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A GREAT AR1Y OF CROWS, THE HAUNT THE NATIONA CEMETEET AT ARTTGTON. A Mmlon Find Shelter In the Tree Tops at Night and Go Forth in the Morning. T is not generally known, but it is a fact, nevertheless, that the great National Cemetery at Arlington, near Washington City, is iahab ited every night by an army of a mil lion or more of feathered natives of Virginia. Every morning, just before daybreak, the soldiers of Fort Meyer, near-by, notice a stir in the tall tree tops, in the branches and on the ex treme limbs of the primeval foresi ' which forms the cemetety. As the light penetrates the leaves and branches of the forest the feath ered sleepers are awakened and rise with a bound into the azure blue, writes a correspondent of the Phila delphia Times. The morning air is stirred with the flapping of a million of wings and with light-pitched notes, as they are sung by the army of crows. Like an army with banners, well trained, mystic, wonderful, thee den izens of the forest rise in graceful flight, and with the lightnes and gracefulness of gyratory curves, they fall into the line of march winh tre mendous energy and speed acros-s the sky toward the northeast. Directly a across the old Potomac River where h the Grant MemorialBridge is proposed L to be built, over ancient Georgetown S, and Northern Washington, hiding the ti rising sunlight from the suburban d villas, speeding gracefully over the c) old village of Bladensburg, the ancient dueling ground for the National Cap ital, the army of Potomac crows ei marches across the fresh morning in- g to the upper Chesapeake Bay atmos- v phere. The head of the column usually a: reaches the bay and commences to settle down to work by the time the f, rear guard has left Arlington. . a Late in the afternoon, just about or , a little before sunset, the observer will c see a long and constantly growing t< army of these birds retracing their steps, or rather reofying their tracks, b southwestward to their nightly home ] in Arlington. The numbers of this f< migratory flock, as well as the regular, il periodical character of their diurnal flight, produce a spectacle of more t4 than ordinary interest. Their going h and coming has attracted a great deal of notice and been a subject of scien- r tific inquiry for a number of years. As a a matter of fact ever since the Poto. mac Valley was settled the ancestors iz of this great army of crows occupied p the woods and wooded hills along the si river in Alexandria and Fairfax Coun. J t] ties. Before the war they occupied c an immense strip of pines above Georgetown, but the woods were de. s1 stroyed during the war and the mod- g ern crows were obliged to forsake the w home of their ancestors and seek their v nightly refuge in the natural groves t: about the ancestral home of the Lees. n The crow is not the enemy of the f: farmer in this section of the country, n but rather his friend. It is true that r< he will follow the grain sower and e; pick up a small portion of the seec which is sown, but the crow has az b: appetite for animal food, and is always si on the lookout for cut worms and ti other enemies of the farmer. Thou- a; sands of these crows, in their flight h: towards the Chesapeake in the early b morning, stop on their way, like stragglers and foragers from an army, 0o and settle down upon the farms foi h half an hour or more, during whick- k period they gather up millions o: worms of various kinds, and relieve a the farmer of them, while at the same -time they satisfy their own appetites. They are helpful fellows, are thes< as crows, and the farmers in this country do not put up scare-crows, as they dc" in many portions of the United States. n. The river men, that is those whc m dwell along the banks of the Potomae,. tz or who are engaged in boating or fish ig, generally see the entrance gates iz to the National Cemetery grow blacb itl inthe evening as thewegied predatory !al peripatetics settle there. The reader a probably knows that at each of the y entrances to the National Cemetery te iron gates are hanged from immense c granite pillars, surmounted each with e a slab bearing the chiseled name oL st some of our great military leaders. is The pillars were formerly used in the di porticos of the old War Department a: building. They can be seen with the p naked eye fror the Washington side of a the river, and when the crows settle i there-whole platoons of them-the o: entranca gates appear to be draped in mourning, while the trees are dark- k] ened into a semblance of crepe dress- ui ing, as though all animate nature were t ready to weep for the fallen brave iz men and true who slumber there. az In the spring time and fall especially, p. when their numbers are greatest, the fa spectacle presented is truly imposing. 5 Gradually the -black speck settlingi a upon the slab which crowns the pillar ti grows before the vision, and as the se advance guard covers the gate the re mainder of the army, waving their p black flags, sweep shrieking over and y beyond until every leaf is obscured, almost wholly, by the amazing host- az A signal officer at Fort Meyer says h< that these black soldiers of the air a"f well drilled, observant of rae :m fr subject to discipline. Th.-ir di course is regular when observed i:n il at entirety; although seemingly ire?- ac lam and ragged to the casual obse-v'-. to They travel in squads and co:ni'any, Fa which have military cohesion, adl M ing related to each other in yho I. ( regiments and brigades. Th r: pline is rigid and their tactics ir-r feet as that of their humnu p)ro~ty p albeit upon a different plan, ftt.,e course, to their circumxstre.:; a conditions. They have s1airmider and outlying sentinels wheth.er in sih y by day or at rest by night. t oreover, m they are truly guardians of ti' for neither man nor beast could enter Arlington at night without arousing I the crow sentinels who would give the alarm, and millions of throats would at once respond, cawing their an nouncement of the intrusion and call ing for action to repel the invasion.1 A TRIAL TO THEM. "I hate to see Johnny grrowinr up so fast," said Mrs. Bloobumaper. i "Childhood is so sweet." "That is so," replied Bloobumper ; "but that isn't the worst of it. We'll have to borrow a boy to go to the cir- ~ ens with."-Judge. AUTUMN TIMZ, 'Is the season of autumn, the 4ild wiud are blowing, No longer the sheen of the summer suv flooding he dark tangled woodlands, and no longei glowing Those glens where the silence of ages liep brooding. 's the season of autumn, the sk'(3 are be. clouded, There's a wall in the wind and a blur on the blossom, )r soon will the glory of summer be shrouded, And death wil stalk dismal on Nature's cold bosom! MontgomeryM. Folsom, in Atlanta Journal 'IE GOVERNOR'S WOOLNG, ANyoureceive Mme. Blouet, sir? asked an attendant, as he opened the door of the Deputy Goy ernor's office. It was a large, . . . severe looking apartment, with a very high ceiling, two windows draped with green damask curtains, walls and =mchairs of the same color, and Davy bookcases- of mahogany. The ighly waxed floor reflected the cold rmmetry of the official furniture, and ie mirror over the mantelpiece repro aced with exactness a black marble ock, two bronze lamps and a pair of ilt candlesticks. Hubert Boinville, the Deputy Gov -nor, was seated, with his back to the replace, at a large mahogany desk hich was littered over with deeds ad various papers. He raised his rave, melancholy face, which was amed in a brown beard, tinged with few gray hairs, and his black eyes, ith tired-looking lids, glanced at the trd which the solemn usher handed > him. On this card was written in a trem, ling hand, "Veuve Blouet" (Widow louet), but the name conveyed no in )rmation to him and he put it down patiently. "It is an old lady, sir," said the at ,dant, in explanation. "Shall Isend er away?" "No; let her come in," replied the uputy Governor, in a tone of resig ation. The usher straightened himself up L his uniform, bowed, and disap eared, returning the next minute to iow in the visitor, who stopped on ie threshold and dropped an old Lshioned courtesy. She was a little old lady, dressed in iabby mourning. Her black merino own had a greenish tinge, and was rinkled and darned; a limp crape il, which had evidently served irough more than one period of Lourning, hung down on each side rom an old-fashioned bonnet, and be eatha front of false brown hair was a >und, wrinkled face with bright little es, a small mouth and no teeth. "Si:,ite began in a somewhat re'athless vo, mdeb dds ster and widow of men who served eir country. I applied some time o to the department for help and I ve come to see whether there is any ope." The Deputy Governor listened with t moving a muscle of his face. He ad heard so many applications of this "Have vou ever received any assist ce ?" he asked coldly. "No, sir," she replied. "I have anaged to get on until now without king. I have a small pension." "Ah!" he interrupted in a dry tone, in that case I am afraid we can do thing for you. We have a great any applicants who have no pension rely upon." "Ah, listen, sir !" she cried despair Lgly, "I have not explained every ing. I had three sons, and they are .1 dead. ' The last one taught mathe atics, and one day during the winter, hen he was going from the Pantheon SChaptal College, he caught a violent >ld, which settled on his lungs and rried him off in two weeks. He had pported me and his child by teach eg; the expenses of his illness and ath used up all our little savings, id I had to raise money on my nsion. Now I am alone in the orld with my grandchild, and we we nothing. I am eighty-two years , sir." Tears had gathered under her wrin .ed eyelids as she spoke, and the Dep y Governor was listening more at tively than at first. A peculiar sing g intonation of the speaker's voice, d the sound of certain provincialecx ~essions seemed to his ears like once miliar music; the old lady's way of leaing had for him a flavor of home hich produced a most singular sensa on in his mind. He rang his bell andi nt for Mine. Blouet's "papers," and hen the sedate usher had laid a thia whage before him he examined the llow pages with evident interest. "You are from Lorraine, I see, mad ne," he said at last, turning towards er a face less stern, and on which a int smile was seen; "I1 suspected it om your accent." "Yes, sir ; I am from Argonne," she tswered. "And you recognize my 'ent? I thought I had long since st it.: I have been knocking about rance like a flying camp." The Deputy Governor looked with creasing compassion at the poor idow whom a harsh wind had torn om her native forest and cast into ris like a withered leaf. He felt his icial heart growing softer, and smnil g again he said: "I am from Argonne. I lived near ur village for a lung time, at 0Cr ont." And then he added, Gayly: eep up your courage, Mmne. Blouet. hope we shall be able to hclp you. nl you give ,.ne your address T' "o. 12 Rue de la Sante, near the puchin Convent. Thank you, sir, r your kindness. 1 amn very gl- t tve found a felinw-conutrymim." .1 tr courtesies the widow took h e irtre. As soon as she wis gcana M. ThE. lie rose , and go::v to the wi?-2., ' oi looking dowa Ni tlo<g a was not looking at the tnps of 1h. diileatless chestnut trees; hi ams'u m: adre o:T toward the at, "WIy not?" Vetured the w@ Iay "I think it would please him." An< then, seeing that he was looking a them wonderingly, she went towar< bim, saying: "AL Bouville, you have alread oeen so kind to us that I am going t< ask of you another favor. It is late, and you have a long way to go-w< should be so glad if you would sta: here and taste our tot-fait-shouldn' we, Claudette?" "Certainly," said the girl, "but M Boinville will have a plain dinner, ani besides he is, no doubt, expected a: home." "No one is waiting for me," an swered the gentleman, thinking of hi< usual dull, solitary meals in the restan rant. "I have no engagement, but-" he hesitated, looked at Claudette' smiling eyes, and suddenly exclaimed "I accept with pleasure." "That is right I" said the old lady briskly. "What did I tell you, Clau dette? Quick, my pet, set the tabl< while I go back to my tot-fait." The girl had already opened th< press and taken out a striped table lotn and three napkins, and in the twinkling of an eye the table wai ready. Then she lighted a candle and went down stairs, while the old dame sat down with her lap full of chest nuts, which she proceeded to crael and place upon the stove. "Is not that a bright, lively girl?' she said. "She is my consolation; sh< cheers me like a linnet on an oli root." Heze the speaker rattled the chest nuts on the stove and then Claudette reappeared, and the little woman went and brought in the potee and set it, steaming and fragrant, on the table. Seated between the octogenarian and the artless, smiling girl and in the midst of half rural surroundings, which constantly recalled the memory of his youth, Hubert Boinville, the Deputy Governor, did honor to the potee. His grave, cold manner thawed out rapidly, and he conversed familiarly with. his new friends, returning the gay sallies of Claudette and shouting with merriment at the sound of the patois words and phrases which the oli lady used. From time to time the widow wouli rise and go to attend to her cookery, and at last she returned triumphant, bringing in an iron baking dish, in which rose the gently swelling, golden. brown tot-fait., smelling of orange flower water. Then came the roasted chestnuts is their brown, crisped shells. When Claudette -had cleared the table the grandmother took up her knitting mechanically and sat near the stove, chatting gayly at first, but she now yielded to the combined effects o: the warmth and fell asleep. Claudette put the lamp on the table, and she and the visitor were left to entertain each other. The girl, sprightly and light-hearted, did nearly all the talk ig. When he returned to his gloomy bachelor apartment those eyes weni before him, and seemed to laugh merrily as he stirred his dull fire, ani then he thought again of the dinner in the cheerful room, of the fire blaz ing up gayly in the delft stove, and ol the young girl's merry prattle, whici LZmporarily resuscitated- --he sensation of Aytswenty-fli'st year. Nore than once he went to the mirroz and looked gloomily at his gray streaked beard, thought of his loveless youth and of his increasing years, ani said with La Fontaine:. "Have I passed the time for lov Then he would be seized with a sort of tender homesickness which filled him with dismay and made him regrei that he had never married. One cloudy afternoon towards the end of December the solemn ushe2 opened the door and announced: "Mine. Blonet, sir." Boinville rose eagerly to greet his visitor, and inquired, with a slighi blush, for her granddaughter. "She is very well, sir," was the an swer, "and your visit brought her luck; she received an appointment yesterday in a telegraph office. I could not thinig of leaving Paris without again thank ig yqu sir, for your kindness to us." Boinville's heart sank. "You are to leave Paris; is this post ion in the provinces?" "Yes, in the Vesges. Of course, J shall go with Claudette; I am over eighty years old, and cannot have much longer to live ; we sall] never part in this world." "Do you go soon?" "In January. Good-by, sir; you have been very kind to us, and Clan dette begged me thank you in he, um." The Deputy Governlor was thunder struck, and he answered only in mono syllables, and when tihe good swoman had left him he sat motionless for a Long time with head in his hands. That night he slept badly, and the et day was very taciturn with is employcs. Towards 3 o'clock he brushed hie lat, left the office and jumped into a cab that was passing, and half an houw later he hurried through the market garden of 12 Rue de la Sante and knocked tremblingly at Mine. Blouet'e door. Claudette answered the knock, ad on seeing the Deputy Governor she star ed and blushed. "Grandmother is out," she said, "but she will soon be home, and she will be so glad to see you." "I have come to see, not your grand. nother, but yourself, Mlle. Claudette, h returned. "Me !" she exclaimed, anxiously, ani he repeated: "Yes, you," in an abrupt tone, ani then his throat seemed to close and be could hardly speak. "You are going away next month?' he asked at last. The girl nodded assent. . 2 "Are you sorry to leave Paris?' "Yes, indeed, I am. It grieves me to think of it; bat, then, this positioz is a fortune to us, and grandmothea will be able to liv;o in peace for the rest of her days." "Supoose I should offer you the same means of romaining in Paris, at the same tima assnring comfort tc Me. Bloiiet?" "Oh, sirx!" exclaimed the young girl, her face brightening. "It is rather a violent remedy," he aid, hesitating again. "Porhaps yet would think it too great an effort?" "Oh, no ; I am very resolute. Only tel me what it i:-. 7e took a long breath, and then sad quietly, almost harshly "Wil yo marry me?" "Heaven!" she gasped, in avoice ol deep emotion, but although her face expressed the deepest surprise, there was no sign of repugnance or alarm. Her bosom heaved, her lipaparted and her eyes became moist with tender brightness. Boinville dared not look at her, les he should read refusal in her face, but at last, alarmed by her long silence, heraised hishead, saying: "You thini me too old-you are frightened-" "Not frightened," she answere& simply, "but surprised, andr-glad. It is too good. I can hardly believe it." I "My darling !" he cried, taking both her hands, "you must believe it. I am the one to be glad, for I love you." She was silent, but there was no mistaking the tenderness and gratitude that were shining in her eyes, and HEubert Boinville must have read them aright, fo: he drew her closely to him, and, meeting with no resistance, raised her hands to his lips and kissed them with youthful fervor. "Oh!" cried the old lady, appearing on the scene at that instant, and the others turned round, he a little con *used, the girl blushing but radiant. "Do not be shocked, Mme. Blouet," said the Deputy Governor. "The evening that I dinel here I found a wife. The ceremony will take place next month-with your permission." -From the Frnch, in Short Stories. HE HANDLED THE BONDS. T. Pierpont Morgan, the New Yorb Banker Who I Worth $40,000,000. The success of President Cleveland's late bond issue is due In great part to J. Pierpont Morgan, the famous New York banker, whose wealth, at a con servative estimate, is said to reach $40,000,000. He gives away in charity more than any man in the United States, but his right hand is an utter stranger to his left, and an invariable accompaniment of his good gifts Is the proviso that his name must be kept ,hidden, on the penalty of no further F subscriptions. He is a man of com J. PIEnPONT MORGAN. manding physique, and his hair and mustache are gray. His face is ruddy wIth exercise and good living, and he should by all these signs be an ex tremely good-natured personage. He affects, however, a brusqueness and a reserve that hides all this when he is downtown, and he can freeze a bore more quickly and effectually than any oher man in New York- City. In htikeg-life . or that a father and husband and host should be. In his town house at 21') Madison avenue, or his homes at New port and Highland Falls, he is courtesy and hospitality itself. Mr. Morgan is a. member of a score of the...eading clubs in New York, London and Paris, but he rarely goes to them, and seldom goes to social functions or to the opera or theater. He is seldom seen on the street, for he sticks closely to his desk from 9 until 4 o'clock. His one hobby is his steam yacht, the May, which he bought In England for $175,000. It deserves that hackneyed definition, a "floating palace," and he spends all his spare time in summer aboard of it. Mrs. Morgan, who was Miss Frances Tracy, has many charities of her own concerning which she Is as modest as is hg husband. .... FANCY SKATING, A Pew Dliustrations of Some of the@ Prettiest Movement. One of the prettiest movements madk by fancy skaters is the grapevine. It is made by describing a number of S's or figure 8's close together until a com plete circle of them is made. It is pret, ty, but takes an expert to do it, The spread eagle circle made backward Is not so difficult, but a beginner will take a few tumbles before he makes It The Dutch r-o1l backward, a double circle, is another easy and pretty fig ure.' One of the most graceful is a double circle performed by the eight forward, inner edge, two turns, returning on the left foot backward, two turns to the right The Maltese cross is an old fa vorite. By beginning at the center the twelve lines of the figure can be de-. scribed without going over the same Fline twice. The tulip is one of the hardest and at the same time prettiest figures. To show this off In perfection a slight sprinkling of snow is needed. There are sixteen lines and two stems to be do scribed, and none but an expert shogd gttemp la ' ineyond the plains and the' chalky hil jof Champagne, past a large forest, to :a valley where a quiet river flowed ba Atween two rows of poplar trees, to a Sittle old town with tile-roofed houses. There his early childhood had been assed, and later his vacations. His ather, who was Registrar in the office of the Chief Justice, led a narrow, mo notonous life, and he himself was ac customed to hard-work and strict dis cipline. He had left home when in 'his ' -enty-first year, and had returned only to attend his father's funeral. Possessing a superior intellect ano an iron will, and bein - an indefatiga ble worker, he had r.sen rapidly on the official ladder, and at thirty-eight years of age was made Deputy Gov ernory Austere, punctual, reserved and coldly polite, he arrived at his office every morning at exactly ten o'clock and remained there until six, taking work with him when he went home. Although he was possessed of keen sensibilities, his bearing was so reserved and undemonstrative that he was thought cold and stern. He saw very little of society, his life being devoted to business, and he had never had enough leisure to think of marrying. His heart, indeed, had once asserted itself before he had left home, but as then he had neither po sition nor fortune ; the girl he lovedhad refused him in order to marry a rieb +,radesman. This early disappointment had left in Hubert Boinville a feeling of bitter ness which even the other successes of his life could not wholly efface, and there was still a tinge of melancholy in his being. The old lady's voice and accent had recalled the thought of the past, and his quiet was overwhelmed by a flood of recollections. While he stood there motionless, with his fore head pressing against the window pane, he was stirring, as one would a heap of dead leaves, the long slumber ing memories of his youth, and like a sweet delicate perfume rose the '.houghts of by-gone scenes and days. Suddenly he returned to his chair, drew ime. Blouet's petition to him and wrote upon it the words: "Very deserving case." Then he rang his bell and sent the document to the clerk in charge of the rehef fund. On the day of the official assent to Mime. Blonet's position, M. Boinville left his office earlier than usual, for the idea had occurred to him to an nounce the good news himself to his aged country-woman. Three hundred francs. The sum was out a drop in the enormous reservoir of the ministerial fund, but to the poor widow it would be as a beneficent dew! Although it was December the weather was mild, so Hubert Boinville walked all the way to the Rue de la Sate, and by the time he reached his destination that lonely neighborhood was wrapped in gloom. By the light of a gas lamp near the Capuchin Con vent he saw "Number 12" over a half open door in a rough stone wall, and, on entering, found himself in a largr market garden. He could just distinguish in the darkness square plots of vegetables, some groups of rose bushes, and here and there the.silhouettesof fruit trees. At the other end of the garden two or dhree dim lights showed the front of a Deputy Governor made his way, and ad the good luck to run against the gardener, who directed him to the Widow Blonet's lodgings upstairs. After twice stumbling on the muddy steps, M.L Boinville knocked at a door under which .a line of light was to be seen, and great was his surprise when, the door being opened, he saw before him a girl of about twent'y years hold ring up a lighted lamp and looking at him with astonished eyes. She was dressed in black and had a fair, fresh1 face, and the lamp light was shining 'on her wavy chestnut hair, round, dimpled cheeks, smiling mouth and himid blue eyes. "Is this where Mmne. Blouet lives?" asked M. Boinville after a moment's hesitation, and the girl replied:"es sir. Be kind enough to walk in. Grandmother, here is a gentleman who wants to see you." "I am coming," cried a thin, piping voice from the next room, and the next minute the .old lady came trot Iting out with her false front all awry under her black cap, and trying to un tie the strings of a blue apron which she wore. "Oh," she cried in amazement on recognizing the Deputy Governor, "is it possible, sir? Excuse my appear ance. I was not expecting the honor of a visit from you. Claudette, give M. Boinville a chair. This is my grandchild, sir. She is all I have in the world." The gentleman seated himself in an antique armchair covered with Utrecht velvet, and cast a rapid glance round the room, which evidently served as both parlor and dining room. It contained very little furniture: A small stove of white Delft ware, next t. which stood an old-fashioned oaken cothes-press, a round table covered with oilcloth and some rush-bottom chairs, while on the wall hung two old colored lithographs. Everything was very neat and the place had an old time air of comfort and rusticity. M. Boinville explained the object of his visit in a few words, and the widow exclaimed: "Oh, thank you, sir !How good you' are ? It is quite true that pleasant sur prises never come singly. My grand 3hild has passed an examination in telegraphy, and while she is waiting for a position she is doing a little painting for one and another. Only to-day she has been paid for .a large rr, and so wve have made up our m'inis," said the grandmother, "to celrate the event by having only home dishes for dinner. The gar dener down stairs gave us a cabbage, son turnip's and potatoes to make a pote. We bought a Lorraine sausage, and when ya came in I had just mado "-O", a tom-.it !" cried Boinville. "T ais a 'tort c2 cake made of eggs, Ira ' ndl fe:iaa. it is twenty years ?ia heard its natae and more than ., c becamae strangly animated, ano theyon v gil, who was watching i e:.r'.cdy, soi: a look of actual ,::.adis in hia lbrown eyes. While ne v.-.s in in rr of tot-fait Geet and her grand'nother turned OLD-TIME AnLROADNa', Locomotives of Forty Yeara Ago as Fast as Those of To-Day. "To the younger generation of rail road travelers the idea that as great speed was obtained forty years ago from a locomotive as at the present time seems ridiculous. Yet this Is a fact substantiated by documentary evi lence." This assertion was made to a re porter recently by M. E. Stevenson, formerly a train dispatcher on the Pensylivania system. Mr. Stevenson entered railroad life as a very ycung man in the early sixties, and for twen ty years thereafter learned about all there was to know in connection with the practical side of moving locome tires and cars and the speed of the ame. "Of course, I don't mean that long distance runs were made in as short time then as now," continued Mr. Ste venson, "but that for short stretches and with light loads the old-time loco motive could cut the air fully as fast as that almost perfect machine blow Ing off steam outside there now. "In the early days of the steam en gine we were much like you are to-day in regard to electricity. Steam was an unknown quantity. We believed that If the driving wheels were large enough; if the engine coilld be made to keep the track; and if we could find the man to drive it, a speed of 100 miles an hour could easily be obtained. Con sequently all the locomotives of that time ran to tall wheels. On many of the railroads the engines were iamed af ter prominent public men instead of being numbered, and the greatest In terest and enthusiasm prevailed over the speed attained. .1 would like to see Dne of thm high-wheelers given a trial these days with the perfect road hed in use. In those days the roadbed was a secondary consideration, and it was more than even chances that un less speed was slackened considerably at the first curve tho train would jump t.he track. "Now for facts and figures, the truth of which can be vouched for through documents held by the Baldwin Loco motive Works over In Philadelphia. During the early months of 1848 the Central Vermont Road was approach ing completion, and Governor Paine, the President of the company, con ceiyed the idea that the passenger service of the road would require loco motives capable of .rnning at a very high rate of speed. A man by the name of Campbell was the contractor in building the line, and he was author ized by Governor Paine to go to Phil adelphia and offer Baldwin a cool $10, 000 for an engine which could run with a passenger train at a speed of sixty miles an hour. "The great locomotive builder accept ed the proposition and immediately un dertook to meet the conditions stipu lated. The work was begun early in 1843, and in March of that year Bald win filed a caveat for his design. The engine was completed In 1819, and was named the Governor Paine. My father, who was a railroad man before me, frequently told me of the excitement created by this locomotive upon itk appearance in the Eastern States. Thajirst trial of the Governor Paine was a1 e atie being a fraction over sIxty miles an lour, but the passengers on the train could be counted on one's hand, even the officials being chary of trusting their lives in the engineer's keeping. That locomotive was used for several years on the Central Vermont Road and then rebuilt into a four-coupled machine, that Is, making a straight connection to four driving wheels, as at the present time, Instead of to two. During the career of this ePrgine It was stated by officers of the road It eould be started from a state of rest and run a mile in forty-three seconds. This was equivalent to a speed of near ly eIghty-three miles an hour, and If due allowance be made for the start fom a state of rest, It will be found that that locomotive was capable of going at the rate of fully 100 miles an our. "This speed if attained by the Con, gresslonal limited or the Royal Blue Line watild make the distance from Washington to New York in a little over two hours, taking In the stops at Baltimore and Philadelphia, thereby gaining in time nearly three hours. "In that year three engines on the same plan were turned out by Bald win, but with cylinders 14 by 20 Inches, and with 6-foot driving wheels, and 1were used on the Pennsylvania Road. They weighed about 47,000 pounds and were considered wonders. "A speed of four miles in three min ates, or eighty miles an hour, was re corded for them, and upon one occa sion President Zach Taylor was taken In a special train over the road by one of these machines at a speed of sixty miles an hour. It is said that Presi dent Taylor at the conclusion of the trip fathered a joke that' has come down to us in various forms. He was asked how he enjoyed the trip, and ex lamed with apparent enthusiasm: "'Very much, very much.' " 'When will you be ready to returnf 'nqured the conductor. "'That is hard to say,' replied the President, 'but when I am ready I'll ae the regular train.' "The New York Central, not to bE. outdone, ordered one of these engines and for several years thereafter re markable speed was made on that road. You no doubt wonder why these engines were not retained up to the present time. The answer Is that they are too expensive, the high rate of-speed shaking them to pieces, and in five years making them practically worthless. Money was not as plenty In those days as now, and $10,000 was quite an Item. The locomotive of thea present time will last fully forty years, are much more elaborate and compli cated, but cost on an average of about 510,00, the exact amount paid for the Governor Paine in 1849.". According to Ruskin. Ruskin, as an art critic, says: "Life without industry is guilt, and industry without art is brutality." But the brutal man is immortal. Benee It would follow that art Is a moralizing force. In what way may it be regarded as a morae lever in a materialistic agel I rr. Enakin, with other social reformers ofth +ay, spaksr again and again of to simpicity and sincerity tram t nature as the first requisites of art, and recommends them both to and art students. But are and sincerity the charateristi6 age which begins to take a deepe. terest in art, so that the latterbecomei actually an important ethica ator in 'he refining process of society? Art has mostly flourished Inthi&Idst of a corrupt society, the product itself of a perishing clvilization, reflectingp l Its later developments a contemperwan ous degeneracy in mind and moral This is simply a historical common place. Mr. Ruskin replies after this manner: Tracing the rise, progress and decline of high cd Isation, be speaks of a period bearing semblance to the times. we wnen "conscience and -inteut highly developed that new forim error begin in the Inability to fulfill the demands of the one, or to answer the doubts of the other.* "Thin," he says, "the .wholeness of the people If lost; all kinds of hypocrisies and opp sitions of science develop themselves; their faith Is questioned on ome side and compromised with on the other; wealth -commonly Increases at the same periCd of destructive ete"' 1=, ury follows, the rin of the nation If then certain." He shows how in such acme art be comes the exponent of each successive step in the downward course, not-as the cause, but as the consequence of sck a state of things. "If In such times fair pictures have been misusedrhW'mUCh more fair realities? And If Miranda is immoral to Caliban, is that Milranda'r fault?"-The Scottish Peview. - A Mean Man. "Come here, ull show you h wa you want to blow." .Hears angry footsteps. "There's the horn. Now keep qulet "You're a naughty girl for blowing the horn as you did while baby 1& eep."-New York World. An honest critic is a good friend. People with no faults have few ' riends. Cloven feet are often foundinptent eathers. Self-deception is the worst kind ol deception. Love never complains thatitaburden atoo heavy. A good man is killed when a boy goes wrong. The faith that moves mountains be- ~ gan on grains of sand. It doesn't make a lie any whiter to put it on a tombstone. / i Find a man who has no hobby, and ou fmnd one who is not happy. The only joys which live and grow Ire those we share with others. - Every drop of rain that itrikeslie iarth does its best to give man bread. Some people never find ont the reslt worth of their religion until they loe ll their money. ~ . How much easier it ow they ought tow keep in the middleo sf..-Bam's Horn. A SimpleB A simple barom lling a common, w bottle withinthe with water. mil-flask shou md stripped of 'his should bei plugged as far pickle bottle. - barmeter. In will rise into higher than the bottle ; in wet a will fall to wi nouth of the f ale of wind, before the gal ater has, it i