University of South Carolina Libraries
i- ' . -"v.. " /*y3?fBS3 * '. : '"*'' r "* VOL. XLVIII. CAMDEN, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 1890. NO. 37. | SECRETS. ,1 Wuere is the dearest place to lie? J, The very best place to laugh or cry' In the whole wide world, from east to west, | The safest, warmest, coziest nest? Only the babies know- The glad, giad babies know! "What is more precious to have aud to hold? Worth more than its weight in rubies or gold? ! The fairest, purest, loveliest thing That earth can give and heaven can bring? ' Only the mothers know? The glad, giad mothers know! ?Emt.rt C. Dowd, in Young People. j A LITTLE MAVERICK. All that hot August day there had been a cloud of dust in the east like a column of smoke. No breath of air stirred it. nor did it seem to advance a yard. The sky was n steely blue, the air : quivered like the white heat from a caulflrnn "H molten mnfnl Tn thp prisn nnrl dry buffalo grass my raid insect life gave to the simmering air a dreamy, monoto- , nous sound like the humming of fas-away bees. The afternoon passed, darkness gath ered, and with the rising moon came a j cool wind from off the snow-crested i -- - peaks. The cloud of dust subsided, and j revealed a line of moving, white-covered i wagons* As the caravan drew near, a gaunt , prairie wolf rose suddenly out of the i grass, gave a long, dolorous howl, and j fled across the plain. After him, as if | they had risen from the earth by magic, ] went a pony and rider, a bronzed, grizzled I old man, as gaunt, and evidently dread- i ing the new-comers as much, as the wolf. I The caravan, numbering thirty wagons, j went into camp in the form of a hollow souarc. the neonle and animals inside the barrier of wagons. The sound^of voices, ! the smell of cooking, the laughter of i children and the red glow of the campfires made a bit of welcome .life in the , Bolcmu land, breaking the soundless ' monotony of centuries. Later, when the fires were low, and when the only noises were the champing of tbo animals and the tread of the sentry on watch, a strange, elfish figure rm out of the stockade and began to dance in the moonlight?a girl of twelve or thereabouts, with big, sparkling eyes and short, \ black curls flying over her pretty brow. J A bearded face was thrust out under a wagon cover, and a gruff but not unkindly voice called "Com' in here, you Maverick, want the Injuns to git ye?" The child laughed mockingly, and ! continued her dance. After the third | call the big man jumped out of the wagon j and ran after her. When she could run no longer she dropped like a log, re! maininc stiff and still, while he carried her to the wagon. "Gritty, ain't she, mann?''he said, as -- the child rolled over like a stick of wood. The lady addressed was a tall, thin \ person with a wrinkled face, sharp black eyes behind spectacles, corkscrew curls, and a habit of wearing little shoulder i capes in the hottest weather. She was a New England school teacher going West to better herself. I "'Gritty'is Western, I presume, Mr. Chase," said the lady, Miss Mary Ann j Reed. "What on earth do you call her { a Maverick for?" Miss Reed clicked her j needles viciously. She -knitted all day, jolting in a corner of the wagon, a picture of martyrdom. "In my kentry, Texas," said Chase, "they calls them stray young cattle tha', j 3 don't git branded Mavcrick\s:<hey don't b'long to no herd, an' them that finds gits 'em." "She's got folks in Denver,'" said Miss i Reed 1"J dunno," whispered the man, with - an anxious look toward the sleeping h child. "A feller that met me t wo days ago on the east-bound wagon-train told me her oa aud ma hed died suddenlv.an' the childrcu hed scattered, an' he'd 11 never hecred o' Janet at all. Her i gran'marm hed kep'her from a baby, an' the old lady dyin', Janet's unelc jest; shipped her off to Denver where her folks was livin'. Don't seem nobody to take her." "Why didn't you send her back with these folks?" asked Miss Reed. r'~" "'Cause they was only harf way, an' !i - was short for grub; they wouldn't take ! her." i! Yet the Maverick was u grgg^^PT'htr^ -^4fe~j,0u,rne'y. Every oncTliked her, and 1 welcomed her bright presence to their wagons. Around the camp tires even ; 1 the men gathered to hear her sing the j ? quaint old hymns her grandmother had i f taught her. She held tired babies till ' her little arms were numb, she told ! 1 stories to weary children, and was a ministering augel at every wagon?at the last one in the train most of all. < |*t' This wagon had joined the train in 1 M Missouri, aud belonged to an unfortunate 1 ||| family that Chase called "Pikes." The ! i father, a sullen, sickly man, drove the j H four lean oxen: the mother, ha.f-dead from malaria, seldom lifted her head from her bed; and the nine children, practically orphans, took care of themselves, and of a little, motherless girl, sent to her lather i P? in Denver. h mis Daov, nose, was a merry littic * creature of three, beautiful and winning, ! and much bked. But the days were toilI Bome oues, and as the Browns had charge of her, no one interfered, though many of i the party wondered who could have !1 trusted her with them. The two youuger Browns, homely, 1 ( faded little souis. were faithful guar- i dians over her. The other children were unruly and rude, but these two seemed i like some good old folks who had lived i out well-rounded lives and been trans- ; i lated back to earth to begin over again. ! To these children Janet's presence was the one happiness of their day, nor,' could she could tell stories enough to j i satisfy them. Once Janet, coming unobserved, heard the youngest Pike teb1 ing baby Kosc, who was cross, one of i her own stories. "You sorrcrful little things," cried:' Janet, "can't you make 'cm up vour- i selves of yo'ur own ?" : For a week, at night, the sentry at the i stockade saw far-off, black, moving specks ou the horizon, and weary and anxious were the hours of darkness, early the start, eager the hope j to get on without the attack. Each man | would mutter in the gray dawn, as hag- I gard and white, he harnessed his team, j Thank God, another night of peace, no j Indians yet!" "Janet." said Chase one morning, i when she camo to watch him harness his j team, "cf them Injuns comes an' gits | the better o' us you git on that ere leetlc j gray pony, Nance, thar, an' take Rose j an' set out fur them low hills 'cross j thar." ? "Nance likes me," smiled Janet, "I j feed her my bread." "All of us like ye, ye Maverick, yer so j chipper alius," Chase said, admiringly. ! "The Injuns shan't git vc cf we kin help ' it." That day a young wife was sick, and ' all the long hours Janet tended the wail- j ing baby its mother was too ill to care j for. She looke'd back at the line of j wagons ana tnougnr 01 dudj nose, iu.it she loved best of nil. "Those good little Pikes will sec to j her," she thought, hopefully. But the ; two little Pikes were weary that day? j they lay in a Grange stupor, those pathetic guardians ? and no one noted | them. Locked in each other's arms they | lay unheeded, and one was drifting away I beyond earthly aid. At the night halt Janet, freed from her charge, ran for Rose. Then the news flew from wagon to wagon, the child was gor.c and no one had seen her all day. | Miss Reed remembered seeing her run- j ning among the sunflowers at breakfast- ' time. "Ain't nobody going for her?" cried j Janet, in agony. She ran to each wagon, ! to be met with the same answer: "It i cannot be done." "You see, Janet," said Chase, a sob in ! his voice, "there's fifty women an' chil- j dren here an' only thirty men to guard 'era; there may be hundreds of Injuns out j there. We daren't leave camp or they'll know it, an' we've searched all the plains with a glass an' there's no sign of her." , "But tcr-morrer?" choked Janet. l ml x 1- - _ 1 _ s anc 11 not oe u-wauuerin , uuss\?t don't arsk me to tell ye, but there's Injuns an' perarie wolves." "We must, only tell her father she died?never the wholo truth," said Miss Reed, coming to the wagon for her rubbers, which she wore on the dryest nights. Chase walked away and sat down by the tire. "No, don't talk no more, Janet," i as the child went to him, "it aren't no j use. I'm the only old Injun lighter in camp.' I've growed gray at it. I've got 1 ter take the lead." Janet went quickly* to her wagon. By j the light of a flickering candle she , printed, iu a round, childish hand, on a i bit of paper, these few words: Chase, I am goin' to find Rose au' j taxe Nance. I aintuogoodin fightin' Injuns ; an' I heard you say my folks was desd. i Don't you come for me 'cause they need you. j They don't me that is only a Maverick. "Janet." She pinned this note to his blanket, j then went softly out in the starlight to j the corner where Nance stood. Fear- < lessly she blanketed the animal, fastened 1 the surcingle, then led her quietly out to J au opeu space between two wagons. She looker! hack nt. the rlrinrr ramn- i fires, the groups of wen sleeping in the j light of them, their guns by their sides, \: the silhouettes of the women against the !1 wagon curtains. Miss Reed's prim and \ queer with the funny curls. How safe ; it was here, how lonely and dreadful ' outside! She climbed on the pony and ; turned Iter head toward the east; the | animal, thinking of her home, struck into j a run. The sentinal saw Nance disap-j' pear in the darknees, but did not note ' 1 the little rider. "That onery gray pony as cint been j worked all the way hey got loose an' 1 gone," he said to the crowd of excited men who ran out at the noise. Every unusual rattling of gravel under 1 Nance's hoofs quickened the beating of i Janet's heart; every dark object was to ; her a beast of prey; every sound, the ! < coming of the red men. She thought of < the old-time stories of Indian warfare j 1 and cruelty her grandmother had told < her. of the horrors of the plains the men 1; spoke of by the camp-fires. j J "But I'm the only one in all that train i rs hasn't anybody to care^og iTP', ~| IwicJf OTCtcfV? "There was only nie to 1 be spared." 1 When the moon rose it showed her no ' living object on the great plains. The ' camp was far out of vision, and not even ; * spark from its fires glimmered on the ; still air. Absolute quiet and solitude;; the world seemed asleep. At the top of a little rise in the road 1 Tanct halted to rest her tired horse, and : once more to look around the lonelv i land. The quivering of Nance startled 1 her. and peering ahead, Janet saw a sight (< she never afterward forgot. ! 1 There in the moonlit road stood baby ! Rose, her yellow curls dishevelled, her 1 face tear-stained and dirty, her gown I ! torn, her little feet bare and bleeding. i She still clung to her flowers that had led i her astray long hours before. ; Near the child a lean gray wolf sat on i his haunches, regarding her with a pro- | j found and melancholy stare. At the sight of the pony the wolf gave i a weird howl, turned and trotted swiftly i across the plains. The child,with a wild ' cry, ran forward. "I knew you'd turn, Janie. I lost all | day an' hungy an' the doggie coined an' i singed. I had a doggie once, Bounce, | where mamma was. Oh, I want my mamma!" Janet held her close, kissed her tears away, and theu she gave her the food she 1 had brought?her own suppe.\ She 1 lifted her to the pony's back, led Nance '' to some low hills that might give them ! 1 shelter, and there waited for daylight. ' I "I never knew nights was so long be- ' fore!" sighed Janet, holding Rose in her . ' arms. "Nance is laid down an' asleep. Only me awake, an' I must keep watch < for wolves an' Injuns. Now the moon's i goin , too, an' it gets lonesomer. I'll ' say all the hymns I know to keep me !1 awake an' brave." ! < Try as she would her head would droop, the words grow confused anrl weary. As the moon sank and the chill increased, the shivering child covered Rose with her own skirt, and then to keep \^irm and awake walked up nnd down beside hem "What, was it, that low, trampling sound, coining louder and nearer so fast? Janet caught up Rose and ran hack to the hill; the horse followed, trembling in every limb. Just beyond the hill in a furious gallop came a mass of horsDS,and dimly amid the fog of dust about; them Janet saw the forms of their Indian riders. x "Joe said Injuns was wuss'n wolves!" sobbed Janet. "Dear Lord, let them go on an' not find us!" The Indians passed on their path, marked by clouds of sand that helped the darkness mercifully to hide the children. "They're gone!" cried Janet; but * -- J- -ii.. -1 T naraiy were me woras uuereu wueu there came another louder trampling, the click of arms against saddles, and more horses?hundreds of them it seemed to .Tanet?and then, bringing joy to her heart, an American voice calling: "Forward !" as the cavalrymen pressed on after the Indians. The danger having passed, the tired child fell asleep with Rose in her arms. When she woke it was bright sunlight. Iler dazed eyes saw Nance feeding near by, Rose running toward her, and an oldish man, with a gray beard and bronzed face, looking at her kindly. By his side was the lean wolf Rosy had called a dog. "I kDew it was a tame one!" cried Janet. "In course you did," smiled the old mnn. "Me an' ray gal, Ann Reed, fell out twentyodd year ago 'cause I owned a tame b'ar. She went ter Bosting, turned schoolmarm, an' I emigrated to Iewy." Janet, very wide-eyed, told hira about Miss Reed, who was one of their wagonparty. Gaining courage, she also gave hoi own history and Rose's as for as she knew. "Wal, you be a powerful talker!" cried the old man. "Now come eat, an' then we'll ketch up with the caravan. Say, though, sis, would you say, 'lowin' fur age an' my whiskers', Ann Reed aint no better-lookin' then me!" "You're both nice for old folks," said Janet, politely. He led them to a dugout in the hills, where they found plenty to cat, and then they set out for the wagons, Janet with Rose on Nance, the wolf following the old man's bronco. "The row last night, sis," he said, "was Uncle Sam's sojers arter Injuns, same as has been hangin' round yer train. Wonder how them serious ways of Ann Reed's would 'a' took with Injuns?" At night they reached the campingplace of the wagons, where there was great rejoicing?Chase, especially, coming often to stroke Janet's curls,and mutter: "Ef you aint a borned hero, I never knowedone! The stuff of a pioneer!" Jahct's only sadness was that one little grave where the youngest "Pike'' lay; the child had died the night before. How many nameless graves,some pathetic, tiny ones, there used to be on that greai i pathway to the "West! When Janet, with Rose in her arms, climbed into her wagon, the hermit approached and said, mysteriously: "It's the same Ann Reed, sis, an' she's there a-pettin' that wolf like he were a poodle dog. Aint set agin 'em no more." Two miles from Denver they met a horseman so pale and anxious they knew who he wa^ even before he called j hoarsely: "Is my baby with you?" "Aye, she be," answered Chase, "but we'd met ye with blank faces an' sorrerful hearts but for Janet here." Then he told the story, and the father got down from his horse to kiss her first DCiore ms own cnna. "I'm well on, Joe," he said, brokenly. "I can do well for her, and you say she lias no one. I will have two daughters instead of one." "You aint a Maverick no more, Janet,*' iried Joe, something shining in his honest jyes, "an' there aint one of us but will bid ye God-speed. Ef ever a lone little :hild was worth a father's love an' care, rou be, an' the blcssin' of nil us that leuowed ye goes with ye." Andjus slie.j^^^Tanfr^eTfather, trftecT froJffthe companions of the long wagon journey, they followed her with i loving, tearful eyes, that little Maverick who had found a happy nome.? Youth'i Companion. -?MP? i - Naming a Tothi. When F. H. Heald settled on the Machado Ranch, near San Diego, Cal., ?nd began to build Elsinore, then unnamed, he was puzzled about the christening. What should he call the coming >itv ho thr> lnlrp and enrinrre? "Finullr ujvJ "j ,l*"v '"ow * *mw,V lie choose Lake something or other?a long compound?but the postoffice authorities would not have it. They wrote Mr. Heald that one word was enough and sent him a list to choose from. He took Elsinorc, and a few days afterward innouueed the fact to old Senor Machudo. The aged flon was for a moment nonplussed. "El Senor," he said; "which senor do you mean, yourself or myself;" "Yourself, of course," replied the diplomatic Heald. And to this day the .Machados believe that the name Elsinorc is but a gringo corruption of "El Senor," the senor who owned the origiual property.?Argonaut. Rings on Their Toes. George B. Uextcr, of Boston, when at the St. Nicholas the other day, exhibited among his friends some gold and silver rings of very artistic design and finish but of uncommonly large size for linger rings. Mr. Dexter explained that the rings were not for the lingers, but the toes, and were the kind worn in Algiers. He had secured them on a resent trip abroad. The articles were exirnples of native skill and the workmanship would compare very favorably with the best work of the most skilled jcwclsrs anywhere.?Cincinnati Times-Star, THE ASSAY OFFICE. HOW GOLD AND SILVER ORE 13 REFINED. A Full Description of the Process and the Instrument*- Used?$100, 000,000 in Bullion in One Room. On Wall street, to the cast of the massive and imposing Sub-Treasury, stands an odd building of white marble, flush with the street. In architectural design it resembles one of those colonial wooden structures that are still to be seen in certain parts of New England. Its staid simplicity seems out of place, situated as it is in the very centre of all financial activity. The quiet elegance c>f its front is in singular contrast w?*h the rear of the building, which is of brick, and built in the style of an old JDutch burgomaster's bouse. r._ ..If SITEBtXTEXDEXT MASOX. In this peculiar building on "Wall street is located the plant of the United States Assay Office, a branch of the Government the importance of which cannot be overestimated. It is the Mecca of all the touiists and sightseers who visit the metropolis, and its workings tire matters of the keeuesi; interest to; every government of civilized people on the face of the earth. Its tests, when officially announced, stand in all parts of the world without a challenge, and in the domain of business, wherein the precious metals hold much sway, its word is incontrovertible. ? ' But if the famous old house is curious outside, its various departments within -itll C J -A. * T - are sun idoic so. ouperjnieuuent. .uason, who has been in qhargc of the office almost since its iiweption, is the authority for the statement, that no photographs have ever been ta^en within its walls. True, magazine articles have been written about if, but tfce illustrations used therein were simply sketches ' taken here and there of some particular objects upon which men were at work. THE BOILER DEPARTMENT. Through Superintendent Mason's kindness, however, the photographer of this paper was allowed to take all the pictures he wanted save one. In the Assay Office, as in Bluebeard's palace, there is vnr\m into Trlaiola f Vi a imiKIip miict' "ut iwwm iuiv t? uiuu uuv/ |/nunv luuou not look through the medium of the c&mem. Of course, that was the room of which a photograph was most desired, but Mr. Mason thought it best that it bo psssed. He thought it would bo ill advised to furnish enterprising burglars with photographs of a room containing over ?100,000,000 in solid gold and silver which is only protected by half a dozeu massive steel doors and a small arniv of watchmen, fully armed. But for the information of such as may contemplate trying to force their way into this impregnable stronghold, it might be well to say that the bars of gold, piled up like building stone inawall^are so retried. if'tfieopportunity to try to take j them away were allowed ; so it is safe to presume that they will remain where j they arc. well guarded and in absolute , security, as they have been for thirty , vears past. I TIIK GRKAT HYDRAULIC PRES6. There was a quantity of Mexican silver ! bullion received at the Assay Office the j other day, and its peculiar shape and the j size of the bars were such as to call forth j comment from those who handled it. The i bars, or slabs, were about twenty i:iches J long, an inch or more in thickness, and j eight inches wide. Each of the bars was curved like a barrel stave. This pc- | cuiarify in shape. Mr. Graliaui of tho I weighing room said, was to facilitate the j packing of the bullion on the backs of burros. The bars contained silver and gold in unequal weights. They were very heavy, some of them weighing eight or nine kilogrammes. The process of refining and assaying this metal is an interesting one. Jn the weighing room, which is in | charge of .Air. Graham, stand an immense j pair of scales, towering up to a height of 1 perhaps ten feet and stretching out their gigantic arms fully as far laterally. The I scales, although immense in size, arc so j delicate, that they will accurately weigh ' l-100th of at* ounce or 10,000 ounces. _. j I After the silver bars had been weighed they were taken to a number of furnaces in at other department, where the weight of silver was added to half its weight of gold, making a mixture of cne-third gold aud two-thirds silver. When in a molten state the workmen crew forth the white hot crucibles from the furnaces, dipped into them with a shallow ladle, and with a deft twist of the hand tossed the molten metal into vat* filled with water. So expert .are these men in this work that the metal, when removed from the water tanks, is in thin, curly shavings, much like the turnings from a lathe. After the silver and gold shavings, if such they may be called, have been allowed time to cool they are taken to the top of the building, in the rear, where the boiling vats are located. They are great cauldrons of copper, set in masonry, and contain perhaps, forty or fifty gallons of a solution of sulphuric acid. The metal shavings are placed in these boiling cauldrons in proper quantity and boiled for a long time. Then the decoctioD, which is of a bright bluish-green, is syphoned off to vats on the floor below, where it is put through another and another boiling until it has been thoroughly cooked seven times. Then it is decanted off into other receptacle* lined with copper aud having suspended across them bars of sheet copper. The copper collects the sulphur from the bath and precipitates the gold while the silver, still in solution, is carried off to other vats. It is put through a number of chemical processes until it is finally precipitated, and the solution in which it last was is decanted off. The gold precipitate looks like coarse dirty building sand, and if a pile of it were dumped in the street in front of the Assay Office it might lie there for a month before any one, other than a mineral expert, would think of touching it. Anci if the silver precipitate were . THE MELTING ROOM. dumped side by side with it, Superintendent Mason would as likely as not be arrested for throwing ashes into Wall street. But the golden sand and the silver ashes have yet many hands to pass through before the office is ready to repoit as to the quality and fineness of the metal. It is next saturated with hot water and allowed to stand half an hour. Then it is shoveled into a copper-lined box on wheels, and carted off to the press room to be made into cheese. Queer stuff to make cheese of, it i>-true, but if the average corner grpeeTTiad just one of those cheegfis-itfstock, he could well afford to retire from business. In the press-room is a hydraulic-hydrostatic engine of immense power. Beside it stands the hydraulic press, whose power is so great, yet so delicately applied, that a man's skull might be gently crushed and no abrasion of the skin be perceptible. The terrific power can be instantly released as well as applied. It is n dangerous machine to handle, but in skillful hands it is a faithful servant and does its work well. C. G. Brunner, a veteran in the service, and who has been *S&ttT2?G' FURNACES. in charge of this department from the day the Assay Office was instituted, stood at the throttle of his engine. Me had just filled the drum in the press with the saturated gold sand and was in the act of applying.the power when the visitor j entered. The drum in the press is twelve ! inches in diameter, and fourteen inches deep. It was filled to the top and packed tightly when the solid piston head entered it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the drum ascended and the piston was forced into it. The gauge on the engine began to register the pressure. Assuming the cake of metal to be a trifle less than a foot in diameter and to contain 113 square inches of area on its upper surface, the gauge showed that it was receiving a frightful squeezing. The hand pointed at 6000 pounds to the area when the ' ' ? J.! -U-lf _ machinery had oeen in inouuu mm a minute. Thirty seconds later 10,000 pounds pressure was recorded, yet the engine ran merrily along without a squeak or a jar. There wasn't a sound to indicate that, the powerful machine was doing anything beyond running its own fly wheel. Then 20,000 pounds and 30,000 pounds were recorded aud still the steel fluger moved on. It was almost agonizing to watch it. The pressure ot that terrible engine can almost be felt in one's imagination; 40,000, then 50,000, and the grim engineer lets his hand steal gcutlv to the throttle of the great machine. It is now running a trifle slower, but just as quietly as before. The dome full of golden sand has risen almost a foot, and it seems that there cannot be a drop of water left in it, yet that merciless machine keeps on, and the finger on the dial marks more and more pressure. It has reached 56,000 pounds, or more than 500 pounds per square inch. What steam boiler was ever made that could withstand such pressure? yet this little brass cylinder in the press had withstood that awful power of twenty tons thousands upon thousands of times. - / The engine was stopped and the drum j was released. As it dropped down of ita own weight a glittering disc of gold was revealed beneath it. It looked for all the world like a bright, rich cheese. It was weighed and placed in a drying oven to destroy the last traces of moisture. "Thatcheese," remarked Mr. Brunner, "you can have for $36,000 if you will carry it home." The silver granules are treated in the same mauner in fhis room, and when all are thoroughly dried and baked they go to the melting room on the first floor of the main building, where the beautiful cheeses are broken up with a sledge hammer and melted in gigantic crucibles of plumbago. The molten metal is run into bars, weighed when cooled, numbered t stamped and registeicd, and at last, after a portion has been assayed in the room above, is stored away in the big steel vaults to remain until it is I1CCUCU ill LUC! I1UL1U? 1U1 UUlUlUg UI UJ manufacturers for raakiDg watch ca6es or jewelry In the assay rooms everything is conducted upon a very minute scale. The small samples, taken from various lots of metal in the raeltirg room, are here submitted to the testa by which their fineness is determined. Little crucibles made from bone dust are used to melt the metal. Whatever weight is used for assaying?usually only a fraction of an ounce?is represented as 1000 parts. The weight is taken to the l-1000th of a grain, and after the assay has been, made and the metal tested in the various technical ways in vogue there, the residue is weighed. The missing parts represent base metals or dirt, and are deducted from the whole as originally weighed. Gold or silver therefore, that is .999 fine, contains but one part in a thousand of base metal, alloy or dirt. And this is what some of those bars of Mexican bullion shewed when they were put through the various processes herein described.? New York Sun. Odd. Wandering Rocks. Near the village of San Jose, Peru, on the shores of the great Lake Titicaca? the loftiest lake in the whole world, are three large pillars of stone, of which we give a picture. They are of unusual height, and the condors that perch on the top of them add by their gaunt figures and black plumage to the weird effect of the solitude. On one of these huge blocks the features TiArirc %?r? 1 T> T ACIT TITTf iPi * XXXXi IiUOA.3 unuu ^ of a human face arc cut, and the others are covered with designs of various kinds; and they all have some reference to sunworship. The pillars were probably engraved by the original natives of the laud, who are now known only by these and other relics in this quarter of Peru. They are supposed to have been a highly civilized race. It is not believed that the people brought these stones to their present position. The rocks arc those called "erratic," or wandering stones, and were probably left by a glacier. The Natural Home of tln? Human Race. Man instinctively turns to the tropics with a sure inspiration, for his body knows, if his brain does not, that here, under the brilliant sun, here in the warm southland, man originated. It was Grant Duff, I think, who recently wrote that no man had been liberally educated till he had passed some part of his life in the lxopig&. ffeffr-Qne feels as if admitted to nature's laboratory,*- Jifixi she began her experiments which we call'^volution, the result of which was man. Down in tbc~ tierra calicnte, the hot country, air, earth and water teem with life. There is inexhaustible vitality derived from the ardent sun. Agassiz records that the Brazilian tribes are models of perfect human form, for the sun is a sculptor, shaping everything to beauty. One sees how true this is when looking at the men and women of the tierra calicnte. Even a little higher up in the tierra templada, or temperate country, one sees clearly the effects of the constant sunshine. How supple and strong arc the shapely women! How broad chested and vigorous the well-nourished men! Where grow the sugar cane and the coffee tree, where flourish the fig and platano, there man also increases in strength and in physical perfection. In the tropics the existence of "nerves" is unknown. What a jolly good thing it is for a tired Northerner to lie for hours on abench in a sun-warmed Mexican plaza ? .1 1-*1,~ fV?o nnrfnmpfl nir! Anfl I Jinu Ui CML11U 1u lilv. j^vi auu?v? . how, after days of this most pleasant regimen, a man begins to feel that it is good to live. lie forgets the cares of his business or professional life; he learns, under the magic iuflucncc of the tropics, that human speculation in philosophy and theology arc not worth the price of the paper thpy are printed on, and he finds his night's sleep sweet and refreshing.?Boston Herald. A young man may have the worst I memory on record, but he will not forget | to remove the price mark from the pres- j cnt he buys for his best gh^-if the article cost loss than Olih On the other I hand, he may have the best memory in the world, but if the present costs $25 the price mark is inadvertently overlooked. ?Horrisloion Herald. i Forty thousand communications are daily made by telephone in London over the wires of the National Telephone Company. THREE TRAVELERS? r Three travelers met In Brander Pass, By the bubbling Brander spring;. They shared their cake and their venison, "J And they talked of many a thing? Of books, of song and foreign lands, Of strange and wandering lives, And by and by, in softer tones, ' ^ They spoke of their homes and wives. "I married the Lady o' Logan Brae," Said one, with a lofty air: j"There isnn in a' the North countree . A house with a better share Of gold and gear, and hill and lock, Of houses and farms to rent; . There's many a man has envied mo And I'm raair than weel content." "Dream of a woman as bright as day," The second traveler said. "Dream of a form of perfect grace, Of a noble face and head, . Of eyes that are as blue as heaven, v I . Of flowing nut-brown hair; That is my wife, and, though not rich, Oh, she is wondrous lair r The third one said: "I have a wife, She is neither rich nor fair; She has not gold, nor gear, nor land, Nor a wealth of nut-brown hair; But, oh! she loves me! and her love ' Has stood through every test. Beauty and gold are good, but, friends, 1 We know that love is beat." They filled their cups in the spring again, And they said, right heartily: "Here's to the loving, faithful wife/*^ I Wherev r her home may be!" And soon t \oy took their different ways, One thought in each man's breast: x "Beauty is g od, and gold is good, But true lo e is the best." PITFaND POINT.' 1 A stovepipe?The song of the kettle. \ A watch sold at cost is par tickularly a bargain.?Merchant Traveler. Necessity is the mother of invention,.' but many inventions are orphans. The family stove-pipe was never meant ' r lOr & pipU OI pCOVU. ?iM/j/Mvlican. It is the busy chimney-sweep who ap~pears in a fresh soot every day.?Boston Courier. Appearances arc against some people, end so are their disappearances.?Texas Biftings. If a rooster were as big as his crow, a. whole fumily could live on him for six months.?Washington Star. ^ Boutonger .fe "'"-J ' The living in a dime museum because he is in rc^si/d circumstances.?Picayune. When the gate's a-jar it is natural that it should be considered a proper place for sweet-meets.? Tankers Gazette. A manufacturer of artificial limbs should never be forgetful. It is his business to re-member.? Washington Post. A man who plays the clarionet has some ground to regret that the season f^r " reed birds is over.?Merchant Traveler, j The girls, since first the world began, {< Have always sought the ideal man; But when they captured their ideal They found him more ideal than real. - There are persons that it is not safe to hold out the olive branch of peace to,: 11 niece rnn have a club in the other hand. < It is said that it takes three generations^ make a gentleman. The recipe fails -when the third generation is a girl.' Binghamton Leader. They say that copper is so cheap it scarcely pays to mine it more, Eut ordinary common sense seems just as rare as heretofore. ?Washington Star. ! He?"To live byyoui side, mein Fraulein, I forsake everything?parents, honors, titles, fortune." She (innocently)? "Then, pray, what is there left forme?" ?Easier Nuch.rich.ten. Kind Gentleman (picking up a boy)? "That was an awful hard fall, my young man. Why didn't you cry?" Small Boy. ?"I didn't know anybody ing."?New York Sun. "Shall I play-you this little^^^^^^^^^^H ?Wv^sked, sweetl^Hfinfig^^^^H beg your pardon, '^i? srnd, "but the fact is, I doh*^^BBBK9[^MM^H Spanish."?Boston Courier. Mabel (to Maud, who has just looked through Mabel's MSS.)?"You didn't know I was an authoress, Maud?" Maud ?"No; and if you take my advice you won't let anybody else, either."?Har~ ' ) vard Lampoon. / Gentleman (to tramp)?"What, you here again? It hasn't been a week since I gave you a half dollar." Tramp? "Just a week, sir; but great heavens you don't expect a man to live a year on fifty cents, do you?" , Unsuspecting Mother?"I can't imagine where all the cake goes." Guilty Eihol (anxious to avert suspicion)?"It must be the kid." Unsuspecting Mother .0 & ?"The kid! What kid?" Guilty Ethel ?"I don't know, but I heard Uncle Harry say to papa: 'That kid takes the cake.'"?Time. 1 A Photographic Hat. Hcrr Ludcrs, of Gorlitz, has patented a photographic apparatus that can be carried in the hat. This novel bead-dress contains, besides the machine, a number of prepared plates. In the front part of the hat there is a small circular opening nbout the size of a small shirt button behind which the lens is fixed. By means -' ? -4-'"~ /Mifci/la r\f f Vin V*of {for UI H. SLllII^ Uil cue UUW1UV w* uuv u?u *v?> wearer, whenever he finds himself enjoy-1 ing a pleasant view or is in contact with, a person whose features he wishes to preserve, can, without attracting attention, instantaneously take the picture and finish it up at leisure.?St. Louis Republic. The first lighthouse on this continent of which there is any record was built at the entrance of Boston Harbor in 1716, at the expense of the colony of Massachusetts Bay. It was supported by a lighthouse due of one penny per ton. on all vessels passing.