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T.IIE LAFAYT GAE. TTE
LFY E L, SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 1893. -Y ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ j- __ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ 1ia 1 e o ouy nornet know "ath' waywaordoureetaw. ý Tee surte ns hound, aoe4 shallop- t ran aground, " w lahramed of his disgrace, Sds. at Iooe me in the face, t~, uwetae, every man," salea e, . . eiee. Mod only scorn. for me; , mint grtorth wath alien men A~,a : rpple with the world again. I eetsdotatey and face the truth Aug thip eople of my youth. ~ we Mn a e strange and scenes are new _re5t mae foe wore for me to do. Anadw weaZ har'e fedcsaied the past. r llo dicabt k to you at last." And es i watched while my boy, Will, SWent down behind the hill. entsmbsed the hill at early morn BaOesth whoso shadow he.was born. we es noga its highest place. TheAourise shining on his face; as seom there, but too far away eor me to see his tears that day; My thoughts. my tears, I cannot tell ite tWavedbakck his sad farewelL etha passed on. and my boy, Will, Went down behind the hill Weat do;h hil; henceforth for me Onelpite my mpemory Crowds s other from its place A bopwnth sunrise-on his face; Wl aunrrse-lighted face I see The sunset of all joy to me, Por when he turned him from my sight The morning mixed itself with night And darinese came, whn my boy, Will Weant down behInd the hill The world is wide, and he hass gone Into its vastness, on and on. I hnow not what besets his path. What hours of gloom, what days of wrath. What terrors menace him afar, What nights of storm without a star, What mountains loan above his way Whataoceas toss him night and day, What fever blasts from desert sands. What death-cold winds from frozen lands. Wiet shafts of sleet or sun may blight fyhomeless wanderer in his flight; I only know the world is wifde And he can roam by land and tide. 'T~s ide, ah mel in every part, ~nt narrower than his mother's heart A joyless heart since my boy. Will, Went down behind the hillt 1 know he bravely fights with tate, But, seo. the hour is growing late; K watch the hill by day and night, It dimly looms before my sight, And fast the twilight shadows fall; The night is glooming over all: But in my boy a faith is given As saints of old had faith in heaven: I know,that be will come again, His praise on all the lips of men; He wilt came back to me at last With deeds that shall redeem the past. Nor desert pici, normauncatan steel., wtcr-atchrt nor thunder on the deep, Nor tempest in the east or west, Shall hold him from his mother's breast. And though the world grows blind and dumb, I feel, I know, that he will come; And I am waiting for him stillt And watch the summit of the hill; Sometimes I-think I see him stand Ane wave a welcome with his hand, But 'tis a lodud upon the rim Of sanset-and my eyes are dim 'Tis but a mist nade by the tears That thicken with the growing years. I watch while there is light to see And dream that he will come to me; And though 'tis dark within. without, I will not shame him by a doubl,, The all-enfolding night draws near, But he will come-I will not fear But. ah, 'tis long since my boy. Will, Went down behind the hill. -S. W. Poss, in Yankee Blade, ONE KIND OF CRANK. How He Makes Lots of Trouble for Hotel Men. A New Yorrk Clerk Tells of a Curlous sort of vanity some People Are Atieted Witht-Catchin an Unwary Countryman. "Is Mr. Henry Wilson in?" The man who put this question to the cleik at the Fifth Avenue hotel tlhe other night was. atltred in evening dress and had thrown open his over coat so as to reveal his expansive shirt bosom with its twinkling diamond tdds. - e afflected the elegant in his attitude, also, and swung his silver lTandled came with an air of impor tance. His physique, voice and face were designed to aid him in his attempt to create an impression. lie was tall and broad-shouldered, had big features and an aggreasive black mustache, and his voice was deep and sonorous. lie looced like a man who mnight try to bulldoze another of lesser frame. The cleric looked up at him with a bland smile, but made no pretense of looking at the key rack, as is his cus tom when he wants to learn whether a guest is in his room or not. Neither 1 dial he look at the register nor at his a list of the day's guests. lie simply I said: "Mr. Henry Wilson, did you say? There is no such person stopping I heore." The inquirer looked a little taken aback, and a frown passed quickly 7 over his face. When lie spoke, the I tone of his voice suggested that he felt the clerk haid estimated him properly, but he wb.s impelled to make an at tempt to -bhauge the clerk's theory. "Is that so?" he asked in surprise 1 thatw7tw evidently assumed; "when did he ledve?" - "I don't - remember his having been here," said the clerk, in a tone full of i meaning. "Oh, pshaw; you must be mistaken," sal the man, fretfully. "Why, I am certain he was here a week ago. I have a telegram from him asking me i to meet him on last Wednesday. Un tortemately, I was out of town when the telegram arrived, and it was not for'warded. Wilson is the big million- I aiet contractor from Chicago, you - know.," The last' sentence was spoken so I Lo aly .that the men standing around, andeven those on the settees, heardait c and looked at the speaker. "It diad not stop here," said the s clerk. 1* a monotonous, oh-you-maike- i me-tired tone. I "You are quite sure?" said the man, j switching from the cdn-adlent to the 'f coneilatory. e "Positive," said the clerk, turning d away. . Tn mpa ePanoealed the fact that he C ws. diso~orted very cleverly. lie pic a tobthpick out of the box on the counter, and out it between his p lips, with s appearance of one lost in n thtbugh Then he turned around and learned with his back against the clerk'sdeair. Ehattitude ras studied- f: ly elegat. He sseemed unmindful of a ilea si ge and to be looking ti gvp'aI e h oV tn me 4$tle moste C across the lobby. The clerk looked at him occasionally in mingled anger and amusement: Presently the man walked out into thu center of the lobby, glanced slowly around and walked deliberately out of tife hotel through the writing room and the ladies' entrance. "I wish somebody would invest a sure crank-killing machine," said the1 clerk, after the man had disappeared. "That fellow was the • sixth to-night" "What do you mean?" asked the re porter. "I mean," he replied, "that that fel low knew when he came here that no such man as he inquired for had ever stopped here. In fact, the name he mentioned was all there was of his pre tended friend. When he came here and asked for the myth of his owvn creation, he knew that le was simply bothering me. What was his object? Oh, simply to create an impression on the people standing around. Did you notice how his voice rose when he talked of the myth as 'the big million sire?' Don't you know there are men who are constantly craving the noto riety that is associated with riches? Haven't you heard men -in restaurants, elevated trains, horse cars, barrooms and elsewhere talk about 'big deals,' bonds, vast sums of money, their social position, intimacy with great men, and all that sort of thing? Of course you have, and have known all the time that they were merely faking. Well, that sort of man comes iu here nearly every day and an noys the life out of us. This fellow you saw has been here so many times I am dead on to him. He wants to show off his clothes and imitation diamonds, and make people think be is a big gun. Most of them are not so well dressed as he is. Some are countrymen who have heard a good deal about our lobby and the lnen who frequent it, and ask ques tions about persons who don't exist as an excuse for coming here. They seem to think that being seen in conversa tion with the cleric gives them a sort of right to stay here and 'satisfy their curiosity. They have an idea the de tectives will come around and order them out unless they do something of the kind. I frightened one of these fellows nearly out of his with one night lie was a perfect ja. a .. ., tie askteir it 'Ilomward Johnson' was in. " 'Yes,' I said, 'there he is,' and I pointed out our detective, who wan standing close by. 'Mr. Johnson,' I said, 'here's a man wants to talk to you.' I winked to the detective and he tumbled. 'What did you wish of me, sir?' he said, crowding him up into this corner. The fellow turned blue with fright. 'I g-g-guess I m-m-ade a m-m mistake,' he stuttered. 'You asked for Howard Johnson,' I said, severely. 'And that's my name,' said the detec tire, taking the hint. 'Y-y-yes,' said the fellow, 'b-b-but I g-g-guCss y-you air a d-d-different H-II-IIoward.' Ile kept edging off as far as he could, and finally bolted. "Some of the cranks got up great cock-and-bull stories. One fellow called the other night to know if a Mr. *harris had left a pair of opera glasses for him. There had been no such guest here. During the last cam paign, when the papers- were full of stories about the big men here, we had as many as thirty or forty cranks pes tering us every day. A favorite trick with some of them was to wait until the papers announced the departure of a big gun, and then come here and pester us with questions about when he would return. They always pre tended surprise when told he had gone without leaving messages for them, and would try to talk confidentially with us, in tones loud enough to be heard fifty feet away, about their inti mate relations with the big: men. We were overrun with them, and found it difficult to attend to our business, for they stuck like leeches. It was a great relief to see them drop off after the campaign, but we are still annoyed by enough to make us sore at tines."-N Y. Sun. All About Girls. G(irls don't have any aim in life but just to get married. Pooh! I wouldn't get married for fifty dollars! I'm going to be an author when I grow up. I'm gathering the material for my book now. It's going to be all about how dudes and such like propose, and the lies they tell, and what the girl says. I hide behind the curtains or under the sofa every time I see one of sister's fellers begin to look sneaking. I can tell 'cm every time. I'm experienced. Well, the other night I laid for Mr. Puttihead. Ile was pretty badly rat.' tied, and when lie got about to the point he muttered and stuttered and gobbled so that I couldn't make head nor tail of what he said. I forgot my self, and stuck my head out from under the sofa. "Louder, please!" says I. "I didn't catch that last remark." Well, sir, Puttihead fainted and sis ter screamed bloody murder, and pa rushed in and hauled me out into the woodshed, and, oh, if he didn't raise my coat in great shape! That is all I know about girls at present -National Tribune. Teeth of the Nsegro. The old-time colored man was noted 1 for the brilliant whiteness of his teeth -a quality which is not inherited by his descendants of the present day. 1 Nowadays the teeth of the negroes do 1 not seem to be nearly as good as those of his white brother. The reason is to be found in the change of food. The slaves had plenty to eat. but the food given them was of the simplest kind. 1 Pork, meal, potatoes, and such veg- 1 Setables as they raised themselves, formed their bill of fsre. Now they I eat all sorts of indigestible stuff, out- 1 doing the white people in this direc- i tion, showing a particular fondness for candies and sweetmeats. The conse quence is that in a single generation the ivory teeth of the slave have given place to the decayed fangs of the freed mnan.-St. ILouis Globe-Democrat -Inkwell-"Tf your story was a fiat failure, why is it sellin~ like hot cakes?" Blotter-"! had it bound with the title orn te last pae."-Inter ' Oes. * - A VISIT TO WHITTIER. done tiwse elve SldeiLLIghts thrown on the Chatkter of the Poet. The memory of a visit to Amesbury, made once in September, vividly re mains with me. It was early in the month, when the lingering heat of summer seems sometimes to gather fresh intensity from the fact that we are so soon to hear the winds of au tumn. Amesbury had greatly altered of late years; "large enough to be a city," our friend declared; "but I am not fat r enough to be an alderman." To us it was still a small village, though some what dustier and less attractive than when we first knew it. As we approached the house we saw him from a distance characteristically gazing down the road for us, from his front yard, and then at the first glimpse suddenly disappearing, to come forth again to meet us, quite fresh and quiet, from his front door. It had been a very hot, dry summer, and everything about that place, as about every other, was parched and covered with dust. There had been no rain for weeks and the village street was then quite inno cent of watering carts. The fruit hung heavily from the nearly leafless trees, and the soft thud of the pears and ap ples as they fell to the ground could be heard on every side in the quiet house yards. The sun struggled feebly through the mists during the noontide hours, when a still heat pervaded rath er than struck the earth; and then in the early afternoon and late into the next morning a stirless cloud seemed to cover the face of the world; These mists were muclhnecreased by the burn ing of peat and brush, and, alas! of the very `woods themselves, in every direc tion. ' Altogether, as Whittier said, quaintly, "it was very encouraging weather for the Millerites." His niece, who bears the name of his beloved sister, was then the mistress of his home, and we were soon made heartily wel come inside the house, where every thing was plain and neat, as became a Friend's household; but as the village had grown to be a stirring placee and the house stood close upon the dusty road, such charming neatpl ..kttk, sometimes have been a difficult achieve ment. The noonday meal was soon served and soon ended, a-nd then we sat down behind the hall closed blinds, looking out upon the garaen, the faded vines and almost leafless trees. It was a cozy room, with its Franklin stove, at this season surmounted by a bou quet, and a table between the windows, where was a larger bouquet, which Whittier himself had gathered that morning in anticipation of our arrivaL He had seemed brighter and better than we had dared to hope, and was in ex cellent mood for talking. Referring again to the Millecrites, who had bsen so reanimated by the mists, he said he had been deeply impressed lately with their deplorable doctrines. "Continu ally disappointed because we don't all burn upon a sudden, they forget to be thankful for their preservation from the dire fate they predict with so much complacency." He had just received a proof of his poem, "Miriam," with the introduction, and he could not be content until they had been read aloud to him. After the reading they were duly commented up on and revised until he thought lie could do no more, yet twice before our departure the proofs were taken out of the handbag, where they were safely stowed away, and again more or less altered. Whittier's ever growing fame was not taken by him as a matter of course. "I can not think very well of my own things," he used to say; "and what is mere fame worth when thee is at home alone, and sick with headaches, unable either to read or to write?" Neverthe less he derived very great pleasure and consolation from the letters and trib utes which ponred in upon him from hearts he had touched or lives he haa quickened. "That I like," he would say; "that is worth having." But he must often have known the deeps of trouble in winter evenings when he was too ill to touch book or pen, and when he could do nothing during the long hours but sit and think over the fire. WVe slept in Elizabeth's chamber. The portrait of their mother, framed in autumn leaves gathered in the last aut umn of her life, hung upon the wall. Here, too, as in our bed room at Dick ens', the diary of Pepys lay "on the table. Dickens had read his copy faith fully and written notes therein. Of this copy the leaves had not been cut, but with it lay the "Prayers of the Age," and volumes of poems which had all been well read and "Pickwick" up on the top.-Annie Field, in Hlarper's Magazine. ANIMALS IN WET WEATHER. Their Habits rand Instlants in Regard to Sheltering Thesnelve. The reluctance with which most hu man beings face voluntary exposure to such (wet) weather will account for our very limited knowledge of the shifts and devices by which our wild animals : endeavor to avoid the worstdiscomforts which it brings. But those who are bold enough to go forth in all weathers know by experience that in all but the most open countries there are generally to be found some cosey corners to which 1 the rain does not ptnetrate, or which, even if not dry, are sheltered from the direct access of the driving drops. Animals, birds especially, while showzg the utmost dislike to endure the storm, are by no means so clever in the use of such natural shelters as might be supposed. Hares, as a rule, 1 leave the open country and seek shel- i ter in the woods; and stupid as they are in circumstances new to their experi ence, as when suddenly chased, or in I avoiding snares and traps, they show considerable ingenuity in securing their comfort They nearly always make a I form near, but not touching, the trunk of some large tree. Thus, while securing a the shelter of the stem and overhanging limbs, they avoid the water which drains 1 down to the main column and forms, as any one may see by looking at the foot 1 of a large timber tree in a meadow, a blay cuan at to base of the tr'uk. I The writer has sometimes seen lare, not lying-in their fanm, but sitting up in such places, just as a laborer shel ters behind a haystack. WVhere there i are no woodlands they creep under the irregular overhanging cornie6 made by the crumbling away of the in id be neath the roots in the hedge-banks and there scratch out a snug and dry re treat. Rabbits usually keep under ground in their burrows, only coming out to feed, unless their holes are flooded, as often happens after a lone course of wet. They then leave the warren alto gether, and lie out among the turnips, or even on the open stubbles, huddled up into the smallest possible space, as if they had lost all faith in the possi bility of finding further shelter. Rats have the strongest possible dislike to damp, and on the first approach of settled wet swarm into the stacks and farm buildings. Those which spend their lives along the banks of rivers and brooks--ra semi-aquatic breed of land rats which resemble the true water rats in all but their vegetarian diet-have a sim ple and clever resource for wet weather. They leave their holes in the banks, and go up into. the crowns of the pollard willows which fringe the streams and line the hedges; in these they find warm, dry, and well-drained winter lodgings, safe even in flood-time; for their powers of swimming enable them to shift from tree to tree, and the swarms of snails and insects which shelter in the hollow trunks provide them with food for a "rainy day." Foxes often lie in these large hollow pollards during very wet weather; and the writer has seen an otter slip from the crown of one of them into the Cher well during an autumn flood. But foxes more often prefer to lie still for hours curled up in the high grass and brambles in some thick double-fence, or dry furze-brake. Sometimes, in heavy rain, they are so reluctant to leave their dry quarters, that they do not move until their disturber is close upon them; and the comical, half-re luctant, and wholly sulky look of an old dog-fox, as he stands hesitating be tween prudence and comfort, should 't. Speal -t- e*e, rs -mitantetic sports man. Horses and cattle never look so mis erable as when standing exposed to cold and driving rain. Every field in which cattle are turned loose shculd have some rude shelter provided, how ever rough and hardy the stock. If left to themselves in a stgae of nature, they would travel miles to some bank or thicket,which would at least give cover against the wind. Shut up between four hedges, they are denied alike the aid of human forethought and of their own instinct. Bewick's vignettes of old horses or unhappy donkeys, huddled together in driving showers on some bleak common, express a vast amount of animal misery in an inch of woodcut. It seems strange that no animal, unless it be the squirrel, seems to build itself a shelter with the express object of keeping off the rain, which they all so much dislike. Monkeys are miserable in wet, and could easily build shelters, if they had the sense to do so. "As the creatures hop disconsolately along in the rain," writes Mr. Kipling, in his "Beast and Man in India," "'or crouch on branches, with dripping backs set against the tree-trunk as shelter from a driving storm, they have the air of being very sorry for themselves." Elnt even the ourang-outang, which builds a small platform in the trees on- which to sleep at night, never seems to think of a roof, though the Dyaks say that when it is very wet it covers itself with the leaves of the pandanus, a large fern. Birds, some of which carefully roof in the nests in which they rear their young, and even, as in the ease of the swallow, choose some existing roof, such as the eaves of a house or a projecting cliff, to cover the nest, when built of materials which wet would destroy, seem incapable of making a waterproof house for themn selves. Grouse and all the fowls of the open moorlands go to the most open and exposed spots, in rain avoiding the thick heather and even the " peat hags," in whose hollows they might find shelter. Partridges huddle under the fences, or lie on the driest and barest places on the fallows, apparent ly caring less for shelter above than for dry soil beneath them. Rooks often flock into thick fir-trees, or in summer take refuge in the old and close-grow ing oaks which line the roadsides. But the small and helpless birds, yellow hammers, buntings, chaftinches and linnets seem quite bewildered by the beating storms. They creep into cart ruts or behind tufts of grass: often they take refuge under the big Swede tur nips round the edges of the fields, where they are sonumbed and cramped by cold and wet that they may be caught by the hand, or are picked up by stoats and rats, humble and uncon sidered victims of the "plague of rain 1 and waters"--London Spectator. A Mlodiash Material. For the best dresses that women of moderate means keep for special oca sions there are various inexpensive satin fabrics that wear and look much better than silks of similar low price.i For the present season the satin surahs are not heavy enough, and "real satin'" is too costly, hence the careful shopper buys the satin duchess or muerveilleux, because its surface is closely woven in stead of showing a broad serge-like twill that cheapens the effect at once. These come in olive and moss green, copper red, maroon and golden-brown shades, as well as in black, at prices ranging from eighty cents to one dol lar and twenty-five cents a yard.rt Black I is first choice just at the moment, and a skirt of this material now in the dressmaker's hands is made in the still highly popular enlarged bell shape with a plaited ruche, with rows of jetted gimp above for trimming. This one skirt has, to be worn with it, a stylish coat of satin brocade with cape-collar and sleeves of velvet, an Eton jacket of satin, like the skirt, opening over a blouse waist trimmed with the jetted gimp; and a low-cut sleeveless corselet bodice of plain black velvet to wear with giimpes and :ancy waists~ -N, , i PFosh i EATING DINNER MECHANICALLY The Walter hoes Everythltng But Swallow the Food sed urinuk. On a recent evening a big man with a heavy walk entered a well known cafe on upper Broadway and sank wearily into a chair at a table. He was about fifty years old and had the appearance of a high liver. His face had the pecu liar purplish-red color which is some times ascribed to burgundy and some times to champagne, but is always due to indulgence of the appetite for good things. His movements indicated that he felt sluggish, and it would have cre ated no surprise in the observer to have been told that he was liable to apo plexy. lie seemed preoccupied, and glanced listlessly about the room. Presently a waiter came up tohim. He was about the same age as the man at the table, but was quick and active. "Good morning, Mr. Jones," he said, briskly. "We have some nice turtle soup and some excellent roast grouse." "All right, James," said the other, absent-mindedly. "Some potatoes chateau and a lettuce salad?" "Yes." The waiter -went away and returned presently with some illustrated papers, which the man took from him without so mach as looking up. The soup was brought on and ljdled out by the wait er, who then took the napkin and spread it carefully over the man's lap. He brought on a glass of sherry, al though the man had said nothing about it, and set it down beside his plate. The man did not notice it, but began to eat his soup greedily. "You are forgetting your sherry, sir," said the waiter, respectfully. Mechanically the diner reached out and carried the glass to his lips. The waiter watched him as carefully as a mother does her child, filled the glass of water when it was empty, replaced the napkin when it slipped down, and in other ways saw to it that the diner was comfortable. The soup was fol lowed by the roast, potatoes, and some celery. The latter had not been or dered, either. The grouse was carved by the waiter, who also served the po tatoes .nit pic.ked aeI. fler ecs... of celery. "l)o you want your champagne, sir?" he as5ced. "What champagne?" demanded the diner, querulously. "You have a half bottle left from last night, sir." "Bring it on, then." T'e waiter returned with a half empty bottle. A rubber cork tightly pressed into the mouth had preserved the sparkle. Through the remainder of the meal the waiter never relaxed his watchfulness, although he had to wait on two other tables. When the diner had finished his coffee he started to rise. The waiter, who happened to be at another table, rushed to his side. "Wait a moment, Mir. Jones," he said; "you must take your pepsin." "Then why the deuce don't you bring it?" "Right away, sir." In a moment he had rushed out of the room and returned speedily with a bottle and spoon. He mixed up a dose in a glass and handed it to the man, who drank it with a wry face. Then the waiter brought a finger bowl and a cigar, of which he cut off the end. IIe waited until the man had slowly put it between his lips and then he struck a match and applied the light. The man puffed so slowly that the match had burned down to the waiter's fingers and scorched them before the cigar was thoroughly lighted. The waiter now helped the man on with his overcoat, adjusted his silk muffer, buttoned up the coat and handed him his cane. "Good night, Mr. Jones," said the waiter, as the man toddled away. An indistinct mumbling was the only re ply. The head waiter explained. "That man Jones," said he, "has been coming here for fifteen years and always has the same waiter. He's a grouty man, but not bad hearted. He's a chronic dyspeptic, but you see he won't deny himself much. You noticed he didn't tip the waiter? That's because he pays him once a week and generously, lie pays his meal checks the same wav. The waiter knows his habits absolute ly, and, as you saw, does not require any orders. lie knows that he wants certain things always, and understands his tastes well enough to be able to suggest a satisfactory menu everytime. I have an idea the old fellow will re member his waiter in his will. He gives him lots of presents, as well he might, for the waiter does about every thing except eat and drink for him." N. Y. Sun. THE MILLIONAIRES' MALADY. A Mental hIsease Which is the Outgrowth of the Posseaslon of Great Wealth. There is reason to think that great wealth begets a mental disease akin to those forms of paralysis which affect a m;nute portion of the brain. It is not to be denied that the very rich, as a .lass, show as much sense as other peo ple. Those who have made their own fortunes may well have narrowed their ninds in the process. They probably fell into a groove, and we must not look to them for sympathy with new thoughts or projects. But the majority -in Europe, at least-inherited wealth 1 and they passed through the same training commonly, imbibed the same ideas as the rest of us.- We knew some 3f them at school or at the university, where they were much like other youths --equally interested in the "questions" which took their fancy. They may even have promised in all sincerity to aid in Iolving a problem of some kind when they came into their own, and looked I forward to the work with pleasure. If the promise be forgotten when that Stime arrives, no reasonable person will -ondemn them. To find one'sself in the iaternal seat, surveying lands,all one's t >wn, as far as eye can see, orreckoning c ap the money-bags, is not less exciting, nrobably, when that day has been an- U tlcipated from childhood. But in a Ihort time the situation becomes famil- 5 .ar, and then that reasonable person, if i ~nexperienced, looks for fulfilment of t the promise. lBut rarely indeed is he Tratifled. The mental disease has ' tound 8 Incrtrat. WIe cjh ftle'nd play I still take interest in the question. what. ever it be. But somehow his mind can no longer grasp the obvious fact that he himself might settle it, once for all, by applying no great proportion of the money which lies idle at his bank. It is clear, also, that this malady grows more common, and intensifies. When the rich were by no means so many or so wealthy -as now, they founded all sorts of charitable instita tions-schools, colleges, chantries, hos pitals. At present they subscribe just like anybody else, and their contribu tion often enough is not more liberal than that of men whose capital is no greater than their income. In the L building of churches alone do a few of them make show of rivaling their fore fathers' munificence. But those sub scriptions acknowledge the obligation. A millionaire who flatly refused to do anything for his fellow-creatures could not be charged with inconsistency at least But he who gives a hundred guineas or so, when piling up hundreds of thousands for probate, admits in ef feet that be ought to do what he can. But if he chose, what could he not do? Our hospitals, for instance, make des 1 pairing appeals year by year. Their emissaries beg in the streets. They work through the directory, and write to each householder. Their boxes stand in every public place. Of late they have addressed workingmen. But all the while there are hundreds of capital ists-not less kind-hearted nor less in telligent than other people-who could set the largest of them on its legs for good and never feel the sacrifice, thou sands who could do the like without re ducing an item of expenditure. The action would be pleasant, one might think, and certainly it -ould honor. Why do none of them perform it? Be cause, we apprehend, their perception is dulled by the strange malady which attends great wealth. The diagnosis becomes-nmore reason able yet if we look beyond the calls of philanthropy to personal interests Du ties which are shared by all, such as that of relieving distress, may be over looked by busy men-and all million aires are busy somehow. But it may be said that each of them cherishes some S `... v--art or archaeology, scl private ,...' horticult ence in one or other o, horti ure, or sport at least. But very r16 are they who use their opportunity even here. Many work hard-but only in the same groove with men who labor at the identical task for their livelir hood. Take the easiest and commonest of such tastes. The millionaire who devoted a hundred thousand pounds t.. horse-breeding, consulting men of sci ence as well as experts, might do eni less good, with continual delight for himself, and found at least a new strain of thoroughbreds. But millionaires do not show enthusiasm for sport com monly. Some, as is known to the se lect, apply themselves to science, and spend money which would represent & fabulous sum to the bulk of savants but to them must be a trifle, in exper-* meats and researches. We have heard, indeed, of a bold and costly undertak ing which an eminent personage, still living, projected in his youth. He caused a magnet to be built of such size and power as had not yet been im agined. It was his intention to charge this gigantic object without witnesses, so as to enjoy the unparalleled result in selfish solitude. Happily, a great authority called aS the moment, and received an invitation to assist. When he saw the preparations, his face paled. Neither he nor any one else could foretell what would happen if that twenty-foot magnet were set to work; but it was probable, at least, that the house would fall. The thing still remains uncharged--or did a few years ago. But it is not re corded that this gentleman has devised any such scheme since he came in to his patrimony. Millionaires of culture must be inter ested in antiquarian researches which throw light upon the past They com monly subscribe, indeed, when an en terprise of the side is launched. Biut how much does English ari.ieology owe to them? We believe that twenty pounds was the largest contribution Thomas Wright could persuade any rich patron to advance towards unnov ering Uriconium. Poor men did what was done mostly, and now that won derful city is reburied. Silchester is another instance of our own day. lt, after all, British archieology is a "one horse" pursuit. The remains of Italy and Greece appeal to the imagination in a very different degree; and not to our English millionaires alone, but to those of the civilized world. Which of them at any time has responded to that appeal beyond here or there offering a little check, such as poor authors and professors rival?-London Saturday Re view. Black One Year and White the ~ext. A woman appeared on the streets of Canton, Mich.. recently who attracted much attention. She has a perfectly white face and hands and short kinky hair, with the features of a negro The woman said that she was born black and remained so until she was fifteen years old, when she suddenly turned white, remaining so foi- one year, when she turned black again. Since that time she is alternately white and blick, not only in spots, but changes color en tirely. She - is fairly intelligent and says she has never had a spell of sick ness and has never taken a dose of medicine. She lives near Sallis station, on the Canton and Aberdeen road. She says she cannot stand the sun at all, and wears a double veil and heavy glovea She says if the sun shines on her skin for one moment it causes it to blister at once. She has been examined by physiculams, who are unable to a count for the change in her color. - N. O. Times-Democrat -And She Failed. -"WVhat's the mat ter, dear" astked Mr. Jnstwed as he came into the house and forund his wife crying as if her heart would break. "I am so discouraged," she sobbed. "What has bothered my little wife?" "I wored all the after. on making eastmr pies, because I knoew you wIere so fond of them, and--nd-" Here she . n weeping hysterically again. "' 1 what, dawling?" "And they turned ot to be sponges SWk#*"**B t !lrge IN THE ELECTRICAL. WORt'I _ atked tsri. iii ýc fps lpo adopt shades for their electrii : tIlaiming that the gleams of light :rom make acenrate o possible. - -The Compagnie Translantique has again brought forward the question of lighting the Atlantic rouite 'om Ie land to Newfoundland. It is pWopoeed to have ten powerful aflotinag Mts two hundred zs apart, and conn~t them by elect c bles. -A new system of train starting has been inaugurated in the Dearborn sta tion in Chicago. A large cloc in the train dispatcher's office-iruns by eo tricity. Connecting wires e'tend to large gongs in the different waiting rooms and in the train:. shg~ Two minutes before the train starts the dif ferent gongs ring in all paits of the building. -,. -A patent for a process of uniting broken pieces of'are light edrbons has recently been granted. By tha~process the fragments of carbon aee combined to any desired lengths by means of a paste composed of pulverized carbon .nd coal tar, mixed in about 1a parts and applied hot, after whic carbons are baked until t&h harden s -It is said thr.t the Chilian go . ment is considering the t f straits of Magellan. As itse greatest coal deposits are on the northern stfOres of the straits, this can be cheaply ef fected. Such a system would, of. course, be hailed with delight by the mariners who would use that passage betW vn the two great oceans. -"The state of Massachusetts, as viewed from a balloon," says the' Eleo trical Review, "will soon present' ihe appearance of a huge gridiron, it all the trolley schemes now in confempla tion are carried out. Hamlets wiB -be connected by rapid transit withtil lages, villages with towns and .owns with cities, until a business mdn living in the interior of the state can take his family to the seaside for an airing via the trolley cars." -Austria announces an electric loo-. motive which is to travel 125 miles 'un nký.. ""te 'ndependence Beige fol qws I hour. r ,.. " " . ... . . , th i; with the statement tnat the soxr -'-.-s gian Co. and the North Franxce Co" we constructing a line for loeometi a, operated by electricity, on which.the journey from Brussels to Paris, aV6ut 192 miles, will be accomplished ' in eighty minutes, a speed of nearly., 150 miles an hour. It is further stated that the trains will be running it abot two months. -The new system of electric strpet lighting which is to be introduced'on Fifth avenue, New York, will er00oy two lamps instead of one ere lsamon each post. In this way more effective light and better diffusion are expded so that shadows will not bre-notiodle. The wires are to be concealed from view, and connected underground tothe low voltage mains of the Edisotn im pany. Each lamp will p aabout- 50 volts, and the pairs will'be connacted up in series and the system multiple, so that no wire will carry over 110 slits electric pressure. -The Westinghouse Electric & M1n ufacturing Co. recently exhibited its new lamp and its World's fair aenerat ors at the old Westinghouse air brrke shops in Allegheny, Pa., where the gen erators are under construction. There are 12 of the large generators, each having a maximum capacity of 15,000 16-candle-power lamph, and with thd 12 1,000-horse-power engines reqnlred to drive them will form the largest single exhibit of machinery ever shown at an exposition. The weight of each dyga mo will be about 150,000 pounds, and the armature, the largest single piece of each machine, is about 90 inches (714 feet) in diameter, and weighs 42,000 pounds. OWLS HAVE THEIR USES. Mice. Insects, Gophers and the Swarming Sparrow Food for the Wise Bird. The little screech-owl, well known in most parts of the country, is indefatig able in its work of destroying mice and insects It may often be seen at dusk hovering about barns and outhoases, watching for mice, or skimming over the fields or along hedgerows in search of grasshoppers, crickets and beeitlkh Many birds of this speoies have taken up a residence in the cities having learned to feed upon that most des structive nuisance, the English aparrow. In winter rural residents often notice the tracks of mice which form net works in the snow. crossing and tecrose ing, passing in and out of walls and stacks-tending to show how active these small rodents are when most of the world sleeps. Oeeasionlmty seek a track stops abruptly, and, while the ob server is trying to read more of the his tory written in the snow, his eyes e~ieh the faint impreaion of a pai.of wing tips near where the trail ends, and in stantly he is made sawar that i tasgedy has been enacted. cremsh-uwl also feed on chipmunaks, shrews, molea~d occasionally bats. luring warrm spdlls in witer thc~y h .rge extit tY-s d* store up in thei himsesan ges of food as a provision against is 2eat weather. Prbbably the m*ot impor t fa~hla eoonomic point of view among eiit the barn owL Its food is almost en tirely made up of insurfioui t eih In the west it feeds I1rgerb poaE~a gophers, and the .stomach eontenas of many individuals examia lrve resaled little alas tahem a t i mains of these rodentse To aw ualat properly the services ot this owl it mya be remembered that poauced tae g - e amongthe xmnmsR notrhe ama ist, structive nmammals which inhaMt thi : contr7·- lte varhtes weaker eeuias it feeds extensivelt on the &~'idiskd~ at The great bhre owl, which ia tha eat is teo tent in its try and g*C , 1 i - ot m'hbtta in anautt.