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THE SEA COAST ECHO.
ECHO BUILDING. BAY ST. LOUIS, .... MISS. CHA£. C. MOREAU, Editor ud Proprietor Long Distance Phone No, 3. Subscription: $1.50 Per Year, In Advance. * Success is never a sure thing, avers the American Cultivator. Who seeks achievement must face failure. 4 Says the New York Mail: The Em peror of Japan, the Frank L. Stan ton of the Orient, has written a poem in praise of water. Everybody Is interested in seeing good wages maintained; therefore, argues the Atlanta Constitution, there must be united and harmonious ef fort toward the re-establishment of ’ndustrial confidence and credit. There is no longer any excuse for not raisins the Maine, insists the New York Sun. The American people de sire that it be done. Let Congress make the appropriation and direct the President to execute the will of the people. The protection of our children in the public schools from the danger of fire in the buildings which they are compelled to occupy is not a matter that can be delayed by petty technical questions regarding the use of public funds, proclaims the Boston Post. There is no more imperative use of these funds than provision for such safety. The Wall Street Journal has com piled figures that throw valuable light on the question of whether the habit of stock speculation is increas ing. It has been widely charged and widely believed ihat it is gravely in creasing—that what is called Wall Street gambling, laments the New York Mail, by absorbing an exception ally large percentage of loanable bank funds, contributed greatly to bring ing on the panic and the subsequent depression. Statistics do not support this altogether. ' A novel surgical operation was per formed on a leopard in Paris. The animal, while eating his dinner, also bit his tail; gangrene set in, and it became necessary to amputate a por tion of the tail to save his life. The leopard was lassoed, says the New York Tribune, thrown on his back, a piece of soft wood was given him to gnaw, and. while held by ten men, the veterinarian proceeded with the removal of a portion of the tail and cauterized the wound. The operation was declared successful. In a communication to the New York Herald, Mr. George E. Barton suggests that military schools of the West Point type be established in other States in order that an ample number of trained officers may be available in case of attempted inva sion by another Power. The sugges tion may not be entirely without mer it in certain aspects, but Congress recently voted money to enlarge fa cilities at West Point, and at this mo ment the more pressing question is that, of obtaining more enlisted men, rather than more officers, for the army. Let not the man scorn the mon strous feminine hats of the season. For he, too, is to suffer a sea change, pleads the New York Sun. The tail ors have decided that he must be thin, slender, graceful. If be has not a waist, his satorial artist will make him look as if he had. Trouble is ahead for those who are in the habit of puffing out their chests in an ef fort to show that they have not en tered upon the Thackerayan period period of deterioration. No doubt “straight fronts” will be sold with some secrecy in the shops of fashion able haberdashers. An as for shoul ders, the edict is, no more pads. Our “dressy men” will cease to look like a race of football players. The mor al is, that, after all, in the matter of tailored foolishness there is little to choose between the sexes. As Henry James would say, they are both won* derful. T-*, if “Corn will sell twenty cents per bushel higher than wheat within the next ten years and stay there,” is the .view expressed by H. D. Wetmore, a and' globe trotter, who has given the subject much study. "Corn is very rapidly coming into its own, -which means that it is worth more pound for pound than wheat as meat and fat producer,” he said. “The .world has but a of land tO wn, as it can at certain altitudes, while the wheat area is practically unlimited. The only reason that corn has always sold lower than wheat is because from the inception of the trade in this country the foreigner *as unfamiliar with Its uses and value, and we have always grown more than we could use at home, jhis country has now come to the point where it does not need to ex port com and the grain therefore Is rapidly assuming Its rightful position ' among the cereals/* HOME* / JSSS. ! nfeSsr —f ™ tEw is? T as- Home. Home. I, too. have wandered Horne, where I first knew , Through the far lands. _Day fain be Home there was their home, V s ere tv. o W r!^ne f N?cht Open their hands. Ere thei Long Nigni, Yet, though all brothers, born of the foam. That they might write th Far o’er appalling sea, . torTl ®:, .. ___ K _. as Ever enthralling me. This earth the worn „. ac Blood sail was calling me This earth the bloom wa~ Home' This earth the tomo was Home! —Stephen Chalmers, in the New York Times. | ’ROUND ROBIN HOOD’S BARN. | By Roy Rolfe Gilson *Tm awfully sorry,” Marcia told me, and with a smile so penitent, so rue ful and beseeching that I vowed I would pardon the confession, however dreadful it might be. “I’m awfully sorry, but I simply can’t get interested at all. I’ve tried three times and gone to sleep over it. I know its fine, it must be fine; but I can’t read it. Sad ly she shook her head. “Well,” I admitted, “Pater is diffi cult, unless you like him a lot. How about the other book?” Her face brightened. “Oh! The Mystery of the Yellow Shutters!” She stopped, confused. “Richard, you’ll laugh, and I know it’s shocking in me, but I —l sat up in bed till three o’clock reading that story.” I did not laugh. In fact, I was a little annoyed with Marcia. For cer tain reasons I had done my best to interest her in a love for letters. “I just wanted to see how it came out, you know,” she explained hum bly. “I understand that,” I replied. “No, I don’t believe you do,” she re torted. and with more spirit now that she saw how displeased I was. “Oh, ’ she exclaimed, “if there were only a little more romance in life nowadays! A blush here brought her to utter con fusion. “Why, then, I—we-” “Why, then,” I remarked, “you girls wouldn’t ifeed to read mysteries of yel low shutters, eh?” “I don’t know,” was her answer. “I never was able to philosophize, never. Let’s talk about something- else.” That was a Friday. On Sunday we went for a walk together. It was a warm April Sabbath; maple buds were just faintly showing: fox sparrows were deceiving us with the notion that thrushes had come again, and last year's grasses were tremulous with va riable winds and musical with wings and prophecies as we sauntered on, talking of the fickle spring. For two days past I had been musing of what Marcia said, and wondering if Romance were really the imprisoned Lady she seemed to think, and whether the fair One might not be rescued, Zenda fash ion, from her modern dungeon, her oc tavo cell. It would be, 1 fancied, a noble quest, and I was both young and old enough to essay it —twenty- three—if Marcia would but pin her faith and favor on knighthood so un tried. but hopeful and ardent and rev erent as mine. If you had known Mar da as I knew her, if you had seen her that April Sunday in her new spring gown with the berries on her hat, and had been, as I was, so near to her that the blessed wind blew little gold-red strands of her hair against you, and stirred the warm youth in her cheeks, your own would have flushed, I wager. “Hang Pater,” said I. I spoke treasonably, it is true, but to myself, and not what I meant; that my love for Marcia was not, after all, a question of literature. We -had stopped, I remember, at a brook, by a little sunlit, amber-colored pool among the roots and stones, paved with last autumn’s oaK leaves. It is not astonishing that in that free, sweet woodland air the plight of Romance should have strongly touched me; her inky chamber, her wicked gaolers —those one-eyed ogres, the modern novelists—starving her, beat ing her horribly to make her think her new plots for them, and oh! the pity of seeing her fair niece, Marcia, forced thus to visit her stealthily and alone, by night—behind yellow shut ters! Is it not strange, then, that with each new golden, scented, April mo ment there on the rock I was the more determined to set her free. I don't mean the niece; I mean the aunt. But it was not so easy as I had thought. “Marcia,” I began, and stopped. “Marcia what?” she inquired after a moment’s courtesy. “Marcia.” I repeated, but with less assurance now —and then my courage utterly forsook me. “See how like wine the water is,” I said. “Isn't it,” she assented; and then we sat silent, watching the water that was like wine, until it went to my head. “Marcia,” I began, and more brave ly now, but could get no farther. “You are a bold knight, you are!” I sneered at myself. “Fie, Sir Dunderhead!” “Marcia.” I blurted out, “Marcia, I— you—are the very best friend I’ve got in the world. Did you know that?” “Oh,” she said, pleased and lowering her eyes, “I’m glad if you think so. T Explained to her —it took me, I suppose, full half an hour —ex- pounding wherein she was all that I claimed for her; and how I appreciat ed (morn, noon and night) what a friend she had been to me, and wanted her to know—it was only just, I de clared: and how I would never, never forget it as long as I lived, and how all other girls were but tlie merest ac quaintances when measured by this golden Platonic yardstick of ours, and had failed utterly tq.be so-so helpful to my—my character. I reviewed chron ologically, catalogued, indexed,, and cross-indexed, the sacred moments when she Marcia, had saved me from heaven knows what — riotous living I suppose I meant; I don’t remember. In short, I proved to her breathlessly, all in a jumble that If, sitting there grateful and eloquent by her side, I possessed one single roseate ray of hope for my future in this world or the next, it was due to those precious, those unselfish, those unconscious mo ments of her friendship to which, I vowed, I owed life, love and the pur suit of happiness. She listened, dumb. And when I slopped it was difficult and awkward for her, I suppose (now that I recall the details of the affair), for after all my talking it may have seemed to her, in her natural confusion, as I think you will admit, that I had spoken at times somewhat mysteriously; that my dis course, beautiful though it sounded to, her beyond a doubt, nevertheless loomed vague and shadowy in outline, or as if, perchance, I had omitted something—something Important, it may be —from my argument; some link, perhaps, seemed to her missing from my golden chain of fine words, and so failed to give her when I placed my fair tribute on the altar of Platonic love. _ Be that as it may, Marcia was troubled in her utterance (one could hear that) and somehow, for me as well, the wohle enterprise had ended disappointingly. I had hoped vaguely that it would lead to something. It did not When I had finished I was still in the self same spot on the lich ened rock, and Marcia was as lonely and unapproachable as ever. So I tried again. This time I called her attention to the beauty of the universe; to the love liness of Nature, wherein all things great and small, as I pointed out, had (heir appointed usages—even the sail ing clouds, the soft-spoken winds and leaves, the wild, sweet-throated birds and harp-playing brooks —aye, and the silent stars and flowers and the Lord knows w’hat. All, all, I told her, were given a poetic service. Then the spirit of poesy descended upon me, and I said boldly, fairly chanting it, that lovely woman was the flower of flowers, cloud of clouds, most musical and choice of brooks nay, very bird of birds, and darling— At which Marcia started and looked scared. —of Nature’s darlings, I declared pas sionately. And at that Marcia lowered her eyes and resumed her nibbling. Then I was silent a while, and gaz ing at the brook, it came to me that, unlike the water. I had babbled and babbled without getting anywhere. Not only that, but Romance, if one might judge by her niece’s nibbling, was still in chains. I roused myself, but could find no utterance for my val or, so I mused of Marcia, who seemed to be waiting—waiting for something. I knew not what, but which I, appar ently, was expected to purvey. I spoke again, but now more tenderly, my voice softened, its cadence a mere gentle, murmuring refrain. Such moments, I said, would nev-er, nev-er come again. One had just flown— another—and yet another, w’hile we idly sat there upon the rock. Alas! Alas, I said, that youth should be so blind, so heedless, so prodigal of its opportunities—of the beauties within its reach Marcia nodded. —beauties that soon would fade— Marcia looked hurt. —soon fade away into the past, only to be regretted, alas, too late. I sighed that such hours as this one, such hap py, happy hours, sunlit, brook musical, should ever pass, or passing, be forgot ten. Marcia said, “Yes, that is all quite true —oh, quite, quite true.” And she looked so sad that ray heart reproached me. So I spoke less mournfully. I spoke hopefully, in fact —of the fut ure, saying that I, for one, wms deter mined henceforth to seize such hours and make the most of them. At this Marcia, I thought, looked greatly in terested. “Yes, that is the w r ay to do,” she said. Then I waxed more valorous. She need not be surprised, I said darkly, if she found me very, very selfish—al most brutal—in the matter of seizing hours. She laughed. “They would vanish in your hands, - ’ she said. But happy hours, hours like this one by the brook. I urged. Surely— She shook her head. This one, too, she reminded me. was even then slipping from our grasp for ever. She said this sadly, but ended suddenly with a blush, laughing to hide it, and declaring that of all the nonsense in the world — Whereupon my heart leaped. It real ly seemed as if Romance were about to be liberated at last. But why? I asked. Why nonsense? Was it nonsense, I protested, and with all the eloquence at my command— was it nonsense that we should stop in the very flower of our youth to ponder and realize that one by one its petals were slowly dropping—no, not that exactly; rather, would be dropping soon —if we did not —that is, to put the matter in another way, was it non sense for her and me—for she and me —her and I—or whatever, whichever— Here Marcia fell to laughing so, that between mirth and pronouns I was quite put out. and Romance sank back again in chains. I felt like a knight hurled from his Imprisoned lady’s tower window— kersplash!—in the moat below. I suppose I sulked, and at that Marcia grew serious at mace, I and begging my pardon with the sweet est contrition in the world; but what ground I had gained had been lost ut terly, every inch of it. If anything, ill-made grammar on my part and ill timed humor on hers had widened the interval, sleeve to sleeve. It was then what with wrath, I suppose, and pride, and the wit and valor which come to hard-pressed men, that 1 altered, as it were, my serenade. “Marcia,” I said, “I am deeply in earnest. What I feel —what I feel; Marcia, Is beyond me to find fit words for, but to you, and you only, in the whole wide w T orld, I say these things.* Faintly—“ What things, Richard?” “Why, what I .feel, Marcia.’ “Oh.” “What I’ve been telling you, Marcia.” “Oh, yes, I see what you mean.” “Ah. no,” I said bitterly, “you don’t see, Marcia. You little guess.” “Don’t I?” she asked. “You mean—” “Yes,” I replied. “What?” she inquired. “Why, what I’ve been telling you for the whole last hour, Marcia.” “Oh, I see. You mean about Time — going fast?” “No, I mean about you—you, Mar cia. And me.” “I?” she replied. “And you. l!*;h --ard?” “Why, yes. Don’t you see?” “You mean being friends —and all?” “Yes, and all, Marcia! And all! You have hit it.” She regarded me doubtfully. “And all, Richard?” “Good Lord!” I cried. “Marcia Phip pen, can’t you see that I love you?” She was so astonished that she nev er ever noticed the first arm at all, un til the second — “Why!’ she exclaimed. “Then why —why didn’t you say so in the first place? You said everything else.” “I tried to,” I said. “I’ve tried for an hour to make you understand. ’Fess up now, darling; didn’t you guess?” “Why, Dicky, I never even dreamed. . . .’’—From Woman’s Horn® Companion. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. The only substitute for San Domin go mahogany is that of East India. The great Oxford dictionary, which has been under way for a generation, has reached “pre.” In Persia the man who laughs is considered effeminate, but free license is given to female merriment. The working classes in Germany live chiefly on potatoes and salt, rye bread and a so-called pepper soup, made of water, bread, a little fat and plenty of pepper. In Germany the government now practically owns all the coal lands, and all the forests, with the result that, under scientific care, the forests now yield wood yearly to the value of $60,000,000. Professional photographers are more numerous in Smyrna than in ci ties of corresponding size in the Unit ed States. The trade in photographic supplies is therefore large and in creasing. New York City’s expenses the in creasing in a greater proportion than its population. Ten years ago the yearly expenses were s2l for each inhabitant, and now they are $33 for each man, woman and child. The number of Hebrew immigrants at New York City is decreasing. Dur ing the year ending with last Septem ber, up to which date records are compiled, there were 109,000 landed, while for the year previous there were 137,000. Spain is the second largest produ cer of olives in the world. About 3,- 500,000 acres of land are planted in olive trees, from which, in a good average year, about 1,400,000 tons of olives are produced and about 69,000,- 000 gallons of oil. A Philadelphia palmist says that in his 24 years of practice it was a poor day when he did not make sls or $lO. The stronger sex are said to be the most gullible victims, while the wom en are hard to handle and not so ready to be convinced. Many of the Americans in Europe now are enjoying themselves in mo toring over the splendid roads in the delightful atmosphere of Southern France. One jus: returned from a mo tor tour says he met a party of his compatriots in a touring car at about every 25 miles of his journey. Very few distinguished men have been born on Feb. 29 of leap year. Among them is Edward Cave of the Gentleman’s Magazine, who was born in 1692, and Rossini on the same day a hundred years later. Archbishop Whitgift in 1604 and John, the broth er of Sir Edwin Landseer, himself an artist, both died on this day. Has New York a Dialect? Has New Yort a dialect? This is one of the solemn questions of the day. Oh, yes. It has a great many dialects, and peculiar sorts of speech that may be generally classified under that head. Many of them sleep on the fire escape on Division street w'hen the weather is warm enough. Then there is much New England “twang.” and the rugged rernacular of the West and a good deal of affectation of "the English, don’t you know.” And “yf>t all” know that the South insinuates it* parts of speech into the metropolis oc casionally. The* there are thousands of foreigners who can only communi cate with Americans by means oi signs. Oh, yes, there are many dia lects in the great American metropolis, but only a little straight and engag ing English. And that is mainly con centrated in the Sun and Times, with perhaps a fair showing in some other metropolitan journals which we do not mention, with the obvious purpose of not showing partiality.—Cincinnati Enquirer. —i '■■■■' ■ Daring 1906 the telegraph and tele phone poles used in this country amounted to 8,574,666, having an aver age valuation C $2.65 each- The Youngest King in Europe. * Mr 2|L* MBWIiWMWBMMft - vfr.* K^Ai^B^^aH^^me^Sam^SSß^^^SSm **''*''' c •,*. - ■ *\ - jl^^^MßpHCTS^BßftftngSfflffQSlStfftCTwqWT^lWffu s ■ }i^.' j fi'* •’ti. m^Sv <4 ''^M?^B*'"=® : v|HW t wSmiK y-’<- j BWi'i ■ mnrt&Sfci^V life® * • , 7 <*■ KING MANUEL 11. OF PORTUGAL. r ~ Manuel, second son of the late King Carlos I. of Portugal, was born November 15, 1889. He ascended the throne on February lof the present year, immediately after the assassination of his father and brother. He continues the dynasty of Braganza, which dates from the end of the four teenth century. His mother, Queen Maria Amalia, was a French princess, daughter of Philip, Duke of Orleans, Count of Paris. The young King is very popular, and has begun his reign with evidences of a manly and progressive spirit.—American Review of Reviews. AN EASILY MADE MICROMETER. By Dr. Thomas R. Baker, Rollins Col lege, Florida. It often become necessary for the experimenter or practical worker to find the thickness of material so thin, or inconventient to measure, that the thickness cannot be found by means of a foot-rule, or other common meas uring device. A simple, fairly ac curate, and easily made apparatus of the micrometer form may be con structed as follows; A Home-Made Micrometer. Get a common iron or brass bolt about one-fourth of an inch in diam eter, and about two and one-half Inches long, with as fine a thread as possible, and the thread cut to within a short distance of the head of the bolt. A bolt with a cut in the head for a screw-driver should be used. Clamp together two blocks of wood with square corners about one inch wide, three-fourths of an inch thick, and two and. one-half inches long, with their narrower faces in contact (the width of the clamped blocks be ing two inches), and bore a one fourth inch hole through the centre of the blocks in the two-inch direc tion. Now remove the clamp, and let the nut of the bolt into one of the blocks so that its hole will be con tinuous with the hole in the wood, then glue the blocks together with the nut between them. Cut out a piece from the block combination, leaving it shaped somewhat like a bench, and glue the bottoms of the legs to a piece of thin board about two and one-half inches square for a support. Solder one end of a stiff wire about two inches iong to the head of the bolt at right angles to the shaft, and fix a disk of heavy pasteboard with a radius equal to the length of the wire, and with its cir cumference graduated into equal spaces, to serve in measuring revolu tions and parts'of revolutions of the end of the wire, to the top of the bench; put the bolt in the hole, screw ing it through the nut, and the con struction is complete. The base is improved for the meas uring work by gluing to the central section of it, covering the place where the end of the bolt meets it, a small piece of stiff metal; and it is con venient to have the graduated disk capable of rotating, so that Its zero line may be made to coincide with the wire. I MRS. RUSSELL SAGE, One of tke Greatest of Modern Philan , thropists. Enjoying a Pleasant L. Day, in Her Garden. 1 —From Leslie’s. £ 'A light-paired Servian is in disgrace. ? Find the number of threads of the •crew to the inch by placing the bolt on a measuring rule, and counting the threads in an inch or half an inch of its length. The bolt in making one revolution will descend a distance equal to the distance between the threads. To use the apparatus, put the ob ject whose thickness is to be meas ured on the base under the bolt, and screw the bolt down until its end just touches the object, then remove the object, and screw the bolt down until its end just touches the base, care fully noting while doing so the dis tance that the end of the wire moves over the scale. The part of a rota tion of the bolt, or the number of rotations with any additional parts of a rotation added, divided by the num ber of threads to the inch, will be the thickness of the object. Quite accurate measurements may be made with this instrument, and in the ab sence of the expensive micrometer, it serves a very useful purpose. I have used it in the beginning classes in electricity for measuring the diam eter of wire, for finding thp numbers of wires from reference tables, and for making various other measure ments. —From the Scientific Araer* ican. AUSTRIA’S HEIR. ARCHDUKE FRANZ FERDINAND OP AUSTRIA AND FAMILY. The Oldest of Professions. An old friend of the family hau dropped in to see a young lawyer whose father was still paying his office rent. “So you are now practicing law,*’ the old friend said, genially. “No, sir.” said the candid youth. “I appear to be, but I am really prac ticing economy.” Youth’s Com panion. Anecdote of King Edward. The Gaulois relates the following “anecdote delicieuse.” Edward VII., j while still Prince of Wales, was ac- | customed to take his morning walk alone in St. James’ Park. One day he noticed that he was being followed by two little boys and turned round i to look at them. Although at first much disconcerted, one of them plucked up courage and, taking of! his cap, said: “Your Royal Highness my little friend is French and I have ! just made a bet with him that you are the heir to the throne of Eng land.” The Prince of Wales replied, i smiling, “You have won, but what was your little friend’s bet?” “He , bet that your Royal Highness was a 1 Parisian.” “Oh. .well, then,” said the Prince, again smiling, “he has also won.”-—Paris Correspondence London Times. Pine Coin Collection* In the Vienna Museum there is a collection of coins numbering one hundred and twenty-flv© thousand. II is said to be the finest in the world. I WORTH QUOTING | ±t i ,:Jfi• * I- _ !ir TT i Railways are issuing orders against profanity among employees. If pas sengers can control, their tempers, suggest the Washington Star, the rail way men surely ought to. * ’ •*“! Unwritten international law, ob serves the Washington Star, may yet establish the principle that a diplo mat is not to be judged by his bank account. t . Remarks the Baltimore Sun; New York families of wealth appear to be able to buy everything hut do mestic happiness. i • —**• wt* Some men werk for their tiring, and some men become receivers of defunct banking institutions in little old New I York, sneers the Richmond Times- Dispatch. ~ When you write to a friend whom you have neglected for several months, says the Boston Globe, it is a good idea to begin; "1 am getting tired of waiting for you to answer my last letter and now 1 am going to write to you.” What does the average reader de sire in his magazine? asks tne At lanta Constitution. A moral cleanliness and an intellectual sanity mat dea ! equitably and effectively with, but i are not obsessed by the great ques tions of the hour and the day and ‘he times. -mjJ The Latin American trade ought to 1 be worth cultivating, avers the Chi cago Tribune. There is a growing feeling of friendliness for the gov ernment and people of the I nited States. This ought to be attended by a rapid development of trade. But the determining factor in the long run will not be the work of a commit tee of publicity and promotion. R will be the attitude of the men who have products to offer. The professional anarchists who take refuge here make a base return lor the protection afforded them in thus inciting hatred of and resistance to our institutions as if they were as oppressive as Russia's. 1 nese men are ingrates and public enemies, in sists the Buffalo Commercial, and whenever they overstep the bounds of law and order must be handled' without gloves. The word “prestige,” as The Dial points out, has a dubious history, ad mirably fitting it for its modern use I as the shibboleth of newspaperdom, In the eighteenth century, “prestiges” were defined by our groat lexicograph er, as “illusions, impostures, juggling tricks,” and we still use ihe woid ‘•prsstidig’tator’ in the sense of that old meaning. If today prestige has come to have something of the con notation of reputation, it still sug gests its shady past, is acquired rath er by smartness than by sincerity, and “implies nothing more than suo cessful appeal to the imagination.” The Pennsylvania railroad an nounces that it will give preference :n employment to American citizens. The Washington Star approves this I as a true policy and one that should he generally adopted. It says: Wheth er native or foreign born, the Ameri can citizen —the man whose let is east with us and who is here to stay —should have the call in all Amerl* : can opportunity. He is the one upon whom the country must rely in time of war, and he is entitled therefore to the right-of-way in tine of peace. The best things are his by every right. He builds and he stays. He | establishes a local habitation and a i name, and as he is for the country, the country should be for him. The man w'ho is here today and gone to morrow has no claim to anything but to the odd jobs which great pressure for labor brings. The steady thing for the citizen, every lime. i The Maiden’s Prayer. Walter Damrosch tells of a matron .n Chicago who, in company with her young nephew, was attending a musi cal entertainment. The selections were apparently en tirely unfamiliar to the youth; but when the “Wedding March - ’ of Men delssohn was begun he began to evince more interest. “That sounds familiar,” he said. “I’m not strong on these classical pieces, but that’s a good one. What is It?” “That,” gravely explained the ma tron, “is the ‘Maiden’s Prayer.’ ” —Har* per’s Weekly. Railway Bridge to Match Vlouse, Before giving his consent the Great Western Railway to build a railway bridge across a part of his property a landowner stipulated that it should: be constructed of stone which should match that of which his house was built, and should consist of three elliptical arches. The bridge which; has been successfully completed de spite the difficulty of construction, is the only one of its kind in England, perhaps in the world.—Railway Magar zine. Color Cure. Experiments have been made from time to lime to test the effects of color on the' sick, especially on those suffering from -nervous affections and mental disorders. In an Institution of Alexandria, where the rooms havo been fitted up with colored glass, It is found that in a blue chamber a restless person has been calmed; in a red chamber a person suffering from melancholia, with a tendency; to suicide, has become gay, and la a violet chamber a maniac has be* come sane. —Paris Figaro. J