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THE SEA COAST ECHO.
- - CHAS. G. MOREAU, EDITOR AND PEOPHIETOB. ' jft ■< 4 Xho new Smith College “rest home'* .a to be called “Sunnyside.” Why not be original Instead of plagarizlng Washington Irving? suggests the Bos ton Transcript .• 4 - , 1 "r ■ * Vegetarianism is all the vogue among those who take thought, what they shall eat and what they shall irink. Bridge and boiled cabbage came in together, and who shall say H which hast the hrim r hold upon per sons of fashion, ask u s*r Herbert Max well in The Outlook, The general question comes up for consideration, in view of the repeated theft* of jewels from private posses sors to which we have referred, if the constant fear of loss and need of pe < iliariy vexatious safe keeping do not. more tl*an compensate for the pride of possession, especially when imitations of little cost relatively may bo made to b.rve the same purpose of personal decoration. Not v( ry long ago a wo man of the society of fashion, whose necklace of supposed pearis received admiration for its ! canty and perfec tion. pirn-hed between her lingers two of the ostensible jewels to demonstrate that they were paste and that she was unperturbed by fears cf their loss. Wai she not a wise woman? Carrying about on one's person a fortune In jewels may he tributary to the van ity of possession, but may it not also be provocative of ir.< re than counter balam ing anxiety, practically illustrat ed. it may be, in th ■ employment of a detective to wai* h over the portable property? The Czar as He is. I have Spoken to many men and worn n who.know the czar personally, and though there is disagreement with regard to certain points in his charac ter. all are agreed as to one thing. A lady whose connection with the min i-try of the imperial court is an in timate one told me that on one occa sion the Czar had paused suddenly while talking with her, and then re marked; “Do you ever feel as though ;V' ryo'.c pitied you?” She answered munothing or otner .and he added, ‘The re are some people in this room who be’, ave as if they thought me mad.” It is that—the Czar's tempera met lucks the calm balance, the level rallousn* us, which are characteristic of the noble Russian. At all times nervous, an easy prey to gloom and depression, he runs at whiles to the opposite extreme, the very apex of hysteria. Officers at court have seen him weep like a weman, with fits in which his voice trembles to an emascu late treble and finishes in a scream. Ho pokes always upon the edge of an emotional crisis, and when he affects . aim he gives it evidence In a reckless ? ithlessness which even De Plehve c mid not excell. The doctrine of di ine right, that tawdry shield of weak monarch... finds in him the most absol ute acceptance. The nature of tho Res .an constitution imposes it, to begin with One cannot conceive an autocracy without this mental dark necs. —Pall Mall Bagazine. Occupations of the Future. Three millionaires, as they walked tV Boardwalk of Atlantic City, talked of the business of (ho future. “It is in the new things, always in the new things,” said tho first, “that the poor young men will find their chance. The old things always are monopolized. It was su in my day. It will ho so in my grandson’s day.” “True,” saiil the second millionaire. “I made my money out of shoddy. Shoddy in my youth was anew thing. It seemed miraculous lu those days (o turn old cloth into new cloth. Peo ple sai l I was a fool to otter such an itntiicd field.” “Antomobiling is ore of the new businesses to lake up,” said the third. “Automobiles, motor cycles, lamp*, horns, tires, schools for chauffeurs —• this big business i-aa many lucrative branches.” “I om urging ray son,” said th© first, “to go in for phonographic and vitascopic entertaining. You have seen those halls, like theatres, each with 75 or 100 little phonographs and vitascopes, where for a penny you can hoar a beautiful sons or see a beautiful dance? Well, these halls are popular, and they will beet me more popular as the entertainment provided in them improves, I can imagine my son con ducting in one city a dozen such halls, each netting him a day.”-—Phila delphia Bulletin. No Great Woman Poet. Though the quality and range of h^r genius were deep, gt nerous and wide, Elizabeth Barrett Frowning cannot h© described, if language is to be used accurately, as occupying a place among the poets justly designated great. In no tongue hitherto has any female writer attained to that supreme posi tion. and were this the appropriate moment, which it i> not, it would perhaps be possible to explain why no woman is likely ever to do so. Not a few female writers are in effect in the front rp.nk of novelists. But. prose romance is one thing and poetry quit© another, and there is a chasm be tween them; nor docs the circum stance of novels being in this ag mere popular than poetry affect in any decree the inherent and immuta bie ditt rence. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was, “Aurora Leigh” noU, withstanding, essentially and almost exclusively a lyrical poet. It would be easy to add almost indefinitely to il lustrations of her being one of those who “learn in suffering what they teach in song,” not one of the greater peels who pass through that experl en e but end by getting beyond it.-- Alfred Austin, at the unveiling pf s Jjugt cf Mrs. Browning, AN IRISH MELOD hr: ■ ■ I BT JOHN 7BAIfC WjUXZ*. ? •"Ah, sweet Kitty Neil! rise up from your wheel—• Your neat foot Wll be weary from spinning; Come, trip (5941! with roe to the sycamore tree; Half the parish is there, ami the dance is beginning. The sun is gone down; hut the full harvest moon Shines sweetly and cOol oi> the devv-whitened valley; "While all the air rings with The soft, loving things Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley.” With a blush and a smile Kittv rose tip the while. Her eye in the glass, as she bound ner hair, glancing; *Tis hard to refuse when a young lover sues, - So she couldn’t but choose io go off to the dancing. And now on the green the gjad groups are seen — Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing; And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil-- . , , Somehow, when .he asked, she ne’er thought of refusing Now Felix Magee puls his pipes to his knee. And with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion; \\ ith a cheer and a h-und, the lads natter the ground-- The maids move around just like swans on the ocean. --Cheeks bright ns the rose —feet light as the doe's— Now rosily retiring, bow boldly advancing; Search the world all around from the sky to the ground. No such sight can be found as the Irish lass dancing! Sweet Kate, who could view your eyes of deep blue. Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly— Your fairy-turned ; rrn, heaving breast, rounded form— Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly? Poor Pat feels his heart, ns he gazes, depart. Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love; The sight leaves hi? eyes as he cries with a sigh. ‘ Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love!” —National Magazine. t I run j"ijrxT\jn_riJT_rLr uun r I A Trust Fulfilled. rJ i n n n rLTT ru •G By Canning, t> ••<>•••?• .••••••••••••••••• >•£•••• HE people of Melstone were not uncharitable, yet it a ' 1 O would have been bard lo I* p find three persons who be 'V’fOt’f' lioved there was any good in - .cd Wildburn. A rude, ungoverned hild; a lawless, vicious youth; a reck less, dissipated man. In all his thirty years of life ho bad done no good tiling that anyone over remembered of him. The people of Melstone were a very moral sort of people, and did not hesi tate to give this one Ishinaclite to un derstand the impassable gulf that lay between themselves and him, both in tme and eternity. Perhaps it tended to improve his heart and temper; but I doubt it. Among the inhabitants was a family of the name of Upton. From time im memorial (here had been a feud be tween the Wildbnrns and Uptons, kept alive and aggravated by each succes sive generation. A great many years before a Wildburn and an Upton had married sisters, and through some nice Id. of diplomacy on the part of Upton, his wife was made heiress to the pa ternal fortune, and Hie wife of Wild burn cut off with a paltry hundred dollars. Later, Floury Upton had succeeded In getting the whole of a large legacy, left by some distant relative, which should have been equally divided be tween Fred Wildburn and himself. Nalurallly. this (ended io widen Hie bnach, and fearful ami bitter were the vows of vengeance which Fred brealhed against Upton. Indeed, his ungovernable passion might have led him to some act of personal violence, but for one restrain ing influence. Ten years before the commencement nt our tale, when Fred Wildburn was about twenty years -old. he had one of h wrists broken in a fight lie had himself provok'd. llis mother was, ami bad been for years, a bedridden invalid, with an intellect weakened by lossg illness and abuse —for lief hus band drank heavily at times, and liquor made him wild and furious. The broken limb was set by a sur geon in a neighboring town; but Hie prospect of payment being exceedingly 'inall, be paid very little subsequent a (ten ion to bis patient. It was warm weatlur, and Hie arm was badly torn and bruised besides, and needed daily attention. Hood, charitable, pious poo dle, who gave munificently for the aim deration of Hie heathen thousands of miles away, turned with disgust from this heathen at their own doors. 1 imid women shrank from entering •he house, because, perchance, old Wildburn might be on one of bis “ca rouses;” and so Hie bruises became inflamed, and the danger that tin arm would have lo come off grew immi nent. Fred wasn’t used to bearing pam. and raved fearfully, while the weak-minded invalid cried ami fretted by turns, and Wildburn senior drank more perscverlngly than ever. Into tliis pandemonium there came one morning a slight, delicate girl, beardig a little roll of snowy linen in her hands. “I have come io dress your arm. 1-red." she said, quietly, laying aside her white sunbonnet, and revealing a thin, j'.ither pale face, with steady, fearless brown eyes. “Who sent you here, Bessie Bran* donV” asked Hie elder Wildburn, in a blustering voice. “No one, sir. I came because 1 thought it right for me to come. Frederick will lose his arm, unless it is cared for speedily ” “Let him lose it, then,” was the gruff answer. “Not if 1 can liekr it, sir!” And Hie brown eyes were lifted fear lessly to his face. Muttering somethin,gapout “meddling neighbors,” he seized his hat and stag gered of Hie room, and Bessie at once s t herself to the work of caring for the wounded arm. It was a shocking sight, and tho firm lips grew just a little white as she stripped off the matted bandages; but her white lingers were steady and cool, as she carefully washed the arm, bathed it in some liniment she had brought with her. and swathed it nice ly and carefully in the cool, soft linen she had brought for the purpose. “Why. it doesn't fro: like the same arm!” Fred exclaimed, when she had finish and; and involuntarily he glanced at tho other hand, which he for tho first time realized, with a faint emotion of shame, to be almost as sadly in need of Washing as the other had been. When Bessie came the next day. she noticed that it was almost as white as her own. Every day for fc.nr weeks Bessie visited the Wildburn on her errand of mercy, undismayed by old Wildburn. or the ridicule of her friends. h l should have lost it, I dare say. if it hadn’t been for you. Miss Bessie.” Fred said, (ho lasj day she came. “I'm ft ipiserphle wretch, fcupwe; but I shan't ov< i r forget this,” touching his arm. “I am so glad I could help you,” she said, gently. “Well, you're the first one,” he said, a little bitterly. As I said, this was ten years before, and, though the years had brought many changes, the ameliorating iuflu enees had been few in the life of Fred Wildburn. The drunken father and invalid mother had both died, leaving Fred quite alone in the miserable, shabby old house where he lived. He had not improved with the years; on the contrary, he had grown more reck less and disorderly, until people said lie was utterly and totally depraved, without one good impulse in his heart. One thing had happened during these ten years. Bessie Brandon had mar ried Henry Upton; hut no one ever knew of the terrible night whieh Fred Wildhuru passed when he heard of it. “Nobody ever should know what a miserable fool he had been,” he said, fiercely. He need not have feared lris secret was safe—for no one ever was wild enough to suspect him of frelmg nr sentiment, particularly whore* the petted daughter of Squire Brandon was concerned. Henry Upton was an honored and highly respected citizen. He was in telligent. educated and wealthy, and if he looked down from his sublime height of virtue and attainment a little contemptuously upon poor, miserable Fred Wildburn, it was certainly no more than his neighbors did. And if, by any possibility, there had been any little trickery or unfairness in the set tlement of that legacy, he could easily excuse himself upon the plea that it would only he a curse to Wildburn if he had it, leading him into deeper de bauchery, whereas ho could use it wisely, and for the benefit of morality and religion. The fact that Wildburn did tint see it in just that light was only another proof of his innate de pravity, people said, piously. Upton had a mill some four miles from Melstonc, by (he main road, but scarcely three by a cut across country. If was little more than a bridle path, though Upton sometimes drove through with his light drag. He started with i( one wild, chilly December morning, promising his wife to return early if k came on to snow, a ; it promised to. It was piercingly cold, and the wind blew i.i fierce, fitful gusts all the fore noon. Just after boon it began snow ing- not ns usual, in fine, light parti cles, but with a wild, tempestuous force that carried all before it. Long before night the streets were block aded, and .he wind roared and shrieked up and down them like a madman. Bessie Upton paced the floor of her pretty sitting room, more excited and nervous that she had ever been in her life before. She had, naturally, a cool, quiet temperament. “If only he had not started,” she said, anxiously; “if he saw the fierceness of the storm in season to stop at the mill, instead of attempting to brave it!” The night came down early; but the mill owner came not, and his wife, though still anxious, had settled down to the belief (hat he would not come till morning. Suddenly .a loud neigh, falling be tween the pauses of the tempest, struck her ear. “Henry has come now!” she ex claimed; and, catching up a lamp, she hurried to the side door. Only a panting, terrified horse, the broken harness dangling from his foamy sides, met her appalled vision. For a moment she sank, dizzy and faint, in a chair. She was alone; her one servant, having gone away for the day. had been prevented from return ing by the storm. ****** Fred Wildburn was sitting over a smoldering lire, inwardly cursing the storm that kept him in. It was not a pleasant home —there was that excuse for him. The walls wore dingy with smoke, the floor was bare and dirty, the chairs and tables were broken and dilapidated. “flow the wind blows! This is the third time ” He paused suddenly, for. framed in the door, the wind and snow whirling madly about her slight figure, stood Bessie Upton. “Great Heaven. Bessie!’’ he ejaculat ed, and tlion stood gazing at her in dumb amazement, while she closed Hie door, and came and stood before him. “Frederick.” she said, in her sweet, firm voice. “Henry is out somewhere in this storm. The horse has come home alone. If ho came the forest road, he can never find his way home, and ho could not live till morning in this storm. There is nobody I dare ask but you to go to him. It is a great deal to ask, I know; but I think I know your heart better than anyone else I aoes, and I shall trust to your courage and LraverP'Js^Efl^.. dreadful emer gency.” X spa tilt of pain crossed his i'ar ft| Ttben he turned away without Up caking and took down Lis hat and ooaffand they walked together to the door. He"parsed on the doorstep, look ing wistfully down at her. “How can you get homo?” he said. ‘*lt is dreadful, I know. Frederick”— nobodi' but she ever called him any thing but Fred—“but I think I can get the wind nearly taking her from her feet as she spoke. "in n'iTghTaccompany yon." lie said, .hesitating, ami atViiivg, “If. yqu nee not afraid of, being contaminated.” For answer, she put her hands lu his, confidingly. tVnile 'she lived, Bessie Fpton neve forgot the close, nervous clasp with which he held her hands; hut he took her carefully and tenderly to her door, and then turned away into the storm and darkness. One, two. three hours —and. oh. such long, interminable ages as they seemed! “Perhaps 1 have sent him to his death, too.” she moaned, sadly. “Oh, if I could only know and see just where they are!” If she could, she wvnild have seen a slight, determined figure, battling with the strength of a giant against tho winds that disputed his progress step by step. Falling sometimes over prostrate trees, anon borne down by sudden drifts of snow, yet struggling on with unabated zeal, till bo comes at last to a still, white figure lying across (he path, entangled and hold down by the debris of broken wheels and tree limbs! Two hours later, when poor Bessie had nearly given them both up fop dead. Fred Wildhnrn staggered into the room, and laid her husband at her feet. ‘•I have fulfilled tlio trust.” ho said, faintly, ami sank down beside Upton, who was slowly rousing from the ter rible Hull and torpor that had over powered him. ‘‘Oh, Henry! he has fainted! t\nd see!” She grew suddenly white as she pointed to a small stream of blood that stained his shirt hosom. onissl by a sudden hemorrhage from the lungs. It was morning before they could get a physician there. WPdbnrn had laid in an unconscious state all night; but the flow of blood had ceased, and they thought it only the torpor of exhaus tion. “Poor Fred!” Henry Fpton said, “there was some good in him, after all. I owe my life to Jus bravery, and I shan’t forget it in a hurry. I have been thinking, F.essie, that 1 will take him into the mill, and see if I can’t make something of him yet- I intend to re ward him handsomely for this.” The doctor came at last: but his grave face told the story before ho opened his lips. “There is no chance for him to re cover.” he said. A little after noon the dying man opened h?.s eyes, and looked about him. “Fred,” Mr. Upton said, feelingly, “I’ve not treated yon as I should have done m times past, and I didn’t de serve this at your hands. I want you to forgive me, and ” “Bessie—tvliere is Bessie?” he in terrupted. fulfil ly. “Here, dear Frederick, here.” And she took Ins hands in hers, ana bent over bin. till he felt a warm tear splosh on his face. “Oh, Bessie! it’s a miserable life, 1 know: but it's all I have to give, and I would give it a hundred limes over to save you from sorrow,” he said, with a smile that glor’fied his coarse face. “It was my good right arm—the arm you saved for me, you know, dear, I told yell I should never forget, and I never riW! Nobody but you ever trusted to tire good there- was in me— little enough there was, I know,” he said, dreamily, his voice growing sud denly weak. Bessie was crying softly. He opened Ins eyes, and gave one long, eager look in her face, and in that wistful gaze Bessie Upton rend the secret no one else ever knew or guessed.—New York Weekly. oUINI. u Accord in?: to the Express, London had a i'l;y of “blaring sunshine'’ June 14. which “sent tlie temperature up to s1 x t y-ci gh t degrees.” Shoerness. England, though an Im porlaut i aval station and a town of more than 15.000 inhabitants, does not possess a single telephone. A bee that works only at night is found in the Jungles of India. If jS an unusually*largo insect. The eornhs are often six feet long and from four to six inches thick. The Prince of Monaco, a dov*otee of deep-sea curiosities, has found lum inous shrimps living at groat depth, where all Is dark. When put in an aquarium they lose their light-giving properties. While a small engine weighing fifteen tons, used by the railway contractors, was crossing the Victoria Falls bridge Just after nightfall it ran over some thing on the line, says South Africa. The driver pulled up to ascertain the nature of the obstacle, and was con siderably surprised to find an enormous leopard lying terribly injured between the rails. The brute expired in a few moments. It measured eight feet in length, and a marvelous feature of the incident is that the engine was not de railed. __ Tp an address delivered before the Section of Anthropology-of tlie Ameri can Association for tlie Advancement of Science. Mr. E. 1.. Blackshear main tains the proposition that the scarcity of islands, peninsulas and bays along most of the coast’ line of continental Africa has directly exerted a profound influence on the character of the inhab itants of Africa, by isolating them from all the great world movements of history. Deprived of the stimulus of commercial and maritime influences, they have remained stationary and dor mant with regard to the organic life of the hrmau speejeg. IN CANDY LAND. w Tn Candy Land the little folks Wear candy buttons on their cloaks. And candy buttons on their shoes — Indeed, on everything they use." “Why, I should think the things would break!” “They do; and then the children lake The broken pieces, great and small. And eat until they’ve eaten all. “In Candy Land the girls all know With candy needles they must sew; The boys who work have candy tools. And they have candy books in school. “In Candy Land they think it nice, To go to skate on candy ice; They rest themselves in candy chairs, And go to bed up candy stairs.” The candy-lover on my knee In wonderment still questioned me: “And if the candy stairs should break?” “The children must tho pieces take. And very quickly down must sit And eat up every single bit.” “What if the candy buttons break?” “The pieces then the children lake. And very calmly down they sit And cat up every single bit. “In Candy Land the girls and boys Play every day with candy toys; They always eat from candy plates. And do their sums on candy slates. “Sometimes the children eat all day To get the broken bits away.” “And must the children cat them all?” “Yes, every piece, both great and small. This is the law in Candy Land; And you must own tis wisely planned; For in that land, as you can see. So many things must broken be That bits of candy soon would strew The sidewalks, roads, and houses, too; So children must the pieces eat That Candy Land be clean and neat.” The candy-lover on my knee In blank amaze looked up at me. “Why, Candy Land's a dreadful place!”— Then dawned a wise look on his lace — “I used to think it would be grand To go to live in Candy Land; But now I only wish to go Each day and stay an hour or so!” —St. Nicholas. FUN IN MAKING SMOKE KINGS. Have you ever watched a smoker blow rings of smoke from his mouth? Here is a way to make smoke rings without being a smoker, and it will be found one of the prettiest experi ments that you ever made. You must have a pasteboard box about a foot square at the bottom, and in the middle of the bottom cut a round hole as large as a silver dollar. Pin a handkerchief tightly over the THE SMOKE BINES AND THE SMOKE BOX. open top of the box and then burn touchpaper in the hole until the box is full of smoke. Now rest the box on its side, and when you lightly tap the handkerchief smoke rings will come out of the hob' just like those from the smoker s mouth. To make larger rings of smoke and to perform little feats with them, get a wooden box instead of the pasteboard one and lot it bo about two feet square at the bottom. Over the open top tack tightly a piece of heavy muslin and stand the box on its side, as beture. The hole in this box should b three or four inches in diameter. To keep the box full of smoke arrange two bottles, one filled with strong ammonia and the other with hydrochloric arid, and sup port them on asbestos so that they can be heated from below by an alcohol lamp. The corks of the bottles will have to have cither rubber or bent glass tubes fitted in thorn, the other ends of the tubes entering the box by means of two small holes. When you beat the bottles with the lamp the fumes will rise through the tubes and enter the box. where they will mix and form a. dense white smoke. Having filled the box in this way the bottles need not be heated again until the smoke becomes thin. When you tap on the muslin, largo, beautiful rings of smoke will come out of the hole, and you can bring them out forcibly and fast if you tap the muslin hard, or gently and slowly if you tap it lightly. You will perhaps be surprised to hear that you can make one of the smoko rings blow out a lighted candle that is placed across the room from the box. Of course the candle must he placed exactly opposite to the hole, when a quick, hard tap on the muslin will send a ring of smoko that will extinguish it. And your friends will ho surprised when yon blow out the candle by tap ping the muslin on the box, even after the box has been emptied of smoke. The tap on the muslin semis a current jof air strong enough to extinguish the jflarae. ! The accompanying illustration shows how the box should he arranged. Any boy can make it.—New York Evening Mail. THE STRENGTH OF BIRDS. Birds cap cat and digest from ten to chlrty times as much food in propor tion to their size as men cun. If a pran could oat as mnch in proportion to In* size as a sparrow is able (o consume he would need a tvliolo sheep for dinner a couple of dozen c.'ddkens lot >na • • and six turkeys Lx’ W evening meal. A tree sparrow has l' H ' u kn< ]" n 700 crass seeds in it dw >'■ lv ° la the bird’s size/ these seek' ' uH ” as an ordinary lunch baskv 1 " tUI to a full crown man. A bird’s strength is equally fUV “ £ says the Indianapolis Nays: A w tailed each? weighing twelve poun. with a wing-spread of six feet, inns been known to pounce on a pig weigh inc forty-two pounds, raise it to a height of 100 feet and fly off with it. The bird bad covered a distance of half a mile before the pic’s owner succeed ed in shooting the thief. Birds can and do work far harder than human beings. A pair of house martins when nesting will feed their young ones in twenty seconds—that is, each bird, male and female, makes ninety journeys to and fro in an hour, or about 1000 a day. It must be re membered that on each journey the bird has the added weight of catching the worm. Even so tiny a bird as the wren lias been counted to make IIP trips to and from its nest within 430 minutes, and the prey it tarried home consisted ol larger, heavier and bardcr-to-tind in sects than were caught by the spar rows. Among them were twenty good sized caterpillars, ten grasshoppers, seven spiders, eleven worms and more than one fat chrysalis. ANTS’ COWSHEDS. One of the most interesting studies of insect life is the relationship be tween ants and plant lice, or aphids. These plant-lice supply honoydew from the juices which they take as food from plants. The ants are very fond of this sweet substance, and care for the aphids in a manner that seems to us surprisingly intelligent. They sometimes carry them bodily to a hot ter feeding ground and drive away certain of their enemies. It is claimed that they even buiid sheds of mud in the crotches of shrubs and small trees. On account of this insect relationship, one may truthfully call the ants ‘•farm ers.’’ lilt* aphids “cows.” and these pro tecting mud cases “cowsheds.”—St Nicholas. MOTHER CHOSE GEOGRAPHY. The old “Banbury Cross” familiar from the Mother (loose rhyme was a , real cross in the English town of Bau* I>nry. For ;i lorg time it was in ruined condition, but was restored some twen ty years ago. possibly because tourists would ask to sco it. Hut the "Old Lady" upon tbe white horse, rvitli all her bells and rings. is gone forever, music and all. "Primrose 11< 11 is an other r a I lo alily, Rung in London near Regent's l*ark. "St. Ives," on the road from which "seven wives ’ were met. is the town where Oliver Crom well passed live years iu farming.-" St. Nicholas. riGKON CARRIED THE NOTICE. A carrier pigeon, writes the Ridding (Cab) eorrespoiident of the Sacramento Bee. played a part the other afternoon in the tiling of a mining location notice and several amended notices with the Comity Recorder hy < Minton Johnson, manager of the Cold Kings Mining Company. The pigeon was liberated at tbe mines, four miles west of tins city, and reached Mr. Johnson just four minutes later, bringing b> him the word that the notices had all been properly posted on the claims. Thereupon he tiled du plicates with t ho County Recorder, and was’ just in time to do so before the office closed for ihe day. The Jonah Woman, Street car conductors regard inquisi tive women passengers with supersti tious dread. The other day a fuse blew out in a Broadway car and that car was hitched on as a trailer to the one ahead. Presently a woman began to ask questions. "What would happen.” she said, "If the fuse were to blow out in that car ahead? What would become of us? Would the car ahead of that he able to drag both tl- ’so cars?” "I don’t know,” said the conductor. "But don’t worfy. Wc won't have a chance t find nut. A double accident of that kin! has m-ver happened to a car of mine yet. and it isn't likely to happen once in a hundred years." Just then there was an explosion ahead and both cars came to a stand still. The fuse had blown out. •'Confound that woman.” growled the conductor. "That is all her fault. This wouldn't have happened if she hadn’t asked so many fool question She’s a Jonah."—New York Press. Russian officers in camp receive money to pay (or their meals. _ SCiOITIFIC SCRAPS* Ammonia vajpor has proven a crfnl (UsiwffcctAftt. a rdhm fißeh "kh it being freed from cholera bajini. pustule germs or diphVtyV r * a mierpbes iu two hours. The Chicago and Alton road has just demonstrated, for the first time, the entire practicability of telegraph ing to and from moving trains by wire It SB telegraph. The now glove for surgeons Is an imperceptible covering that does not impair touch or the pliability ul the skin. It is applied byjm me ring (he hand in a weak solatium Of Rtto percha In benzine or acetone, and it is as effective as an ordinary rubb* i glove in closing any crevice in the skin against pus or secretions and it' making the hand antiseptic for opera tions. Now facts concerning tfS* kt ob lige nt insects, the ants, are t’ill com ing to light. They keep aphides a? we do cows, in order to milk them and that they liavc slaves was discov ered long ago, but now we hear of a outh American variety making flow gardens in the tops of trees. Iho ° 'f ns or baskets contain certain C p!nM which arc duly tended by the ! : the insects plant the minute nm! ;- an ;' ~ ,1,0 plants spring seeds wheuc. 1 , , <r manganese is slow mass tonlmnlu ly ti.me.li violent y • I(mml ,i, a ( Sir William Crookes v , |aVB radium prodnecs in it fa liy oration as intense as tuai ~ n()w the sun in years. F. Fischer * „it ra . been studying the effects of . violet rays and reports that the 1k of a mercury arc lamp in a quarts tube gave a slight color in !•> miiuw to four out of eight glasses, and an in tense violet hue in 12 hours, Ihe c" 1 or proved to be due to manganese, silicate. Silicon, the most abundant metal m> the world, has been unknown on ac count of the difficulty of separating it from oxygen, but the electric Inman has now made ! t obtainable in quan tities to meet any demand. B is ex pected to have some importance in iron alloys. It gives to steel valua ble electrical properties, it imparls such hardness as to make some alloys possibly useful as abrasives, and t!.* compound known as “caloritc a ( iv‘ 1 like the thermite for obtaining higu temperatures. It has long been suspected that tlie master makers of violin in Italy in tin 17th and 18th centuries knew of some remarkable gum which they employed in making the varnish for their in struments. Mr. George Fry of the Chemical society of Umdon, who lias carefully investigated the subject, concludes, after showing that the var nish exercises a decided influence ov er the tone of a violin, that Stiadhur ius and other famous makers proba bly used only such familiar things as. turpentine, linseed-oil and resin mill er than some mystical gum. 'J lie resin was oxidized with nitric acid. 11 is doubted whether the popular idea that age is advantageous rather than detrimental to a violin is well found cd. Mile. .T. Wery, a Belgian naturalist, has just announced the results of new experiments on the nature of the at traction of flowers for bees. Sbe finds that perfume, by itself, offers little attraction. Artificial flowers an as attractive as natural ones if both are put under glass shades. Bid !iantly colored flowers offer much greater attraction when entire than when (he petals or other part ; have been cut away. Honey has no at trac tive power. Both color and t rut apart from scent, arc powerfully at. tractive. The three combined exer cise a maximum of r/traction. tour fifths of is due to form and col or. This l\V*t indicates that h- < s an guided more hy sight than by mueU when they go after honey. .. 'v Dessicatcd Milk. There is really nothing distinctive ly new in the idea of dessicatcd milk, but anew process is now bring brought out in London, by which much more seems to be achieved than by any process previously invented. It is known as the Just-Hattaker sys tem, and the following points are claimed for it, and are said by inde pendent experts to have been amply justified by experiments. Thai the evaporation is so carried out as not to eliminate, or produce any essential change in any of the nutritive ele ments of the milk; that, the solidified matter, which is made in cakes or bricks, can be restored to its origin al form by the addition of water; that the milk will then produce perfect butter or cheese as may be required; and that the intense heat employed in the evaporating process complete ly destroys dangerous microbes, and thus renders the milk safer for house hold purposes than the ordinary dairy kind. Some cakes of the solidified milk were despatched on a voyage round the world recently, and were found to be in perfectly sound con dition on being returned to London. If, as the inventors state, the miik will keep indefinitely in the hottest climate, the process should prove law ful during the summer months. Even Then. Just then the Ark came very near turning turtle. “What on earth caused the comma Mon?” gasped Mrs. Noah. “Earthquake under the water?” | “No,” replied Noah, “one of the el | ephants just sighted a peanut floating Icy and made a lunge for it.” Which all goes (o show if is al ways best to take a bag of peanuts along wherever one goes.—Chicago News. Aged Man’s Long Walk. Samuel Hardy, celebrating his 77th 1 birthday, walked > -uies the other day from Matawan to Freehold. N. J., to dine with Deputy Sheriff Charles Close at the Belmont hotel. Mr. Har ny is quick of foot and made the dis tance In five hours. Ho also rt> turned homo on foot.