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. I? was a darkened room, in which no sound, save the low breathings of the invalid, and the stealthy move ments of the old uurse. could be heard, Laura sat by her aunt's side, holding her fevered hand in one of her own cool ones, while the other was pressed upon the invalid's burning brow. A strange feeling of awe, a vague presen timen* of evil, kept her silent. ' Laura,' said Mrs. Danvers, m a low, quiet tone. I am here, dear Aunt Emily. What «Mil do tor you Nothing, darling. My poor child. you ha\e lost your own mother: and , nou I. who hate tried to hll her place. am about to leave you too. f . !' " 1 d- how can I do without restlaimd^^injurst'i'nc forth. 161 ° M ^ "You have been a good, dutiful hS, !Tn e da nr l w- ? ' von' fTa )îîr\ l?ti l wï be a I ami a dear elder sister to my Grace." ! "Oh if I were hut older r «mild l.e! •ter mother, as you hale been mine!" i 'You are old enough Laura to JÄ? 1 «am p y re U an°d d k.Gon.'7eäd C her to ! «ood or evil. You are serious and * ^.1 s if j u j , • I i f. g - ■■ . A 1 ? , U1 J' ars - Grace is light-hearted and gay-but , ^iffift locate and frank. Gently guide lier Laura, by love, as I would wish her to go were! here." ; "I will I will dear \to n nn JPVC wav before her good." "Poor Laura! you are youngenougb ! to still need a mother's care vnnrself tal l Z b^o ! she has only you anti her father!" ' F.-iitlifullv did Laura keep the promise made to the dying. Young, as she was. she understood the obit- ! gations it imposed upon lier; and, ns she bad said, her own interests ahvnvs gave way before her cousin's. Laura's tasks were learned with double dili- ! geiH-e that, when Grace needed assist JUX'c in hers, it should be ready for ! lier There was a warm love between ; these two motherless ones, t hat nought but death could destroy. i When Laura was about nineteen ( years old. there came to that part of | ttie country, for his health, a young | man, in whom Mr. Danvers was much ; interested. His father had been for ' many years Mr. Danvers's partner in a large mercantile establishment; and | Walter Elliot, on the death of hisown lather sought and found a firm friend \ in his former partner. He was a ; handsome, intelligent young man, a : 'barrister, but, by too close appiiea- ! tiou to his books, he had injured his j ihealtli severely, and the physicians ■ordered change of air. An invitation from Mr. Danvers to pass some months with him, was gratefully ac cep tod; and Walter was exited 1 1 1 c a few i if am r, rH ' ' fi*. «teemed friend Mr. Danvers was -taxing bis daily ride, and Laura was Alone to receive him. The ride, and the exertion of getting îî 0,n i, t va e .id ar r§ e 'h? r f '-°? ri 1 /r the invalid, and he fainted at the a^riincT^od 1 wat d n Ml ' bke appealance, stood w atching, while the servants earned luni into the parlor, and hastened away 10 from'h^hièh 1 ' partcMi the hau from his higli white face, while hei whole frame trembled Z u i Wh 7 r f° ve , mI concious ""'tÄÄÄ S* S!* 11,8 , ga " - 1 Sf 1 «1^ with A, ? - h «yos were faxed with deep pity upon bim. He tried to thank lier, but she placed her hand on hislips, whispering, "Lie still, and don't- try to talk; the nurse will stay by you, while I give or ■ders about your room. And, with a smile and a graceful curt ■cy, Laura left hint. Walter's fainting fit was but the be ginning of a long illness; he was taken to his room, and for seven weeks did wot leave it. Laura insisted upon «haring the fatigue of nursing him; she it was who prepared his medicinesand •cooling drinks, and, in his delirium, placed the cloths wet with cold water aiponhis head, while the nurse who liked to reign supreme in the sick-room, eat watching, with a mixture of ad miration and jealousy, the fair usur per of her office. Walter had been delirious for several LAURA GRAHAME BY VIRGINIA FORREST. Laura stood where they had leftber. Walter's grave adieu, and her cousin's gay farewell, still rang upon her ears; sind Grace's warm kisses still burned upon her lips; she returned their fare ■well with her usual smiling dignity, and stood motionless watching their retreating forms until the trees hid them from her eyes. Gradually the «mile faded from her lips, and a look x>f deep, settled sorrow, clouded her young face; the easy, dignified attitude was lost in the drooping figure and -dejected expression. Wewill leave her tints, lost iu painful reverie, and sketch for our readers lier previous history. I-aura Grahame was left an orphan when only three years of age; her fath er died of consumption, and her rnoth «•r soon followed him to the grave. Mr. Danvers, her mother's brother, adopted the orphan, and no parents' ■care could be more tender than her uncle and aunt lavished upon the little Laura. Her father owned large estates, whieh now became the proper ty of the orphan. When she was about ten years old, lier uncle and auut removed there, ■with Laura and their only child— •Grace, then just seven years of age. They lia'd been but one year in their new home, when Mrs. Danvers was taken dangerously ill. and the physi cians soon pronounced lier case hope less. «very day. 9k was a bright clear day in the ear iy part of November, when-Walter, pale and weary, arrived at hisfriend's lioiise. Grace was spending weeks in another town with Mi days: but he lay one afternoon in a quiet sleep, from which the doet r thought ne would awaken in his sense's. Laura took a book and sat by the side of the bed, to be near when he wished for anything; while the nurse sat by the window. Wal ter at length slowly opened his eyes, and fixed them upon the fair reader, who, absorbed in her book did not see him. He noted all the maiden's beauties—the rich, black hair banded smoothly off her high, white forehead, the regular features, clear, dark com plexion, long, jetty eyelashes, that now drooped over' the large, black eyes; the tall, noble figure, tiny hand, and beautifully rounded arm—all were perfect. He lay watching her for some moments; but the nurse, finding he was awake, bustled up the bed, and Laura withdrew. Fr that day he grew rapidly better, and many happy hours were spent in that sick room. Laura read to him, sang to him, and long conversations there were between these two—conversa tions, during which the young girl's heart was gradually passing into the possession of another. What wonder that Walter fancied himself in love with the fair girl, who thus devoted her time and talents to his comfort and entertainment? He found her presence would convert that sick-room from a prison into a paradise. At last, one afternoon, when the nurse was preparing his evening, re past, he won from the happy, blush ing girl a promise to accompany him to his home, in the spring, as his bride. When Laura sought her room that night, her cheek was flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her heart throbbed quickly with excess of happiness. Fas tening her door, she knelt and thank ^ heaven for the new joy bestowed upon her. Laura's was an earnest, thoughtful nature, and all emotions left an indelible impression upon her heart—she was not one to part with her love lightly—but once given, it eould not be recalled. Walter was now well enough to be out. and Grace was expected home j daily. • ] p*,,,.* , vas seated in her room, working, when her cousin burst iu up- I on her Let us pause a moment to describe Grace Danvers. She was a ! n , os t charming combination of blonde ! |in d bnlnette bea „ t y. Her eves were dark hazel, shaded with black brows and lashes; while her hair was u ht yellowish brown, falling in a profusion of shining curls ' on her a^^c^ptexio^puM^re^and "hite; her figui'e was petite, but most I exquisitelv rounded, while her hands . ! and ,£f r " a8 . a nc . Uear Laura! B ' le cried, as she i become acain^So 1 hear b0 8, to be home again. So I near 1 C ÄrÄ ',„"5 SSS 1 ! jTofYhändso°™ smfiremo^dole ! * •" L 0 \„ llorh^d me 1 l ii i lt i tuii\ ill. reacnea me- l saw inni at ; thegate; and instead of a pale, ill , tere * ti ' vou th, he struck me as being ' ■ . ...jj health I" a "° 8 ? /i 1 P T d " ; Lost your heart. Laurn-eh? Nonsense, Grace. You are wild ijk « 7 .» a*«. *»• Ellis and Fanny. ! 'Well—everybody well! But here comes Mr. Elliot up the avenue; vou ! mart introduce roe/ * And, bounding across the room, the ! ? a Y beauty smoothed her curls, ar- | ''«need her collar more to her satis ! faction, and announced her readiness to l,e presented to Walter. The young man gave a start of de- j lighted surprise when his eyes fell up- ; ! on Grace. Her pale blue dress, which was cut so as to leave her falling ! shoulders and round white arms bare, ; set off to the utmost advantage her exquisite complexion and golden i curls; her drive, and the excitement of ( coming home, gave an additional | tinge of color to her cheeks, and her | eyes sparkled with animation. W'al ; ter bowed gracefully, and they were ' soon engaged in a lively conversa tion. I .aura left them together, and | went to read the papers to her unde— her regular evening task. \ So it began, and so evening after ; evening it continued. Laura was : obliged to devote two or three hours ! to her uncle, while Grace and Walter j took long moonlight, walks, or con j versed together in the piazza: or her cousin's clear, sweet voice rose and fell on the night air. in songs, while a manly tone mingled with the strain, ! and Grace's guitar, accompanied the delicious music. , ... , , , . ; em c: yet neither dared speak of the ' 1 * hu " ge ;i Lftl V U 8ftW tha t,in 1<,V, ; be ' tween those two was stronger han , \\ alter s love > 0 .; her l.n«\ ever been; • hut she sickened when she tried to speak of it, and he dared not up-; p, r" h th . e It was lute one ever.in", when the ' ; '" OU8in ' 8 J'T 1 rf ' liw !. "'eirown room, and Laura noticed how very sad Grace looked. She was pained: 10 for Grace, like Shakspere's ß£at , ice, ha ; 1 "^ tle ? f T the ,ne ' an ' ,h -? ly e,c " ,L,,,t : m lier," and Laura knew it was some young joyous face of her cousin. ! '.'«''me, what troubles yon? she said, drawing the young girl to her " ', 8,< L Â, t • M° h ' I '- ura, L. sobbed her «oiis.il, "I'm so miserable!' "Why,darling, what can make you unhappy—come, tell me?" the "I-/-well, I mav as well tell yon or- all; perhaps you can comfort me. , This evening, while I was walking with Walter, he told me that he loved me-" be- "You, Grace?" "Yes; but he is engaged to some did body else. And ob, I love bim so much!" she "He should not have told you if he is bound to another." "He did not mean to tell me; but he loves me so much that he was com polled to let me know it." "How can he love you and her too?" ad- —I,a lira was astonished at her own calmness. "He don't,love lier. But he says he was once f if r away from home, very to OUI i 1 Day by day Laura's face grew paler j and sadder, and Walter felt that there ' was no bliss to him like Grace's pres . ill, and she nursed and took care 01 him—just as you did, Laura; and lie fancied h - was in love, because he felt so grateful to her. and so he asked her to be his wife. She said she would, and he thinks he is bound by honor to fulfill his engagement. She cannot love him as I do. "What is her name?" "He would not tell me; and he asked me never to tell any one what he had told me. But he could not have meant you, Laura—for I tell you everything." Laura caressed and kissed Her cous in, and whispered. "All will be well yet, Grace. Hope and trust!" and then left her. The next morning she excused her self, on the plea of headache, from ac companying them on their usual ride. She smilingly bid them good-bye, and stood on the piazza watching them off. Carlo, her spaniel, bounded after the horses, turning his head as if to bid his mistress farewell. They were gone! She was alone; still she moved not, There was a fearful struggle in her mind. "Must I give him up?" she mur mured. "She is so light-hearted, that she would get over this. He is mine, mine! But he loves me not!" Time Hew by unheeded by her; she was so absorbed in her reverie that the hours were as minutes. At length she turned and re-entered the house; with tottering steps she regained her room: once there, she gathered all her calmness wrote and folded a note, carried it herself to Walter's room; and then, again in her own chamber, her task over, she fell, without mo tion or consciousness, on the floor. When Walter Elliot returned from his ride, he found upon his table the following note:— "Grace has told me all; you are free! "Laura." When she rejoined them the next morning, she was again calm, dignified, and even cheerful. Walter and Grace never knew the struggle und anguish this had cost our heroine, and Walter said to himself, "She is is too cold to j love." ] Grace went with Walter to his Lon don home; I attira stayed with her I uncle; «lien he died, she still kept the house; though part of every year was ! apt with Grace. If you ask her why ! *"« was "ever married, she smiles, shakes her head, and says she was in tended for an "old maid,' and had to work out her destiny. Printer's Epitaphs. ° ne ° f the olde8t epitaphs upon a P ri » ter is that inscribed upon a mon . ument erected in St. Mary's Church, Dat <; het ' to Christopher Barker, at one time printer to Queen Elizabeth. !t rUn8 fo,,OW8: Here Barker li**, once printer to the Crown, 1 -na? - " .. . ■ ~ ! '*"*'%£* WOr,1 '' 8,U, * ,,re " d " r ° m " 1 That future P rinteI * '"'S*" im P rinl his ; name. But when his strength could work the pro?* ' no more, And his last sheets were folded into »tore— Pure faith, with hope (the greatest treasures given). Opened their gates and bade hi , , ,.. „ , . Inadifferentstrain isthenextepi tapli we shall quote. It purports to be written by the defunct himself, but whoever wrote it showed a pretty ! turn for making a merry quip of a se | rious topic. No better idea of death being a releasefrom caresand troubles could be conveyed than in the follow j No more shall copy bad perplex my braiu, ; No moresball tyi«: s small face my eyeballs b - 0 „fore' tie proofs foul page create me troubles By errors, transpositions, outs and doubles; No more to overrun »hall I begin: 1 ^e^^n^pVé'fnmn's'br^'^i.ow may scoff Revised, corrected, and finally worked off. Here is a curt complaint": xvearv of di tributimr Dve pressed out of life, I now must die. I've cut my stick, my fount is »tied, My cose is empty as in life my bead, ! In fact, my la-t impression is—I'm dead. j Manchester dines, ! 1 • : , . , . . . .. . , , a h'ghly esteemed 'le has e osely ex aniiited 4 he offei t of uipt.iytj on tue B !B ht of , w ' 1 ' 1 ''V 1 ' ' T 1 .'ï* l*° n 1i tigers, Ac., and asserts that all ! animals m a savage state are far i sighted. The same mark applies to ! man in an uncivilized slate, and even i to those who. though 'ivilized, follow ti w| ,icli oblige them to re ' main constantly in the open air, such ^ f R1 ' m laborers. ; Th(1 wame fni . (1 | ty Hllt) sists in , aged to anilll( || s when they have ... up-; , 0l „j,. eicht mont h» ä f„ ^5 lizil ?» | . vei i voum/ ih. v become liea ,. H j h t(H |. M^Motais al tri 1(lltefl to t |„, mu row space in which .. . 4 ontimd •iml the i niininif j " > J S , J the keeper or (U.rtool,y his will. T , Mo«,.ui L ,hti»diifs- or «ehooi chil to , |„. ( . lul .,.L. liu . habit of con ..„„tpatlng the sight on one point, and • t} f t , l|a , the power of tlm visual organ becomes modified .u-eording to requirements to which it issubjeet I ,.,i _\i,„w.iv's Mmmzine " | n „.„ a x „ ri . uueer is a i raoe we arc acquainted withaf umber land county man of rntiltr slow wits who engaged a lot, of pine timber to a certain mill-man. Sledding hud nearly gone, but the timber didn't come, About tills time the mill-man met our so acquaintance and asked him when he was going to got that pine. he "Well, the truth is, Charles, I sold that timber to Berry." he "Sold it to Berry," cried the mill man. "What did you do that for? Did he give you more than I offered?" "No, he didn't give me quite as much, Charles; but I think his judement is he a leetle better'n your'n."—Lewiston very Journal. The and he the my was day, the up He in a I I j>ass to i ing lines: Wild Beasts Far-sighted. A curious cunuminication tins been made to the "Academie de Médecine" l»y M. Mot a is of Angers, whose works on the various diseases of the eye nre ! a he he is A GREAT HEAD. An of The Married Kh.nor.ro. Woo« wd Wins III« Wife. Polhemus Diltz sot his lips firmly to gether. buttoned his coat about him, and started for home. "It was as much my fault as hers," he muttered, "that when I went homo the other day with the idea of courting my wife I didn't seem to succeed, ought to have known better than to bother her when she was picking the pinfeathers off an old hen and Bridget was taking an afternoon off. I won't make a blunder like that ugain." About half an hour afterward Mr. Diltz entered the family mansion. He found Mrs. Diltz in the sitting room. Merely remarking that it was a chilly day, he threw a package carelessly into the fire that burned brightly in the grate. ••What is that, Polhemus?" Inquired Mrs. Diltz. somewhat sharply. "Nothing but my pipe and cigar case," he replied, with a yawn. "I've sworn off from smoking." Mrs. Diltz looked pleased, but said nothing. "It will save me at least «100 a year, Mary Jane," observed Polhemus. with another yawn, as he walked aimlessly about the room with his hands in his pockets, --and the habit's a nuisance anyhow." "It certaiuly is," assented Mrs. Diltz. --I'm glad you've quit—if you'll only stay quit." Mr. Diltz continued his aimless walk about the room. Presently he brought up in front of a small closet that he had been in the hublt of hanging his smoking cap and smoking jacket in. He opened it. took those garments out. and inspected them. "While I am about it," he said. "I'll make a clean job of it. I'll hang these things in the woodshed, and the next tramp that comes along can have them. You can use this closet for anything you like. Seems to me," continued Mr. Diltz. resuming his nonchalant wnlk about the room, and extending his stroll into the room adjoining, -we don't have more than about half enough closets in this house. If I were buitd ing a house for human beings to live in I'd put in fifty of 'em. Now. here's a place under this stairway where I could have a good large closet made. I supoose you'd object to it. though." "No, I wouldn't." responded Mrs. Diltz. warmly. "It would just suit me. Polhemus." "Well. I'll have it done." And Polhemus kept on yawning and stroll ing leisurely through the rooms. •■There are half a dozen other places." ventured his wife, somewhat timidly., "where I should like to have closets built or shelves put up. while you're about it." "All right. You can have all you want." Mrs. Diltz went behind the door and hugged herself. Mr. Diltz con tinued to walk about unconcernedly. "What—-what will you like for eig ner this evening. Polhemus?" •■Anything. Mary Jane anything. I don't know hut I'd like some hot bis cuits. only—" "Only what?" "Bridget doesn't know how to makn good biscuits." "Why. Polhemus! Do you like my biscuits bettor than Bridget's?" "I never eat anybody's biscuits but yours if I can help it." "O. Polhemus!" Mrs. Diltz came nearer to her hus band. For the first time in eleven years she throw her arms aliout his neck and—but nobody has any business to be intruding here. Please retire. ly out that cific uf and we ful sist less 1 for for as "It isn't such a thundering hard job. even for a mnrriod rhinoceros of eleven years' standing, to 'court his wife if he only knows how to go at it right," said Mr. Diltz to himself as lie went about the house tho same evening at a late hour locking up things for the night. .1|lnnl'•K>ta , « Wonderful Climate. "Curious winter phenomena wo have here," remarked the St. Faillite to tho visitor from St. Liu is. "You notice that icicle up there on the cornice of that eight-story building? Should say it was ton feet long. Well, this very morning one just like that dropped as Sam Bones was passing and the point struck him square on tho top of tho head. It went through him like a shot and pinned him to the side walk bolt upright and stiff us a statue." "Kill him?" "Hardly. As soon as the icicle melted he walked off all right enough. See?" "An extraordinary escape, truly— perhaps an isolated case. But I should think ho would bo liable to take cold from the draft through tho hole in his body." "Not at nil! You see, the winter climate hero is so dry that—" KiiglUb T.rrltury Painted Hod. British fondness for territory is illustrated very graphically in n well known pocket-atlas published by an English firm. British possessions are all printed in a brilliant shade of rod; but the world is a large place and even the numerous colonies of the little island fail to make us groat a show as was desired, so Grant Land, the great eontinent of rock and ice lying north of tho Arctic Circle, and Graham Land, a similar tract south of the Antarctic Circle, were also printed In a rosy hue. I hose desolate wastes are undefined and unexplored, and of about a* much use as the Milky VV ay. Certainly no nation will dispute Britannia's right to paint them rod If she wants to. No It Was. Beggar (to Glanders, who has given him a coin)—"Say, mister, this dime's plugged." Glanders(oxumining U and replacing it In his pocket)—"Ahl so It is.!'—Judge. BACTERIA. An Tntrrerttlnff Talk About Tli#tr Appear, nun« anti C» Our systematic knowledge of the bacteria is still so meagre, so many species and doubtless so many families of them never have yet come into the of human vision. wth. Star clay or as at clay step is to of the ing by by size loft rod the ids roll are j the the ed and our range glimpses of their life power* have been fragmentary, that as yet we can on ly try to bring a little temporary order out of the ohaos by grouping them ac cording to their shapes. We find, when we muster all the forms which have as yet been seen, that they all fall into one of three classes: spheroidal, rod-like, or spiral. Further subdivisions of these classes have been made, and generic and spe cific names attached to many hundreds uf forms; but over these details we need not Unger now. How they look and what they do is hero of more itu (Mirtanco than what we call them. Although with the ordinary micro scopic powers the bacteria look like little balls or straight or spiral rods, we find, when we use the most power ful and perfect lenses, that they con sist of a minute mass of granular pro toplasm surrounded by a thin structure less membrane When we put them under favorable conditions for growth, and give them foot! enough, they muy be seen to di vide ueross the middle, each portion becoming larger and again dividing, so that it has been calculated that a single germ, if kept under favorable condi tions, might at the end of two days have added to the number of the world's living beings 2 * 1 , 600 . 000,000 new individual bacteriu. this sort of thing went on for a few weeks unhindered there would be very little room left cm the earth's surface in fact. If for any other forms of life, and pretty much ail the carbon, hydrogen, oxy gen. und nitrogen which is available for life purposes in the world would be used up. There would be a corner in life stuff, und even the master, man. would is? forced to the wall, and be come the victim of hi* insatiable fellow worlder. the bacterium. But, as it haptarns. tills sort of thing does not go on: the food grows scanty; or the tem perature becomes unfavorable; or the sun shines hot and the sun is a sore enemy of your growing bacterium; or. as it grow» ami feeds, the germ gives off various chemical substances which often soon poison itself, or its fellows, or both together. So the pro|iortion I» preserved by such a fine balance of the natural forces that, prolific ns they are. the bacteria, iu the long ruu are held closely within bound* the world over —Harper's Magazine. I The 111.Unction Ills Pupil tllsIncU. An lilinoi* con gusts man stepped uj. to u white-haired, scholarly-looking man who was walking leisurely through the corridors of the federal capitol on« day last week, anti grasping his hand, said : A in ••Do you remember, thirty years ngo. patting a small, tow-headed boy on the bead and remarking that be might l>o u congressman some day?" "Let me see; thlrtv years ago." said the white-haired man. trying to assist his memory by rubbing his chin, "that was in 'lit mid l was teaching pupil. In Illinois.'' "Yes, sir: you kept a school In the old academy in Decatur." "Exactly; now I remember it. and 1 remember patting the boy on the h>-iul as you say." "Do you think you would know that boy if he should eotne up and speak to you, as I am doing?" "Oh, no: my eyesight is not very good now. and he would be a full-grown man. No doubt he has attained the distinction whieh I said was possible for him to uttnin. Ar« you a congress man?" "Yes. sir." '•From Illinois?" "Yes, sir. from the Decatur district. " • 'And you are tho man whom, when a boy. I patted on the head?" "OL no; but 1 saw that, boy just be fore I left for Washington. He luul just been sentenced to ten years In the penitentiary for horse-stealing, and lie asked me to find out if you weren't at tho head of tho wenthor department That's all."—Toledo Blade. of it lie top his Wli.rc's Your ftlmlet. Little Johnny Yerger tins caused a breach between Gus DuSmlth, a society gentleman, and the Yerger family. Gus called to make a friendly visit after supper, be having previously in formed Colonel Y erger of tho Intended honor. The whole family and Gus were in the parlor, when Johnny riv eted the attention of all present by asking Gus DeSmith: "Have you brought your gimlet with you?" "What do you mean, Johnny?" asked Gus. "I don't mean nuffln; except I heard I« say you were coming up till* evening to bore us all.—Texas Siftings. is an are rod; Nil. fools Him Off. Au Arab woman, when left a widow, mourns her husband devoutly, but, like other widows, if she has the op portunity she inay lie married again. The night, before her second marriage she pays a visit to her husband's grave, as There she kneels and prays hlin not to be offended. As. howover, she feels he will bo offended, the widow brings with lier u donkey laden with two goat skins filled with water. The prayer hue. ended, she proceeds to pour tho water on the grave to keep the first husband cool under tho circumstances about no take place, and, having well saturated him, she then departs.—Iowa Vital« Register. lo iticftftiiitf« or PiyiioitytMN. Teacher—"What Ih a hynonym?" Bright boy—"It's a word you canuse in place of another one when you don't know how to spell the other one.— Good News, and It MAKING CLAV WPES. KMrlf All Ih« Material U Obtalit«<| «« Wootlbrlüff«, N. J. Charles W. Maxwell, of Straw bridge. Miss., in conversation with a Ht. Louis Star Sayings reporter said: "It is popularly believed that all clay pipes are either inudo in Europe or from clay brought from the other hemisphere, hut such is not the case, as a very large shure of the clay pipe, mode in America art) from elay found at and near Wood bridge, N. J. The clay comes by Ute earloud and the first step toward preparing it for molding is to sufficiently dampen It with water to make it pliable. This is done by placing it iu a tank where it soaks for twenty-four hours. It is then ham mered with iron bars, thus ridding It of any lumps or dry chunks. Then the molding begins, the workman tak ing a tump of clav in each hand and by squeezing and tolling it molds the pieces into a rough stem about three times as large as the finished pipe stem, having a rough ball at its end. These roils, as they are called, nre piled on wooden truyB, sixteen to ciu-h tray, after which they are dried either by the sun or by artificial moans ac cording to the weather. After haring been dried, not to hard ness. but sufficiently to disjioso of alt su|ierfiuous dampness, the roll* uiv ready to linvetbe stem drilled and the bowl formed. To drill the stem the workman holds a small Iron rod the size of the stem holes, snd with his loft baud pulls the clay roll over the rod instead of shoving the rod through the stem. To do tills the workman is guided solely by the sense of toueh In ids finger tips, ami that senne Is so ac curate that the hole Is invariably made correctly. The boll at the end of the roll is turned up mid then roll and rod are plaoed in nn iron matrix which presses the pliable clay into the desired outside pattern. The matrix and its contents are placed in a hand press und the workman, by pulling a lever, forms the hole of the pt|»e bowl. The mould ed pl|s>. still soft and pliable, then passes to the hand* of the trimmer girls, who w-rajss off the superfluous day, making the joints of the matrix. are plnrod In a firv Then the plf proof clay -agger, and the loaded sag ger* are placed In n larger furnace. This furnace ha* eight Hues nt the bot tom. und the six sheet* of flame at the bottom concentrate at the top. thus making the beat even throughout. ntil the pipe* go into the furnaee they am blue in color, but when they come out they are pure white." I TREASURE OFBARODA. A dill Ipse of Or leu tsl Wealth «ntl spier, tlur Almost Heron I Holler. W< wem taken to tho old palace, in the heart of the city, to see the treasure-room, say* u writer In the Traveler. Two huge ctmotahs. care fully muzzled, used for hunting bucks, were on the palace stops. The regalia of linrodn is valued at 43.000,000 ster ling. We were first shown tho jewel* worn by the maharajah on state occa sion*. Those consist of a gorgeous collar of 600 diamond», some of them as big a* walnuts, arranged in five rows, sur rounded by a top and bottom row ol emeralds of tho same size; tho .tendant is a famous diamond, called "The Star of tho Deccan." an aigrette to match which is worn in tho turban; then fol lowed strings of pearls of perfect roundnes*. griultinb d from the size of a .tea to that of a large marble; won drous rings, necklace*, clusters of sapphires and rubles as big ns gr»|ie*. Tho greatest marvel of all ls a rnr pet. about 10x0 feet, mado entirely of strings of pure anil colored pearl*, with groat central and corner circle* of diamonds. This carpet took throe years to make and cost £300,000. This was one of Kiiamlo Kao s mod freaks and was intended to ho sent to M -cca to please a Mohammedan Ioily who had fascinated him. but the scandal of such a thing being done by a Hindoo prince was too ■ ■rious, and it tiovor left Bur odn. We were also taken to seo two guns, weighing 2H0 pounds euch, of solid gold, with two companions of sliver, the ammunition wagons, bullock, har ness and ramrods all being silver. Ilot* I» Mali. UO- Itappz. Take time: it Is no use to foam op fret, or do as the angry housekeeper who has got hold of tho wrong key, and pushes, sluiktst ami rattles it about the look until both are broken and 111« door remains uno|>cnod. Tho chief secret of comfort llca In not suffering trifles to vox ns, and in cultivating «sir undergrowth of small pleasures. Try to regnrtl present vexations as you will a month hence. Since we cannot get whnt we- like, let its like whnt we can get. It is. not Hohe*, it is not poverty, It Is human nature that Is tho trouble. The- world is like a looking-glass. Laugh at It and It laughs back; frown at it and It frowns back. Angry thoughts canker the tnlnd and dispose It to the worst temper in the world--that of fixed malice and revenge, ft is while lit this tempor that most men become criminals.-— Pres. Journal. Rei-nmlnz P < 'ntifornia oranges famous for their size. Washington, D. C., has just rocrjvod from his ranch at La Mesa, San Diego, county, Cal., an orange weigh bag six teen and one-quarter ounces. are becoming A resident ol lo An Intelligent Horse. A horso at Alexandria whloh was run over by a Texas & Foolfto train and had one of Its legs brokbn, hobbled to a store near by, knock**! nt the door, and by signs and hputo language ap pealed for rellof.