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B( Written liy llat tin Hammond, thirteen yean old, ot Kosciusko, Mias.] EJ, January, to bleak and drear,] I With icy breath and snow-clad wing, Spiral reign* supremo; then leavea hia throne air* not milder than hi* own— I Who only can his praises sing. KTlicn February brinK* with her I No balmy air, or Irngrant flowers, Syf 'Bnt blast* so wild, that 'thro the trees, sjß They rudely blow, and scatter leaves I That once were (freed from sun and showers *: Bnt March winds now aro whistling load, |; And passing by they leave their traco Ol chilly air and Irost work flne Upon our panes; which Father Time, 1 With magic wand, will soon olTace. ■ Best cotne the gentle April showers, P Which clothe the fluids in garbs ol green, in the meadow, flowers bright garßpring up Iron) darkness into light, Jjf And are rob'd in their brightest sheen. K But April soon given way to May, ' Wno come* with dainty gr.toelul tread, I And brings ricn buds and blossom* rare, B With balmy days, both bright and lait, j And sunny skies above her head. ■ And May to Juno with roses crowned, Who brings the clear and pebbly brooks, I The leafy trees, the summer birds, K Whoflo singing o'er the wood is heard, From every deep, sequestered nook. ■ July beams down upon us next, B * With kindly smiles and cheerful face, B Her blazing sun, (• wn in nnd bright, K And skies of blue with tleecy white. No lowering cloud in them we trace. K But August now bids July bnste, Ami leave tor her, the sultry sun, ■ That makes the dainty flowers told K Their petals bright, ol red and gold— And then her fleeting taco is run. i The month ot harvest time has come September, with her golden glow ■ Ol autumn leaves, with berries red, E fa) graceful wreaths twined round her head, And lestive garlands hanging low. October's sun now floods the sky, With strcuks of red, both rich and light; But soon to lade and pass away, i Like man's fleet-winged and sunny day, Yet glow* the deeper in it* might. October's sun ha* ceased to shine And flood the sky with crimson bright, Novemlier, dreary queen, Iras come, To gather her hroail harvest home, And yield her scepter, now, with might December, saddest qncen ol all, Your time to reign has come! But soon in death your eyes will close, And you will gather sweet repose— While angel forms will bear you home' THE WAY TO WIN. Edward Stone stood impatiently upon the top step of his Uncle Dan's stately j residence. There was not the slightest sign of lite anywhere around; the whole front part of the honse was closed and darkened; and having rang several times i without eliciting any response, he was about to conclude that there was no one W ( ithin hearing, when a head was thrust out ot one ot th n r pcr windows. "Young man. go round to the side t door." Considerably startled by this uncx | pected address, the young man obeyed. I Upon the porch, brushing away the leaves that covered it, was a young girl 5 of fifteen. She looked very pretty as ! slio stood thero.tne bright autumnal sun shine failing on the round white arms and uncovered head. Setting down her broom, she ushered bim into a medium-sized, plainly-fur ished room, which gave no indication of the reputed wealth of its owner. The young man took a seat, brushed a few flecks of dust from the lappel of his coat, ran his fingers through his carefully arranged locks, and thus de livered himself: ''Tell your master that bis nephew, Edward Stone, Is here." A faint smile touched the rosy iips and, with a demure " Yes, sir," the girl vanished. A few minutes later an elderly gentle man entered, with intelligent, strongly marked features, and a shrewd look in his eye, which seemed to take the mental measure of hia visitors at a glance. " Well, sir. what is your business with me?" " I am your nephew. Edward Btonc. n "80 my daughter to'.d me. What do you want?" " I came to pay my respects to you. sir." "Yes; but what do you want me to do for you?" " I was thinking of going into busi ness, and thought I would come and talk it over with yon and ask you to give me a lilt." " What better capital do you want than you already havr ? A strong, able bodied young man wanting a lift' You ought to be ashamed of yourself? W hat have you been doing'" Edward's face flushed with anger at this unceremonious language; but, feel ing that he could not afford to quarrel with his wealthy relative, lie gave no other indication of It. " I've been in a store since I left school, two years ago." "Saved nothing from your salary, I suppose? 1 ' "No; it's only five tui.dred—not more than enough for my expenses." "Humphl You are able to dress yourself out of it, I perceive. I have known men to rear and educate a large family on Ave hundred a year, and if you have been unahle to save anything, you certainly are not fit to go Into busi ness on your own account. When I was at your age, my income was less than three hundred, and I saved half ol it. What is the business you want to engage in ?" "Stationery and books. .Six hun dred dollars will buy It, as the owner is obliged to sell; a rare chance. I don't ask you to give me the amount, only to lend It; I wil. give my note, with in terest." " Young man, I have several such papers already. You can have all ol them for five dollars, and I warn you that it will prove a bail investment at that. I can give you some advice though, which, if you'll follow, will be worth to you a good many times over the amount you ask. But you won't do it." "How do you know that?" said Edward, with a smile, who began to feel more at home with hia eccentric relative. " I'd like to hear it, any way." "Well, here it is. (to back to your place in the store, and save three dollars a week from your salary, which you can easily do; learning, in the meantime all you possibly can in regard to the business you intend to pursue. At the end of four years you will have the capital you seek, together with sufficient experience and judgment to know how to use it. And, better still, it will be yours, earned by your own industry and selt-deniai, and worth more to you than ten times that amount got in any other way. Then come and sec me again. You'd rather have my money than ad vice, I daresay," added Mr. Stone, as Edward arose to go; " but we'll be bet ter friends four years hence than if I let you have It. Sit down, nephew; the train you will have to take won't leave until six in the evening. You must stay to tea; I want you to see what a complete little housekeeper I have, and make you acquainted with her. "Polly!" he cried out, opening the door into the hall. In prompt obedience to this summons, a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed girl tripped in. The neat print dress had been ex changed for a pretty merino, but our hero did not fail to recognize her, and bis face flushed painfully as he did so " Po'.ly," continued her father, "this is your cousin Edward. He leaves on the six o'clock train, and I want you to make his short stay witu us as pleasant as possible. Polly's my little house keeper," he added, turning to his nephew; "I hire a woman for the rough work, and she docs all the rest. When she's eighteen she shall have all the servants she want's, but she must serve her apprenticeship first. It msy stand her in good stead; she may take it into her head to marry some poor man, as her mother did before her. Eh! my girl?" Mary's only reply to this was a smile and a blush. Our hero was consider ably embarrassed by the recollection of the mistake he had made; but the quietly cordial greeting of his young hostess soon put him completely at his case. At her father's request—who was very proud of his daughter's varied ac complishments—Mary sang and played for her cousin; and his visit ended in singular contrast to the stormy way it commenced. Edward refused the five dollar note tendered to him by his uncle at parting, for his traveling expenses. The old man smiled as ho returned the note to his pocketbook. " He's a sensible young chap, alter all," he remarked to his daughter, as the door closed after their guest. " It's in him. if it only can be brought out. We shall see—we shall see." "A good deal for father to say," was Mary's inward comment, who thought her cousin the most agreeable young man she had ever met. t Three years later Mr. Stone, nnd his daughter paused in front of a small but neat and pleasant-looking shop, on tin plate-glass door of which were these words: EDWARD STONE STATIONER T AND BOOK-STOKE. It being too early in the day for cus tomers. they found the proprietor aJone, wboee flushed face with pride and pleas ure as he greeted them. " I got your card, nephew," said the old man, with a cordial grasp of the hand, "and called round to see how you were getting on. I thought it was about time I gave you the little lift you asked of me three years ago. You don't look mncli as it you needed It, thong!)." " Not at present, thank you, uncle," was the cheerful response. " Curiously enough, it is the same business that I wanted to buy then. The man who took it had to borrow money to purchase it with, getting so mncn involved that he had to aell at a sacrifice." " Just what you wanted to do." Edward smiled at the point made by his uncie. " It isn't what I'vedone, though. I've saved four dollars a week from my salary for the last three year*; and so was not only able to pay the money down, but had fifty dollars besides." " Bravo!" cried the delighted old man. with another grasp of the hand that our hero wince. "I am proud of you I You're bound to suc ceed, I see. and without anybody's help. I told your Cousin Polly that, when she was eighteen, I'd buy her a house in the city; that she should furnish it to suit herself, and have all the servants she wanted, and I've kept my word. Come round and see us whenever you can; yßU'll always find the latch-strlny out.' Edward did not fail to accept the in vitation so frankly extended, a very pleasant intimacy growing up between the three during the twelve months thnt fallowed. Our hero's business grew and prospered, until he began to tbink - 11 1 of removing to a larger place. His uncle had given him several liberal orders, as well an sent bim'a number of customers, but said nothing more about assisting him in any other way until Christmas eve. Entering the room, where Edward and his daughter were sitting, he said: " I mustn't delay any longer the ' lit tle lift' I promised you, nephew, and which you have well earned!" Edward glanced from the tive-thou sand-dollar check to the lovely face at his side, and then tothatof the speaker. "You arc very kind, uncle far kinder than I deserve; but—" " But what, lad? Speak out! Would you prefer it in some other form?" Edward's fingers closed tenderly and strongly over the hand that he had taken rn his. "Yes, uncle—in this." The old man looked keenly from one to the other. " You are asking a good deal, nephew. Poily, have you been encouraging this young man in his presumption?" " I'm afraid I have, father," was the smiling 1 c ponse. The father's eyes moistened. " Then go my daughter. I give you to worthy keeping, and if you make your husband's h :ar. as happy as your mother made mine during the few short years that she tarried by my side, he wi.l be blessed indeed." Bread Making In .Spain. The bread in the south of Spain is de lieious; it is white as snow, close as cake, and yet very light; the flour is most admirable, tor the wheat is good and pure, nnd the bread well kneaded. The way they make this bread is as fol lows: From large, long panniers filled with wheat they take out a handful at a time, sorting it most carefully and ex peditiously, and throwing every defec tive grain into another basket. This done, the wheat is ground between two circufar stones as it was ground in Egypt two thousand years ago, the re quisite rotary motion being given by a blindfolded mule, which paces around and around with untiring patience, a bell being attached to his neck, which, as long as he is in movement, tinkles on; and when he stops fie is arged to his duty by the shout of "arramula" from some one within hearing. When ground, the wheat is sifted through three sieves, th? last of these being so line that only the pure flour can pass through it; this is of a pale apricot color. The bread Is made in the evening. It is mixed with sufficient water, witli a little salt in it. to make into dough; a very small quantity of leaven or yeast in one batch of household bread, as in Spain, would last a week for the six or eight donkey loads of bread they send every day from their oven. The dough made, it is put into Kirks and carried on the donkeys' backs to the oven in tbe center of the village, to bake it imme diately after kneading. On arriving the dough is divided into portions weighing three pounds each. Two long narrow wooden tables on trestles are then placed in the room, and a curi ous sight may be seen. About t venty men, bakers, come in and range them- : selves on one side of the table. A lump ol dough is banded to the nearest, which he (begins kneading and knocking nbout with nil his might for al>out three or four minutes; nnd then passes it on to his neighbor, who does the same, and soon successively until all have kneaded it, when it becomes as soft as new putty I and ready for the oven. Of course, as ■ soon as the first baker has handed the first lump to his neighbor, another lump is given to him, and so on until the whole quantity of is kneaded by them nil. The bakers' wives nnd daughters shape the loaves lor the oven, and some of tbem are very small. They are baked immediatclv. The Word " Negro." The Siutulard Bearer, edited by a colored man, says: We arc afraid that some of our readers 'among the colored people misunderstand the word " negro" as applied to their race, and one of our correspondents has made a vigorous pro test against our use of it. He probably considers it synonymous with " nigger," a vulgar, meaningless epithet, that no people on eartli use so frequently as the colored people themselves. The word " negro " is the proper race designation of Lite colored people in America, and is rightly applied to the descendants of the tribes along the coast of Africa. The r.amcs our young frienp alludes to with so much pride were African, but not negro. The word " African" has no relevacy as a race designation any more than the word " American;" and American may be Esquimaux, Bioux or Anglo-Saxon ac cording to the blood in his veins; an African may be Egyptian, Moor or Negro lor tbc sappe reason,Jand wo have never thought the word African a prop erly descriptive adjective when applied to our race. The term " ooiored," while generally used, is rather meaningless, and strictly speaking, the word Negro (with a big N) is the only correct term, and we see no impropriety in using It. It is neither low nor degrading, unless our setions make it so, and it is open to no more ob jection tli m the words Irish or German. Our ancestors were negroes and no more barburious or uncivilised than the an cestors of the whites, snd it is only a falss idea of its meaning that makes our people objct to its use. In these days of flne phrases, it will be well for us to use the shorter and m ire expressive term, "American eltisens of African descent." Every student at the Colorado agri culture college is required to work two hours each day; the price paid per hour is ten cents. In the Polar Reflon. The following extract is from the narrative of an officer on the steamer Corwin, which departed on an Arctic expedition from San Francisco last May: When, at last, we arrived at St. Michaels we had to walk four or live miles on the ice to reach the settlement, and the people there were surprised to ■ec us, having no idea thut any kind of a vessel could penetrate the icepack through which we had forced our way. They also said the winter had been terribly severe, the thermometer falling as low as forty degrees below zero for weeks at a time, and some times'even lower, and ttiat it was reported at .the Mission, a station on the Yukon river, some 400 miles inland, that the ther mometer had dropped on one occnsion to seventy-two degrees below zero. Only one day was passed here, and the gallant little Corwin started again through the ice with the prow pointing toward Hehring's straits. As this is the season when daylight continues throughout the twenty-four hours it will be seen at once that the night offered no greater obstacle to naviga tion than the day proper. On the second day out from St. Michaels we reached St. Lawrence island, where it was reported a famine had swept away nearly the whole popu lation during the previous year. The island is ninety miles long from east to west. We steamed along close by the shore, working our way through the ice. At last the settlements were reached and each one that was visited presented the same dreary scene of death and desolation. Not a sign of life was to be seen anywhere. Not a solitary dog or rat was to be found about any of the rude huts; but in front of the'houses, in a ghastly row, lay the dead bodies of those who had succumbed to the terri ble hunger. They had lain there for fif teen months, and we were probably the first to look upon them. Tneir clothes had rotted off their bodies, but the forms were preserved by the cold so that they looked like mummies. The skin was drawn tight over their emaciated aces and forms, and looked like ancient parchment. So perfectly had the dry air preserved them that we could dis tinguish the bodies of the women from ' the men by the deep tattoo marks on the ; chin, which is one of the peculiar styles of feminine face ornament. In a few houses bodies were found in various postures, just, as they fell in the Lost , agony of solitary death. As long there were any survivors to perform the service the corpses were placed in the regular!rows in front of the huts. At one place we found fifty bodies side by side, some being the remains of little children, while others were the corpses of old people. The usual iitter and refuse which sur round the Esquimaux huts were lack ing. and there was not a scrap left of any kind ol food. The cleanly-gnawed j bones showed that they had eaten their i dogs; they had even devoured the rats which infested the village; they had chewed up the old bits of walrus-bub 3 —everything which would satisfy the cravings of hunger. At last they had , perished miserably, dying by inches. : with no hope of succor nnd no chance ol escape. At least live hundred of the j poor wretches suffered this hi ieotu death. To explain this trrrible famine, which was as unuruai as it was fatal, it must be added that the season was one of unparalleled severity. The na- i lives of this island were targe, robust men and expert hunters and fishermen. But like most of thetr race they were improvident and made no provision for such a winter. The rold et in early nnd continued without interruption. The mercury was forty degrees below zero for wreks at a time. The cold and the violent storms prevented them from going out on the ice to catch walrus and seals—their main dependence for food in the winter. Their scanty store of meat was soon exhausted; they were many miles from Siiieria, and couid not have reached it alive in the face of the bitlcT wind. At the northwest end o the island we found a settlement of about 250. These had suffered severely from the famine, only about one-half the original colony having survived. They had had a larger stock of pro visions than their unfortunate neigh bors, and thus escaped complete ani mation. Wonders of n Meteor. At a quarter to ten o'clock on Thurs day night, says a recent issue of the Columbus (<ia.) Um/nirtr, a meteor of extraordinary brilliancy was seen to cross the heavens at a very low alti tude. Rising in the south, it took a northeasterly course, preserving a per fectly horizontal line in its journey. It was composed of three parts, which were perfectly developed balls of an equal size, and equidistant from each other. The first hall threw out a tail which enveloped the two following balls and extended several yards behind them. Thi tail was exceedingly lumin ous, save at thel>xtreniity, which was somewhat indistinct, having a nebulous appearance. Its motion was slow, and was visible to the observer for fall fifty seconds. It did not fall to the ground like other meteors, bat continued its course northeastward until list sight of. It was indeed a brilliant and extraor dinary phenomenon. The force of habit is so great that some families will send e servant Iwo blocks beyont a grocer/store for the purpoee of borrowing a iittle tea from s neighbor.— Meriden B c rtUr. The Country Boy. The true, genuine, unadulterated country boy is an article that a man, even with the learning of a hotel clerk, could find great room to study. He is just about the same, so far as appear ance goes, from Florida to Washington Territory, but bis capacity to invent and carry out plans for doing mischief is something wonderful. The genuine country boy always lias the end of his nose ornamented with a good healthy blister in summer time, and it is always about the color of a blue bottle in a drug store window in winter. Nobody ever remembers seeing a country boy's pants supported by more than one sus pender, and the pants are generally about nine inches too short. It is im possible for liim to be happy without a stone bruise on bis heel or a splinter under his finger nail. He generally car ries bis head hung over at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and whistles at ali times and under all circumstances. Whenever you hear his mother get out on the front gallery and yell, " Now, John Henry, if you run off and go in swimming this evening, I'll thrash you I till you can't sit down for a week," you will be perfectly safe in betting your last red cent that he will be down in the mill-pond in iess than two hours. He is always the possessor of a sling and a bow'n arrer," and when he can apire to the honor of an old single-barrel shot gun, with the lock tied on with a buck skin string, he is supremely happy *He then makes raids around the edgoof the ; corn leld for " Ingins." But his great est pride is in a yellow bobtail dog,with ' a scalded place on bis back, and be and the dog are inseparable friends and fight it out on the same line. He has perfect confidence in all the ghost stories be ever hears, and invariably sees a ghost whenever he goes out after dark. He can ask 38j questions to the min ute off-hand, and a good many more when lie studies right hard, and gener ally makes a point of inflicting thorn on some citified chap that had rather have the seven-year itch with a year the start. He is as honest as the day is long, and will lake a thrashing any time rather than do a real mean act, but will tic two old tom-cats' tails together and string them over a clothes line when the folks are ali uway from home without j ever thinking bow rough it is on the ' cats. He will afterward reflect on the j j error of his ways, and stuff an old wool j ; hat in the gsble end of his pants before j the old folks get hack home. But he fitAliy grows up to be a man. goes to j see the girls, gets married, and perhaps | some day will be elected constable, or may possibly become an M. C.—Houston PM. _____ Enable to Make a Trade. The family had only lately moved in the neighborhood. A day or two after their arrival the head of the family went ; to a grocer in the neighborhood and | ' asked the price of a can of condensed ! milk. " Fifteen cents," said the proprietor. | "Fifteen fiends!" exclaimed the cus tomer; " why, man alive, I don't want to buy a dozen cans, but only one. What ; do you ask for half a can, wholesale | figures?" j "Never sell half a can." " I reckon you never sell anything if j you mark your goods up that way. Sup pose I take one whole can, will you j come down to a dime?" " Fifteen cents is the usual price." " That may be with unreliable. Iran- I sicnt customers, but I am an old citizen of Galveston, and the store that catches my permanent trade will have to be enlarged within six months. Say a dime, and throw in a pound or two of soda crackers and it's a whack." " Do you buy a good deal in the course of a year?" asked the proprietor, with n sneer. "Do I buy a good deal? 1 should saj I did. Why .it won'tbemoro than twe months before I'll have to cct another box of matches. The box i am using now is raws than half gone, and I only got it last February, too. Say a dime for flic condense.) milk, and one of them stele watermelons thrown in as a sorter of an inducement, and you can put these two nickels in your butglar-proof safe." " Fifteen cents is the lowest price." "I wish you could see mv blacking brush. It can't hold over Christmas, and then I am bound to negotiate for A new one. Throw one box of blacking in with the condensed milk and it's a transaction."' " I won't do It." "All right! You won't do it! I'll just keep my eye on you. I'll bet your stock is insured for twice what it's worth, and you are going to have a fire pretty soon. Win n a merchant don't care to build up a trade, he !s fixing fo fail or swindle somebody somehow. Good morning. a\r."—Qnlvt*m Sew. Ptrjpt'a bestirred Obelisks. Thirty obelisks transported ftom Egypt from lime to time are now stand ng in various parts of Europe. Of these there are in Rome eleven, of which four are higher than the New York obelisk. The highest of these, and the highest in Europe, Being It 8 feet with out the base, stands before Uie church of St. John Istteran. The obelisk in the plnsaa of St. Petrr's is elgbty-tsro feet nine inches high. Roth of these are mounted on high pedestals. The pedes tal of the St. John Interim obelisks is forty-four feet high, making the entire height of obelisk and pedestal 150 feet. Tbe pedestal of the St. Pater's obelisk is a trifle less than fifty feet high, making the whole height of the monument irs fret two inches. Did ¥•■ Ei er Heel Did you ever see a bald-beaded man who didn't have inch a " beautiful head of hair til] " that fever," or that some thing or other took it off." Did you ever see an old bachelor who was not forever seeking for marriage infelicities, to reconcile himself to his own lonely lot? Did you ever see a small boy so wanting In spirit that one diurnal doubling-up throughout the summer could effect a radical cure in his immv ture fruit-eating proclivities? Did you ever see a young lady who wouldn't rather hear .her husband praised by a lady in the next town than by the lady in the next house? Did you ever.know a man who habit ually tells all he knows, who did not everlastingly repeat himself? Did you ever know a man who talked much of iiimsel who did not have a poor subject for his conversation? Did you ever know a 00l who >as aware that he was a fool? Did you ever think that you might be thus oblivious as to yourself? i Did you ever see another do the same thing three times without thinking that he could do it much better? Did you ever know a swindled man whose hurts were not partially hea'ed by hearing of another man being swindled in like manner? Did you ever know a young lady with a new and neatly fitting waist who thought the weather was cold enough for a wrap' Did you ever see a man with large feet who did not declare that his boots were two sizes too big—that he iikes them easy, you know ? Did you ever think that men are the biggest fools in creation, and that the women enjoy the fun of letting them remain unconscious of it? Did you ever see a young man who carried a cane who would not repel the insinuation of lameness? Did you ever see a drinker or a smoker that couldn't leave off at jiny time, if he | wan ted to? Did you ever think what horrid chil dren good people have? Did you ever ttiink what horrid chil dren these g oodcopie's parents proba bly had, the good people's stories to the contrary notwithstanding? Did you ever feel like immolating the shopkeeper whose free use of your name made that name seem hateful and odious to you? Did you ever think?— Boston 7V.M --j acripl. A Bloodhound's (iratitude. j The Detroit Fru Pre** tells a remark ' able story of a bloodhound's gratitude iat Andersonville. The prisoners were allowed to go out in squads, strongly guarded, to collect firewood. One day it was the hero's turn to go, and for the first time since his capture he caught sight of "Colonel Catcbem," the big bloodhound. The Michigander noticed I that the dog limped painfully on one of j his forefeet J but gave the matter no J special attention until, after being out for half an hour, he sat down to rest near one of the guards. The dog ap proached the guard as if to ask some favor, but was repulsed with an oath and a threatened blow. He then skulked around and came near the pris oner, who saw that he had an old horse shoe nail run into his foot. With a little coaxing he got the dog near and finally pulled out the nail, and the ani mal mn away seemingly well pleased. Twelve days after that, one night about midnight, a tunnel was read/. The prisoner was a long time getting clear of the neighborhood, and weak and starved as he was, lie was not more than two ml!e from the stockade when day broke, and "Colonel Catchem" was put on his track. When he heard the hound coming he looked for a suit able tree to climb, but failed to find one. Armed with a club he took his stand, and determined to make a fight for it. The dog recognised the man. and began exhibiting every sign ol friendship. After a tew minutes the pursuers were heard in the distance. The dog at once trotted off in that dh ruction, and was shortly haying and leading them over a fictitious trail. The prisoner pushed ahead for half an hour, and was then rejoined by the dog, who kept either close to his heels or just ahead of bim all day, and lay be tide him in the woods at night. This position of guardian or companion he maintained until toward night of the second day. when he returned to the stockade. The prisoner was then thir ty miles away, but on the fifth morning be was recaptured. When he returned the hound met and caressed him. From that hour to the close of the war the dog would not lake the trail of an es caping pr'soner. The Beer Prod net af the W arid. Home official tables connected with the production of beer in all the Kj, 0 - pean countries and the United Stat* have been lately issued under the au thority of the Austrian government. The following ia a summary of the pro ducUon during 18T0: The whole tier man empire produced tC3.Btl.lt? Briti-h barrels; Crest Britain, fc) 37$ dis united Stabs of North America, it 425,. 959; Austria-Hungary, 8.034.004'; France, 5.331,945; Belgium, 4.801.7T8; Russia, 4.405,174; ibe Netherlands, 971, 408; Denmark, 474,517; Sw<d*n. 588.- 581; Italy, 531,900; Swits*rjuid, 44%* 753; Norway, S7r,oof. The greate* production in the proportion u> the population is in Belginm, wh-ro l7 diters, or a little over thirty four and a I'slf gallons p<r head, were msn tlao* lured, and the smaheat production was in Russia, where the ratio was only three lite-s, or a little more than live andaqm, Ur pintsfcrcv< ry inh.ibiusts The total production U 77,965/} > Jxt . relt.—lAmtkm Time i.