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jl " : yVPHILOSOPHY. As the earth rolls over, on its axis whirled, There is always midnight somewhere in the world. But, though darkness' pinions ever are unfurled, There is always morning somewhere in tho world. Sorrow has its misson, so Fate's shafts are hurled; There is always sorrow, sorrow in the world. Q!ven as the morning gleams with light impearled. "There is gladness always, always in the world. ?Laura, Rosamond While. A TJod Mrtiinfoin "Drvmnnon XV XvjUU. XTJLUUUUaiLL JLt)UJLUCWJ.UV/i One April morning. while the sun was shining down in Silver City, Selcni and her father came slowly into town. There was snow still in the mountains?many feet of snow?but it had melted in the valley, and the wooden pavements of the little mining camp were as dry as though it were July. Over in Hallelujah Gulch j r. great strike had been made, and num- ; hers of prospectors thronged the streets, j and stood in groups at every corner. One ! rough miner turned and looked after So leni and her father aud the old hand- I organ. uThis 'ore's a city now, boys!" he cried. "Look at the organ-grinder come ! to town." .nv - i. -l.i n? .4. . wive us a, tunc, oiu muu: cuueu. um> i * second miner. "Let him alone, boys," said a third. ''Don't you see he's blind?" Selcni led her father down the narrow street and piloted him safely through the noisy crowd. As she turned a corner she spied au unpretending restaurant. ''Dinner fifty cents," the sign read, and she paused before the open door. "We'll go in and git some dinner, dad. I'm fearful hungry." She led her father to one of the small tables, and he slipped the organ from- j his back. Then she drew an old b in- j dana handkerchief from her ^pocket and untied one corner. A few ten-cent I pieces and a little roll of nickels dropped , out on the table. "Got enough, Selcni?" asked her father, anxiously. His quick car had i caught the click of the coins. "Lots," said Seleni, shortly. She hastily tied up the money, and goin<r to the counter, ordered dinner for ! her lather, and for herself?a bowl of mush and milk. ";I was pretty near starved," said the old organ-grinder, a9 he ate his roast j beef w.th a relish, "Il'aiu't the meat I good, Scloni?' j "Bet your life!" answered Seleni, ' calmly, taking a sip of milk. "And the tomats and the rice puddin' V | "Yes, dad. Dou't stop to talk." Seieni soon finished her own simple dinner, and leaned back in the stiff : wooden chair. Two miners near looked j up admiringly. Seleni's eyes were large j and Mack?as had been those of her i Italian mother?who had died when she ! was born. Heavy braids of blue-black { hair were wound around her head, and , her cheeks and lips were crimson. Her I _ 1 j -j _i. J ~ oui straw uac was iwu uown wxtu a faded ribbon; her dark-blue dress was | stained and shabby. She work a blanket- j shawl around her slender shoulders. "We've had a splendid dinner, h'ain't I we?" said her father, rising and taking J the organ on his back. Seleni paid the restaurant keeper and tied up the few nickels that remained. Then she took her father's arm aud led him to the corncr of the street. "We'll stop and play here, dad." Her father patieut.y began to turn the : crank of the old organ. Seleni stood be- j side him and eagerly sanned the faces of j the passers-by. So few seemed to think the music worth paying for. A lady gave | Seleni a ten-cent piece, ami a miner care- j IolcIi' irwoco ahorfnr trtU'or/1 fliPVY) T^ilt I tVOOV/H U V|U(ii VVI IV ?I Ui v* tuviu. xv v* w , their supper and a night's lodging were | to be paid for, and so few nickels were j left in the bandana handkerchief. It grew late at last. The organgrinder had played through all his tunes, j "You're rrred, dad," said Seleni, as her father paused. "We'll go and find some place to sleep." "We don't want no supjicr, do we, Seleni? We had such a hearty dinner." "Yes, dad,"8aid Seleni, faintly. "And it was late, too," added the old i man. "It must ha' been 'most 1 o'clock." I "Be you hungry again, dnd?" asked Seleni, looking anxiously into his face. ,"Not a mite," answered her father, cheerfully, "s'pose I play a little longer. | 'Tain't dark yet, is it? Let's walk along." They turned a corner and found themselves on a side street in a quiet neighborhood. There were lace curtains at the windows of iomeof the small cabins. An open door gave a glimpse of a bright Brussels carpet. Suddenly a young girl appeared at a window, and raising the sasli, carelessly tossed into the street a half-withered bouquet of hothouse flowers. Seleni quickly glanced up at the lady, I who was young and li:id fair hair. This much she remembered always. The bouquet rolled to the young girl's feet, then stopped. She stooped and picked up the flowers. They were only a little faded; some of the roses were quite fresh and fragrant. It must have been a beautiful bouquet once. Why did the young lady throw it away so soon? It grew toward seven o'clock. Seleni ana ner miner naa pauseu ociore u mrgc hotel. The piazza in front was crowded with men. Some of them gazed at the giri who stood so patiently beside the old organ. Her hat slipped back and her black hair lay in rings on her smooth, white forehead. Seleni did not know how pretty she was and why the men stared at her so. She knew that she was tired and hungry. She wished some one would toss them some money. A young man came down the hotel steps. He wore a blue flannel shirt, aud his coat was quite as shabby as the one Selcni's father wore. He stood in front of the orj.a:i, with his hands in his pockets. For a few moments he did not speak, but seemed to be listening to the music. Then his eyes fell on the flowers. "Whcrc'd you git 'em?" he said, suddenly. "Fnnnd 'em." answered. Seleni. ouite as shortly. He came a step nearer and held out his hand. "Let me see 'em." But Seleni drew back hastily. "Pay for 'em first. I'll sell 'em cheap.' He thrust his hand still deeper into his pocket, then tossed a silver dollar on top of the old organ. Then he took the nowere, Jinci StUUltJU lui'iu mivunj ao lit; turned the bouquet around. "Tell me where you got 'em," he asked, pleadingly. "Found 'em," Seleni said again. "A lady throwed 'em out the winder." The young man said* something under his breath, the turned and walked away. Beleni had seen the color come, to his fare and a hurt look in his eyes. As she looked after him he gave the bouquet a ' toss, and it fell in the muddy street, only 1 to be crushed the next instant by the J wheels of a passing wagon. " H'ain't there enough money yet ?" asked her father, touching her arm. " Yes, dad," she answered. "We'll i go and ffit some supper, and then we'll * find a place to sleep." c The little parlor of Mrs. Murphy's lodg- ^ lug-house was crowded with miners tnar ;< evening. Seleni left her father seated 3 contentedly in a corner, and stole out of s the frout door. She was so used to an s outdoor life, that she felt suffocated in a a small, close room. j i Some one sat on the lower step, with c j his head in his hands. He looked up ^ and saw Seleni, as she stood hesitatingly t in the doorway, o "Don't be a'feard," he said, kindly. 1 i Tf t?.oo +Vin imimrr man TvVin linrl Vimiflrhf f ai n ao hiv J vulijj the flowers. t Seleni sank down on the steps, and ^ drew her old blanket shawl still closer t around her. F ' It's cold out here," said the young P ! man. '\Mebbie you'd better go in." 1 ' I h'aint cold," answered Seleni. "I'm P most always outdoors." Jl "Where'd you say you found the n posies ?" he asked, suddenly raising his k head. n "A young lady thro wed 'em out. She a had vellcr hair. It was a house with a white curtains at the winders. I didn't P set no price on the flowers," she added, 11 hastily. You needn't have paid so much P for 'em." k "I hain't complamiu1 of the price," c said the young fellow. "They cost me a b pile to begin with." a "Did you give 'em to her? asked 11 Seleni, curiously. ^ "Yps." lie answered, sliortlv: "more fool, too!" 1c "They were faded," remarked Seleni, ^ consolingly. ^ "Yes." he said, bitterly. "She'd had 9 'em twelve hours.'" fi( His head dropped on his h-mrls again. "I wouldn't care," said Seleni, softly. T The young man glanced at her. Seleni's re eyes were soft with sympathy; she looked 01 so fair in the moonlight. "How old be you ?" he asked abruptly. m "Seventeen," she replied, wonderingly. 1C "And you travel around with your father?" h( "Yes," said Seleni. "Dad likes to tc travel. He won't let me do nothin'," u] she replied, proudly. "He says he 113 reckons he can support me." ai "Can you write?" looking eagerly into 01 T*or? nroffv fono C$ '^Considerable," answered Seleni, "I ?< was to public school ojnce." ei "I h'ain't get no edication," said the young man, sadly; '-and I want to get a *e letter writ." P1 'Til do it," offered Seleni, eagerly. "Will you, now?" and the young fel- 1? low sprang up. "Come on into the & kitchen. "There's never nobody there." In a few minutes he had brought 1S Seleni a sheet of paper and pen and ink. They were alone iu the little kitchen u' that was scarcely more than a shed, and H the girl seated herself at the pine table. C( "Beirin 'Darlin' Lizzie,'" said the P{ young man, leaning anxiously over her d< shoulder. at In a cramped hand, and very slowly, P> Seleni wrote: "DarlingLizzie." d( "Tell her I love her!" he burst out. ai "Tell her I'm goin' over to Red Mcuntnin to-morrow, but she can write to me. J1 Jim Conroy'll read me her letter. She iE needn't say nothin* but Yes or No. Got m it all down?" n< "Pretty near," said Seleni. "You le told me such an awful lot." She was b< handling the pen awkardly. rc A bright' color had come to the young di man's cheeks. His hair was light, al- C most golden, just the color of the young n< lady's, Seleni thought. She glftnced Ji down at the letter. Would Darling n< r "\r? V. .Lizzie say it's, or i>o. "Got done?" said her new friend. "I'll take it over to the postoffice." He scaled the envelope carefully and te put it tenderly in his pocket. Then he il< held out his bronzed hand. sc "Good-bye. I'm much obliged to you. fc If I don't never see you again I wish you es good luck." t( As he passed Seleni's chair a silver dol- fc lar dropped into her lap. la ******* g' The next April Seleni and her father A found themselves once more crossing Red Mountain on their way to Silver City. ,,, Seleni had grown a Jittle taller, but she ^ looked much the same. Her dress was tj. still shabby, and a forlorn felt hat replaced the old black straw. But her lips and cheeks were crimson with exercise ^ and health. As they came into view of the town they passed a group of miners ^ who were out prospecting. One of them A shaded his eyes with his hands, and looked long at Seleni. . "Give us a tune!" he called out to the ^ organ-grinder, and the old man obediently set down his organ and began to ni turn the crank. ^ Then the young miner came siuwiy ^ toward Seleni and held ont his hand. The girl knew him at a glance, and her ^ black eyes grew bright with pleasure. j "I didn't get no answer," he whis- ^ pered. Seleni looked sorry; then a curious gladness came to her eyes. "H'ain't you seen her?" she asked. "Xo," answered the young man; "she ci don't live here no more." u "I'm sorry," said the girl; I writ it T plain. a "'T wasn't your fault." Then he looked at her admiringly. fi "S'pose I come to see you to-night?" e The old organ-grinder took up his b I burden again, and as they moved away, r; j Seleni smiled over her shoulder at the si I young man with fair hair who looked f< I after her as he leaned lightly on his pick, s j A month later a priest at Silver City o married them. s Seleni was very happy in her new home. 1: There were no lace curtains at the cabin- v 1 windows, for her husband was but a poor li prospector, with only his youth and hope, i Her father still played the old organ, but il ; he kept near home that Seleni might see e him as she glanced up from her work. c One evening, durimr the winter, Sele- f i ni's luisbantl came home, and as he seated li himself by the stove, drew a yellow cn- s velope from his pocket. It was old and worn by much handling, and bore numerous post-marks. ' "What is it?" asked Seleni, quickly. "An old letter fur me," answered her 4 i husband. "They said it had bin follerin' , me 'round everywhere. I hain't been in | one place long the last year. I guess it ain't much good now. S'posc you read j Seleni took the letter and tore open the onvolnnr* Tlipro wcrn onlv a few lilies. It began, "Darlin' Jim," and was singed, "Your own Lizzie." It stated that the writer would marry him any I time. "Don't look so!" cried her husband, as Seleni grew deady white. She did not speak, but st<*d perfectly still with the I letter clutched in her hand. But her husband threw his strong arms around her. "I'm glad I didn't get it!" he cried. 'Don't you know I love you bsst? No>ody can't take vour place now!"?Nina K Clark. On Picket. On one of the tours of picket duty durng the month of July, 1864, says a vriter in the Veteran# Advocate, we are >n post on the left of the army, neai vhat is known as the "Gurley Farm," ind T am xororprint nf rme r>f t.lif* rplipfs lly line extends for a couple of miles or o, and in the centre is the Gurley manion, situated on a road which runs .cross the lines. The enemy's lines is ust in sight in the edge of the woods in mr front, say seventy-five yards away. Vhde my relief is on duty I remain for he most of the time near this house, ccasionally riding along the line to see iow matters are. The first day, a man rora the enemy's pickets comes along he road a short distance in front of their inc and waves a paper. I understand his to mean that he wants to exchange iapers, but I have nothing in the newsaper line except a copy of the Free fa}itUl weekly paper, the Morning Star, ublishcd at Dover, New Hampshire, nd this is more than a week old, and ot supposing he will care for this, and nowing it is against orders to commuicate with the en em v. I at first pay no* ttention to him. But he is persistent, nd remains there, and as the man on ost wishes to go down and leet him, I finally give him the aper and let him ?0. The Confederate icks at that sort of exchange, but conludes to swap, and sends me a Petersurg paper of the morning before, and [so a kind message expressed in such a tanner that I feel that he can be trusted. Vg have pleasant communication with ich other the next day, during which I >arn that the Ninth Virginia and Fifth 'orth Carolina regiments are on picket uty in our front. (We meet that North arolina regiment many times in the eld and on picket, and come to be most like old friends, although foes.) lie third morning, as my men are being ilieved, there arc sounds of rapid firing J i the right of my ?.ine. The next relief ' as just gone up the line and some of iy men have been relieved. Myself and > - Vi ore ota an intrin rr a rrnnH V?pnrt v morn - ig wash at the pump in front of the ( ause, while some of my men are in the j ouse taking a bath. "We get ourselves ; igether as quickly as possible and ride , p there, but the firing lasts only a mo- , ient, and all is quiet long before we Tive. I find an attack has been made . 1 the right of my line, Jimmy Burns ! iptured, Tom Moore's horse shot, and ] ;hers of my line driven in, and then the < icmy had fallen back. I am pretty ad?mad clear through. I cannot help j leling that I am some to blame?that, ^ ?rhaps my friendly relations with the , onfederate picket have caused me to be , ss careful?that he has lulled me into a : eling of security purposely that the at .ck may be better made, although there , no reason for thus thinking. I am not 1 a.i r ~ ippy a UII mui luit-uuuu, uuuaiu pcLtj < *ly the next time my relief gets on post. , urdly are my men posted, when out >mes my Confederate friend, waving a iper and motioning for me to come jwn. I think this the height of chcek, id am strongly tempted to order my Icket to shoot at him, but that won't 5, and seeing him more than usually ( lxious, I let the picket go to meet him. ( rhen he comes back he brings me a nice 1 ttle note from the Confederate, cxpressig his sorrow for what occurred in the ^ orning, and ^saying his command had j me of it, but that the regiment on their . ft, which was opposite my line, had jen relieved the night before by a Texas ' gimentthat knew nothing about picket Lity, and they had made the attack, onfiuence is restored, and I feel better < itured toward him, but I don't get j immv Burns back?that is. not until the , jxt winter. ' Forest Influence on Climate. \ In a paper read before the Royal Me- < orological society of London, Dr. Woe- i ;of stated that the first step toward a i ientific investigation of the influence of rysts upon cliraatc was taken by the t itablishment of the Bavarian forest me- ] 'orological stations. This example was i lloweti by Germany, France, Switzer- < nd, Italy, and other countries. In < sneral it has been found that during the i armer season the air and earth temper- ] ures are lower in the forests than in i .'ighboring woodless places; that their i iriations are less, and that the relative i amiditv is greater. A discussion of ^ Lis question shows that in the western jrtions of the old world extensive for;ts materially influence the temperature : neighboring localities, and that the jrmal increase of temperature from the tlantic ocean toward the interior of the >nt,inent is not only interrupted by leir agency, but they cause the summer > be cooler in regions situated further in le interior than those nearer the sea. ence, forests exert an influence on cliiate, which does not cease at their borers, but is felt over a greater or less istrict, according to the si/.e, kind, and ositions of the forests. It follows from lis that man may considerably affect the limate by clearing forests in one place ad planting others in another. A Maverick. The word ' 'Maverick" is used in the attle ranges of the West to designate an nbrandcd and hence ownerless animal. ' 'he San Francisco Maverick, gives this 1 s the origin of the word: A few years since Sam Maverick went ' rom Massachusetts to Texas, where he ntered largely into stock business. After uying several herds he neglected his inge and left his stock to shift for themulves. Mr. Maverick, with humanitarian eeling. refrained from branding his young tock, believing iu the implicit honesty f his neighbors. When the genuine tockmcn of the region ran across an unhanded animal on the round up they 1 rould say, "There's one of Maverick's; it's brand it." rri.? wnwl envnnrr into nonularitv. and I ?ix^ . t .0 i , ts limited meaning was broadened and nlarged I>y constant use throughout the attle ranges and mining camps of the rontier. If a man was unpronouneed in lis opinion on any subject, people would ay, "He holds Maverick's views." The Major was Right. 'Wall, yes,"1 said the major, unfolding his knife. And shaving a slice from his chair, 'I come from a fanVly of purtv long life? The longest, I reckon, 'round hyar. :My gran'father lived to a mighty old age? He died at two hundred an' four?" Jut the major stopped short in his yarn at this staire, , For the judge entered in at the door. 'Now, major," the judge very gravely remarked, "I knew your old grandfather well; le was just eighty-three when his spirit embarked For that bourne where the good spirits dwell." ''or a moment the major had nothing to say, But finally rose to his feet: 'He died at two hundred and four Broadway?" Then the judge moseyed up and stood treat. ?Chicago News. Native Sacrifices in India. The following extract is from a Jcypore (India) letter to the London Tele- j graph: Yet the palace is-not quite empty A flvp.n to-dav. At the side of the main | entrance beneath the ramp exists a tem- | pie dedicated to Devi, and here it is the ! j custom every morning in the year to sacrifice a goat. At the Durga festival a whole herd of buffaloes and a flock of sheep are offered to the dread goddess, but the daily tribute is a goat, which re- . Slaces, it is said, the human victim whose ft was taken every morning in this c gloomy fane before the time of the Brit- v ish raj. It chanced that we entered the o: temple just at the hour of sacrifice, and, | J although the ladies would not view the i ai ceremony, a brief conversation with the j t< attendants induced them to admit one of e< the party to the presence of the goddess, tl She sat?the awful blood-loving Kali ?all black and red, upon a plat- ii form, inside the darkest part of the ti temple, with eyes of glittering mother- q o'-pearl and necklace of skulls. At the c * 1 ** n ? ?a.\*\ oonrl I +1 IOOE 01 ine piatluriJl was ji iicujj ui ouuu m and near it some wide-mouthed brass p vessels and a broad heavy-bladed sword, ci A raj put was worshiping in the corner, J and the priest with two assistonts moved about arranging for the ceremony. The ir victim, a black goat, stood placidly si enough upon the heap of sand, sniffing k curiously at the edge of the stone plat- b form where so many of his predecessors tl had perished. Suddenly a bell was ir touched, and the priest took the heavy u; sword and laid it in front of the image, fi: while he made the "ashtanya" or eight- c< fold prostration, and repeated the mantra of expiation. Then the two attend- li ants laid hold of the goat quite gently, u one steadying it at the tail, and one keep- d ing its head straight with a cord lightly fastened round the neck and ears. The p noor animal, alarmed and concerned, C1 stood perfectly still while the priest bared I his right shoulder and squared him- IS1 self athward wise, the sword, grasped p by both hands, balanced upon the p; goat's neck. Abruptly he raised it, ^ swung it back far behind him, and then [a brought it whistling round with a blow h which combined the cut and draw. f( There was a slight sound, as when a soft g 3tick is chopped, and the blade had shred ^ clean through the goat's neck, so that the b boy with the cord caught up the severed tl bead into the air before it could touch T the earth. The body of the victim fell ai sideways, guided by the other attendant, n< who directed the bleeding neck to one of the brass vessels. Taking the goatfs head, p the priest then laid it on the platform, before the glaring eyes of the goddess, and placiig his brow on the earth, re- a peated the prayer prescribed. Thus the d horrid ceremony ended, but we learned vi that the priests of the temple, being of a tc 3pecial caste, themselves ate daily five m seers of the goat's flesh, and had the ft right to sell the remainder in the bazar, al The palace pays seventeen rupees monthly to the contractor who supplies fr the innocent victims. The priest said c< that tne goddess would be very angry if cl the goat were not decapitated at one ei blow, and that, he would cut off the head A of a buffalo with equal certainty in one v] attempt. ? j null u tuiiccl uui u jjizj(iiu? j _j| Mrs. J. C. Williston, the wife of a m contractor and builder of Cleveland, in Ohio, has recently returned from an ex- fi tended trip after a most remarkable experience. Mrs. Williston is not yet tl thirty, but her hair is almost -white, and & tier face bears the signs of a life of suf- j, fering. She has been tjie victim for w fears, at varying hours of night and day, of ta pains like the cutting of a knife, and a physicians supposed her to be suffering from cancer of the stomach. Em- j, inent physicians failed to exactly locate li the trouble or afford the lady relief. She w spent months in travel and large amounts a) 3f money endeavoring to find effective w treatment for her malady, but most of the physicians whom she consulted said ihat her disease was cancer of the. stom- cr ich and that death would ultimately re- ? mlt. ir Last October she went to San Fran- a jisco, stopping and treating, while en y route, at the soda springs of Idaho, but I j n vain. Later she tried the waters of ! 3alestoga Springs and the baths of Passo j i( lei Robles, without effect. San Fran- ; h disco's best physicians could afford no a relief, and she started for Sonora, Mexico, j a utending to visit some celebrated springs p lear Nogales. She was taken seriously 0] ill at Tucson, Arizona. One day t( luring her iHness a Papago Indian, of u; ocal notoriety as a "medicine man," w risited Tucson from St. Xavier's mission. n 3e was taken to Mrs. Williston's rooms h md asked if he could tell her ailment, ti nra lrtrtlrarl of Vior Viorl Vior r1c*c.rih(! thft pains and their location, and then with j] the exclamation, "Me sabe heap bad ^ spirit," he rushed out and toward the ? mission. In a few hours he returned svith herbs and a basket of mescal, a root c used by the Indians for food. ^ He motioned to Mrs. AVilliston to swal- j low the herbs-. They made her deathly 1T sick, so much so that she almost died $] from fright, thinking she had been t( poisoned. Thu result, after a few hours, ^ was the emission of a dead lizard that q was fully four inches in length. It was (j apparently of a species common to the p East, but how it had managed to live .f( for so many years was the mystery. Mrs. ? Williston says that but one explanation jj occurs to her, which is that when a child, j, and living at Phillipsburg, N. J., she s; and her brother were accustomed to j, drink from a little brook that ran near ? the house. They would scoop the water ^ up with their hands, and she thinks that c possibly in this way she swallowed the 0 embryo lizzard. Mrs. Williston's re- ^ covery has been rapid, and she is now fairly on the way to a complete restorn- jtion to health. Though the taking of j Living objects into the system is not rare, v medical men say that this is one of the most remarkable cases on record. e ?.; c Mussel Stews. t TVir> "Rwlflnnd Onv.vipr- Gnrrftr. re r>nrts a 1 new rival to the oyster which it thinks will bring fame if not fortune to North * Haven, where the discovery was made, e It seems some enterprising citizen of that place, with an eye to developing home "7 talent, conceived the idea of making an ^ oyster stew without the oyster, substitu- P ii.. ?1 P ting" 111 tin* piucu ui lliu unaivc i o some of the mussels with which the coast * abounds. The result was a brilliant a success. Such a stew had never been eaten before. Local epicures now turn their noses at the oyster and vote it decid- T edlv old-fashioned, and arc preparing to 0 impart their discovery to less enlightened ^ regions. Their missionaries have already ^ got as far as Rockland, and it is predicted a that ere long the markets of all the big cities will abound with the legend " "North Haven mussels, twenty cents a quart." It is enough to make the clam P turn green with envy.?Lcwiston (Me.) s Journal. ^ im n At the great Sutton seed farm at Read- s ing, England, samples of all the grain 11 vegetable, and flower seeds are tested to ^ ascertain if they will germinate before they are placed in packages for sale. 0 y " nmp'W: tn-' " 7?! < ? .. % EXQUISITE EELS7~ L JAPANESE DISH AND ITS MANNER OF PREPARATION. (roiled Eels Brought to Table in Lacquered. Boxes?A Visit to a Japanese Restaurant Kitchen. In a letter from Japan to the San Franisco Chronicle, the writer describes a isit to a Japanese restaurant?owned by ae Maroki?in company with a young apanese student who had been educated t Harvard. The object of the visit was ) partake of a dish of unagi, or broiled els, a Japanese dainty. We quote from he letter as follows: "Are the eels good to-day?" patronizigly inquired my friend of the proprieDr. "I have heard that their flavor is not uite what it used to be. Do you proure them from the city canals, or are ley from the Sumida river?" The.prorietor bowed, then twitched the left arner of his mouth, after the fashion of apanese uttering a joke, and answered: "Honorable sir, do you for a moment nagine I should offer canal-bred eels to ich a judge as yourself? Mo, no! you now that I have a high reputation and uy nothing but the most beautiful eels iat come from the Sumida. Rememberlg that the time was near for you to pay s a visit, I have saved some of the finest sh you ever saw. Would you like to jme into the kitchen and inspect them?" "Hai," gently added his wife, who had stened to his speech with downcast eyes, that is so. We have some eels fit for a aimio." "What do you say?" inquired my com- ! anion. "Would you like to visit the ulinary department?" "Not until I have dined," I answered, lifflng suspiciously at the faint odor of 1 ickled radish that issued from a rear dcartment. The waitress quickly appeared j ith some trays containing square, black, ( icquered boxes, bearing the signs of the . ouse and a number. Placing one be- ; )rc each of us, she removed the tightly- . tting lids and revealed the contents, rhich were sections of nicely-browned, , roiled, split eels, skewered together, lat gave out a most appetizing odor. 1 he girl smiled as she watched my looks, ( id replenishing my saucer, placed it ear me, murmuring: "I think you will find the unagi very leasing to your taste." I took my chopsticks in my right hand, iserted the^points in the tish, broke off \ morsel and ate. Ye gods! It was ( elicious! rich, tender, delicately fla- , ored and boneless! I drew my box I >ward me, nodded approvingly at the ! Lteudant, and enjoyed the delectable ; >od. The smiling girl brought in box Fter box, the contents of each being | icer than the last. I have partaken of . led oysters at home, broiled fish in all juntries and the delicacies of every ime, but have never more thoroughly 1 joyed any dish than I did those eels. + locf T loir! Hototi mv rVirmsfcinks. and. lancing at my friend exclaimed: "You were right in saying that this is dish for the gods. We ought to intro- i uce it at home." The waitress bowed i acknowledgement of my praise, and quired if we would like to eat some ce. "Yes," nodded my companion. "I link I could empty a bowl or two." way went the girl, who, after a brief jlay, returned bearing a large tray on hich was a covered wooden tub, conLining hot rice, two lacquered bowls, teapot and some tiny cups. I contrived to eat one portion of the elicious, well-cooked cereal, then ghted my pipe find watched my friend, tin Vin/1 liia v/rfillprl ji rlrv/an times. id moistened his food by saturating it ith tea. ' How do you contrive to render the tins of the fish so tender?" 1 asked the irl. "I do not know," she answered, glanc1 g timidly at the rauts. "The cooks ever permit us to learn their secrets. If ou like to visit the kitchen they will no oubt explain everything to you." "Now for the bill," said my compan>n, refilling his pipe. "Altogether, you ave given us a very tolerable meal." In few moments she came back, carrying small scoop-like tray, in which was laced a slip of paper containing a reckaing. This she pushed along the mat >ward him; and then bowed and retained with her face close to the floor, kilo he minutely scrutinized the doculent. Taking his purse from his sleeve e dropped some paper money into the rav, and remarked in a low tone: "You may keep the change" (10 cents), [is munificence almost overpowered the raitress, who bowed repeatedly, and rate fully murmured: "Your generosity ssembles that of a foreigner. Any one an sec that you have traveled." After re had smoked awhile he asked whether would like to visit the kitchen, and on iv replying in the affirmative, summoned ae landlady, who said: "You honor us )o greatly. My husband shall show you ow we prepare the eels." We rose, uitted the room and descended the lader-like stairway, the steps of which were olished smooth as glass, slipped on our jot-coverings and entered the kitchen. ?n the liard earthen floor were rows of ttle charcoal furnaces, provided with on rods that served as rests for the kewered eels. Maroki, whose only failig was a weakness for bowing and olitely sucking in his breath between is speeches, led the way and was execdingly attentive. Pointing to a range f tubs containing fine specimens of fish, e remarked: "These were caught this morning; hey are the most expensive fish in the Nippon Bashi market. Are thev not forth looking at?" "J low do you contrive to completely xtract their bones?" I demanded. "Our ooks cannot accomplish that fact." Moi on tag a lightly-clad servant to apiroach him, he said: "Some customers have just come in. 'reparc an eel in the presence of these entlemen." The man, who evidently ook great pride in his work, selected a igorously squirming fish, struck its cad smartly upon a wooden block laced upon the fioor, and kneeling by it rasped the creature's neck, inserted a nife in the left side of the vertebra; nd dexterously ran it down to the tail; lien rapidly applied his instrument to lie other side of the backbone and rceated the process, leaving the eel split pen. Holding up the head, to whieh -1 ' .1 j._1 J 1 rns attacnca tne vcrieuru: unu launu ones inclosing the intestines, he bowed nd said: "There is not a spliutcr left in the !sh." "That is so, proudly remarked the iroprietor. "I only employ the most kilful men and cooks." The operator /ashed down the block, chopped the attened eel into three-inch lengths, and houtcd to a cook, who advanced to remove it on a dish. The next process i-as a mysterious one and was performed chind a screen, from whence the platter f eels was presently handed out to one i of the broilers. My opinion is that the fish had simply been plunged into.boiling water to make the skins tender. We advanced to a range and saw a cook skewering the pieces of eel on long bamboo splints. Then he placed them on the rods over the erlowinar coals, and when one side was browned, dexterouslypicked them up with a pair of iron chopsticks and turned them. After they were thoroughly cooked he seized the fish with the same instrument and plunged it into a vessel containing old shoyu, which was thick and dark as molasses. The steaming unagi was then drained, placed in a lacquer box, and sent upstairs to the customer. Imitating: Foreign Cheese. "If things keep on as they are," said a leading cheese merchant to a New York Mail and Express reporter, "there will not be any necessity for importing any foreign cheese. American ingenuity is rapidily solving the cheese problem. We already produce a domestic Swiss cheese which I consider fully equal to the im- j ported article, although the latter brings five cents more in price. The importation of Limburger cheese is now very j small. Still the importation of foreign cheese into this county last year amounted to over $950,000. The principal foreign cheese are the Stilton. Cheddar, Cheshire and Gloucester cheese from England ; Gruvere from Switzerland; Roquefort, Camcmbert, Pout l'Eveque, Fromage de Brie and Neufchattel, from France, Edam | chcese from Holland; Parmesa, fromagio Romans and Caccio Cavallo Napoli, from Italy. Stilton chcese is in the shape of a cylinder, ten inches in height and eight inches in diameter. It is worth forty-five I cents per pound wholesale. Cheddar is similar to factory cheese in appearance, | " " "1 i - A i-- Tl.i.L ana is worm tmrry-rwo cents. jduiu Cheddar and Gloucester are flat cheeses, and are worth twenty-eight cents. The genuine Gruyere cheese comes from Switzerland, although an inferior article is made in France. The Swiss Gtuyere cheese measures three feet across. Four cheeses, weighing about 150 pounds, are packed in a tuty for exportation. Swiss Gruyere is worth twenty-five cents per pound. Roquefort cheese is made from the milk of gcats, ripened in limestone caves. Each cheese weighs five pounds and is worth thirty-five cents per pound. An old French gentleman, residing on Staten Island, owns a large herd of ?oats and makes a very fair article of Rnmipfnrfc rhnesfi. He SUtiDlieS Quite a 1 JT I i number of dealers and is worth quite a little fortune made in the business. Camembert cheese is imported in boxes of five dozen piece3 and wholesales at $3.50 per dozen. Pout l'Eveque is worth $3 per dozen and fromage de Brie $1.50 per piece. Neufchatel, a species of potcheese, is worth ten cents per portion. Limburger made here is worth twelve cents per pound and Munster cheese twenty cents. The bright red Edam cheese from Holland, as round as a cannon ball and almost as hard, is worth $10 a case of a dozen loaves, rarmesan cheese, almost exclusively used in the preparation of macaroni, comes from Italy in tubs containing five loaves, and is worth twenty-eight cents per pound. The favorite cheese of the Italians is the caceio cavallo or horse-head cheese, which is shipped to this country from Naples, and retails at thirty cents. It is only a question of a very little time when all "these varieties of foreign cheese can be successfully reproduced here in our own dairies. A Horse's Intelligence. A horse which had been in possession of the 'Peters family, in Bushkill, Penn., for twenty, years, and which was famous for the almost human intelligence he frequently displayed, died recently. During the last few years of the horse's life he" had been permitted to run at liberty, but was freqeutly hitched up to haul the dead bodies of cattle or horses that died on the farm to a place near the Delaware river, where the carcasses were buried. The old horse always stood near and watched the burials with great interest and attention. Some time ago this horse fell sick.. One day he was missed from an enclosure where he was being cared for. A search was made for him, and he was finally found lying dead on the spot where he had hauled the dead bodies of so many of his kind. As the place was out of the way of the old horse's usual haunts, and he had never been known to go there except when driven there with some dead animal, no one who knew the horse be1" wAf euoV fVio crvnt" fppl lJCYUS LIiaL lie U1U nut og&n vuw w|/ww ?vw. ing that he was about to die, and save the trouble of hauling his dead body there to be buried. Among the instances told of his intelligence are the following: Late one night members of the family that owned him were awakened by a great noise on a piazza of the house. There was the loud neighing of the horse and a heavy stamping on the piazza floor. One of the inmates of the hou.se went to the door. There was the old horse stamping and kicking and neighing with all his power. The discovery was made that an outhouse near the dwellling was on fire. The old horse had given the alarm, and a disastrous fire was prevented. One spring there was a flood in a stream on the place. A blind horse belonging to a neighbor got out of its pasture, and wandering down to the swollen stream in some way got into the water. It swam about in a circle, and was unable to reach either shore. No one could render any aid to the poor animal, and there seemed no escape for it from drowning. The old Peters horse came along while the blind horse was struggling in the water, and, after a moment's survey of the situation, plunged in. He swam out to the blind horse, and headed it off as it turned to make its usual circle, thus keeping its neaa poinieusiruigm iuj shore as it swam. By heading the blind horse first on one side and then on the other, he guided it safely to shore.? New York Sun. Imitating Valuable Violins. "We have persons coming in here every day with so-called Stradivarius violins," said a maker of violins in the Bowery. "They are common German violins with a copy of the Stradivarius label printed or pasted on the inside. Pretty much every violin, no matter by whom it is made, has some such label, so that labels nowadays do not count for anything.' Inexperienced persons may be fooled by them, but anyone who knows anything about violins pays no attention to them. "I suppose makers put the label in because some people like to pretend they have a valuable violin. A Stradivarius is worth anywhere from $3,000to $15,000 and they are not very plenty. They can be told by their shape and by the kind of varnish on them. "It is unsafe to pay a big price for a V1011H Until 1G IS pus.stju upuu uy cA^jLiLa. I have known a label to be taken off a genuine Stradivarius and inserted in an imitation one, for the reason that one could be sold on its merits, while the other needed the label."?Neio York Sun. Y: ~tf: MONTE CARLO. " . J _ vj .' t* SCENES AT THE NOTORIOUS GAMBLING RESORT. The Magnificent Casino in the Little Principality of Monaco? A Motley Crowd of Officials and Players. The glory and the shame of Monte Carlo date from the year 1860. when the lateM. Blanc, foreseeing the fall of Homburg, took possession of it. There had been a Casino there for some years before, styled Elysee Alberto, till the reigning Prince of Monaco, Charles III., resolved* to immortalize himself by naming it ' , Monte Carlo. Blanc bought out the old -j gambling company for a million and a ;& half of francs, and from that time till his death was lavish in his expenditures on \ the extension and maintenance of the '? fairy-land he had created in the loveliest ' -^ spot of the globe. The great Casino was n formally opened in 1868 by a-banquet, at which all Monaco and a great deal of Paris was present. The whole establishment is indirectly under the control of a commissioner of the Prince of Monaco, but the chief funcion of this officer is to draw his own salary and remit to his sovereign his share of the plunder. ' All mA*1 ATT non /In f A molro fVifi IUttt uiviitj vail uu i/v iiiarvw unv vuwmv and inside of the gambling-house attractive has been done. The gardens arc marvels of beauty and floral wealth; : ^ palms, olives, aloes, carob-trfees, all the semi-tropical vegetation, flourish lux- :S uriantly. The building is provided with c a concert-hall, a reading-room, and par- ; lors, all luxuriously fitted up. The great . , hall devoted to roulette is in the Moorish , *'; style, with a lofty ceiling, and windows which look on one side to the square, on the other to the sea and the rocky height of Monaca. Crossing two spacious arcades, the stranger enters a great gallery, in which are placed three tables, A one for roulette, the others for trente-etquarante. Here the throng of players assemble; some merely to pass the time; many, however, seriouslv and anxiously studying eveiy turn of the wheel or every spot on the cards. They are as solemn as the alchemists of old in their search1^';--'"j nli']Ar>Anliaii'fl C+ATI a nnlli flia 1 \JL l/UO ^imuoupuvi o ovuuv) f**vM ?MV>. , _'rr A same firm belief that an infallible method will one day be discovered. Play requires coolness, patience, and persever- Jr ance as well as courage. At Monte Carlo ^ everything is perfectly fair; what the ; player has to struggle with is the advan- 'fy tasre which the rules of the game give to; .V the table. The officials of the Casino are numerous ?two inspectors who superintend the whole, inspectors of the tabJes, and an army of croupiers (men who watch the/ cards and collcct the money). The latter functionaries number seventy or eighty in summer and. 160 in winter, and are dressed irreproachably in black, with white ties. The croupiers, through some , . . ?M?tn4>AMAiia AAIIOA mAoflv 1W1/1 . ail/? JilJdtCHVUO aiv iuvovij ., ,.? have a weariei, melancholy look; the other officials are at the sanie time cringing to those in authority or to the rich habitues of the place aud overbearing to those unfortunates who are \,': down on their luck. Some of the losers f?o out and kill themselves in the gar-, dens, which unpleasant affaire are, if possible, hushed up or attributed to some other cause; a few have the sense to run away home; some come back regularly. Nor is the passion for play restricted to the ruder sex. The tables have a potent fascination for ladies of all ranks and classes. Not a year passes without the report of .some woman of wealth and O TTin+im fn V*or lnfflfnf>4*1 ATI jJl/eil/JLWll UCIII^ lb T IV/U1U1 l-V UVl ^ for play. The crowd is a motley one. / As among the men we sec the weak and wicked, the pigeon and-the rook, the swindling adventurer and and the man o 1 honor, so am?ng the women are ladies of rank, mothers of families, innocent daughters, ballet dancers, actresses and the worst of female adventurers. A calculating mother, an old hand at the tables, often thinks that in this shifting crowd her daughter will find a greater chance for her career than anywhete else. Some of the ladies, too, are kind enough to volunteer advice to players who seem in doubt. "Put your monoy on seven teen, monsieur," she will whisper, "and ) we will divide if you win." If she is I pretty and the player is a fool, her advice mav be taken. But the stead v player 11 i 1_ i i:i,? ?n ??? j win mane no sucu uiugtwu, uac oh ^<uuglers, he is superstitious, and will ask a child or a stranger to make a stake for him, but he will not share his winnings. He consults the card on which he has pricked down the winning and losing numbers. It seems as if it would be safe to pick out numbers that had not turned up often, in the hope that they would soon appear; yet years of observation and i study have never discovered a safe martingale. In fact, as each turn of the wheel or deal of the cards is independent 6f all that have gone before it, the chances of picking out the winning number or color are just the eame at the hundredth time as the first time. One reads and Vionm v^rv nftr>n that with a thousand or two thousand francs one can be sure of winning fifty thousand francs a year. Such statements are, of course, false, and are the inventions of knaves or fools. As there is always a certain percentage in favor of the bank, the longer you play the more certain you are to lose, just as you would lose if you bought all the tickets in a lottery. The managers of the Casino know this well, and know that j they have a still greater advantage over j many players ?they have patience, and a good sum in the bank. "What the profits of Monte Carlo have been it is impossible to say. They are sufficient to keep the T">iri lliviirv fn flflfim t.llfi Casino,to run an opera-house and theatre in the season, to lay out gardens, to arrange horse races, yacht races and every kind of amusement, and to enable the daughters of M. Blanc to ally themselves with the Radziwills and the Bonapartes. Many a hungry eye follows the bluelivened servants who carry off the bank and its treasure when the game closes. That is the moral, "All you stake goes off there."?Harper's Bazar. Chinese Paper. Eighteen hundred years ago the Chinese made paper from fibrous matter reduced to a pulp. Now each province makes iw? own peculiar variety. The , celebrated Chinese rice paper, that so resembles woolen and silk fabrics, and on which are painted quaint birds and flowers, is manufactured from compresscd wTiioh ia rnt. snirnllv bv a keen ' ?? ? ? -t J knife into thin slices six inches wide and twice as long. Funeral papers, or paper imitations of earthly things which they desire to bestow on departed friends, are lmrnnrJ nvflr their graves. Thev use I O *J I paper window frames, paper sliding doors, and paper visiting cards a yard { long. It is related that when a distinguished representative of the British government visited Pekin several servants brought him a huge roll, which, when spread out on the floor, proved to be the visiting card of the emperor.