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ANSE.L7?t AND THE HARE. Anselm, the priest from Italy, He whom the poet Dante name I . The greatest saint in paradise. He whose high wisdom justly claimle Obedience from monks and king:, Rote, as it chanced upon a day, Where stately Engli:,h trees outil retched Their spreading boughs along the way. From out the w ood Ihere ruiih i a h ire, With following huntsmen on her track; A volte and hand wore lifted up, The good prie:st h.ide the m:,u :;tand hback. They paused ana/red. for, wild with fright. The trembling creature swift!yv s.Irn Beneath his horme. as if she .w Her hopes of safety on him 1:'ng, 'Behold, he r:_p.lk wivth gentle c How she boncath myn horses' feet Hfath sougr.t a refuge. Think y" not To send her safel y forth were eeft? "In need man flees to God for aid. That mercy which 1e" :-eis.c on high. Shall he not grant the timorous beast That, fearful, rhrinlis, afraid to die'" Then sped the hare into Ith woe:l, With bounding leaps and nerves a-strain. And, with a blessing for each man. Anselm, the priest, rode on again. N. Y. Indepcude:it. THE COLONEL'S WIFE. Fort Ludlow is a beautiful place to the few people from the city who, nervous and tired from a long winter of overwork, go down there in the sunny springtime for a day's rest. When, upon landing from the little transfer steamer. you are received by an offlem; the number of whose stripes immediately decides in the minds of the garrison your position in the world. and taken to his 9quarters, there to receiveo the hospitality cf the fort; when. later, yeai wander out alone upon the green, grass-grown ramparts, and look away over the sparkling blue watei" which nearly surrounds you. then you feel as if at last you had reachel a place of abso ute rest and peace from the everyday worries of life. You envy those blue-trLusered workmen piling stones with the great derr'ck far down towards the water's edge, you smile contentedly to your self as with half-closed eyes you drows ily breathe in the salt air. and just before you sink off into your sun-nap, you think, -'This soldier's life is cer tainly the ploasantest and most pleaice ful in the world." I know that this i what you would do and think, for Co thousands have done and thought. and so-which, by the way, is far more important to this story ----I . - self have done and thought. But a little later I was awakened from my comfortable nap upon the ramparts, and taken, most unnecessar ili. as it seemed to tme. to call upon the oticers' wives. Then it was that I began to think differently of in1 pleasures of this soldier's life. We began at the colonel's house. and ne~cer finished until we had said our last glad farewell to the little wife of one of the lieutenants. All the ladies were most hospitable, insisted upon our drinking tea and eating crackers. and refused utterly to allow us to tire ourselves by talking, they themsclros attending to ithat part of the entcr tainment. And, curiously enough, they all said the same thing in a slightly different way. Each spoke of the long, lonesome winters at the fort, wheon for days communnicaliun with the c:.y was shut oft. each said how good it was to see nrw fa,rns. and each, with e exception of the colonel's wife. who talked aitut all the rest, had something to sa:y or intimate about the awife next highcest in command. T Ihe talk was of a gen eral, but very suggestive. nature. The lieutenant's wife had a - but" for the captain's better half; the latter lady smiled* knowingly when the major's wife was mntitioned. and asked if we had yet met young I,;eut Bowles. The major'a wife said she was so sorry for the colonel, with his large family and young wife, who, o course, being only a step-mother: could no, have had muich cxpe:ience. When finally we had tinished our round of call asnd were wandering slowly outside the walls, I said to my friend, '.Life here is hardly a 1)!pea ant as it at tirst looks. Hey? old man?'' and my friend only smiled. All of which goes to show that things in the old days being mulh a;s they are now, the heroine of my friend's story led anything utit a happy life, and. upon" the whole, proved herself a, noble woman by de ciding and acting as she did. It provesa moreover, that my friend's conclusion was carrect. As we lay outside the ramparts, in the warm afternoon sun he told this tale. -.During the war this fort was coim smanded by Col. Baxter. lie wa- a brave old man. of more. use out of the active fighting than in it, and just the officer to command this placc. which at the time was of somo im portance from the fact that it served as ;a prison for Southern captives. They tell odd stories of old l.axtern and from all accounts he was not of the mildest disposition towards eithber his prisoners or his own men. Of tall who suffered from the colonel's tyranny. however the most tried was his young wife. She had been married to him by her parents when she was still very young and. having gained a right to his name and money. had lost. as it seemed, all hope of happiness. The old man undoubtedly loved her, as was often proved by the license he allowed her in many things. but he loved her in a way that could call for no response, and he made her life most wretched. To add to her distress, she was almost wo:shipped by every o1icer in the fort, and as a consequence sincerely hated Iy their wives. "So matters stood here at the fort in midw:nter of 'ti;. There were at, the time few prisoners con lined heic. and if thu colonel had chosen. the life might have been almost pleasant. As it was the only bright spot in the long, monotonous days was in the morning vis't of the colonel's wife to prisoner, The old man's permission that this daily visit might be paid had cost the young woman much pleading and many tears, but now that it was accomplished, the deed of charity seemed to bring a little joy into her sad life. To the prisoners it was a deeply-felt blessing, while to the Union soldiers in the fort it also brought pleasure. for they saw that the colonel's wife was happier for her work pnd they all loved the colonel's wife. The visits were short, but in thesm the girl managed to say much S itt twftas comfortfng to the discour age4 Southern eaptives. and after t.hembe: a man feltcthtat he too -had h tannailU v 4d sb * January came and with the ?few Year a fresh batch of prisoners from the front. The colonel's wife soon knew them all, and they, at finls sullen and discouraged, began once more to gather hope from her kind words. All but one, andthat one had no need for encouragement. This young Southern o`ioce; strong in th'e hclief that his cause was right, firth in the trust that he should live to fight once more for, this cause, and confident in the love of the girl who would long ago have beert his wife if the war had not broken out, had never for a mo nment let his courage fail. Escape was the word that was nlways in his mind. Escape was what he thought of, escape was what he dreamed of. and escape was what he finally at tempted. *"But for three long months he was a prisoner confined in one of those narrow cells. just there across the ditch. And there every day the colonel's wife visited him, and there she talked to him of his home and of himself. The man was a noble fel low, and when he opened his heart to the young wife, never for a moment dreamed of the harm he was doing, while she, poor girl, never having known happiness. hardly understood why she was happy. But finally when he told her of the girl who was wait ing for him at home, she understood, and he, to his sorrow. also understood. Then he saw a double reason for leav ing the place, and she. too, saw that he could not stay. Duty to her hus band and her country, love for the man whose very presence brought her happiness yet who was not for her, above all, the knowledge that, i. helping him to escape. she was send ing him to the other one waiting for him in the Southern home ,al these thoughts filled the mind and heart and soul of the colonel's wife. And then, one bright April morning. after a calm, almost sultry night, the report, spread through the garrison that No. 34. Captain Low, 4th Caro lina cavalry, had escaped. No one knew how it happened; no one could understand how No. :31 could have cut r way the stone-work of his win dow enough to have pushed through. Abcvo all, no one could believe that the prisoner had slipped through the opening, crossed the ditch and fled out into the night without being seen by the sentry. whose beat was not twen ty paces from the course the prisoner must have taken. The sentry him self was for a time suspected of negli gence, but was soon cleared of the suspicion by the evidence of the colonel's wife, who had herself. in taking her usual evening walk about the ramparts, seen him at his post. The escape had been discovered vary soon afterward, so that there was ino reason to believe the sentry asleep. The man himself, being freed from the charge, did not care to tell that the colonel's wife not only saw but spoke to him that night. That, more over: she called him to the further end of his beat and called his attou tion to a no:so which she thought she had heard far down the sea wall. - What good would it do.' the fellow said to himself; 'sure, it ud be loike impaching the lady herself, which is foolish indade'' ,,The colonel never saw a letter which a year or two afterwards came to his wife. lie was not in the room to see the tears come slowly to her eyes as she read the words: • That night when [ saw your face in the dusk, looking at me, while you pointed with your hand in the other direction, then for the first time did I realize the risk you ran, and I felt ashamed to profit by your danger. You saved my life, and gave to rne the woma# who is now my wife. From the promise I made to you she will never know your name, but eao joins with me in wishing all happine3s to the colonel's wife.' " My friend ceased, and pointing across the ditch said, '*That window worn away is where the man escaped; the sentry box against which you are leaning is where the colonel's wire stood. She had a hard time, pooe thing. and might have done worse, but then, after all, a soldier's isn't the pleasantest life.--Halsey DeWolf, in Harvard Advocate. HE'D STARVE FIRST. He Lorved Chicken Sandwich Mich, lnt Pennles ;More. At Ferryville, on the Pennsylvania railroad, a thin old maj with a mouth like a cruller climbed on board of a south-bound train. He carried an umbrella tied up with a shoestring. and an ol] valise which looked as if il had been with Lee at Appomattox. He sat down on a cross seat near the door, deposited his property and beckoned to a train boy who was passing with a basket of sandwiches. 'Got anything ter eat, young fel ler?" ,.Sandwiches-ham, chicken and tongue." *"Are they fraish?" Certainly." *'There ain't no 'certainty' about it," objected the old man emphati cally. "'the sandwich business is tick. lish in hot weather," .-They're fresh," said the boy im patiently- "only been made an hour." "I'd rather like a chicken sandwich. " remarked the old man, -'if I knowed I wouldn't draw a wing." "No wings sir, all clear meat." "'Spose you let me see one of them sandwiches." '(Can't, sir. they are all wrapped up. Take one?" " How much do you ask for 'em?" '" en cents." "Not by the do on, young fellow. How much for one?" S"Ten cents." '";reat day 'n' mornin'," gasped the old man, horror-stricken. '.ten cents for two bites of bread and a smell of chicken! I'm hungry enough to est a pickaxe, but I'm gasme and I tell you, boy. before I pay ten cents for one little sandwich. I'll set here and roll my eyes and swoller all the way to Bowitermer." The Th;ird of Their Names. It is rather curious that in 1762 the principal sovereigns reigning in Europe were the third of their respeoe tive names. They were George ]IL, king of Great Britain; Charles III., King of Spain; Augustus III., king of Poland; Frederick III., king of Prussia: Charles Emanuel IIL, king of SarOinia; Mustapha III., emperr of the T'Irks; Peter IIL., emperor of Russik; F~anCis IL, duke of Modena andt Fredtwrrk "1Ll duke q( +t ~~ '4- "" '' ' " " ON ETNA'S PEAKS. _---..r- ITEMS OF THE LATE VOLCANIC ERUPTIONS. Some Notable Co IvuoIloun of the Earth in YearesGone Bly-Hot lara Streatn. ing Down the Mountain sidee--The St Gervarl Tragedy. 1-FH EIt'PTION *f of Mouon Etna and the fa: of the IBionnassa gia ciers at Mont Blanz were the two natural con bvulsions which startled Europe this year. Of the two, the fall of the Bion - nassa y glaciers, though the minor convulsion, was the more appalling, for as it turned out it resulted in the greater loss of life. The eruption of 'Mount iEtna has yet caused none. An attend ant earthquake edid indeed do great damage to the village of Giarre, which lies directly tc the east side of the vol cano, a black and desolate space three miles in width bounded on three tides by perpendicular cliffs from 2.000 to 4,000 feet high. But no lives seemedto have been lost in Giarre, and though the lava flow thr'atened Nieclosi, which is a little town at the foot of the mountain, consisting of one long street bordered by one-storied cottages of lava, which in the eruption of 186 was safe by only a few hundred yards when the lava ceased rolling toward it. Mount Etna is located in the north east portion of -the island of Sicily.adja cent to the sea and near the city of Cata na. It is an isolated mountain of conical form, and separated from the other mountains of Sicily by the valley of the river Alearitara. It is 10,935 feet in height, and has a circumference, at its base. of 90 miles. Its volcanic phc nomena are presented on a greater scale than those of any other European volcano, and attracted great ittention from the ancients. Eighty-one eruptions are recorded since .Etna has had a history, the ear liest in the time of Pythagoras, the most recent in 1874. Of these not more than nineteen have been of extreme violence, while the majority have been of a slight and comparatively hirmless character. The recent eruptions were in the years 1868, 1874. 1879, 1583 and liSti, that of 18.8 being the la, to e, classed among the exceptional disturb ances. The cruption of 18tl cont menced on May 18 and continued untii the first week in .Tune. 'There -were premonitory symptoms in the form of earthquakes and a fall uf 'hot cinders, which were thrown as far as Messina, . some eighty miles distant. A lava stream was then seen to be issuing from a crater in the side of M~onte Penitello, about a mile south of the English house where the government observatory is situated. Twen ty-four hours a fterward streams of lava were seen comning out at seven other points, and a day later these seven new volcanoes all joined the principal crater, so that red hot lava was poured down simuttllaneously in a, volume nearly two miles in breadth. The rate of de scent was reckoned at an average of ... _ _ - -- -.-T-- - . -! SATNA DURING T1IE LRUFTION, SHOWING TILE NEW CRATER OF 1886. twenty yards an hour. From time to time great massive stones were cast down, together with a deluge of hot water. As this stream continued to advance for days, and rolled nearer and nearer to Nicolosi--the town situated at the foot of the mountain--the greatest alarm was excited amongst the inhabi tants, who implored heaven to avert the impending disaster. Thus the veil of St. Agatha, the patron saint of the district, who is said to have miracu lously intervened in the eruption which threatened Catania in 1669, was borne through the streets of Nicolosi with great ecclesiastical pomp, while the people brought out the images of the saints from the ch yches to the plaza, and there prayed for the desolating flood to be arrested. The new crater of the Monte Gemel lary, four and one-half miles above Ni colosi, at an altitude of 4,650 feet, was formed on May 18, as stated above, and the lava flowed until June 5. Liquid lava has two distinct forms the first, when issuing in a bubbling mass it flows like compact gruel; the second, when in the subterranean depths water coming in temporary con tact with burning liquids, the two ele ments issue pell-mell. The imprisoned steam tearing and bellowing within the molten lava, whose tempera ture often exceeds 2,000 de grees Fahrenheit, bursts forth, hurling to the heavens fiery, chaotic masses. Continuous explosions up heave the masses again and again into air, pounding and grinding them against one another. Thus they leap and fall, battering and battered, in Titanic, vertiginous dance, scattering, as from a monstrous engine of destruc tion, a storm rain of rocks, sand and ashes. Now, imagine this inferno, caught in its maddest, wildest activity and held fast, the knife-edge excres censes bristling all over it like savage teeth gnawing the air, the awful piling upon its heaving sides of the veryvitals of the volcane, and you will have an idea of this lava which for seventeen dlays in the spring of 18S6 furrowed and desolated a thousand. acres of the country above Nicolosi. The ascent of Mount AEtna, though one-of the most tedious and arduous, is one of the most remunerative, for the view from its summit is one of unpar relleled beauty. A recent writer -says of the sunrise as seen from the moun tain: "I keep my eyes anxiously strained on- the most luminous spot, whence of a sudden a dart of light crosses space, fleeting over the sea. 'That dart in creases into a golden streak, clearly cut, for aperceptible moment, on the purplish water. It changes to a flood ot liqgt Wtil, .the ialk 0. o b. e. a emerges slowly from under the horizon. The shadows palpitate, dissolve about the crests of Etna, transfiguring her into an island of gold ard rose. Pas sionately now the day advances, fling ing wide her magic skirts. The lower ralecys awake, the colors of their vege tation glow and dance. The trees lift up their heads; it seems as if in that profound stillness one could hear the murmur of the reanimation of things. The sun touches every corner of his vast kinrdom; d::--full day--is with ' Beautiful with the beauty of dreams is the spectacle. "To the north the archipelga of the Lipari islands, with their smoky light house of Stromboli, floats on the irid escent sea. To the south, on the bor der of the vast horizon, hover two ghosts, Malta and Pantelleria. while the purple shadows of the Callabrian mountains on the mainland bridge the Straits of 3Tessina, hiding Charybdis and Scvlia. Cameo-cut against the sea Sicily lies at our feet, displaying her fifty towns, her countless villages, the silver ribbons of her rivers, the thous and varied details of her uneven soil, and across her whole lengthas a tangi: ble sign of his dominion, Lord 'Etna stretches his enormous triangular shadow." The catastrophe at St. Gervais-les Bainls was of a far more unusual char acter; indeed it is doubtful whether there is another instance on record in which a glacier has been the cause of such a disaster. Conflicting theories have prevailed as to its origin. The first was that the glacier had, so to speak, slipped its moorings and crashed down the mountain side. Again it was reported that a landslip had occurredin connection with the shifting of the gla cier. and had buried the villages and hamlets in its path. Later theories were that owing to the warm weather a lake of melted ice had formed in the interior of the glacier and that this had burst, throwing large quantities of ice and rock into a mountain torrent of Bon Nant, which flows through the vil lage of St. Gervais. A dam was thus formed, behind which the stream rap idly rose, and finally carried the bar rier away fromn the mountain side. This torrent, rolling huge masses of rock and ice, destroyed the hamlets of lionnassay and La Fayet, the village of St. Gerv-ais and the hotel and bath houses, which lay about six'hundred feet further down the mountain. St. Gervais is a watering place with sulphulrous springs and is a favorite summer resort. It lies in the wooded ravine of Mo',ntjoie, half a mile from the Chamonix road on the Ron Nant. Thei baths of St. Gervais were in five Sseparate buildings, joined by a stone wall, erct'ted in a narrow gorge. They were situa ted about ',066 feet above the :sea, on the road from Geneva to Cha imtunix. NIearlsy one hundred deaths must have resulted from the disaster. A SKELETON GHOST. The Awful Appirition That Appeared to a Kanisas Man. As I turned the corner of my house one dark night. last week I felt a. wild imiipulse t, tturn nd run back. I felt all the sycmptoms one is said to feel when danertg is very near. I half halted, and, shaking like a leaf, looked first to the right. and then to the left, and, finally, straight ahead. There was notlhing to account for my feelings. Stepping forward a fewsteps to the ctornr of the house, I carefully looked a boult. Notlhiig to the right. I :lowly turning to the left my fingers began to tighten up to my hand, my hair secial to crack and raise itself from tmy nhead. Inm limibs became so numb I could scarcely stand and a blur came over my eyes, bIutnot until I had seen the grinning face of a skele ton wrapped in a sheet. I tried to strike it-it was so close to me I might have hit it--but myarm had no power, and I could barely crook it., and could not strengthen it. I could not have held my ground, but I had no power to run, and then in the few seconds that passed I lost all consciousness of my position, and when I awoke again I was shivering fromn the cold wind that was blowing and the figure had gone, leaving nothing but the remembrance of my fright. I felt ashamed the next day to think of myself as a coward--for that I un doubtedly was--and I made up my mind that the next night I should arm myself and go forth to do battle until I was conquered or had found out who and what my grinning, menacing foe was, says a tliawatha, Kan., corre spondent of the Globe-Democrat. I did not reach home the next night, however, but the night after I held a pistol in my hand and went about the house corners as before. As I turned to the left the thing was there, and, in addition to the numb and powerless feeling. I became deathly sick at the stomach. I tried to raise my pistol arm, but could not budge it from my side, I turned my head away to await the coming of the worst. I felt an other cold wave, and with.it the power to move returned. Mly grinning tor mentor was not about. I then made up my mind that I would borrow a shotgun, and as I turned the house another night would fire in the direction of the figure before looking at it. If I missed it I would walk right on and come again next night. I loaded the gun nearly to the muzzle, and, coming home about 10 o'clock, I marched up to the corner with the gun cocked, and as I turned toward the enemy I let both barrels go, The whole neighborhood was awak ened by the noise, and when a set of men came with lanterns we looked for the sad remains. We found a skeleton, or rather the splintered bones of one, and the next day the pieces were claimed by a doc tor of this place, who said it had been taken from his office. The sheet about it was perforated like a seive by the scattering shot. My wit was ours, my wife said. The phosphorus which made eyes for the skull was sold by a druggist to my son, and on interview ing that young man in the woodshed, I learned that he and the doctor's boy had rigged up the skeleton, worth fully $100, to have fun with me. They had tried the ghost business on me with such great success, until I got a gun, that they intended, later on, to see what kind of sand thl'doctot was .ade of. 1 saved him, but it cost him his bones. A Philadelphia funeral team did service at a wedding a few days ago and the dozing driver allowed the horse to carry the bridal couple into a eecter7. THE STORY OF A WATCH. PRIVATE CONDON LST A WHI.SKER FOR ITS SAKE. The Rajah Lost Three Teeth, the Captain Got His Watch and the Thief Got a Little Lift on the Down ward Road. 'What a magnificent watch!" The temark was a natural one. I was showing a friend one of the most val uable jeweled watches ever made, which had become my property by in heritance. It was a double case gold watch of the old turnip variety. The outer case, which was of thick gold. was simply incrusted with em eralds and diamonds the former be. ing particularly fine, and the watch itself was as perfect as skill could make it. * Yes, it is." I answered, -'but I always feel somewhat ashamed of owning it. We came by it in a rather shady way. ¶ think." ,.How was that?" -Well. I'll tell you. I had an uncle who was an officer in the East India service, and it was through him we came into possession of the watch. I have heard him tell the story more than once of now he managed to get hold of it, and it is not a bad exampie of what risks a man will take to get the price of a drink. Let me tjll it as my old uncle used to. "'We were stationed at Rha-npore in '55, and the heat there was some thin, awful. Except the fellows of the iegiment, the eeneral command ing the station and a few civilians there was nobody to talk to. 'The rajah of the province, who had a splendid palace near by. had no love for the . Feringhees.' though we had been called out once to save the obese old ~rretch from the just vengeance of his subjects, whose he fleeced right and left 'it had been a warmer day than usual. and the limp Europeans had not even the energy to play rackets. It was a day to be devoted to the in siditus npeg.' Afn"r mess men sat out ,n the veranda smoking and curs' ing India. There was suddenly quite a s;ir of excite.uent. The colonel had come down from his bungalow and ivas talking with the senior major and adjutant. We all wondered what could have brought 'Old Blazes' out at this hbolr of night. We soon learned, howevcer that the'*ia'ah had beoe attacked by one of our men in his own grounds and robbed of a watch and chain b. a private of our regiment. "The next day there was the dickens to pay. The political coni missioner had a chance of airing his authority, and Mixed Pickles.' the general between twinges of nis disor gaized liver, gave vent to awful threats, and confned the regiments to their cantonments. * Every endeavor was made to dis cover the culprit, and an order had been issued that if the man would give himself up he would be treated as leniently as possible. but should be bh Identified later on by the rajah death would be the penalty. The raiah was, in the mean time, nursing his raf'e at home. lie had lost three teeth in the encounter, and his lip was badly cut. "'Among the prisoners brought up bofore me the morning after the rob bery, were Privates Patrick Condon an6 John Bennett. the one an Irish man. theother a cockney, who, how. ever,, were great chums. Thelrhcrime was fighting. Their faces were quite su~icient evidence. The cause I learned was that Bennett had cut off one of Condon's whiskers, of which he was particularly proud. while the latter was in a drunken sleep. As it had been a fair squarc-up fight, and they were both excellent soldiers. I forgave them. and the battered war riora made a bee-line for the canteen. "'It was a week after this that the regiment was ordered to parade for the purpose of the ra.sh's,identifying I his assailant. It was an early morn ing parade. but I could not help not'c ing that Pat Condon had evidently renewed thle contest. Both he and Bennett were badly bruised again. ,.The regiment was drawn up in line, with open rauks. The- ra'ah moved slowly down, escorted by the general, the colonel and the political commissioners,. How stolidly those soldiers looked to the front-not a move. not even a turn of the eye. 3Iy men were as steady as the rest, but I felt half inclined to laugh at the diabolically ugly face of Condon, when a thought struck me; he's got battered on purpose! I knew he was devil enough to commit the robbery, for he held the 'nigger' in but poor esteem. Necarer and nearer the procession came to the man. Had he been carved out of stone he could not have beeu more stolid or indifferent. The rajah actually stopped in front of him and made some joke about the man's appearance, at which the general laughed. They passed, and I breathed ~more freely. A mnan was subsequently picked out, but it was certainly the wrong one, for the identified man had been on guard duty when the assault was committed. "A few dais after this Private Con don came to my private quarters. He was a privileged old soldier, and he often came to ask for a loan, when he and Bennett were very thirsty and bad not the wherewith to quench the inward fire. He generally came straight to the point, but this day he Swas nervous. "-At last I learned that he had the rajah's watch and chain; wanted forty rupees on it and two days' leave of absence for himself and chum. I hesi tated, at first. I didn't want to see the fellow hanged, and. though the loot was packed in asmall box. I felt sure it was cheap at the price. I bought it and sent is home the next day by one of our fellows who was go ing home on furlough., The rajah joined the mutineers at the outbreak of the mutiny. and disappeared, and Condon was killed at Delhi." My uncle-died some years ago, hav ing lived comfortably off the proceeds of the chain alone, every link of which was a setting for a valuable diamond, Ile had no qualms about possessing them. especially after the man had turned mutineer. S8n*uiar Recognition. A New York man' who made 4 fly. ing trip to Canada met a friend on the streets of Mnatreal. who looked at him elceely and exolaimsed: ''!G#l r .1t ht l . qw ,OI2 save changbed gIndo saw yqau lasst Ul1 hadn't kqown your Christian name i never would have been able to have recognized you. How are you, Johi?" "Beg pardon, my namUe is .net John."--Texas ?Iftings. A SILENT CITY. Where Dead lien Are Rcing Vo:ivertcd Into Stone. Away up among the sagebosh of White Pine. far removed froum the shriek of tie locomotive and only dis turbed by the occasional prospector. is a strange silent city. Once more than 35,000 people carried on all kinds of business and traffic there. It was during the phenomenal rush to White Fine in 1867. Many hundreds of buildings were erected. It wac a wild new city which never slept and where were enacted all the scenes I which in the telling made MJark Twain and Bret Marte famous. This was the story which an old White Pine man recounted the other day to the San Frian :isco Examiner's represents tive. '.Now, if you go there," said hoe. 'you see only a few of those buildings. for most of them have fallen in and decayed. Scattered log cabins yet remain, whero" mountain squirrels skurry to and fro at the sound of man's footsteps. But it is not of this that I started out to tell you, but. of a second silent city where hundreds of men lie buriel and where scarcely a headstone marks their last resting place. -'The hcadstone3 where there were any at all, were o& wood, and they quickly ratced away. The formation all about there is largely of limestone. Water percolating through it partakes of the nature of lime, and this in many cases has petrtied the bodies. So if one were to dig here and there in the great graveyard he would find on every hand petrified men. i In many cases they are petrified so completely that the entire remains even down to the features. are intact. The quiet graveyard, stretching ovier many acres. numbers among its sleep ers ill classes. There are those who died in midwinter of pneumonia and typhoid fever, for in those wild times men could not take good care of themselves. Desperadoes are there also. Numberless persons of all de. grees died with their boots on. "Tebo men who came there on fortune bent embraced all classes. T'here was the hardened prospector and the tenderfoot, the professional man, the farmer for the first time turning his attention toward mines and the gambling adrenturer.. Death settled upon them. high and low alike. Many an Eastern family per haps to this day are waiting for the return of father; son or brother: They have dropped 'out forever, and there, caught by the undergronnd elements and turned to stone, they will lio till the end of time. ''It is a lonesome city to visit now, but twenty-five years ago it was a hum ming, roaring place, not unlike ('reede. only larger. It looks uncanny-now, and I do not often visit it, but when I do I am constantly impresed..:i :Lth the uncertainty of all human affairs. The i old wooden headstones that yet re main are exceedingly suggestive." LORD LYTTON'S SPEECH. Somne .eculharitie, ofr tt (Gre:at E;nglish Nov,'li l. Lytton had a curious dra wlin" nman" ner of speech. his words being inter spersed with frenueuL '.errao" to helpI him out when he was waiting for ti', proper word., says the Cornhill Mag azine. Then. again, he would emph' size a sentence or a single word by loudly raising his voi:o, a peculiarity which gave his talk a certa u drama tic'character. 1 rememl-ber once when I was dining with him the conversa tion turned upon the universality o' belief in a divine creator. and ci:e now I fancy I hear him aayin,: * When-erra--] had the hono:'--err:': -of becoming her ma esty'ssecretat y of state for" the colonies. I riiade ii my first business--erra--to instruct my agents all over the inhabitablo globe-orra, to report to me if they know of any nation. tribo or conmmun ity-erra;" thus far hq-had spoken: in a low. melodious voice. when sudden ly he changed his register, shot oxit the following words as from a catat pult: ' Who did not believe in n. God." He- added that he. had onrly found one savage community with such a want of belief. His Slhepokilu, "Did Tom work hard thi3 year to gt his sheepskin ?" "Oh, no, he just pullel the wool over his teacher's eyes."--Chica,.g. Inter Ocean. LIGHT AMUSEMEN'r. "Charley ThwigginsI' lionw ,late yonu?" "You said you'd be i sister t, Ine. didn't you?" ".SYes" ",\Vell, I always kiss my sister whenever I feel like it." (harlic-"It's funnyv. isn't it, -we never hear of labor unions south of the equator?" Johanie--"Well, you know, you're not allowed to strike below the belt." "Who is it that possesses all knowl edge?". asked the Sunday school teach er. ".My brother James," replied a diminutive pupil. "He's just home from college." "Why did you strike him with y,;uur club when he pointed thle gun at you? He distinctly told you it was not loaded." "I know that, judge: th;t's the reason I lamuumed him," Caterer--"l-ave you finished tiat bill of fare for the Millionaire elu.l banquet?" Assistant--"Nearly. Vl" ha! shall I end with?" Caterer (wearily) -"Cigars and---and chestnuts." Maud.--"WYhat a beautiful new gown Jane is wearing. Did she bring it from aubroad?'" lara--"N;: it's her last season's dress; the dressmaker turned it inside out and now she nays it's from the other side." Barefoot Bob, mtoodily: "Yusl there's no law no" justnco no: rigsts fo:- gny body in this country, enless ha' bo-a Sa p'leeoeman, so I'm a-goiti' to join the ,'socialists. Will you join too?"' lll, at shoeblack: "Nob me! l)id you ever know a bloomin' soshulist to 'av, his boots cleaned?" - Favored Waiter--"i'm goia' to leaw9 here when my week is up." Regular Guest--".Eh? lYu get good pay, don't you?" "Yes,-'boat the, same's every where." "And tips besides?'" "A good many." "Thein what-i the matter?" "They don't 'alow mn, time for-.'l o 'to aesk I h*ve to eat hE OUR ST. LOUIS LETTER.:k -insihtU Tolehes to "the C~iarItvl 'TPr ' arqtions--A Silgular Schemnsof RS -, Thleve--A -ovel CompoLltlo; . ST.. Lott, Asg. 22.--The streets o , the city prese nt a remarkable appear' aene this week,.every -mainu ,thrOs .: fare being adorned with archeb set pieces, and other indispensa-les te v a grand carnival. 'The e:gt~i t, feature: of the entire display is agvand eelebra `-: tion of the four hundredth' anrivCe5t of the voyage of Columbus. hc74en plans were made it was b ,Lstvedtth world's fair would be bld iu i902, and when the great r t at tIss postponed, the money for the ~ilebra tion on the banks of the M'A iesip had been subscribed. So it. was cided to go on with the ptogram 'asr originally outlined, and tbhe 'it comes about that the first -great Columbiran celebration will be held in- St. Louis, The display with its 75,000 lights will. cost St.. Louis over $1,000, but the. money is in the bank for the purpose, and there will be left fully four times the amount for next year's display. The detectives of the city, or at least those of them who have direct charge of the thefts that occur here, have been put to their trumps for- a week pakt to stop a-kind of stealing hat i uniq1e. Thousands of the ' colbred globes for the lights along the streets next .month have been put up for a week or more, the Illuminating com mittee desiring to get a satisfactory test of the laimps before the, i*st of September. The globes reFlre sent about fifty thousand dollars. Since the men employed 'b the committee began to put the lamFe on the arches, a band of thieves have been following the workmen around, carrying off the globes by night and selling them. The globes are used in almost every building where pretWt lighting is wanted, and the thieves found no difficulty in disposing of ti " at a good rrice. After a good dte of patient work, the detectives last week discovered the house where the,,thieves hid the lamps, and by setting a watch, , arrested the principal ones. Hundreds of the globes were lost, but they have been replaced, and it has been made the special duty of the police to keep an eye on them hereafter till theillum- i ination is over. The other day a newspaper of St. Louis issued a map of the city that is genuine curiosity. It was an adveL. tising scheme, and no doubt !.a the paper well, but many +t ll~M out use some evening when he should find time hanging heavily on his hands. The map showed all the places of syn mer amusement in the city, as well ashe how to reach them by the street cars. Fifteen gardens and theaters are lo cated, all within a ride of half an hour from the center of the town, .ad most of them only fifteen minuteS 'distant from the principal hotels. :dfhese gardens are a feature of the ihmer and fall amusement of St. LeouiSi. 'hey open generally about the first of :Mfay and are well patronized till th.:° old weather sets in, about the last ofOett. her. Most of them are conducted'iic i. the strictest propriety, and all lhve large halls attached to them, where their guests are taken care of if rains. The visitor to St. Louis t fall, wiltl the exposition to entertain him during the (day and early evening, and places of amusement in such num . bers waiting fTr him if he wants=b . prowl around by himself and- see late side of the town, has a good time i before him. LARGE AND LITTLE. William Spooner of Milan, Tenna, who had lived. for years in a hollow tree, died lately. Six million dollars are Invested in the manufacture of dynamite In the United States. There are 175 different' pieces in the average watch, requiring in its manu-, facture 2,100 separate and distinct operations. Among the smallest products of man's construct.ive tale,lt inust now be number:ed a tea kettle, which has been hammered by an inrgenins foreign mettle worker out of :asnmall copper coin a little larger than an English Fem.,.h 4 n.: -"--- . The largest known root on aperma nent stricture is said to bha thaton the Midland railway station 1- 4the'parish of St. Pancras, London, which was opened for traffic in ISO8. The total length of the roof is 690 feet, its breadth 215 feet 6 inches. The largest heathen temple In the world is in Seringa"patan, and it com prises a sqcuare, each 'tside being onj mile in length, inside of which as st'. other squares. The walls are 25 feet high and 5 feet thick and the hall where pilgrims congregate is- snp- ported by 1,000 pillars, each cut tf a single block of stone. Probably the smallest paint fit made was the work of the wifel1 Flemish artist. It depicted a mill the sails bent, the miller mounting th stairs with a sack of grain on his back: Upon the terrace where the mi. sto 4 was a cart and horse, and" orn the road leading to it several peasants were shown. The picture was beautifully finished and every object wak very distinct, yet it was so amazing :6mall that Its surface, so the story go, could be covered witha grain of corn. FRIVOLOUS ANDI FUNNY. Wool-When Igo to a summe. rea I leave all the money I hare In th hotel safet Van Pelt-On arriving O departing? Wooden-You don't seem to smile my joke. What's the matter, don you understand it? Wagg-Yes, I derstand it, but I was brought t never to laugh at old age. Stout Party-I like the animal feel rather inclined to have. him, I he's anything like my figure. "! an if he isn't, sir, you've only {go* feed 'im a bit, an' that'l come all rig$ "No," said Miss Ferula, "I'm much of a speller mysetf, I must a mit; but then, you know. I've been teacher nearly all my life, and_ 1' never had any time to teach m.elI First Juryman- "te can't con cet' prisoner of biganiy, Second-i not? First--His having a wlfeto his second marriage null and. hIence he has but ome wife, as I it stand bigamy, it is having two:. ; "Beg pardon, but may I inquire wi is the meaning of tim:,'K. C.' o - card?" "Kentucky colenel, si;.": plied the caller. "Dear me! but I near misjudging you terribly.. thought it might mean Keeley cire Mrs. Sapmind--Wel3, I do decla Them Western -fokes is growvln' er Mrs. Lisner-Why, what's the now? Mrs. Snapmind--Miatter eo, Here's an article:in thm.ipaper .e, lynching bees -out West'. wheý: Ihaven't .got nqthin'itbetd to d 1 * -