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Baron Turned Bur&lar.-A. Singu
Seldom is there found, eren in ro
mance, as fit range a history -as that of a
man who died two weeks ago on a peni
tentiary pallet. For years living
among the worst characters who in
fested the metropolis, aud steeped in
crime as deeply as any of them, it was
nly when the grave was closed upon
him that his true identity came to light,
and in a Blaekwcll's Island convict was
found to have sinned and suffered a
Belgian nobleman. The burglar, Harry
Howard, whose death was recently an
nounced, had by thai name been known
to his criminal associates, but it was
after he had been buried that the
woman who had shared part of his
changeful : fortune in life revealed his
M-crct. and her story being put into the
hands of Ibe police to be sifted, the
following strange history came to light :
Fifteen , years ago. at the age of
lliirtv-tliioe, the Baron Herman de
IleilVenberg .left home in Brussels, Bel
"iiiin, an$ with a wcll-tilled pocket
Txiok anJ a g' l balik account behind
him landed in this city. He had an
agreeable fare, the manners of a gen
tleman, jdetity of money, and a resi
dence ij! iinlsels that was spoken of a3
a marvel His relatives were noble,
and eomjj'ised ' the best families of his
native town. In acity like this one can
readily1 guess with what a reception
such a man would meet. He was feted
ami paraded in the best society, and
squandered his money anil enjoyed his
slightest fancies to their fullest extent.
In this Ue was joined by a circle of
friends who from the first formed a lit
tle court for him. He had concealed
bis title of Baron and assumed the name
of Louis dof Laurie, the name of a for
mer cprnpajiion of his now dead. It
was by this name he was known, and he
continued to hold it until the timetd
bis death. '
At interval remittances wer re
ceived from ,hisproperty and quickly
disKad of by the Baron. Three years
after his arrival he ma le the acquaint
ance of.a Miss Annie Sweeny, and after
a sne&dy ourlhip they became man
ami wife. With his bride the young
iiaron traveled all over the country,
And, returning to New York City again,
the couple took apartments in a hotel
uptown. A year after their marriage
a boy was the fruit of their union. Sud
denly there was a stop in the receipts of
funds, letters aud telegrams were dis
patched, but there was no reply nor any
funds received and De Laurie began to
learn that lie had reached tiie bottom
of his resources.
Here was a dilemma. His friends and
family refused to contribute any more
Vo his extravagance and he was finally
Jcft without a cent and in debt for his
board bill. He then left the hotel and
took up quieter quarters, disposing of
valuables to sustain his family for the
time being. The Baron was splendidly
educated, speaking several languages,
anil he next endeavored to turn his
talents to some account. An advertise
ment was placed in one of the morning
papers that secured him a good position
but he had no sooner obtained this than
he began habits of dissoluteness which
speedily led to his discharge. From
this time he steadily went downward.
The few years made a terrible change
in his appearance. One would not know
in that wrinkled face and disordered ap
pearance the former gay and dashing
chevalier. His wife, too, had lost the
beauty that characterized her early girl
hood and had fallen into the same habits
as her husband. In a very short while
their home was the scene of the great
est beggary; but even in their degreda
tion they cared for the little child
Louis. In this way they continued to
struggle, until at last during a pro
tracted spree of both the father aud
mother, they were all turned into the
rtreet for non-payment of rent. Their
iiditioa now could not be any lower.
They sank to the condition of beggars
Aud became drunkards of the lowest
It was while in this strait that the
Baron appealed to Mr. A. De Bracke
leer, President of the Belgian Belief As
sociation, at No. tiif Warren street. The
latter was acquainted wilh his early
history and had known him and his
family in the old country. His sympa
thy was aroused and he immediately
supplied from his own pocket the nec
essary wants of his countryman. He
also endeavored to persuade him to re
turn home, where his relatives would
take care of him; but to all his entrea
ties the man only replied that he would
starve first. But the applications for
relief became so frequent that Mr.
Brackeleer was at la-t compelled to re
fuse any further assistance. The
wretched couple was then living at :j-
iHulbertv street, in the very center of
the Italian quarter. De Laurie be
came known to his Ttaliau neighbors as
a man of education and a linguist and
they kept him busy when not drunk,
writing letters for them. He was al
ways kind and courteous, even in his
most druuken moments, and was very
popular among these poor people. In
this way ho managed to put in two of
Lis last years of existence, until finally
a worse change came.
He formed the acquaintance of dan
gerous characters, and became a thief
and a burglar. While committing a
burglary he was caught, aud under ihe
same of Harry Howard was sentenced
roa the Ilth of June last to six months
in the penitentiary. Three months aft ei;
bis conviction lie was taken sick, "was
consigned to the hospital, and died
Uiree days later.
A simple paragraph in the Herald., an
nouncmg the death of a convicted bur
;lar, was the first information his wife
bad of his death. . She was after war I
summoned by Coroner Brady, who held
an inquest, but even to that oftieial she
never rcvealedthe dead man's identity.
She next called upon the Belgian Con
sul, Mr. Mali, -at Js'e. So3 Broadway,
and asked that the family in Belgium
be made acquainted with the particu
lars of her husband's death, and ar
rangements be made to disinter the re
mains aud send them back to the", old
country. The Consul promised to do
all in his power, and referred herto Mr.
De Brackeleer, who now has the case in
Mr. De Brackelecr said to the re
porter that when first informed of the
death of his old friend he did not credit
it, but thought it one of the. devices of
the woman to extort money, lie con
sulted with Mr. Mali, and was shown
tie notice of the man's death in the
Herald, when his doubts were cleared.
To make sure, however, he called in
the services of Detective Adams, of Po
Bec Headquarters, and the latter in
vestigated the case.
' His family is one of the wealthiest
and most influential in Brussels." said
Mr. De Brackeleer, " and will feel great
pain upon hearing of this."
What caused him to leave his coun
try?'" asked the reporter.
" Nothing that I know of," replied
3ir. De Brackeleer. " " It was not poli
tics nor any crime, but I think a love
tar roaming and dissipated habits.'1
In reply to the question as to what
action he would take Mr. De Brackeleer
said that they had not decided as yet,
but the case would be brought before
the association. He also said that there
were several trunks of the deceased
nobleman.containing papers, etc.which
would be opened and examined. "There
is," he added, " considerable property
still belonging to him in Brussels, and
this will revert to his wife." New York
Barled for Years in a Cavern.
A few davs ago, says the Albuquerque
(N. M.) (lolJUin G'Ue, Messrs. D. E.
Doaoe, W. II. Enfield and W. W. Blake
were surveying and locating the bound-;
aries of the Chihuahua Mine in the Mag-,
dalena Mountains, about twenty-live,
miles west of Socorro, where they madej
a somewhat startling discovery. In,
cha'ming down the hill from the center?
stake to the west side line they passed
nearly over an opening in the rocks that,
was about three feet long and fourteen'
inches wide. A small dead tree about(
fifteen feet in length was let down into,
the aperture and immediately disap-;
peared from view. A young pine tree
thirty feet long was then chopped
down and a ladder hastily improvised
therefrom. Carefully let down it finally
found securo foothold, and two of. the'
party descended into the cavern By
the aid of some lighted pine knots they
discovered that they were in the center
of a room about thirty feet square. Con-,
tinuirg their explorations they found
natural tunnels leading to two other lint?
smaller chambers. The ceiling of the;
main room was fully twelve feet from
the floor. In one corner of this room
were found the bones of ahumau being.
A portion of the rock overhead hjid,
fallen in and buried the greater number
of the bones, but one of the collar blades
and a bonejrom the forearm were ob
tained in an excellent state of preserva-?
tion. . Pen can not portray the agon?s
which' the' solitary oceupe.ut of . this1
" Dead man's leave" must have en4
dured during his last hburs: He could
scarcely have been a lone'prospeetor
lured to his doom years ago by 'a fatal
curiosity, as no sane man would -undertake
to" explore the cave Without first
sounding its depths. Besides this, the
pioneer "of the Magdalens, Mr. J. S.
Hutchinson, savs that to his knowledge '
no prospector has been missed during
the last fourteen years. It is thought
that the Apaches, having knowledga of
this subterranean prison, must have
compelled some unfortunate captive to
descend into the cave and -tauntingly
left him to his fate. How well might
the inscription over the entrance to the
Infernal Begions, as recorded in Dante's
" Inferno," ' -
" Who enters here leaves hope behind,"
be applied to this dismal dungeon. The
last chapter of the life of the tenant of
this cell' would make abundant material
for a romance of the border.
A Debating Society Broken Up.
Not long ago a party of young men,
ail friends, organized a literary socieiy,
which held weekly meetings in a cerU.in
part of this city. For ashort time every
thing ran smoothly. Pleasant entertain
ments were given and rapid progr :ss
was made in elocution and kindred
complishments. Then the meeting be
gan to be occasionally markud by little
unpleasantnesses and finally the soci"ty
was . rudely dismembered and broken
up. The facts of the collapse are thus
narrated by a member of the organiza
tion. One fine evening there was a spiri'.ed
debate about women's rights. One of
the members of the club made the re
mark that when he married he dio:i'l
want his wife runuing around e! ;c
tionecring for another fellow and k iv
ing him to mind the baby A gen de
man opposed t him both in debate :.nd
in an affair of the heart as well, m tde
the remark that the first gentleman
never would get a wife. He was too
ugly. Whereupon the lirst young man
made the remark that he had cut the
other youug man out of a certain young
The debate closed with the rivals in
this mood and the meeting adjourned
without the usual logical summing up.
A week later another session was neld,
and fate placed the rivals side by side.
The eyed each other vindictively r.nd
were evidently both ready for rny
emergency. In the course of the pro
ceedings one of ihem rose to a point of
order, aud when he sat down it was up
on the point ora pin which had been
slyly slipped on his chair. He rose
again and instantly grappled with t he
man who sat next to him. They rolled
over on the floor, upset all the chairs
and created the worst kind of a racket.
The President rapped on the table and
called order, the Secretary shouted
order, the Treasurer shouted order r.nd
the Sergeant-at-Arms tried to separate
the combatants. Pretty soon the a ("air
became "a free fight and everybody had
to take part in order to defend himself.
When the din had somewhat subsided r
it Was seen that the President's new
coat had been torn, the Secretary had a
pin stuck half through his hand, while
the Treasurer had a big lump over his
eye, which lump was caused bv being
hit with a copy of Cushing's Manual,
and all parties were rattier dilapidated.
At the next meeting the' Treasurer'did
not put in an appearance and none of
the members of the society have seen
him since. Another meeting was held,
at which a letter from the Secretary was
read, in which he stated that he had
used the funds in his hands" to pay a
doctor bill and he bade a long farewell
to that literary society. Amid great
despondency7 the society resolved itself
into oblivion, with the understanding
that whenever any of its members saw
that Treasurer be should mttify the
other ones and Ihey would, .sweep J
the rascal from the face of the earlli.
St. Louis Republican.
Boys and Wasps.
Boys and wasps are natural enemies.
Boys hate wasps and wasps hate boys.
Generally the wasps are victorious and
a boy who has an interview with a wasp
gets over the ground much faster than
the boy sent on an errand. The boy
does the electioneering shouting, but
the wasp does the real work of the cam
paign. It is so rare that a boy gets
even with the wasps that when he does
so, the event is worthy of more than a
passing notice. Down near Kingston,
Out., a boy had a heated discussion with
some wasps and the latter got the bet
ter of the argument at least they niade
more pointed applications. As the
stings burned, the boy thought about
lighting his Satanic Majesty with fire.
It was a brilliant success. The next
neighbor's barn and grain were the first
to go, and the people barely escaped
from the dwelling house. The woods
and fields of wheat next went with
stacks and other combustible matter,
while every now and then the burning
of a house and barn added variety to
the scene. The destruction was very
great, but as the delighted boy after
wards remarked, " You ought to seen
them wasos singe!" Detroit FitePrcs?.
Popular Sayings About Dogs.
An Englishman says: " If you can
not bite, never show your teeth," or,
"Don't bark if you can't bite;" while
the Scotch say, " Great barkers are nae
biters." We also say, " What, keep a
dog and bark myself?" These need no
explanation, and the same is true of
others, such as " Any stick will do to
beat a dog;" " Give a dog a bad name
and hang him;" and, " When a dog is
drowning every one offers him drink."
On the same principle of giving to those
who do not want, we are told that
"everyone bastes the fat dog, while the
lean one burns." . " Of course a hungry
' dogwill eat dirty pudding." " It is a bad
dog that deserves no crust," and, "It is
.nsclesstotie up adogwith achitterling."
The French language is singularly
'prolific in sayings about dogs. " A good
dog never barks amiss, but not every
dog bites that barks."' "The best of
friends must part,"- as Dagobert said to
his dogs. This is well known, and so
'is this, "He is like the dog of Jean de
Nivelle, which runs away when it is
called." " A dog may look at a
Bishop" is like our own " A cat may
look at a king," "To beat the dog
when the lion is present may ' be safe,
but is rather cowardly." " Two dogs
to one bone are bad." " He who would
drown his dog cails it mad." " You
limst throw stones at the dog which
bites; but flatter the dog till you get to
the stone heap," and " Do not make fun
of the dog till you are out of the vil
lage," perhaps because " A dog and a
cock are always brave on their own
dunghill." " If he who takes a dog by
he ears is bitten, it is no wonder."
j' A young man issometimes as foolish
rs a young dog. To be always under
(control is to be like a dog in a string.
A r6an who is used to submit to harsh
'-.treatment is like a dog which goes on
foot and with a bare head. He is treated
plka a dog sometimes, and especially if
iic comes in like a aog at ninepins, or
even when he is not wanted. Love me
love my dog, is advice recognized in
'different countries, but it is French to
call the chief man a dogwith a grand col
lar.' More curious is the saying between
dog and wolf, to denote a dim dawn in
which objects can "scarcely be distin
guished. . We could add several others
4'roin French sources, but we w ish to
give a few examples from elsewhere,
and more particularly from the German.
Here we find that some people should
not be squeam'sh; if they go over a dog
they must go over the tail. " This re
minds us of t lie saying: When you have
swullowed the ox, don't make a fuss
about the taii. A German, like many
more, may be as hungry or as weary as
a dog; and when he labors under a de
lusion sees a blue dog. That the dog
.'tites the hindmost, is as true as a st rong
er utterance known among ourselves.
Ho is in a destitute condition who has
not a dog to draw out of the oven. Do
not blame the innocent, it rests not
wilh the dogs how many horses shall
die in the year. The hare may run the
fastest, but many dogs are the death of
the hare. Nobo'dy cares . to own a dog
which is everybody's companion.
When they have nothing the Flemish
will tell you that you wilf find the dog
in the pot.. ' The Dutchman may be as
snappish as a young dog. The Italian
savs no dog is so bad as not to wag his
tail; that a dog which barks never bites,
which is scarcely true; and, woe to the
skin of asnarling dog unless it be strong
or tough. The Spaniard says, If you
wish your dog to follow you give him
bread; and yet he says. When your dog
wags his tail it is not for you but for
tluf bread. He thinks, too, "that a well
bred dog always dreams of hunting.
The Turks have a few good sayings,
one of which is, " the dog barks and the
caravan goes by; mere noise is noth
ing." Another is that " the dog w hich
isTed out to hunt against his will takes
no game." The Arabs have observed
that " every dog barks at his own gate,"
and that "a dog which runs is better
than a lion which lies down." They
think it a foolish thing to draw the dog's
teeth and bark yourself; but, having no I
great confidence in the animal they say, j
" Pat a dog on the jaws till you can j
muzzle it." From the Chinese we learn j
that "a dog which raises its tailde-J
spises its foe;" also, that " he who bents ;
a dog should think of its master. Other .
rough-and-ready sayings of theirs are,
tbaf " the dog in its' kennel howls at j
the fleas, but tne dog which is hunting j
does not feel them," and that "it is not 1
the dogs'lleas that make the cat s cry out." j
None of the ancient stories about dogs ;
surpass one told by Bochart, who says '
that when lie wrote a dog was living at j
Paris which had watched for almost j
three years at the grave of his master !
in the cemetery of !t. Innocents and ;
could not be persuaded to leave it. ;
Once it was seized and taken to another ;
part of the city, but as soon as it got its j
liberty it went back to the grave.' This j
was in the year IGliO, and during the ,
winter the snow had been very deep and
the cold most intense. Bochart raids :
that if anv reader is anxious to know
how such a dog lives, let him under-!
stand that the inhabitants, struck with ;
the novelty of the thing, supplied him i
abundantly wilh bread, which they send
to the grave where he sits. London j
Queen. ; j . - . , j
A Monster Sewing-Machine.
'The .largest sewing-machine in the j
world has lately been finished. The j
machine-weighs over four tons, and is '
in some vespeets of new design, uniting
inueh simplicity of construction with
great strength of "parts. It is adapted
for general manufacturing purposes of
the heavier sort, although specially j
jmade for stitching cotton belting. The !
material used is of great strength and j
toughness,, and is sewed together. in j
piles or layers up to an inch in thick- j
ncss. The belting in being sewed to
gether is passed through heavy feed j
rollers. some nine inches m tiiameter
and more than eight feet in length, get
ting stretched aud pressed in the proc
ess? There are two needles at work
with two shuttles, and the shuttles can
be1 removed from the bottom without
disturbing the overlying plies of belt
ing. The rollers between which the
work passes are actuated by reversible
worm and cam motions, and the ma
chine has in addition to these roller
feeds, what is known as a top-feed mo-
1 ion, suitable for a lighter class or work, j
The stitch, as in the ordinary sewing- )
machine, can be adjusted from one
eighth inch upward, and the pressure
of" the rollers on the work passing
through the machine can be regulated
at the will of the operator. The ma
chine, which is driven by steam, has
been made for a manufacturing firm in
Liverpool. Scientific American.
For some reason only to be appre
ciated by Frenchmen, mythological
names cannot be given to children de
clared at the offices of the French
Mayors, names taken from sacred his
tory only being allowable. Among the
personages considered sacred are
Anadine" Faustine, Azemia, Chloris,
Dejanire, Leda, Medore, Nay a. Norber
tine, Podalire, Zirphe and Zulmar.
The Small (louse Ant.
The English clergyman, the Kev. J.
G. Wood, author of many popular books
on animals, writes thus of the house ant:
The variation in size among ants is as
well marked as it is among the higher
animals, and the proportions of the
largest and smallest ant are much the
same as those of the elephant and the
mouse. Some ants, especially those be
longing to the genus Componotus, are
as large as our hornets, while others,
sueh as the too-common house ant,
Myrmica molesta, is only the lifteenth
of an inch in length and so slender that
its pale yellow body is hardly discerni
ble if it be alone. Bat it very seldom
is alone. Minute as are its individual
dimensions, collectively it is so formid
able an insect that it has rendered
houses uninhabitable. The houses have
had the floors relaid, cement and porce
lain tiles used wherever possible, but
the house ants have retained possession
of the premises. I have received many
letters from persons whose houses are
infested with these ants, and have been
asked to suggest some mode of destroy
ing them. Unfortunately, I know of
none. Hie passages to their nests are
so small that boiling water loses its heat
long before the few drops which can
trickle through them can touch the
nest. Insect powders are equally use
less and sulphur smoke has no terror
for these insects. It does not appear
to be indigenous to this country and is
evidently of American origin. It is the
opinion of a well-known English natur
alist that, like the cockroach, it' has
been imported in merchandise, and,"
like that insect, will retain its place in
the land of its adoption.
Small Farming in the South.
1 The phrase "small farming," used of
the South, crops out in directions curi
ous enough to one unacquainted with
the special economies and relations of
existeuce in that part of our country.
While large farming in the South means
exclusive cotton-growing as it means
in the West exclusive wheat-growing or
exclusive corn-growing small farming
means diversitied farm-products; and a
special result of the Southern conditions
of agriculture has brought about a still
more special sense of the word, so that
in Georgia, for example, the term
"small farmer" brings up to every na
tive mind the idea of a farmer who, be
sides his cotton crop, raises corn enough
to "do" him. But again, the inci
dents hinging upon this apparently sim
ple matter of making corn enough to do
him are so numerous as, in turn, to
render them the distinctive feature of
small farming. Small farming means,
in short, meat and bread for which
there are no notes in bank; pigs fed
with home-made corn and growing
of themselves while the corn and cotton
were being tended: yarn spun, stock
ings knit, butter made and sold (instead
of bought); eggs, chickens, peaches,
water-nieloii3, the four extra sheep and
a little wool, two calves and a beef all
to sell every year, besides a colt who is
now suddenly become, all of himself, a
good, serviceable horse; the four oxen,
who are as good as gifts made by the
grass, and a hundred other items, all
representing income from a hundred
sources to the small farmer, which
equally represent outgo to the large
farmer items, too, scarcely appearing
at all on the exnense side of tho strict
est account-book, because they are cith
er products of odd moments which, if
not so applied, would not have been at
all applied, or products of natural ani
mal growth, and grass at nothing a ton.
All these ideas are inseparably connect
ed with that of the small farmer in the
The extent of this diversity of product
possible upon a single small farm in
Georgia, for instance, and the certain
process by which we find these diversi
fied products presently creating de
mands for the village library, the neigh
borhood farmers' club, the amateur
Thespian society, the improvement of
the public schools, the village orchestra,
ail manner of betterments and gentili
ties and openings out into the universe,
show significantly, and even pictur
esquely, in a mass of clippings which I
began to make a couple of years ago,
from a number of country papers in
Georgia, upon the idea that these un
considered trifles of mere farmers'
neighborhood news, with .no politics
behind them and no argumentative col
oring in front of them, would form the
best possible picture of actual small
farm life in the South that. is. of the
To read these simple and homely
scraps is indeed much like a drive
among the farms themselves with the
ii'eal automaton guide, who confines
himself to telling you that this field is
sugar-cane, that one yonder is cotton,
the other is riee. aud so on, without
troubling you for responsive exclama
tion or other burdensome commentary.
1'arnbling amng these cuttings one
sees growing side by side, possibly upon
a single small farm, corn, wheat, rice,
sugar-cane, cotton, peaches, -plums, ap
ples, pears, figs, water-melons', canta
loups, niusk-taelons, cherries, strawber
ries, raspberries, blackberries, Catawba
grapes, Isabella.' Scuppernougs, peas,
soup-bean, butter-beans, okra, squash,
beets, oyster-plant, mustard, cress, cab
bage, . turnips, tomatoes, - 'cauliflower,
asparagus, pptatinJs, onions; one does
not faiU too,, to catch a glimpse of pigs
sauntering .about, . chickens singing,
colts flinging their heels at you and oil'
down the pasture, calves likewise, cows
caring not for these things, sheep on
the rising ground, geese and turkeys
passim, perhaps the green-gray moss
surely designed by nature to pack veg
etables in and send them "North" a
very bed of dew for many days after
cutting, and the roses and morning
glories everywhere for a benison.
Sidney Lanier, in S:ri!ncr's Monthly.
A Keform Called for In Pork Raisin?.
Public opinion has been trained so
long in favor of improved breeds of
pigs that farmers have become some
what daft on the subject. They have
been governed by this public opinion
and seeming economy until they have
about driven pork from the table, and
made a nation of epicures who turn
away from pork, and even ham, with
disgust. Our forefathers lived longer
than the present generation are likely
to, and were men of braius as well as
muscle. Pork constituted their chief
meat diet. This is not the case now.
The change is not because pigs' flesh is
necessarily more unpalatable, but be
cause the character of the meat has
been changed from a wholesome and
desirable food to mere lard tubs. Ad
vanced public opinion- now-a-days de
mands a' pug-nosed, fat-checked pig,
with thick sides (layers of lard), blind
with fat; with just enough animation to
grunt no legs or bone, and a morbid
appetite which must never squeal
" enough." This abortion, from the
food standpoint, is called "improved."
It keeps easy that is to say, it is made
to convert corn into lard without any
loss charged to exercise or vigorous
health, it is then stuffed to the verge
of feverish decline, or founder, when
it is speedily slaughtered to prevent
loss. Such pigs are profitable to keep
so far as the relations of feed and gain
are concerned, but what is the ue of
growing pork wdiich is unpalatable on
account of its over-fatness, and is con
sequently unsalable? Seventy-live per
cent, of the finest so-called " improved"'
pig is probably nothing but fat indi
gestible to the great majority of modern
American stomachs. It will do very
well in cold weather, but in summer
time is unsuited to our physical wants.
A radical change ia the system of breed
ing and growing of pigs would sobn
change the animal structure from so
much fat to more muscle, with lighter
food given in quantities to promote
steady growth, united .with exercise,
which is the natural foundation for the
development of muscle. Muscle makes
the lean meat, and this will never be
produced when pigs are closely con
fined and stuffed from their birth till
the time of slaughtering. Tne body or
frame should be first built . up, and the
fat laid to a moderate extent afterward.
A pig thus reared migjit not weigh as
much when dressed, but will have a
much larger proportion of lean meat,
and need not cost as much. Country
There's Money in Trees.
What a delight it is to the skillful
worker in wood to shave, into the per
fection of smoothness and shape the in
valuable wood of the whjte pine tree.
And what grandeur there was for we
can no longer say there is in the un
touched forests of those noble trees
covering the ground so densely that
one felt more than ever how solid the
earth must be, to carry such enormous
lading. And what Eolian music the
wind made far above, up in the dizzy
region of their tons! An English farm
er, who was at heart more a lover of
workmanship in wood than of delving
in the soil, emigrated to Pennsylvania
years ago, and on seeing the pine for
ests of Clearfield County incontinently
bought his farm in their very heart. He
enjoyed and extolled their superbness
to the last, as well he might; but mean
while his savings melted away and he
found no source of re.supply, for there
was no way then of marketing lumber,
and both the enormous tree-growth and
the nature of the soil were almost pro
hibitory of all farm operations.
Since then what a change! Tho lord
ly trees are gone, save here and there
a remnant. A miserable growth of
bruised and broken uudergrovvth covers
the ground with wreck. Hardly a
promise of a tree of any kind of econ
omic value is to be seen. What is to
be done for the coming century? It
must be remembered that no money
will build up a plantation of .trees.
Nothing but time a life-time will
serve for their production, though the
most favorable of soil and shelter and
conditions of the air be present. Al
ready single trees are being valued at
tens and hundreds of dollars which fifty
years ago would scarcely have sold for
one. What will our children see and
do in half a century more. It is, man
ifestly, high time for the agricultural
papers of the country to sound loud
notes on this inevitable and scarcely
remediable deficiency. Here and there
we find a few who have seen that or all
productions of the soil trees are what
will have most money in them and who
are taking measures to some day meet
the coming want. Ar. I". Tribune.
Singular Climatic Effects.
It is a singular fact that almost every
body loses flesh on coming here from
the East. The average Joss in weierht
sustained is about one-eighth. For in
stance, 1:1 tne course oi two or inree
months a 2oO pound man loses twenty
five pounds aud becomes a 17.j pounder.
This is due to the high altitude of Den
ver a mile above the sea to the drv
and light atmosphere, to the scarcity of
vegetation and to the comparative
abundance of oxygen, which con-
umes the tissues and taxes the vital
functions to a greater extent than on
lower altitudes. Higher up it is much
worse than here. At Leadville, for in-
itanee, which is two miles above the
ica level, the diminution in weight docs
lit nwiprnllv fnll short of a sixth or
seventh and it takes place much more
apiuly than here, in tiiai nign aui
mle. too. liner diseases, such as pneu
monia, very frequently set in, and they
rove lata! in about unity per cent, oi
le eases attacked. But very few dogs ex
eot hounds, can live in Leadville, and
no eats survive there. In Denver how
ever, we have a multitude of both dogs
and cats, and they appear to expe
rience no special difficulty about hying
and getting fat. Yet it is a noticeable
fact that animals and men lose a share
of their strength after coming here.
After being here two or three months
their muscular power is not near so
great as in the East. Nor can they en
dure so much hard work. Eight, hours
of continuous labor does more to ex
haust and prostrate a man here than
ten hours in Illinois or Wisconsin. And
when worn out and prostrated a feeling
of lassitude and drowsiness that it is very
dillieult to dispel comes over one. In
such instances many hours of rest are
rcqiiisite to impair and rebuild the
wasted energies. Mental labor is even
more exhausting than physical. A
healthy man may do manual labor for
eight or ten hours a day, and experience
therefrom no specially evil effects; but
let mental labor be pursued with the
like assiduity, and the nervous system
becomes weakened and irritable- . in
time the physical powers become dis
ordered and weakened by sympathy
and by the strain upon them to supply
the brain waste. These facts are more
predicable of new-comers than of those
who have resided for a year or more at
high altitudes. Persons and animals
thoroughly acclimated do not experi
ence these drawbacks. Indeed these
could not look better anywhere than
they appear here. The great difficulty
is in getting acclimated. Denver (Col.)
Great re-t. j
The Philadelphia enterprise of a
thousand one-horse coaches, of light and
novel construction to carry eight per
sons each and run to all parts of the
city, is to be speedily put in operation.
The fare is to be five cents, or six tick
ets for a quarter of a dollar. The routes
are so arranged that, for ten to fifteen
cents, a trip can by transfer be made to
almost any desired point; while a single
fare will secure a ride on any one of the
main lines, lengthwise or crosswise of
the city. The movements of the ve
hicles will be arranged to suit the traf
fic. The street car companies antici
pate a serious decrease in their busi
ness. ; . ,. . '
An orange-grower in Florida says
that aside from the loss of fruit there
will be no loss by the recent storm. On
the other hand, he says the trees will
be benefitted by the washing, wh'de the
thorough shaking up is only a wise pro
vision of nature to impart new vigor, to
got Uowitj Readers.
JOIIXXIE AND BENXIE'S I1UXT.
Supplied with p-ip-sruns, htt-iws, nets.
Ami oasfe. liinr and small.
Ji.hnnie siH Hen wont out one day
Hevond thi'KHrden wall.
To h'mir fur any curious thinw
Tb tt -wnllt, or fly. or orawl:
'or thev were lonicm? m you ee,
Wonders for a menajferio.
"O, Bnt" crM .Iih"nie. "Just look here!
' i'iii!.;!.' loinr and wide! -Where
lot of wtid he:i-n, birds and snakes
("an livennil:ifely hid-!
Banana-), bread rruit. oranire.
Are ifrowinir here tiesi'le!"
iTbe jnmrle wa a o'.ump of weeds:
The fruit a lot of hard brown seeds.)
"Hist, rten! A f-er. as I live!
A roral Beniralirel ...
Where a-e t he initio? Move sort I I fear
There'll be a dreadful hht.
Ha! i-amrht at 1-ist! Wo have hi;n now.
In Iron rase all tiirht."
iThe tisrer was a mon-ter tnl.
In an old tea-pot safely stowed.)
Til E WILD CAT.
"Ilelp! be'p:" cried Itennie.. "Jphn, como
A wtf '- 'if on a tree.
AH resdr for a fearful prinel
He's liiokinir rtiilif nt me!"
John ran. and soxi the deadly beast
Was saf" as s if- o nild be.
(A caterpillar, larrre and fat.
Coxed in Jane's dollie s new felt hat!)
t , t r r.iniFrv
j re found." ,nid John, "a lonfr-lcfrfrcd thing;
It mi if lit be a (in 1
Onlv It has too many 1e?.
And neck too short bv- half."
" Ah. ves. a new variety!"
Said Ilennie. with a laiurh.
I daddv-l.inirlesrs:, full and slim;
A collar box soon sheltered him.)
"I've started out an nnrl r'!
Hi.-Iohnl Just st m hitn there!
He's worth a raee. Yon se this kind
Is extra nice nnd fair. -Theirirls
will 'or and 'Ah" and way,
'Tis lovely!' 'Splendid" 'It-ire!'"
(A Rrass'hopper, nil sober srniv.
In a tin spice-cup spent the day.)
' A onnke! a snake! O Hen. a mnlx!
He's writhing in and out
Amnnar the tn-es. A bt, toot
Now mind what you're about
Or he will have you in his folds: -You
know th"V're mr'ul stout!'
I A pill-box h'eld the anele-worm.
Aud left him room enough to squirm.)
I wish that I could tell of all
The ceatu-es thHt they found
Of how they tixed them all in lino
Out in that old plav-sroiini!:
Aud how they printed hand-bills off
And lent them all around.
I think that you miirht all look In,
llv payinsr each a briirbt new pin.
Laura G. Otrr. in M'kic-Axrakf.
flE BABY IX THE STOKM.
" That story about the baby in the
storm? Oh yes, I'll tell you all about,
it. See, there's the sear on his dear
little forehead yet he'll carry it all his
life, they say but- I sludl never set
over being thankful he came out of it
so much better than I did, the dar
ling.'" And Janet glanced at her poor
crooked arm as she settled herself more
comfortablv for a long talk.
"This was the way it came about.
Mother said to me one Saturday after
nooD, 'Janet, I am going over to the
village; I will take the little girls with
me, and I want you to take good care of
Harry till I come back.'
" This arrangement did not suit me
at all. I had other plans for the after
noon, and I said,-I5nt, mother, I prom
ised Mary Hathaway I would go down
there this afternoon. She is going to
show me a new stitch for my embroid
ery.' ; - ... , ,.
"" 'I don't like to interfere with you,
dear,' mother said, "'but it seems to nie
yon have been running there quite often
this week,, and I must have your help
" Can't Bridget take care of him?' I
" ' Xo, she has too much else to do.'
" I hate being tied to babies all the
time,' I snarled. 'I think we might
keep a nurse as well as the Hathawavs.
Mary never has to be bothered with the
young ones.' .Mother looked at me
with a look which begged for something
better from me, but I kept the scowl on
mv face till I saw them drive from the
' I carried baby out into the grove at
the back of the house, and dumped him
into the hammock, feeling cross and
miserable enough. He sat there coo
ing aud crowing and laughing in a way
which would have put? a better temper
info anv one but me. I sat on the
ground beside him, fuss'-gaway at my
embroidery, but I could not get it right,
and I got crosser and crosser. - At last
Harry stretched over toward me. and
took rat her a rough grasp of one of my -ears
and a good handful of hair with it.
He did it to pull mv fac around for a
kiss, but as ids pretty f i 'ecu me against
mine with a littlo hump. I jumped up
and spoke sharply to hi:a. I laid him
down with a shake, sa ing, 4 Go to sleep J
now, you little tease.' j
"lie put up a grieved lip, and sobbed .
as I swung him. "it was about the time
of his afternoon nap, aud he was asleep
in a few minutes.
"Then L tried my embroMery again,
but it was no use I conld not get the
right stitch without some help from
Marv. Then a thought came across my
mind whv could I not just run down
tiiere? Baby would surely sleep for an
hour, and I could easily be back within
that time. So I tied him in very
carefully he gave another little sob as
I kissed him, nd I was so sorry I had
been cross to him. In ten minutes more
I was running in at Mrs. Hathaway's
"I had been going toward the north,
so I diil not notice, that a black, curi
ously shaped cloud, which lav low in the
snth as I left home, was rising very
fast. Mrs. Hathaway told me Mary was
out in an arbor back of the house,
so I ran out there, and for a little while
we were so deep in the embroidery that
I forgot to notice how dark it was
getting. Then there was a flash of
lightning oh, how white and terrible
that lightning was! It came all about
ns; we seemed wrapped up in it; and
such a burst of thunder a3 I never
heard before or since.
"As soon as we could move we flew
into the house. I was wild with fright
as I saw the awful blackness in the
sky. Great drops of rain began to fall,
and peal after peal of thunder came,
as I snatched my bonnet and rushed to
the door. Mary seized my arm and held
me back. She cried, 'You must not go;
indeed you shall not go out in such a
" I think they almost meant to keep
me by force; but I screamed oat, I
?nu.it go! I will! I will! and I broke
away from them, and rushed out into
that" blinding storm. I couldn't think
of anything except the poor baby I had
left all alone. There was no one there
to take care of him, no one knew where
he was, and in the noise of the storm
nobody could hear him scream.
"The rain poured down in sheets by
the time I reached Mrs. Hathaway's
gate. It seemed almost to beat me
down to the ground, arid the water was
over my shoe in half a riiinute. The
lightning seemed like one long flash;
and the thunder never stopped. I
staggered on and floundered on, and
slipped down and got up again, all the
tinio just saying to myself, ' The baby!
the baby! if I could only reach him
and find him alive!'
"Then it seemed as tf nigh cam
down all at once. It got d vrk in, one
minute, and 1 heard a horrible ro-.inng;
ovuuu unmet lilt; ojui.n.-i lll.lll n niw
thunder. I heard a long, rattling'
crasn, ami men anotner. it was -urs.
Hathaway's house and barn going to
pieces, but 1 didn't know it then. I
heard people scream; I heard all sortd
of things whizzing about nie, but it waa
too dark to see much. Things came
striking against me, and soon a heavy
thing came banging against me on one
side, and just as I was falling down
something seemed to pick me up.. and
I was whirled and twisted round and
round, till I didn't know anything
" hen I opened my eves the rain
was falling on ray face. It was lighter,
anil I saw boards and timber, and
trees and branches and bushes, lying all
about me. I was in a field not far
from home. I felt di.zy, and didn't
L. 7. : - . n n . 1 U T
rt'uiciiiuci ;iu.iiiim au ul.si, ami uii-u x
thought of little Harry, and sprang up
to run to him. But, oh, how sick and.
sore l ieit: nen i tried lo-nic a
heavy branch which was lying partly
over me, I could raise only one of my
"But my feet were all right, and I ran
as fast as I could toward home. I saw my
father in the road in front of the house, .
looking up and down, wilh a white,
frightened face. He hurried toward
" 'Where have you, been, child?' ha
said. " '1 must go to see if anything ha '
happened to your mother, but I could !
not go till I knew you and Harry were
safe Why, dear you are hurt!' t
"But I ran past him. crying, 'The
baoy, latner, ne s m me uamuiocs
"When we got around to the grove I "
screamed at what I saw. The tree
lay about as if a scythe had mown themu
down. I hardly "knew the place, or '
where to look for Harry. ,
"One of the trees the hammock was
tied to was lying exactly where I had'
left my little brother. Another tree-was
blown right across it. Father did not
stop to look, but called the hired man,
and they brought axes and saws. .1.
stooped down and listened, though I
felt sure the dear little one must, be
dead. But I heard a sad little sob,. 'as
if he had cried till he was worn, out.. , I
was so glad, I got up and danced. ' Biit
father shook his head and said. 'He's
alive, but how do we knqwhow he may
be hurt.' They chopped away at the
branches, while I held my ' breath, ohV
how long, long it seemed to wait! : I
crouched down and crept as near the
baby as I could. I called to him andhe '
gave a pitiful little cry; he expected lie
to take him at once, and I was glad, he,
got angry because he had to wait. ' He
tried to free himself from the hammock,
and I began to hope he might not. be
much hurt. . ' .t
"At last a great branch 'was taken
away, and I got closer to him. I called
father, and we looked under, and I
heard him saj,.' Thank God!'
"There the little darling was, in "a
kind of little bower made by two ,bi
branches ,whichi came down on each
side of him. They had saved him wllen
the other tree 'foil. ' His' forehead waa
scratched deeply, but nothing else ailed,
him, . Father reached in ajid.c:itva'y
the hammock with his 'kmfv'.'.ind drpw
him ont with hands that shook as jf ,ha
hail, an. ague fit, . The little fallow held
out his arms' to me; hutraV 1 tried' to
take him my strength all see-iied to- g6
away.. 1' grew uiz3v.,.and tcu.uown.
lriugei iook. uie eruiu, an i lamer car
ried me in and laid me on a bed. i
"Theft he and Bridget tried to.'ge.l
U3 into dry clothes. But I cried out
every time they touched me, till' father
was nearly at his wits' end. - T called
aloud for mother.- I.knew she would
not hurt me so. , , V
" 'I will go now and see 'where"fne
is, dear,' father said at last, wiping his
forehead. 'The good Lord only knows
where she may be and the rtU" ones.
I'll bring some one to help you, jvior
child.' ' . ' -, .
"The 9un was shining brightly aga-in
by this time, but as I lay (here, with a
great deal of pain in my arm arid heait,
1 seethed to fetd that black storm com
ing after me yet. The ro ir, roar, roar
kept on in mv head, and the bed was
whirling up in tho clouds with'Jne. and
Mary Hathaway was holding nie, whi'.a
some one pelted me with the stars; and
mother said, 'Oh, my poor dai lings
look at her head!"'
"Then the moon peeped at me'.' arid
said, 'Her arm is broken in two places.'
" It was thij doctor whosaid thi, and
mother had really como. to me. After
that I seemed to be climhingand climb
ing through trees oh, so long! I kept
on for years, always hunting for littlo
Harry, hearing him cry for liie. arid
never able to reach him. But at last I
saw a light I had been in the dark all
the time and I struggled toward it
and looked out. Mother wa there, but
not Harry. . ' ':
" ' Where is he?' I cried,
"'Who, dear?' she said. ' ' ' ' ';
'"Why. tho baby'-littb? Harry,? I
said. ' I was almost up to him.'
" ' Here he is.' .
" She lifted him up to me, arid I tiied
to take him, but I could not raise my
self, and was glad to find that I was in
my own bed. I went oir into a long
sleep,' and when I awoke I didn't want
anything except to lie quiet and know
mother was caring for me, and that
Harry sometimes came toddling into
my room, for he had learnet to walk
during the long weeks I had been sick.
" V ell, this is about all there is oft.
My arm was a long time getting wed,
and will always be crooked, like this.
The doctor said it would have 'got en
tirely well if it had not been for tho
"But, dear me, how muen' thinking
i did when ray head got clear- enough
to think! 'When I was pnt 4n the
storm all I had ever heard about the
wrath of God on' the children of' diso
bedience seemed to come back to me.
How I was punished! If I had bc'pn
faithful to my duty I should have been
safe at home when the storm came;? I
shall always feel as if I knew something
of that awful wrath, for wasn't I taken
up in G.d's terrible hand? i; "
" When I was getting well I began to
wonder . why Mary . Hathaway never
came to see me. Mother put off telling
me as long as she could that ihe and a
younger sister had been kilied ia $ mo
ment by the falling of their house, and
that 'Mrs. Hathaway was crippled' for
life. Xone of ns. had been hurt but me.
Mother had got beyond the track of the
worst part of the storn. but her horse
was killed by the lightning..' Fatter
lost his barns, most of his stock, and
nearly all his crops. .
' " That's the story of the terrible tor
nado. Its path was not. more than,balf
a -mile wide, and it was over in ..less
than half an hour. Mother says fgrew
live years older on that. day. aivd I think
she is right--r-Sidney Dayrc, irvllarpcfs
Young 1'eoj'la. t
Tli? ''German ; authorities are -purchasing
largely in .England, for cavalry
mounts. At- the- great horse fair at
Horneastle over 1.2X) were bongnt.