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FOR THE FARMER.
wifctlgtics of a Few Agricultural Industries •"-What Is the Most Profitable j"1*!- Breed of Sheepf ^Neighborhood Combinations for Breeding Horses—The Heated Hay-Mow— Treatment of Glanders. -Profits to be Secured by Investments In Irrigation Senator Stanford's Views on Thoroughbreds, ftc. Produce Statistics. It took 60,0)0 cars to move the .•gpfapes of the United States, the season before the census man made his rounds. The vineyards of this country repre sent an investment of $155,061,150, furnish employment to 200,780 people, «nd cover 401,261 acres. Last sea son's product from about three-fourths of the planted area—the other fourth being in vines too young to bear—was j27.130 tons, nearly half of which was •consumed as grapes and nearly half of which went to make 24,305.9^)5 gallons rof wine. There are some figures for '.the temperance people to ponder over. 'The small fraction of 41,166 tons went into raisins, lilling 1,372,195 boxes of ^twenty pounds each. The vines now rgrowing will in three years make from "8,000,000 to 10,000 pounds of raisins, -and the smaller estimate is 500,000 pounds more than this country now vcocsumes. The people who make a business of ^raising flowers sold $12,036,477.76 worth of plants last season. They al- i-so gathered in from cut flowers the snug sum of $14,175,328.01. The glass ton the greenhouses of this country •covers 891 acres, a good deal more than ta section of land, which is a mile ^square. There are 4,659 firms or com panies of florists, and 312 of these es tablishments are owned by women. "The value of the flower gardens of the United States is $38,355,722,22, with .$1,587,603.93 more in rakes, trowels watering pots and other implements. Flower raising gives employment to 16,847 men and 1,95S women. The fuel item for heating the green houses in a single season is $1,160,152. *66. Vegetable growing, says th« St. Louis (Uobc-Dcmocrat (truck farming the census people call it), now re quires 431,440 acres of land and em ploys 216,865 men, 9,254 women, 14, •870 children and 75,866 horses and mules. The garden "sass" raised on these truck farms pays $76,317,125 per year, besides freight charges and the commission man's generous grab. There is $100,000,000 invested in the struck farming of the United States, .-and $8,971,206.70 are in tools. Raising seed is an entirely different -'industry. There are 596 farms de voted to that purpose, embracing 169, :857 acres. It takes 12,905 acres to .-raise beans enough to supply the rest -of the country with seed. The people -employed in seed raising alone are 13, .£00 men and 1,541 women. Some of of these seed farms contain as much as .3,000 acres. The investment in the 507,336 acres •of peach orchards is $90,000,000. The last peach crop sold for $76,160,400. "That was more than a dollar's worth •of peaches for each man, woman and child in this glorious republic. The people who are employed in the peach -orchards numbered 226,000. The nurseries of the country num* I)er 4,510. They are valued at $41, ri)78,855.80. They require 172,206 acres of land. They give work to 5,657 .men, 2,279 women, and 12,200 ani mals. In these nurseries are growing ^3,386,855,778 young trees and vines 3for transplanting. Sheep-Breeding. The breed that will produce the greatest net income on the capital in vested and the feed and care expand ed per year or during a series of years. He may bo located on an upland farm perhaps not well adapted to regu lar tillage but well adapted to stock raising and mixed farming under §uch •circumstances sheep may always be kept with profit or he may have ex tensive ranges of pasture lands and be well prepared to keep large flocks of .sheep in every such case sheep should form a large part of the ritock kept. Every farmer should first determine whether he had better keep sheep at all, then let him become familiar with -all the leading breeds and form his -own conclusions as to which breed will Jbe best adapted to his wants and cir cumstances. %We know that sheep may be kept at .-•a profit by most all farmers in most all localities. There are several distinct breeds, Also several different types or families -of the same breed from which the .breeder may select as may best sup ply his wants, but in every case .choose a pure breed and not a mixed breed a mixture of families is often -conducive of good results, but a mix ture of breeds is seldom satisfactory. All the pure breeds have individu ality of merit. One breed may be more profitable in ^the hands of one man, and another •breed may be more profitable in the .bands of another man or same man •aader different circumstances. Every successful man in any busi ness must have a purpose and keep ithat purpose constantly in view. Therefore if the shepherd's purpose te to produce wool as the staple pro "duct of his farm he should keep such :. sheep as will produce the most valu able fleece, or if it is desirable Co pro duce mutton rather than wool let him .-select one of the largo, early maturing English breeds, but if he aims simply Jto make the most money possible out *of the sheep business he will perhaps Jind out that the profit in fleece and the profit in the carcass are so nearly -eaual as to justify a compromise and .adopt an intermediate position, giving '«p part of the fleece for a stronger con stitution and better carcass, and on '•the other hand conceding some of the •excellence of the carcass for a* in creased value of the fleece, thus unit ing the greatest possible .aggregate value of fleece and carcass. This we believe to be the best policy. Shun the extremes keep in mind that the wrinkly "grease pots" of a few years ago are on the whole un profitable, also that the long-legged flat-sided, bare-bellied, restless, breach scrub is to be let alone forever. We believe for the general farpaer a sheep combining the greatest value of. fleece and carcass is the most profita ble.—J. B. Sheldon in Indiana Farmer. Club Breeding of Horses* It would be much better for farmers who are engaged in horse breeding if neighborhoods or communities would combine or woi'k together and produce one particular kind of animal for the market. There are a great many ad vantages to be derived from this sort of club breeding. We often hear farm ers remark that they would like to pro duce better stock, but they live in out of-the-way places where they do not have access to first class stallion?, or if they are in reach of a good horse the price of the season is out of reach. Now these objections may be very easily overcome, if ten or a dozen farmers will combine, and procure a good stock horse to begin with. He should be one of the very best repre sentatives of the breed it is most de sirable to produce, and the time of breeding marked out should be. pur sued as closely as possible, and per sistently without any change of base. A reputation must be established be fore the business can be made success ful in the highest degree, and it will take some years of hard work and per sistent effort to establish a reputation abroad. Vermont now enjoys a world wide reputation as a producer of the great Morgan horse, after having bred the same for a century, and the blue grass region of Kentucky is synony mous with speed horses, and has the greatest reputation of producing them of any other section in the world. The result of club breeding among farmers would be great uniformity of produce, and as animals about the same size and build would grow up carloads of the same would find a ready market at paying prices, where only a few select animals might be disposed of, if the old system of hap-hazard breeding had been continued. Buyers cannot afford to run all over the country to find what they want, if they can be supplied by specialists who are breeding in their line. It is hardly possible that all the farmers of a neighborhood may be en listed in this sort of progressive breed ing, but enough of thsni may be in duced to take part in the work to in sure its success from the very first. Farmers thus combined have a unity of interest which all can enhance by united effort much better than the same can be done by an individual working alone. As to the particular time of breeding to be followed each club ehould settle this question for it self. Most farmers are great sticklers for the general purpose horse—an ani mal that is least desirable on the market. We would offer this general suggestion, however, that there is most money now, and will be for some time to come, in breeding good general purpose mares to first class roadster stallions. One of them strongly bred on Morgan lines would in our opinion be the very best thing that could be procured, and no extravagant price, away up in the thousands would have to be paid for it. Some might prefer the eoacher, or even the high draft animal for stock purposes. The Heated Hay Mow. The value of the hay crop in late winter or early spring is greatly en hanced if the hay comes out of the mow in good, sweet condition. Pro bably a difference of 20 per cent per load is made in hay that comes from the same field, but which has been placed in different mows. When there is a smell of mustiness about it the animals do not relish the hay, and the cautious purchaser is pretty apt to de tect the mold and musty appearance when purchasing it. The care of the li«y in the winter is frequently an im portant item, and labor spent upon it is well paid for. If the haymow is found to be heat ing in early fall, three-quarters of the crop will be more or less injured by spring unless something is done. It is often due to this lack of attention after the crop has been harvested that poor hay has been brought forth when a sale is made. If the heating does not amount to much, it is safe to thrust sharpened poles down into the mass to the very bottom, and then to throw a few handfuls of salt into each cavity. This, however, will only answer for slight heating. The best method is V turn the hay over, throwing it on another mow, or stacking ii out of doors for a few days. The days should be dry or the haystacks securely covered in rainy weather, to insure safety. This necessitates a great deal of worK, but it also often prevents heavy loss. One of the most frequent ways of spoiling good hay is to have leaky roofs in the barns. The rain and snow wash through, and soak far down into the hay. These large patches of hay that have been water-soaked will be poor and almost useless. When forked out in the spring one-half of the hay will be injured. The roofs of the barn should be perfectly tight, so that rain and snow can not get in on the hay. As the hay tends to settle down it (leavily. presses the center and the bottom This, instead of hurting the hay, preserves it, and is much better for it, than constantly forking it over. The more that the hay is forked over the less valuable it becomes. A great deal of its nutritive value is lost in the chaff and seeds which are knocked from the plants. On clear, cold days in winter the windows in the mow should be opened so as to give the hay good ventilation. This and the ab sence of dampness will do more toward preventing mold and mustiness than any other one thing. If the hay is molding in spots it should be turned over with the fork, and spread out on the barn floor. A little salt scattered around the place will be of advantage. Good Ventilation, however,is essential. —C. S. Wallers. Origin and Treatment of Glanders. For the information of "A Reader.'7 Roddick, 111., who wrote to inquire the. eatisG of glanders in horses, the follow* ing facts are stated: 1. A standard authority says the re mote causes of glanders in horses, though not clearly understood, are often found to arise from many debili tating influences, such as old age, bad food, over-work, exhausting cuseases and general bad management from specific misasmatic or animal poisons, such as those generated in localities where large numbers of horses are congregated together, even where the staples are well ventilated, lighted, drained, and the animal well attended to in every way, but more particularly where the contrary is the case. 2. The disease is infectious, the in fectious principle retaining its activity for a long time and under varying in fluences. 3. Symptoms—The disease mainly affects the nose, gradually extending to the throat and lungs. Pustules or blisters form in the lining membrane, also inside both nostrils. They break and leave small ulcers, which gradual ly increase in size, swelling into large ulcers, destroying the mucous mem brane and the nasal cartilage. There is also a discharge, first of a watcn,. thereafter of a clear, slimy,and later ol variously colored, gluey, or stickv secretion, having a tendency to dry and form dark crusts on the edge of the nostrils. The State has paid for the destruc tion of infected animals for the man ner and what is required of the owner, sec contagious laws of 1887, Revised Statutes, section 2, page 13. When glanders or farcy is suspected, a competent veterinarian should be called and, the disease identified, the animal should be killed and completely burned or deeply buried. Tremendous Profit. To capital seeking investment in a large way, irrigation enterprises in the West offer a most solid, lucrative and tempting field. Without water, in the arid region, land is agriculturally valueless. With water assured and applied, land suitable for average farming becomes immediately worth from $30 to $100 per acre while in those portions where the soil is adapt ed to the culture of fruit and the climate is favorable, $200 to $300 aa acre is not an uncommon price. Water for irrigating purposes can not be had by the individual farmer, and it is al most impossible, owing to the large amount of money involved,for a neigh borhood to procure water upon the co-operative plan. Hence the neces sity for capital, and its opportunity. The owner of the land will gladly pay a fair price for a water-right in per petuity, because by so doing a value is at once stamped upon land other wise worthless, or, at the best, useless, while the amount paid for the water gives to the investor an ample return and an assured revenue, and both parties to the transaction are benefit ed. To the farmer or fruit-grower, agri culture under irrigation presents many advantages not enjoyed where rain is depended upon to insure a successful outcome. He is safe against too little as well .as against too much water he controls the conditions of plowing and seeding and is absolutely sure of a permanent supply of the elements necessary for plant food he can cul tivate a greater variet}' of product,?, and the water put upon the land car ries with it the silt deposit needed for fertilization of the soil and almost ab solute certainty of a full crop each year is assured, and harvest time gives full immunity from loss by reason of rain while in fruit culture both growth and ripening of the fruit can, in a degree, be controlled, and the danger from frost be reduced to a minimum,because of the ability to arrest the supply of sap, thus giving time for the tree to perfect and strengthen for cold weather.—The Forum. The Thoroughbred* Here is what Senator Stanford thinks of the thoroughbred: The thorough bred whose pedigree can be traced back through ten, fifteen and twenty generations is the highest type of a horse that we have. He has courage, endurance and the highest organic structure. In his essential points he measures more than any horse of equal weight. The thoroughbred has in him every essential to a trotting horse ex cept the head. He can get that by education. Crossed with the trotting bred horse the trotting head is given, and as the machinery is all right the half-breed is a trotting horse of im proved endurance, speed and beauty, in my experience with the thorough bred infusions I have selected a mare for the purpose of breeding to trotters that did not produce trotters. Some thoroughbred mares that were castoffs as racing animals have been bred to trotters without success, but where 1 have selected a thoroughbred mare, paying particular attention to the head and the expression there, and then going to the other essential points of the animal, I have never failed to get trotters from her. While I am a believer iminfusions of thoroughbred blood in the trotter, I do not mean to detract from the worth of the trotter. I admire him, and think him a noble animal of many good qualities, but I believe he is to be improved by putting good thoroughbred blood into him. In working on this thoroughbred theory some breeders have made the mistake of supposing that any thoroughbred would do. The thoroughbred must be selected with as much care as the trot ting horse has had. A Laborer's Daughter. Mine. Tessandier,wlio,as leading lady of the Comedie Francaise in Paris tills the place once held by Bernhardt, is described as an attractive brunette, with wonderful black eyes. She was a laborer's daughter, and was born in a low quarter of Bordeaux. Not till the lirst bloom of womanhood had worn off did she decide to become an actress, and her rise to her present high position has only been thought struggles against most discouraging conditions. The Two Puppies. This little puppy grot no meat for dinner And so lie kept growing thinner and thinner, Xhings had got to a terrible pttwi This little puppy asleep by the piattef, Ate nil t!ie nit at and got fatter and fa/r. U'/r t&,: W 4-? fatter, Things had got to a terrible puss! But it chanced one day That Annabel May (And here is the lesson I teach.) 1 -4 WW—. 6 Divided the cates In two little plates. And gave a half to each. Gfobr, A J, /6-,1/sss ft /, Sf*. ymJJy*gr/ v• Then the thin little puppy got fat on his din ner. And the fat little puppy grew thinner ftnd thinner. Till you couldn't tell which was which. -N. Y. World. BY THE FOUNTAIN. Jt was a still, cold night, with a moon at full, and the air crisp and frosty outside a white, frozen mantle lay chill on the world, but in Myra Laven's room all was warmth, and comfort, and eleganca. Yet, as she stood at her window, looking abroad on sweep of carriage drive, lawn studded with stately trees, great stretches of pasture, meadow and woodlaud, her eyes were grave to sombreness, and in the curves of her lips there was a wealth of sadness. She owned it all. Had it brought her no gladness thus to liud hands, so lately empty, filled with the wealth of a dead old man who had been her mother's brother? "I could so well have done without itt" she said bitterly. "All should have gone to Guy—every acre! And now he is somewhere in the world with empty hands. It was crael of mv uncle—cruel !'r Her slight fingers locked and un locked before her the red, delicate lips, that Guy Cameron had told liim? self were sweetest and tenderest ou earth, quivered: uuder the long lashes shown a glitter, as of tears. But, at the sound of a childish voice singing an old baliad, she crushed down her sorrow instantly, turning a smiling face to the opening door, through which presently entered a piquant little fairy. "Where have you been wandering, Nina?" Myra asked gently, going for ward and sinking into a chair. The child knelt down before her, and crossing two tiny hands on her knee, looked up curiously into her face. "This is your birthnight, Myra," she said, ignoring the question. "Three years ago you and I came here to stay with Uuelo Howard. We were all alone until he sent for us, sister—all alone and poor. We are very rich now—at least, you are -but you never looked so sad in the old days as you look sometimes u«\v. Why is it, Myra?" "Child, hush! You would not under stand." The lingers toying with Nina's hair were trembling the face above her was sad indeed. "But I think I would, sister," the child persisted, like tho spoiled darling she was. "Let me guess now: You miss Guy?" No answer, but a sudden catching of Myra's breath. "I miss him!" went ou Nina plain tively. "Ho was so nice and kind, and so very handsome! Have you seen a face like his, sister?" "No," very, very softly. "He was tho son of Uncle Howard's dead wife, was he not? Then he should not have been sent away. He had as good a right to stay as we had —don't you think so?" "Oh, Niua, yes—a better right, since this was his homo from infancy, and he was taught to look on it as his in heritance." She stood up and began to pace the room. Nina, resting her arms on the cushion of the chair, her cheek on her arras, watched her. "If he came back, would you be glad to see him, sister?" she asked present ly- "Glad, child? I would give all—all I own for a sight of his face!" She paused, and flung out her arms passionately, then dropped them at her sides, and went and knelt by Nina, and drew her close to her heart. "A year," she said, slowly and wearily—"a whole, long year since he went away. No word since—not a line to say he pardons me for taking what should be his—for profiting by an old man's hour of irritation against him. Nina, my darling, he will never eoaoe back." The child's elfin eyes sparkled.. "Let us try to call him back, sister,'1 she said softly. "This is your birth night. Do you remember the story we read together ouce of the birth night angel who can grant a wish— who can hear a call, and send the one called over land and sea until he stands before the one who called him? Myra, Myra! go out, as that girl wo read of went, to where a fountain sparkles in the night—it is but to the lawn, dear, and call Guy by name— call twice, thrice! If your augel hears you, lie will come." Myra smiled sadly. "Dear little one, mv augel would not hear. Guy would not come." "But try it, Myra go and try it. See, I will bring your cloak." She sprang up and away, to return with a great furred cloak, which she wrapped about her sister, now standing, with a wistful smile ou her lips, in the full light. She drew the hood over Myra's hair and led her to the door. "Go, sister, go, she commanded earnestly. It was folly she kuew—arrant folly! but a warm color stole to her face, and a host of memories stirred in her heart as she passed over the frozeu snow towards the fountain. With what cordial, outstretch hands Guy Cameron had welcomed the orphan girl, who had come to supplant him! How kind he had been how frank, honest, manly! Aud when, at the time of the quarrel with his uncle, he had stood before the irate old man, how gentle his voice had been, al though with iron firmness he had re fused to let another hand mark out for him a distasteful future. Later, when the will was read, and he found himself almost penniless, how gently he had bidden her good-bye! So gently, so tenderty, that sobs rose in her throat, and ere she could plead with him to stay ho had gone. When she reached the fouutaiu, she turned to look back at the house. Its massive walls frowned darkly against a pearl-pale sky. "Does he hate me for robbing him of it?" she breathed. Then, covering her face with her hands, she sobbed aloud. "Guv, Guy! Will you never come— never?" she cried passionately. Aud a shadow glided out from the side of the great basin, aud a man's figure moved to her side as the cry left her lips. "Myra, dear one, do you call me back? Do you want me, Myra?'T She started, aud her hands felt. In the coolness of the winter even ing she and Guy Cameron stood face to face. "Myra," he said again, drawing nearer, "1 went away from you be cause my hands were emptj', and your own so filled. Not that it was easy to go, beloved,for it took all my strength." She cried out bitterly: "Oh, Guy! Why did you not tell me then? The parting wa3 so hard for me—so hard!" Iu a moment his arms were around her, aud she was sobbing on his heart. "I went in silence, my darling, be cause I knew j-ou were great of heart, and would not win you through your geuerosity. You might not have said nay because I was left poor, but you might not have loved mc, Myra. If love is between us, what matter which hand has the gold? lint only when I knew you loved me, could I speak as I have spoken now." "You know I love you nowP You do not doubt it, Guy?" "No sweetheart I can never doubt it now. Did Nina send you here, my dearest?" "Yes. Did Nina know?" She lifted her tear-wet, btlfe lOTfr gladdened face. With a sulile oh his lips, he bent aud kissed it. ••I grew so hungry for a sight of your face, dear, that I came here thinking to see you, myself unseen. An hour ago, as I approached the house, I came upon Nina—may Heaven for ever bless the darling child! She told mo that you missed me, wept over my absence, hated the wealth which had come to you, because you said that it was mine. Myra," very gently, "I did hope some day to have it left me, that I might share it all with you. Now She nestled closer to his breast. "Now, Gin*, it is all yours, and you shall share it with me if you will. It has darkened a year of my life. I have haled its weight. I will carry the bur den no longer." He held her very closely—he who had so hungered for a glimpso of her face. What could he savP "But about Nina?" he went on presently. "When I yet doubted my welcome, she bade me hide here until you came. If you spoke my name, to answer. I did not understand, but I obeyed her and, my own dear love you came." "Yes," and she smiled tenderly, "I will tell you how she sent me some time, but not now." "Myra," he whispered, "my hands are empty. Look up! I ask you to be my wife! What do you say to me?' "Oh, Gii}*, Guy, do not talk of empty hands when you bring me love!' she whispered. And ho bent again to kiss the tender lips that quivered in the moonlight then hand in hand, they went back to the house. In the hall Myra trrned happy eyes on her lover's face. She read there manv things, but not the shrinking he could not overcome from accepting wealth at tho hand of a woman, even the woman he loved. From before the great fireplace at the farther end of the hall, a tiny, elf liko figure lifted itself and ud\anced towards them swiftly. It was Nina, aud sho held a parch ment in her little hand, while her small face was tremulous with some excitemcut. "Myra," she said eagerly, but with a catch in her voice, "I have been look- ing into UncJo Howard's Bible, aud I found—this!" Myra took the parchment from her sister, opened and glanced at it then* with a warm flush on her face, she handed it to Guy. "It is a will—later than the one they thought was uncle's last," she said soft ly. "And have you read it, Guy? It leaves you nearly all. I am so glad— so glad!" Ho drew her into his arms, too moved for speech: and Nina, looking with frank curiosity from one to the other, suddenly clapped her hands. "I am glad, too," she cried glee fully. "Now you will slay here. Guy. because you own it all and you love Myra, so you will keep her with you. Aud I—may I stay, too, Guy? Myra would miss me terribly!" He looked down at the fairy, with & laugh in his eyes, which reached his lips as, releasing Myra, he stooped and lifted the child till her faoo was on a level with his. "Of course she would miss you terri bly, you good fairy!" he cxclaimed "and so would I, No, you shall not leave us, my dear sister. We could not get along without you. Nina, I owe all this linppiuess to' you, and I'll not forget it." With that he gave her a hearty kiss and set her on her feet, and she gen erously disappeared. OH, DEAH, YES. Tho Dot* 1 Dance In Something Hew, Described by tho Originator. "I shall dress as Cupid." That is what Miss Marie Barnum says she is going to do in the new "dove dance" which she is planning. Miss Barnum is English, and she teaches acting, stage dancing and kin dred accomplishments. "Oh, deah, yes!" she continued. am originating this dance, and as soon, as I have perfected the dove, which is mechanical, I shall be ready to give the dance in public. I shall dress aa Cupid, in flesh-colored tights, with a cross-piece of white satin on the braast, white satin trunks, and a tiny white shoe with a low heel. I shall have gauze wings on my shoulders and a. bow and quiver slung between them. Of course I cannot tell you the meeh^ anism of the dove. Oh, deah, not That is my secret, but I will probably be robbed of it. There is no honor in. the profession in America. They are great robbers! But the dance is mine now, and when I have the details com plete I shall have a ballet. I shall lead as Cupid, but the rest will be dressed in gray, to represent doves. Oh, it will be very pretty!" "How did the idea occur to you?" "The ideah! Why, one day I was watching my canary birds, and, as I saw how they kissed each other and flew back and forth, I thought it such, a pretty ideah for a dance, and then remembered that mamma had told ma of a dove dance which was very suc cessful years ago. My mamma was wonderful grand-opera dancer. Oh, deah, yes! Her name was Therese. She was wonderful! And I—I have danced ever since I was a baby. At 8 years of age I had twelve girls under me in the ballet, and when I was 12 my brother and I traveled through the provinces and gave drawing-room en tertainments. I was magnificent! I originated 'The Quakers,' and gave that dance four hundred times. The prince of Wales sent for me and con gratulated me. He said: 'I have seen you fifty times, and could see you fifty times more and not tire.1 Oh* deah, yes! My maiden name was Crome, but some one broke a bottle of wine on an old box in the Standard Theater in London and christened u& the Barnum children." "But about the dove dance?" "Oh, yes! Well, it requires a very fine figure to wear the Cupid costume. I am considered to have one. My voice is also said to be very fine. For the dove dance I want music full of breaks, so that I can keep a position. for a second and then begin to danc» again. This is the way shall do it:* Miss Barnum poised herself on th& 2 toe of her right foot, bent her left leg* behind her, gazed upward at an im aginary dove held aloft on the foretin ger of her right hand. Then she al lowed the dove to flutter to her arms,, folded across her breast, and breathed, a fervent kiss into the unresponsive* air. Then, like Clytie, sh» perched the absent dove upon her shoulder, lifted it to her head, put a letter in it$ $ bill, and so on and on, softly singings all the while, poising for a moment in, one attitude, then sinking or rising in to another, and joining the little pict ures, thus presented, with a chain of twinkling steps. "It will be very pretty. Oh, deah* yes."—N. Y. Sun. Appealed to the Snake Charmer. A young man bearing the vestigest,. of an extinct new year's jag entered: Worth's museum the other day ant| rolled up to the wooden throne of it young woman with a hectic complex ion and generously filled stockings. He looked around him nervously for a moment and then said to her in stage whisper: "Say, are you th$ 4 young lady that charms snakes?" "Don't you see I'm here for that?*-, f she said, a little sullenly, as she kicke% a fat python back in his box "whatchef* givin' me?" "Well," he said, laying a silver do!« lar in her palm, "there's a blue boat, constructor covered with polka dotf'5 has been chasin' me down Sixth ave» nue. He'll be here in a moment. Yoi* charm him away and you can liavet him. Yah!" with a j-ell, "there he now coax him off while I get away,* and he disappeared through the door-| with a howl that could be heard 0»% Blackwell's island.—Stage. Fish are drowned when taken frotatf the water into the air, and animal^ when put even for a short time under'-* water, but the axolotl cannot bft| drowned anywhere. Yet he is noK- where safe, for the inhabitants of th%' place where he is found—Mexico, Nen^, Mexico and Texas—think that his flesly is very good to eat, and catch grea||. numbers of the axolotl for food, whic$|i. they cook in various ways.