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Where to Plant Fruit Trees.
This comity contains a very large number of early Richmond cherry trees. There are several orchards containing from 300 to 800 trees. There are also many trees planted in rows on the sides -of farms and in gardens and lawns. This year there is a good crop of fruit on the trees that are outside orchards, but scarcely any cherries - on the trees that are in the large orchards. In the orchards most of the fruit is found on the trees in the outside rows. A like state of things existed last year. Trees 'that stood by themselves were loaded with fine fruit, but those 'that were in orchards were nearly .destitute'. of any. The writer of this article, who has a large cherry orchard, has observed that the trees in an orchard bear- well while they are quite small, but generally fail to produce good crops as soon as they become large. Large trees, however, standing in isolated positions in sepa rate rows produce good crops, year af ter year, notwithstanding there is a failure of fruit in orchards that are well taken care of. He has also observed that the trees that are scattered about the premises remain in good condition after producing twenty crops of fruit, while those in the interior of large or chards die or exhibit nrirks of decline. The observations of others who are in terested in the growing of cherries are in harmony with his own. One grower states that fifty trees standing in sepa rate rows or scattered about in con venient places will produce more fruit daring a series of years than five hun dred planted in an orchard. Most have noticed that the fruit on solitary trees is larger and fairer than that on trees standing in an orchard and that it ripens earlier. Beyond question the best way to secure a supply of cherries is to plant the trees in separata'" rovs or to scatter them about. i , The ilamous-'old 'pear freest planted by the early French and English settlers, of which we hear so much, do not stand in orchards. 'They 'generally occupy solitary positions or are members of srriill groups. In all the seaboard States vigorous apple tnees may be found that have produced crops for a century and are still productive. They are not in orchards, however, but along the sides of roads, in door-yards, or in solitary positions on old estates. Few trees re main in orchards that were planted dar ing or before the revolution. These few are in outside rows, where they received the most benefit from free air and sun shine. Large orchards of pear trees are seldom, if ever, profitable. The trees may be vigorous and apparently hirdy while quite smull. at which time they are tolerably productive. They do not retain their vigor, however. They are afflicted with all manner of diseases about the time they should begin to pro duce large crops. The most healthy and productive pear trees stand in gardens or In places remote from collections of 'similar trees. Persons are often tempted to set out large orchards of pear trees because they see trees in village or city gardens doing so finely. They are gen erally unsuccessful in their efforts to raise pears, and often fail to raise trees. A horticultural crank who lived in this tta 1rnc timti - obervinor that near trees did well in towns and very poorly in orchards on farms in the sam-j vicini ty, attributed the success of the urban trees to the prevalence of the smoke of soft coal which pervaded the towns, but which did not extend to the" adjoinin country. Excellent pear trees are found in village gardens in all the Eastern ffoa whr the use of soft coal is en tirely unknown. There is no evidanc that smoke is beneficial to any kind of a tree, but abundant evidence that isola tion is highly beneficial in promoting vigor and productiveness. mere is no goou. reason ior pia.uim fruit trees in an orchard. It may be more easy to cultivate them there and to protect them from animals, but the advantage is slight. Land covered by trees is of scarcely any value for any other purpose. A litt'.e grass may 13 raised, but it will hardly ever be worth Cutting. ' A row of fruit trees can be set, within a few feat of a fence, and be cul tivated with little difficulty. The trees will occupy no mro land than they will 5n any other position. The trees that c in be set on two sides of a 1G0 acre far;n would constitute a large orchard if the were planted out in the usual manner. If desirable, a row of fruit trees can. lie planted by the side of a division fence that is to be permanent. . Considerable . i ii .J.:.ni.:i:n c nas Doen written on ine . auia.jui.y ... -i using living posts for wire fences. If trees are employed for supporting wires they shbuljT be of enduring wood. Ap ple tree "wood is very firm and 'lasting." A staple would not be likely to be drawn out of it. Fruit trees caa be planted to excellent advantage between the outer fence and the public road. That strio of land belongs to the owner of the ad jacent farm, and can bs used by him for any purpose that does not interfere with travel on the road. He may plant trees on it or employ it for raising grass or annual crops. The product of whatever be plants there belongs to h"m. This strip of ground is admirab'y adapted for raising trees. It has a ditch on one " side which affords good drainage. The trees can be taken to the places where they are wanted over the road, as can fertilizers and water if they are required. If stock do not run at large in the neigh borhood the trees will require no pro jection against theui. If they are al lowed in the streets the trees can be -easily protected by means of stakes and boards. If late varieties of apples are planted the trees will not be in danger -of being robbed. The banks of ravines and the sides of small streams are -excellent places for planting fruit trees. The soil is well Wrtinod And is of verv little value for raising ordinary crops. It can not be plowed without endangering the banks, and causing them to wau away. -The water in the streams will prevent the roola of the trees from becomins dry even when drought prevails. All have observed how well forest trees thrive that grow on the banks of streams, and it seems strange that fruit-raisers have aot generally learned a lesson from na ture and planted fruit tree3 in the place3 where forest tree? do so well. In parts of the West the" banks of streams are lined with wild" crab-apple trees, though they do not grow on the places that farmers select for the sites of or chards. These frees that nature has planted' grow finely, produce large rfjrops, and are not subject te disease. That cultivated varieties of fruit tree would do equally well in the same sib nations seems certain. Trees prefer broken land, and the finest specimens can generally be found in places that are of no value for producing ordinary farm crops. Still farmers and horti culturists reject these places and plant trees for producing fruit in a smooth field, where forest trees are seldom found. "It is evident that they do not "list to nature's teachings," which, in the matter of tree production, are wor thy of the highest regard. Trees planted by the sides of streams and ravines are highly ornamental, and serve to beau tify the farm as few things can. When trees stand in a single row or are scat tered about the farm they are more likely to receive attention than when they are in an orchard, for the reason that they are more conspicuous. It is easy to discover worms' nests in them, and to remove them, or to notice interfering branches and to cut them off. Chicago limes. Repairs and Improvements. To keep a farm in repair requires the careful attention of the. owner from the day it is put in.o use. Trees, etc., that are set for ornament or shade im prove from the hour they begin to grow; but pretty much everything else upon the farm begins to show decay from the day when it is exposed to the sun and rain. The best of paint parts with much of its luster in a month, be gins to fade in three, is quite dull in six months, and requires renewing in a year. New pine-board fences look fresh, and enliven the farm scenery for a time, but all farm fixtures are so ex posed to the elements that indications of decay set in at the start, and this tendency never diminishes. .Hence, with these facts before him it stands the farmer in hand . to build with a view to the natural tendency in buildings and fixtures to vary from the perpendicular and to 1 get rusty. Gate posts that are not at first set strictly up right, unless changed, ever afterward remain so. Inexpensive buildings re ceive more or less injury from the foundation at any point becoming de fective; hence it is better to guard against a corner going down before the structure is placed upon it. The sag ging gates or the untidy bars affect the appearance of all in the immediate vi cinity. The gate-post is never too deeply or too firmly planted; and for a heavy gate.hardly any depth or firmness of soil ab mt the hinge-post will absolutely in sure against sagging. But a heavy oak stick, or three-inch plank, placed just beneath the surface.with an end against each post, will, as a rule, hold the hinge-post perpendicular and the gate level. The impressions upon the minds of railway travelers, as they pass through a farming district, vary as much as those of the lover of art as he passes from a piece by one of the first masters to the merest daub by the scene-painter. Farms at best, as they are usually trav ersed by railroad tracks no regard be ing had to Hues are seen at a disad vantage. Yet, if fences are erect and straight, and afford a reasonably sure barrier against trespassing animals ; the buildings kept in repair, and the imme diate premises kept clear of rubbish; if the strength of the' land is not unduly taken by slipshod tillage, the manure pile in the meantime being left to rot in the baruyard, impressions received from any view will be favorable. . But perhaps the neglect to drain wet places upon the farm is as common a fault as any other, and one that shows the want of neatness in fields, and en tails lessened profits with unvarying certainty. When t he team can be driv en, with a load, over ground hitherto too wet and soft to bear an empty wagon, then it is evident that drainage has been made available. No land should be left about the corners or other parti of fields in such condition that water will stand loDg enough upon it to prevent a good crop of corn being grown thereon. As it has been proved possible to redeem impassable swamps, there can be no reasonable excuse for continuing to tolerate unsightly angular parcels of wet ground in inclosed fields, kept either for tillage or for grass. j It is said that a man may generally be known by the company he keeps, so the business character of the owner of the farm on the light of the road, or that one on the left, may be pretty cor rectly estimated at a glance, even from the window of the car moving at hiujh speed. The furrows being turned by the moving team, whether these are straight and deep or crooked and shal low, are facts that, disconnected from h.11 others, have -a pointed meaning. The man who reclaim's wet lands upon hi3 farm, stacks his straw in a clean, well sheltered barn-yard, to be used as feed and bedding, and to become incorpor ated with the winter's manure, keeps his fences erect and his gates from sag ging, will give in these things evidences of thriit, and show premises strongly in contrast with the farm of the man over the way, who habitually neglects to at tend to" either of these very important details. National Live Stock Journal. The Eastport (Me.) Sentinel says : There has lately occurred a decided change in the sardine business. The fish have suddenly and unaccountably dis appeared from the coast, and in coa quence thereof all the factories are standing idle, and the operatives are found on the streets lookias: for work. Lack of fish m ikes a vast difference in the business in the town. To most of the inhabitants it is their living, their all. Scarcity of fish also affects very sensibly the storekeepers, as when the factories are running trade is good, but when they are tlosed the stores present almost as . deserted an appearance as the factories. As this same condition of affairs prevails all along the coast.it is im possible to foretell when we shall see a re vival in the sardine business." Dr. MeClellan, the famous rifie-shot, gave an old colored man the other day a dollar to hold a target in the shape of the ashes at the end of a freshly-lighted cigar. The darkey took the Uollar in his hand and the cigar in his mouth. MeClellan walked back, raised the ritle and shot the ashes from the end. The exploit was repeated successfully, but the old man objected to the third at tempt, saying: Ie third time am eder lucky or it am onlucky." N. Y. Trib-unt. That Nervous Headache. What does it come from, friend, that nervous headache, whose sharp twinges of pain are wearing out your strength and sapping your energy? You have tried tonics and cordials and pills for it, but it refuses to be exorcised. It clings to you till you are almost in despair. It drives you to frantic ex clamations of trouble by day, and it will not let you sleep at night. To find out precisely whence it came, we might have to go a long way back into the past. It is very possible that your daughter, just set free from school by the summer commencement, is re peating in her person the follies which in yours are responsible for the aching brain and tortured nerves. She has been studying incessantly, resting her self from books of rhetoric and mathe matics by an exciting novel, going now an then to a party, and eating too little solid food and too many dainties. Your doing, and not doing the right things, twenty years ago are among the oauses for your suffering now. To let the past alone, however, you need not look further than your work basket for some or your distress. The needle is a potent cause of a great many people's neuralgia. The beau tiful," elaborate, and stylish clothing, which you think you mti3t make economy forbidding you to employ much help in the making this is vear ing out your strength. Fewer dresses for yourself and children, and plainer attire, would afford you breathing space and time imperatively needed for sit ting sometimes with folded hands. Less worry about the household, less anxiety about the way things are going to turn out, less careful thought of the morrow (which you have God's word that He will care for) and that headache might cease to be an attendant phantom. Very possibly, however, it is neither worry nor the needie which is at the bottom of your particular trouble. You were brought up to regard an abundant table and a great variety of dainty eata bles as a sine qua non in housekeeping. Your grandmother and your mother were famous for their cakes and confec tions, their pastry and preserves, and the family reputation has not suffered in your hands. It is not that you person ally eat so much of the delicate viands which prove your culinary skill. Every good cook has known the feeling of tri umph in her own productions, mingled with an entire lack of appetite. Either way, if you are in the habit of spending your plrysieal resources on the prepara tion of rich super-elegant food or in the other habit of living on food which it taxes the digestive powers to properly assimilate, you may thus account for your headache. The home table may be spread with a varied and nutritious bill of fare with out great labor to the housewife, and with common sense as regards health. Cereals may be prepared for the daily breakfast, and whether rice, oatmeal, wheaten grits, crushed corn, or farina are preferred, none of them are un wholesome and all are easily cooked. The mistake made by most cooks is in hurrying over their making of porridges. Porridges require slow coaxing, sim mering, steaming, and brooding over gentle fires, to bring out their be3t qual ities. One may read, sew, or dream, practice her scales, or write her letter, while her oatmeal, in its leisurely swell ing, is 3'ielding up its inner sweetness. Fruits uncooked, or stewed soups and broths, which are not the trouble the uninitiated imagine, and juicy meats, boiled, broiled, or baked, furnish forth the family table well and sensibly. And no lurking headache hides in such diet as they supply, unless people over-eat, or eat at irregular times, or eat when over wearied and exhausted. The truth of the matter is that many bodily ailments are very much within our own power of control or banishment, and that the last thing in most cases to be done is to fly to stimulants, narcotics, or other drugs, for a temporary relief which leaves the main trouble unhelped and unchecked. Christian Intelligencer. Rescued from the Grave. "It sounds like a good deal to say, but I once knew a man who died and was buried on the overland trail to California, and afterward made his ap pearance in the placer mines at Prickly Pear City and it wasn't his ghost either, but himself in the flesh." This was the reply which a well-known resk dent of Helena, Montana, made to a reporter who was applying the reminis cence extractor. "In the spring of '49," continued the citizen, "when the California gold ex citement was at its height, in company with a large party I crossed the plains. After get ting well under way the cholera broke out among us and several died. Among other deaths was that of a man nmed W. II. Clark, of Henry County Missouri. We buried him near the point where the old Santa Fe trail crossed the Arkansas River. We had no coffin, but wrapped him in his blankets, and, inclosing him in a covering or bark stripped from the cottonwood trees, we planted him about seven feet deep in the sand, and piled logs on the grave to keep the wolves from digging him up. The next morning we moved on. "I remained in California until '67, and was then attracted to Montana by the gold excitement. In 1868, while in the diggings at what is known as Mon tana City, I was startled at meeting Clark, whom, with my own eyes, I had seen buried on the Arkansas River nineteen years before. The recognition was mutual; and on my expressing my surprise he related to me that after our own party had buried him and pro ceeded on toward California a party of Indians came along, and, seeing his new-made grave, dug him up for the jake of his blanket and clothing. As he showed signs of life they applied restoratives, and the result was that he was brought back to life and health. He lived among the Indians for years, and afterward came to Montana. At the time I met him he was working for Jerry Embry. There is absolutely no doubt as to Clark's identity, and he is now living in Prescott, Arizona, I be lieve." Helena Independent. Americans are not such great cigai smokers as some suppo-e. Although there is a population of 50,000,000, the annual consumption of cigars reachei only 27.000.000. FOREIGN GOSSIP. Venice and Amsterdam are the cities of bridges. The first has 450, the last 300. London has 15, Vienna 20, and Berlin will soon have 50. Altogether the most beautiful and striking bridge in Europe is that over the Moldau at Prague. It is found that the mind of Under Secretary Burke's sister, who lived with him, has given way. She has not shed a tear, and sits at the window, exclaim ing at every footfall, "He is coming." It is impossible to divert her thoughts from him. A man smashed everyone of the large plate glass windows of the London office of the Dublin Freemeri's Journal some nights ago because, as he said, they had no right to write about En glishmen. Mr. Dijoud, who had previously been convicted eighteen times, and spent thirty-five years in prison, lately set fire to Valence Cathedral, but, the fire being quickly discovered, only S7.000 of damage was done. He said he was tired of prisons in France, and wished to end his days in New Caledo nia. twenty years' penal servitude. They pulled down a chimney at the Koval Mint, in Berlin, the other day, and it occurred to the architect that it might be worth while to analyze the soot still adhering to the inner bricks. The result was that they found four pounds of pure gold, worth a thousand dollars. The recent solar eclipse calls to mind an incident of Francois Arago, who gained among his simple country neighbors an almost uncanny reputa tion by his accurate prediction of a total eclipse. Not long afterward he was a candidate for election to the National Assembly, and was elected by an al most unanimous vote of his constituents. The wealth and government influence of the rival candidate created no impres sion upon the voters. "No, no," they cried ; 44 we must vote for Arago, for, if we don't, he may get mad and hurl an other eclipse at us!" The newest fashion in Paris, that of wearing black underclothing, has be come the furor among the women of the highest aristocracy. The undergar ments, like those of the Eastern odal isques, are composed usually of silk, generally of what is called foulard des Indes. From head to foot the Parisian lady appears, when divested of the outer robe, as just emerging from an ink bath the stockings of black silk, the slip pers of black velvet, the corsets of black satin, and adorned with black lace, and the petticoats of black surah, filled around the bottom with a stiff mousse of black illusion or net. The following clause was fonnd in the will of a Yorkshire rector : "Seeing that my daughter Anne has not availed herself of my advice touching the ob jectionable practice of going about with her arms bare up to the elbows, my will is that, should she continue at my death in this violation of the modesty of her sex, all the goods, chattels, money, lands, and all other things that I have devised to her for the maintenance of her future life shall pass to the eldest son of my siiter Caroline. Should any one take exception to this as being too severe, I answer that license in the dress of a woman is a mark of a depraved mind." Emerson's Personal Appearance. His personal humility was as great as his personal dignity. He entertained all men with the same quiet geniality of deportment; and his attitude toward even the most ignorant or juvenile of his fellow-creatures was uniformly that of one who seeks edification rather than to edify. He knew how to ask the right and searching question, and how to ex tract from the clumsy or incomplete answer the core of significance that made it valuable. Thus he increased the self-respect of those with whom he conversed, while never for a moment stimulating their selfish vanity, making them feel their worth a3 men without exaggerating their importance as indi viduals. Yet few men can have had more noticeable peculiarities of face, figure and demeanor than Emerson. Who that had once seen him could for get his apnearance P Who ever spoke in his melodious, measured tones? or whose smile so well expressed the self command that does not deal in laugh ter? Yet he was distinct with a distinct iveness that arose not from unlikeness to his fellows, but precisely from . the concentration in him of their more sig nificant and controlling traits. There was something of the eagle in his aspect, and a physical awkwardness that some how expressed the highest degree of in grained culture and refinement. His ordinary gait in walking was that of a man whose attention is so earnestly fixed upon something on the horizon that his body is conveyed forward rather by at traction than volition. It was progres sion in its simplest form, steady and uniform, but without the least embel lishment of grace or elegance ; and yet there was in it something indicative of the nature of the man, that made mere grace and elegance seem semi-civilized. In his lectures he stood before his audi ence in the unstudied pose of a New England farmer. He had no gestures; sufficient for him were the modulations of the voice, and the occasional lifting of the head and brightening of the visage. Never theless, few speakers comprehended the art and even the artifices of oratory better than he. Every word that passed his lips was so uttered and presented as to acquire its fullest force and meaning ; and no one else could have delivered his lectures so effectively and captivatingly as he. The hand that he gave you in greeting was large and firm; it held yours for a few moments in a warm and steady clasp. There was no vigorous and impulsive Hand-shaking, but the light of composed cordiality that ema nated from his features made the more demonstrative forms of greeting seem vulgar and inexpressive. It is unneces sary to extend these details ; they amount to saying that intercourse with Emerson tended to make you realize the practical superiority of the spiritual over the physical part of man. The lesson is no unimportant one, especially in these davs when we are gasreed and crippled with symbols the meaning ol which we have forgotten, and which we consequently misapply and misinter pret. Julian Hawiharne in Harpers Magazine Our Young Folks. MAMMA HEN'S COMMAND. Said the first little chicken. With a queer little squirm: 41 1 wish I could find A fat little worm I" Said the next little chicken, With an odd little shrug-: 44 I wish I could find A fat little bug!" ; Paid the third little chicken. With a sharp little squeal: 44 1 wish I could find Some nice yellow meall" Said the fourth little chicken, Withu smill a gh of grief: 44 1 wish I could find A green little leaf 1" ,. Said the fifth little chicken. With a taint little moan: 44 1 wish I could find A wee gravel stone!" 44 Xow, see here," said the mother, From the green garden patch, 44 If you want any breakfast ' Just coma here and scratch 1" HOW JOHNNIE WENT TO SCHOOL. Little John worked in a barrel factorv in the thriving town of E , in Penn- sjlvania. ....... Piling staves or rolling barrels all day long is not very enjoyable work, but Johnnie did not grumble; no, indeed, he was too happy to get even the hard est and dullest work to do. He wanted to go to school, and his aunt had said if he could save money enough to buy books and clothes, he might go. He was delighted with this permission, and clattered down stairs, three steps at a time, to hunt up Pat, his friend and confidant, who would double his happi ness by sharing it. Pat was a news-boy on the railroad, a cheery, good-natured Irish lad, whose mother had died years ago, when he was but a blue-eyed baby. The new mother that came into the little white washed cabin by the railroad was too busy with her pigs, her garden and her little ones to pay much attention to Pat at first; 'though" by-and by she thought there was no room for him in the little home. Poor Pat! he had a hard time find ng any place where there was room for him. At last Johnnie persuaded his aunt to let the forsaken Irish boy share his bed. They had been firm friends, sharing their boyish griefs and joys with the complete sympathy of childhood; they were brothers in heart, if not in name. Johnnie and Pat were industrious, contented and happy. During the day they worked on the cars and in the fac tory, but in the evening the kind aunt taught them the common-school studies. Both boys eagerly longed for the time when they could enjoy fuller advantages for education. Pat saw his way but dimly, but John nie's happiness seemed near at hand. It was a touching sight to see the two boys once or twice a week bring out their store of savings. No miser ever thrilled at the sight and touch of heaps of gold as those two 003-s at their paltry handful of silver and copper. It was about a month before school began, and yet Johnnie had not saved quite the desired amount. One evening he came rushing home waving his hat and dinner pail to his aunt, who stood in the doorway. 44 Oh, auntie, I have enough now," he shouted joyfullv. , Her motion for silence and the look on her face lowered his glad voice. 44 What is the matter? Are you ill? Has anything happened to Pat?" he hurriedly asked. "Come in and sit down, and I will tell you," she replied. A strana.e sickening odor of some drug filled the house; there was an un usual stir ii the front room. Johnnie's heart sank within him. He listened with terror-stricken face to the terrible news. An accident on the road; Pat was hurt; they were amputating his arm; they )!eared he would die. His face grew whiter and whiter as sach detail of the horror grew upon his mind. He buried his face in his hands, and sat mo-ionless a long time. After a time he went softly into the house, into the room where Pat lay still unconscious. 44 Pat, dear Pat," he sobbed, laying his wet face against the one colorless hand. Here he remained until he heard the doctor's step in the hall, when he with drew to the shadow of the curtain, dreading yet longing to hear his words. How his heart leaped with joy to know that Pat might live, though a cripple. His dear, dashing, frolicksome Pat a cripple! All night long Johnnie sat with his eyes on the pallid young face. He was trying to think out some plan for help ing him. A firm, happy look dawned on his grave, thoughtful face. He seemed to have solved a part of his hard problem. Toward morning Pat opened his eyes and looked around in a daze sort of way. He tried to rise, but was too weak. Slowly he recalled the accident, the pain, and the darkness. What came then? Looking around in a help less, wistful manner, he saw Johnnie s big eyes shining on him through falling tears. He moved his left hand around to find the right one. Alas! it was gone. Turning his face to the wall, the hot tears slipped down from his closed eyes. It was a long day for the boys, John nie at his toilsome labor in the factory, and Pat, at home, thinking, thinking, thinking, trying to find some gleam of brightness, some way of self-help in the future. Going home that night Johnnie bought an orange and a picture for his friend. He endeavored to be more than usually cheerful in his manner that evening. Pat was trying too, but it was such a faint smile that he gave that Johnnie had hard work to keep back the tears. 44 But I did," he triumphantly said to his aunt. 44 1 never mean to make Pat feel badly any more if I can help it. Oh, auntie" this very eagerly "may I let Pat take my money and go to school? I can wait a little longer, and Pat will help me in the evenings." His aunt touched his sunshiny head tenderly. 44 You know best, my dear boy. It is your money. Use it to sat isfy your own heart." It was some time before rat was well Lao - ain, but after the first few days' strug- Erie he never murmured. He t-eemed to accept and make the best of his circum stances. Every evening Johnnie re membered to brinr him some token of his love a banana, a paper, a bunch of rav flowers, or a box of bonbons; for his money was now all for Pat his dear, helpless Pat. ' . At last the eventful day arrived when Pat was to be up and dressed. Johnnie started home with more than usual k speed, eager to see and congratulate He had f requently noticed boys play-ino- near and on a small tank used for mixing paint. They used to stir this, and inhale the fumes, which gave them a kind of half-dizzy but pleasant kind of feeling. It was rather a dangerous play, and Johnnie usually coaxed the boys away, and endeavored to persuade them not to return. As he was passing the tank this evening he saw two little bovs leaning over it. and just at that moment one of them fell face down ward into the tank; the other little boy sank down upon the steps, too much stupefied to render any assistance. Dropping his pail, Johnnie sprang up the steps, and into the tank. There was only a small quantity of liquid in it, but quite enough to cover the uncon scious bov. Johnnie lifted him up, and called loudly for help. It soon came, for there were others who had seen the boy fall, though too far away to render the assistance that Johnnie did. For some time it was feared that the little victim would not revive. After a while, however, they had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes. Johnnie wanted to go home now; he knew that his aunt and Pat were anx iously awaiting him. He was deliberat ing what to do, when a carringe drove up, and a lady and gentleman hurriedly alighting, came up to the still half-unconscious child. Johnnie heard one child cry, 44 Mamma!" and saw the look of glad recognition light up the face of the other, and theu he was off with all speed for home. As he ap proached the house he. paw his aunt, and yes, it was, it was Pat standing in the doorway, looking anxiously toward the factory. He waved his hat, and hastened forward yet faster, stop ping at the gate quite out of breath from excitement, but looking so happy and smiling that, their, fears were calmed at once. 4 4 Oh,-1 am so glad to see you, Pat! Don't touch me, auntie, dear; I am all over paint and benzine. " Just wait un til I change my clothes and I will tell you all about it," he said, as he disap peared up stairs. But the great surprise .and pleasure came the next day. Johnnie had gone to work as usual, and was not expected home until evening. About noon, how ever, he entered the kitchen where his aunt wa3 working. "Come, aunt, into the room where Pat is. I have something nice to tell you." But when there he could say nothing. He just put in her hand a crisp check for two hundred dollars. . . - ;, .. "Oh, Johnnie! now you can go to school, too," shouted the delighted Pat. 44 What does it mean, dear?" asked his aunt, gazing in wonder at the check, at Johnnie, and then at the chock again. 44 The manager gave it to me this morning. It was his little boy who fell into the tank yesterday. He had heard about my wanting to go to school, and about Pat, so he gave me this. Oh, dear auntie! do you suppose anybody was ever so happy as I am? Here is the manager s carnage, too. 1 am to have a half-holiday, and take you both out riding. Come, we will have some dinner, and then go down the deep hol low road. Harper's Young rcople Small Monkeys. In a physician's residence up town, yesterday, a Sun reporter held in the palm of , his outstretched hand two monkeys, and they were not cramped for room to lie i down . in. It was a medium-sized hand. The two monkeys weighed together 9 ounces, and were apparently about the size of small rats, but their bodies were small and were clothed with long fur. Their tails were as bushy as a squir rel's, and their eyes were as bright as diamonds. When a finger was point ed at them they humped their backs like kittens and chattered vociferously. When the finger : came in biting dis tance it was seized with apparent ill nature, but the bite was like that of the tiniest kitten. "We call one Grosvenor and the other Bunthorne," said the physician. "Gros venor is the smaller and the prettier. His favorite perch is on my wife s shoul der, where he will sit for hours while she sews. Bunthorne is more venturesome than Grosvenor, and this little eccen tricity came near losing him to us yester day. In fact, we thought he was lost all the afternoon and evening and all night, and we advertised in amorninw newspaper that we would give a liberal reward for his return. But the little chap had not gone far. Ho had crept out behind the slats of the blinds on the parlor window, and climbed up that vine which runs up to the top of the house. There he must have remained all night. We found him in the dining room this morning sprawling on his back on the floor, and squealing and whining like a sick baby. He was hungry and tired, and very sleepy. While Bunthorne was gone Grosvenor fretted and lost his appetite, and refused to "be comforted. You should have seen the reunion this morn ingit might almost be called affect ing. 44 They are very dainty eaters," con tinued the physician, 44 and we have to study their bill of fare carefully. Their choicest dainty is flies, but they won't catch them for themselves; they are too lazy." N. Y. Sun. ' A mad woman at Salpetrierg Hospi tal, Paris, was placed in a bath-tub hav ing a locked-down lid, with an orifice through which her head and neck passed. When the hot water was on the servant with the key went to fetch linen and remained to gossip. The screams of the lunatic, she beinff reputed violent, were unheeded, and she was boiled to death betore the negligence was discovered. A San Francisco glue is very generally used in the man- u.at,iuic u reo-uieaiu, ana iears sick ness among ice-cream consumers in consequence. It is not best to be too inquisitive as to what one eats in these adulterated tmes.