until she was fifteen years old, when she suddenly turned white, remaining so for one year-, when she turned black again. Since that time she is alternately white and black, not only in spots, but changes color en tirely. She is fairly intelligent and says she has never had a spell of sick ness and has never taken a d'use of medicine. She lives near Sallis station, on the Canton and Aberdeen road. She says she cannot stand the sun at all, and wears a double veil and heavy gloves. She says if the sun shines on her skin for one moment it causes it to blister at once. She has been examnined by physicians, who are unable to an- count for the change in her colc'. N. 6. Times-Democrat a -And She Faileld.--"What's the mat- c ter, dear?" asked Mr. Justwed as he E came into the house and foruned his wife '1 crying as if her heart would break. "I c am so discourag'ed," she sobbed. "Vhat t has bothered my little wife?" "I worked 0 all the afternoon making custard pies. t because I knew you were so fond of u them, and--and-" Here she began d weeping hysterically again. "And W what, darling?" "And they turned out o to be sponge cakes-Baalo Expresa IN THE ELECTRICAL WORLD. ° -The asstonomers of Warner's ob servatory at Rochester, N. Y.. have asked the local electric light companies e to adopt shades for their electri" lights. claiming that the gleams of light there from make accurate observations im possible. --The Compagnie Translantique has ' again brought forward the question of lighting the Atlantic route from Lre land to Newfoundland. It is proposed to have ten powerful floating lights two hundred miles apart, and connect thes by electric cables. --A new system Sf train starting bas been inaugurated in the Dearborn sta tion in Chicago. A large clock in the train dispatcher's office runs by elec tricity. Connecting wires extend to large gongs in the different wgiting rooms and in the train sheds. Twe minutes before the train starts the dif I ferent gongs ring in all parts of the building. -A patent for a process of uniting broken pieces of are light carbons has ? recently been granted. By this process the fragments of carbon are combined to any desired lengths by means of a paste composed of pulverized carbon and coal tar, mixed in about equal parts and applied hot, after which the carbons are baked until the paste hardens. -It is said that the Chilian govern ment is considering the sabject of lighting by electricity the dangerous straits of Magellan. As its greatest coal deposits are on the northern shores of the straits, this can be cheaply ef fected. Such asystem would, of course, t be hailed with delight by the mariners who would use that passage between the two great oceans. -"The state of Massachusetts, as viewed from a balloon," says the Elec trical Review, "will soon present the appearance of a huge gridiron. ift all the trolley schemes now in contempla tion are carried out. Hamlets will be connected by rapid transit with vil lages, villages with towns and towns with cities, until a business man living in the interior of the state can take his family to the seaside for an airing via the trolley cars." -Austria announces an electric loco motive which is to travel 1253 miles an hour. The Independence lcge follows with the statement that the North Bel gian Co. and the North lFrance Co. are constructing a line for locomotives, operated by electricity, on which the journey from Brussels to Paris, about 192 miles, will be accomplished in eighty minutes, a speed of nearly 150 miles an hour. It is further stated that the trains will be running in about two months. -The new system of electric streel lighting which is to be introduced o - Fifth avenue, New 1Yk,-_ -1J 1h two lamps instead each post. In 1 light and bett'lU.ON ,>that shadr view, andco low voltage mi- !EI pany. Each lamp volts, and the pairs wirlt up in series and the system mu, that no wire will carry over 110"I electric pressure. -The Westinghouse Electric & Man ufacturing Co. recentliL exhibited its new lamp and its 1Vorld'L fair venerat ors at the old 1Vestinglouse air brake shops in Allegheny, Pa., where the gen erators are under construction. There are 12 of the large generators, each having a maximum capacity of 15,000 lo-candle-power lamps, and with the 13 1,000-horse-power engines required to drive them will form the largest single exhibit of machinery ever shown at an exposition. The weight of each dyna mo will be about 1l0,000 pounds, and the armature, the largest single piece of each machine, is about 90 inches (711 feet) in diameter, and weighs 42.000 pounds. OWL.S HAVE THEIR USES. Mice, insects. (Gophers and the Swarming Slparroow Frood for tile wise Bird. The little screech-owl, well known in most parts of thg country, is indefatig able in its work of destroying mice and insects It may often be seen at dusk hovering about barns and outhouses, watching for mice, or skimming over the fields or along hedgerows in search of grasshoppers, crickets and beetles. Many birds of this species have taken up a residence in the cities having learned to feed upon that most de structive nuisance. theEnglish sparrow. In winter rural residents often notice the tracks of mice which form net works in the snow, crossing and recross ing, passing in and out of walls and stacks-tending to show how active these small rodents are when most of the world sleeps. Occasionally such a track stops abruptly, and, while the ob server is trying to read more of the his tory written in the snow, his eyes catch the faint impression of a pair of wing tips near where the trail ends, and in stantly he is made aware that a tragedy has been enacted. Screech-owls also feed on chipmunks, shrews, moles and occasionally bats. During w~arm spells in witer they forage extensively sand store up in their homes quantities of food as a provision against inlement weather. Probably the most important frosn an economic point of view among ow's is the barn owL Its food is almost en tirely made up of injurious mammals. In the west it feeds largely on pouchbae - gophers, and the stomach caontents of many individuals examined have revealed little else than thi re mains of these rodents. To appreclate properly the seiwices of this owl it minet be remembered that pouched gophers are among the most, if not the most, de structive mammals which inhabit tlhi country. In various other localitles I feeds extensively on the common rat. The great horned owl, which in ti east is persistent in its attecks on peil try and game, kills imamenase a of rabbits in rabbit infrtes p sl the west, where its assiateece t i uable to the farmer. It Sh ammt i dicted to eating skunks, of whlAfth - yours great nuwaers wbfrteen objectionable matmals aga