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i?-. x ??? THE EARTH A MERRY-GO-ROUND. The earth is a merr v-go-round, With plenty of room to gyrate; To the hub of the sun fast bound, While flying around at a high rate, And great and small Are ridere all On the earth's great merry-go round. We are whirled with the world around and | around, Cfc this merry?merry?merry-go round! (Spring.) We parsed where the waking Of Nature did bring The buds to the breaking, The birds to the wing; And May overtaking, * We sang to tho Spring. (Summer.) We passed fruit-laden tree#, And wheat above the kneee, j Flower-beds ablaze; While lazy life, at ease, Lay fanned by perfumed breeze Of Summer days. -i. (Autumn.) We passed where the woods were arrayed Like Rachel's first-born; And fields that were bared by the blade, And banks that were cool in the shade In Autumu's mild mom. (Winter) We passed while snowflakes fell like sand, Through snow-glass set-up in the sky; i Watched water masquerade as land, And s&.v Dftfi-mhnr Hint Oil, cold December diel We aro whirled with the world around and arouud, On this merry?merry?merry-go-roundI ?Hunter MacCiUloch. | | A WINTER VACATION.1 j AND WHAT CA51E Or IT. It was not at all creditable to him, but it w;is nevertheless a !aet that Tom hrou on went down to Kast Wheelerville on a two weeks' mid-winter vacation iu a j recklessly flippant mood, aud ddibcr- ; *tely intending to have a good time, ! whether or no. "They're an awftil b;tckwoodsy set, jou know," he had said to his friend, j Ernest Wilson, a dignified young doctor, whom he look with him. "Ob, I don't aying it?Aunt Sally's only a step greataunt, anyhow. Oh, yes, they're the real j Article, she and Uncle 'Rastus?cowhido boots aud calico dresses, and rag carpets ' md pumpkin pie, and all that sort of : thing We'll have lots of fuu!" 4tI don't propose to 'have fun' at the ex- ' pense of your relatives, lironson, and I J trust you don't,"the doctor had rejoined, j I?. .1 LI-L m v _ j ? _ i_ icpiuvjugijr \ at wuitu xuin nau mcreiy ( laughed. The doctor need not bave concerned , himself. Tom's ironical mood lasted j bout half an hour after their arrival in East WheelerYille, and vanished for ] good. Uncle 'Hastus met them at the station j with a lumber wagon and ucordial "How j be you?" and twenty minutes later they j were sitting, washed and brushed and ! hungry, at Aunt Sally's supper-table, ! with Uncle VRastus dishing ham and ; eggs, and Aunt Sally, stout and bene- j crtcuuiugi iuimu^ a uu ui biscuits in the oven. Tom c.alied the attention of his friend, ; in subdued tone9, to the picture of | Qeorge Washington on the wall, and the yellow almanac under it, and to the tin | iea pot and the mug of teaspoons, and , the absence of butter-plates. "They don't have dining-rooms in East "Whcelerrille, you know," he mur- , lured, with a chuckle. 'iTiey eat in *V/> <. 3 ? II aau Aitviicu jccm iu auu y car? "Susy," called Aunt Sally, as she put j Ihe hot, brown biscuits on the table, ; "you can bring the strained honey, too;' mebbe they'll like some o' that." There was a rustle in the pantry, its kalf-shut door swung back, and through J it, bearing in one hand an amber-hued ; bottle, and in the other a blue plate and : a trickling slice of honeycomb, came a [ girl in a long gingham apron?a dark- j ?ycd, yellow-haired, fair-faced, start- i lrngly pretty girl. Tom dropped his fork, and stared with DDen eves and mouth. Wilson, with greater presence of mind, only looked j admiringly over the milk-pitcher. "This is Susy Harkness," said Aunt Sally, with brisk cordiality and straghtforward phrasing. "Susy, this is my ! nephew, Tom Bronson; and t iiis is , Poctor Wilson, a friend o' his he's brought." The young men rose and bowed; aud Susy sat down, and deftly and gracefully dished the honey, and sm'liugly j passed it. Tom sat staring, with dazzled eyes; and continued to stare during the three- , ^Udivuo VI 911 UI'UI U1 3U|JpCl*HlUU. | Ha was distinctly aware of nothing ave the astonishingly protty face oppojite. He could not have been more dazed tnd confuted had a heavenly being dropped through the ceiling. A Biunuing girl in East VVheelerville, and at Aunt tally's! Who was she? Tomlo;>ktd at (ho gingham apron. Tt j was haril to believe that she was merely i "help;" but the fact seemed indisputable. ! He knew that ser.auts always ate with i the family in the country. But ho re Hicuiuerru auiu oiuiy s last "Help"?a ileepy, dough-faced girl, with shoes j down at the heel. Where had thia ?this angel como from ? Whew! hut how pretty she was! Tom did not know whether he was eating or not; hut he thought lie was probably making a passable pretenso, ince nobody wusobsorving him particularly. They were talking?T'nclo 'Ra-tus, rAunt Sa ly, Wilson and >lie. How sweet lhe looked wlieu sh? talked! And the doctor was conversing witn ner quite ealmly and rationally. Tom was dimly amazed at his coldbloodedness. He rose from the table lowly, since the rest were do'ugso, and submitted to beiug led into the sittingroom, with his head screwed backward to get a last glimpse of Aunt Sally's charming hired-girl, who was swiftly clearing the table. "Well." he burst forth, sinking into a ehair by the glowing stove, and gaping ?t his friend. His flippancy was gone: his jocose larcuwn w?< a thing of the past. He ,1,.... 1.. MNnnc Wits UUVJMJ pvuvuo, "Wi'lIT'said the doctor, collectively. "Good grucious!'' eaid Ton*, e\plolively; "did you ever see such a durling ,M "Oil, the cook!" said Wilson, shutting 0*e store damper. "W*s, she's pretty. B t dou't lose your head over a pretty C VI. Bronson; the woods are full of them!" ilfon picked up a "Life of Washing; )u" from the table arid l>cgan to read it; ;ind Torn, after a drearily wistful pause, stole into the kitchen. f usy stood at the sink with her sleeves relied to her plump clbytfrs, washing dull-.*. A I'ttl pal'y stirring yeast aad warm water into a pan of flour at the table. "Oh, let rae help!" Tom implored, looking beseechiugly into Susy's dark oyes. "Help?" fche repeated, laughingly. j But Tom wa* in earnest. He caught an apron of Aunt tally's from a nail, , tied it around him, and seized a dish i towel. Sasy laughed sweetly; Aunt Sally chuckled till her stout sides shook. "You'll see I'm an adept!" said Tom, confidently. ) He felt that ho could be an adept at flying, with such an inducement. Indeed, ho rubbed the forks and polI ished the classes till they shone. "Do you like housowork, Susy?" he said, softly. 1 Susy looked astonished?did she alto look displeased??and did not reply. Tom made another attempt, affrighted'? i "Havo you been with Aunt Sally i long?" he said. "I?I am 60 glad she I can have such good help. It isn't al- { ways to be procured, you know." He meant this to please and flatter her, ! and he thought he was successful. Sho turned her pretty he.id away IjUlUMJf , UUU nucu sue lumcu uavn. uwi . charming face was softly Hushed, and she was smiling. Auut Sally was in the pantry. "Yes, I am glad to be with her,'' she said, simply. "East Wlieclerville is beautiful, isn't it?" said Tom, elated at his success. At that moment he sincerely considered East Wheelervillo even more than beautiful. "1 like it," Susy rejoined, bringing, more not water m a uu dipper. "I suppose you've been brought up 1 here?" sa <1 Twin, in low and sentimental tones?Aunt Sally was back at the ta- i ble. Susy murmured something, with her J head Lent over the dishes, which their J rattle drowned. "Happy East Wheelerville?to have . been your native place!"Tom whispered, ! with a look which, an hour ago, he j would have set down as idiotically soft, j l'Oh, thank you!" said the hired girl, ! prettily, washing the last pan. The evening j'cw by at a lightning speed, so it seemed to the enthralled young man. Ho helped Susy put away the dishes, and hunt; the dish-pan on a hook that was too high for her, and held , the dust-pnn when she "brushed up;"j and then they went into the sittiug j room and played a delicious game of j dominoes by themselves, whi.e Aunt i Sally knit, and I'ncle 'Hastus and the j doctor talked politics; and talked all the i rest of the evening, after Wilson had j gone up stairs and while Uncle 'Hastus j dozed. Wilson was waKeci t>y a snarp snaicing j at half-past ten. 'Sec here?wake up! I want to talk," i $aid Tom, sitting down on the doctor's | feet. "Sco here, Wilson?I'm gone this j time!" "Where?" said the doctor, sleepily. "I'm in love I Yes?no fooling. I'm going to marry her if I can get her!" "Who?" "Why, Susy !"cried Tom, wildly. Tim rlrw>tiir nnf lin fnllv rnii<;p.rl. "Susy!" he echoed, Bternly; "your aunt's servant girl! Are you crazy, Bronson? What will your people say? But, p*haw! you're talking bosh 1" Wilson lay down again. "Bosh?" cried Tom,almost deliriously. "You'll see! Ro?h? I'd nmrry her if j she was a crossing sweeper! She's the loveliest, sweetest creature in the world. I'll have her if I die for it!" Wilson laughed drily. "You're crazy 1" he repeated. "You'll be over it by morning. If you ain't, I'll j put you into" an ice-pack." And lie wont to sleep, in the middle of a second frantic protest from the excited lover. But Tom was not "over it" by morning?nor by the end of the first week. It was a hard week for the doctor. ?'Vrtn'rfl mftkinrr a fool of vourself. Bronson," he said, almost tearfully, several times a day. "What will your mother say, and all the rest of them? You don't really meau to go any further with it? Come now, be sensible. You want a girl that's your equal in birth and fortune whoa you do marry; not a poor and uneducated girl you'd be aih.imea of. Don't. HronsonI" "Ashamed of!" Tom would retort hotly. "Vou don't know her, Wilson. Ashamed of her? Never! I'm going to have her if it's a possiblo thing." And he would stride off, generally in the direction of the kitchen. The climax came on tho morning of ! the eighth day. The doctor had taken a walk, and was changing his muddy boot3 in his room, when Tom bouuded in, j breathless, and excitedly red of face. 'She's mine!" he shouted, leaping j across tho room. "She's mine! Do I you hear?'' The do -tor, in a spirit half of irony i and half of real alarm, sprinkled n hand- | ful of water from tho pitcher on the i young man's head. "We're engaged;'1 Tom went on, j pantingly. "Not (juite, you know; she: says she's only known me a week, and j she won't cail it an engagement; but j ol.n'll think about it. and she'll write to i me, and?oh, it's as good as settled!" "Is it?'' said the doctor grimly. "I j guess not?not till I've made an effort: to unsettle it. You're young and hotheaded, 15ron9on''?the doctor was two | months the senior?"and I'm going to prevent your making the worst mistake j a fellow of your family and fortune' could make. I'm going to let your people know what you're doing." Aud five minutes later he was re-ar-! rayed in his overcoat and muddy boots, and was going down stairs with a sealed letter, followed by Tom, pouring forth a tirade of mingled remonstrance ana ueuanco. Tin* sitting-room door stood <>peu. "Here she is 1" said Tom, forgetting! everything, l?ut his happiness, and fly-1 ing in to join Aunt Sally's charming hired | girl 011 the sofa. i Aunt Sally sat in the largest rocker. Her good natured fare was glowing with pleasure, and she burst out into serenely ; delighted speech at the sight of Tom. Wilson | ausod in the doorway to hear; her, with a stern frown, which gradually ! faded. t uWal, Susy's been tellin' me all about it,'' she said, taking of her glasses in her ! enthusiasm, "an' I don't know jest when I've l>ecn ho glad o' anything. I told Susy, fu^t night she come, I did hope \ou'd take a fancy tn rach other. I've alius been afraid Susy'd have to marry to suit her pa, and not her own self, i Her pa's alius been sot ou her marry in' j somebody with money. lie s iys, out ( and out, the match'd be onequal if 6he ' didn't. Susy bavin' so much in her own right and lie bein' so rich, he wan't! {JUII1 IU IIHVC ril.'l" 111K111 U[l Willi lll? |IU"1 young man if he knew it. I do consider that money makes folks terrible proud and overbearing though your pa's a wcllineunin1 nian enough, Kusy, and own cousin to 'Rastus." The doctor was stariug broadly; Tom %v.i9 open mouthed. ".'iwn cousin !" he gasped. "Why? why?and 8usy visiting you? Why, J thought, Auut Sally " The hired girl began to laugh. "I knew you thought so," she cricd, gaily; "and it was so funny I couldn't help letting it go that way, to see what you'd do. It was just like a ridiculous man to think, just because I had on Aunt Sally's apron and was helping her, that I was the 'girl.' Why, I had on my bracelets and all my rings that very evening, and a gold pin in my hair, and you never noticed. Oh, dear! it's been loo much fun all along. And I didn't do it for that purpose, you know, like ffirls in stories: but I've found out that you like me for myself, anyhow." The doctor looked wilted, and Tom, with one arm around Susy's waist, turned to look at him, with a calm j smile. "I should have married her anyhow," | ho remarked, confidently; and Wilson knew that he would have.?Emma A. ojijht. ^ Treacher and Sailor. A story of Theodore Parker, which the Listener believes has never been in print, J was told him by a venerable gentleman nrorainent in free relicious circles: "Many years ago," said the narrator of the incident, "about the time when j larker began to preach in Music Hall, I I was called upen one day by a Yankee sailor, who was a good deal of a thinker on religiou-i subjects, and who took an interest, when he was in port, in heariug the leading religious oratore speak, and in visitinor t.hfl nlanps where free thought was expressed. It may seem strango | now that a common sailor should fre- | quent the lecture rooms, but this was in 1 a day when there were more sailors than J there are now, and when the majority of them were of a different type from 'the one that prevails nowadays. Well, this sailor told me that he had not only been to hear Parker, but had visited him in his study the day after he had heard the sermon. Parker was interested in the 1 man, and asked him what he thought of j his sermons. " 'The sermon w;is first-rate, Mr. Parker,' said the suilor, 'but I didn't j care so much for the prayer.' " 'What was there about the prayer ; that you didn't like?' asked*Parker. ' Now, Theodore Parker had a way, as j you m.iy remember, of making pretty j long prayers, and of embodying the j f.ord's Prayer in them, every Sunday. He oloscd His prayer generally wun uie Lord's Praye. So he might have guessed what the sailor was coming to when he auswered: " 'I know it was from the Bible, Mr. Parker, that sentence in your prayer that I didn't like; but I don't like it, all the same." 11 'Well, what sentence was it?' " ' It wai where you prayed the Lord I not to lead us into tempiation. Now, do you euppose, Mr. Parker that the j Lord would lead us int > temptation?"' "Theodore Parker remained silent for a moment, and then said: 41 'No, my good man; I don't bcliavc he would.' " 'Then,' said the sailor, 'I wouldn't pray to him not to do it.' "The sailor left the great liberal. It was some weeks after the incident that the sailor called upon me. I was curious to see for myself whether he had told the truth, and I went to hear Mr. Parker the next Sunday at Music Hall to sec whether he had changed his practice with regard to the praver, and found - - '-I? - lUilL LUC billiur 3 uluuimu ilikkay iuuuvu, made its impressiou." "Did he cease repeating the Lord's prayer?" asked the Listener?'' "No, but lie repeated it with u variation. Instead of saying: 'Lead us not into temptation.'he said, 'Lead us from temptation,' and he continued to use that form, I am sure, as long as he lived."? Boston Transcript. Strange Uses of Some (Jrarestones. Nothing goe? on in an uninterrupted -i-? i j 1 career in mis worm, uunoci, wu c?tu gravestones < ome now and then to strauge uses. In a village in Maine, for instance, a farmer, having waxed in fortune until he was able to replace the slate gravestones in his family burial lot by marble ( ones, was too thrifty to throw the old slabs away. lie therefore utilized them as door-stones, so that all visitors to the kitchen and dairy trod upon inscriptions gradually fading away, which, with scriptural phrase :ind the cheerful overseeing of triangular-visaged cherubs, recorded the names, the virtues and the untimely taking oft' of the forefathers of the thrifty farmer. In another .Maine village is, or was, a boarding g-hool for young ladie.*, in the kitchen of which a large white marble slal>, sacred to the memory of a worthy woman, whom it described as having died in the , Lord,wasu^cdasakneading-board. Now and then a loaf of bread after it was molded would rest for a moment or two on the deeply out inscription, and the pupils averred?how truthfully the editor makes no pretense of being able to determine?that they had beeu able to decipher bits of the words printed ou the bottom of the slice* of bread. But, perhaps, the most remarkable fate for a tombstono was that which be- : fell the moss-grown slab in an English j church-yard. An American parvenu of , the Rame family name as that of the man whose death the stone nvorded, pur- i chased the stone of a dishonest sextou and brought it home with her. It is now set in into the wall of licr sumptuously appointed New York library, beside a fictitious pedigree, which lies to all beholders by tracing the family of the present owner back to that of the man -..i lo t>... dnnn As hn lias w IIU3L* UilllJV lo WU iuv ovv.^v. .... been dead l'O years, he is probably be- I yond caring for such things else Mrs. Parvenu might have good roaso i to expect a call from his ghost some night, j come to reclaim his gravestone.?Boston \ Courier. A Parisian Color Custom. Business people in Paris have long since formed a color speech, by which certain trades are easily recognized. First of al!, the color shops are distinguished by being painted outside in squares and stripes of the most brilliant colors. Viennese leather, bronze and trinket shops have begun to use the Austrian colors, yellow and black; then the Spanish wine shops use yellow ancl red; tue uauans, green, white and red. The business places where furniture carts for removal arc kept ' are painted yellow, as well as the wngous ?why, not even the proprietors know. I Pastry shops are light brown outside and within white and gold, so that one is reminded of the pastry itself. Milk shops are white and blue, both .ind nut The washerwomen now begin to paint the outside of their ironing shops a bright blue, while the carts that take tho linen to the washhouses in the country arc bright green. Winehouses are all painted brown or a dull red, which is exactly the color of the vin ordinaire mixed with cranberry juice and logwood. Still darker is tho color of the charcoal shops, which the dust soon renders completely black. Bakers are fond of light brown and white, with much gilding and large mirrors.?Court Journal. WOMAN'S WOULD. | PLEASANT LITERATURE FOR FEMININE READERS. I A Qnoer Gown. Hero, for the satisfaction of Aracrkau I womankind, says the Paris correspondent of the New Yoik Times, is something about a dress which the ladies are talking about, and which I was taken to see'. It is oue of a series calculated to make Mrs. Langtrr outshine the lilies that were sat 8fied to simply uo noiuing dui eci pse Solomon. The dress changes Mr9. Langtry into a good imitation of a gray bat. The wings are in black tulle ' covered with jet,and in front a loose tunic j of golden China crape, all embroidered | in gold and jet, is fastened on the chest | by a real stuffed but with diamond eyes The effect is more alluring than striking. A Tribute to the Quiet. Girl. The quiet girl never wears high colors on the street. You do not see her flaunting in brilliant plaids when they happen ' to be in the style. When high hats are j "in:' sho docs not pile hurs so high that it sweeps the cobwobs from the sky. Sho dots not wear an exaggerated bang ? Vt.inrv to in trArrim nnr tlin liirr. VWJCU luo uaug .O '"o?! o gest bustle in town, nor tho longest train to her tea gown, nor the greatest number of bangles when bangles reign. But because she does not chatter and gigglcaud makeher?elf conspicuous in horse cars or at matinees, does not annouce her convictions on all occasions and all subjects, and profess her admirations at every turn, it must not be supposed that she has no ideas, convictions or enthusiasms; that she movi s along like a star in tho heavens, which obeys the laws of gravitation without selecting its course or objecting to its orbit. It is the quiet girl who makes the best match, who tills the n!/.lioo ix-liirh lif>r mnre brilliant sisters leave vacant, who manages the servants, runs the sewing-machine, remembers the birthdays, listens to the reminiscences of the old and often keeps the wolf from the door.?Easton (Ptnn.) Argus. A Story of Jenny Lind. The following is a characteristic story related of Jenny Liud. It is contained in a letter, written from Paris in 1817, to Douglas Jerrold, by a novelist of some repute in his day: "lam somehow reminded of a good story I h?ard the other night from a man who was a witness of it and an actor in it. At a certain Ger man town last autumn tnc:e was a tremendous furor ab..ut Jenny Lind, who, after driving the whole place mad, left it on her travels early one morning. The moment her carriage was outside the gates, a party of rampant students, who had escorted it, rushed back to the inn, demanded to be shown to her bed-room, | swept like a whirlwind up-stairsinto the ; room indicated to them, tore up the 1 sheets and wore them in strips as decora ! tions. An hour or two afterward a bald ! old gentleman of amiable appearance, an j Englishman, who was staying in the hotel, came to breakfast at the tabic j ' d'hote, and wa9 observed to be much | disturbed in mind and to show great terror whenever a student came near him. At last he said in a low voicc to some people who were near him at the table: * You are English gentlemen, I observe. Most extraordinary people, those German1-, Students, in a body, raving mad. gentlemen!" 'Oh, no,' said somebody else; 4 excitable, but very good fellows and very sensible.' 'By God, sir,' returned the old gentleman, still more disturbed, ' then there'd Bomethinc political in it and I'm a marked man. I went out for | a little walk this morning after shaving i and while I was gone'?he fell into a j terrible perspiration as he told it?' they buret into my bedroDiu,tore up my sheets and are now patrolling the town in all i directions with bits of 'em in their buttonhole.'" It is needless to add that j they had gone into the wrong bedroom. Shopping in Paris. Paris is the banner city for shopping. They have numberless stores there of the j i kind in our Sixth avenue, but some are ' i several times larger than any in New I , York. The principal ones are the Hon I Marchc (which, iu spite of the literal I definition of the words, means simply ! I "cheap"), the Magasin du Louvre, the Belle .Jardiniere (the pretty female gar- j dtner), and the Petite St. Thomas. You J shop on three floors of the Bon Murchc. i It covers three sides of a block, and its ! stables opposite are among the sights of j Paris?so many horses arc kept for show ; there and all the stable appointments aro so neat and pretty. The stable building is altogether handsomer than the store itself. Everybody in Paris goes everywhere in cabs, and when you leave your ? -n Kl/.ntr on-otr tn i CUU 11 15 unvi/'ll Ul IVIHIl u uiuvn UMUJ w a place where it falls in line with half a | mile of c ihs and awaits your call. Its j number is in your po.-oe-sion on a ca: d ! which you keep. As you enter the shop you are impressed with the heaps of! goods you see displayed there?the pas- j sages being all but blockaded by the bargain counters, and goods being fairly heaped an! piled up all around in a way j and to an extent that you never see in ! New York. Everything appears to be j ticketed, and you see the pr.ces without having to ask fur them. The sides of ' the great wall through the centre of the | buiiding are all draped with goods, and i there is snch a profusion of things that | it can be likened to nothing so well as a ! clothes fair. It is a French idea to catch j the customers eye, and the effect is not | so neat and trim as that produced by our j methods. I The system of selling goods in I'nris is clumsy. Suppose you are buying i gloves. When you hnvc miulc your pur- I chases the cleric who waited on you j takes the gloves and the memorandum ; of what he has sold you in his hand and i says: "Will you step this way, j madame?" He leads you to what is j cnllcd a caisse. There are several of I these eaisses on each floor. They arc | little square places, divided from the j rest of the place by counters, behind . which are the clerks and tho people who j do un theuarcels. Vou and yoni clerk I stand in h great crowd of persons waiting their turn. When your turn comes your j clerk calls out what you have bought to a clerk in the caissc, who stops to put it, all dowu. When he has done this and i added up the sums in the list he tells j you the total and you pay. Then your I elerk a?k* whether you will have the ! ! articles e:it or whether you will take j ihcm yourself. Ono New York lady I ordered her purchases sent, and after two i days went and asked why they had not1 come. She had this experience? She was taken to what they call the Bureau , de Ihclamation, where all her statements were verified by an examination of many books. Then it appeared that the eon| cier?e at the hotel had said that the lady was out when the goods came, and | that be had no authority 10 sign ior ucr. | The goods were to be sent again that i ! night. A word about this concicrgo. He is the greatest aid and chief reliance of the | lady shopper abroad. He is found in ! evrry hotel, occupying a litt'e box or ofHce in cach hotel. He is a bureau of information, speaks all lang- ages, and knows all about his town- where the i best shops are, what theatres ace cpea j and the prices at each, and all about; what sights to see and how to see them, j He sells you jour stamps, makes change , for you, posts your letters, and is not too proud or important to run out and hire a cftbor exccute any other little commission for you, in which respect he approaches much more nearly to a state of true usefulness than the clerk of the hotel, for whom the lady shopper has *o earthly use. If you don't pay for what you buy at any of tho shops he will pay for tlir.m whon fhfi rnmmisaionnire brines ' them, if you tell him to, or he will sign for them and you pay him afterward. Tho commissionaire calls again for the money. You always tip the concierge, givinghlin the highest tip. The next highest tip is for the head waiter, the next for your own waiter, then a smaller one to the Boots, then to the chambermaid, and fiually to the boy in the lift or elevator, if you wish to do the eminently proper thing. There are no cash boys or girls or change railroads or anything of the sort in the Paris stores, but there i9 one very nice custom there, that of seating every lady who comes in. You never stand to do vour shooniner in Paris. The mo ment you speak "to a clerk, male or female, he or she steps around the counter and places a chair for you without waiting to see whether vou arc going to purchase or not. No matter how small the shop may be this is always the rule. In the larger Parisian stores there is a room elegantly fitted for ladies, where there is every convenience that ladies can require, and it contains a free lunch counter supplied with different kinds of cordials and nice cakes. There is a row of bartenders or waiters continually placing glasses and calling off what they have to offer. The favorite drinks are gros cille (currant juice), raspberry vinegar, orgeat, thin wines of various sorts, urange tiowercoitlial, and half a dozen other beverages. There is a tempting display 01 iuucy cake, and no charge is made for anything. A grent display is mnde on the sidewalks outside these stores. All around outside the shops are counters laden with what wo call bargains in this country. There you see umbrellas, parasols, canes, ribbons, dress goods, handkerchiefs, and, in short, nearly everything. There are other bargain counters inside the stores. One feature of shopping peculiar to n aoh Kiflw Inpa alrirtfl I ttl iB IS l<Uitb JTVU V(?u uuj .. ready made, beautifully put together, draped in the latest fashion, and at very reasonable prices. You get cloths to match for the waists, and can take the goods up stairs to be made in the dressmaking department, or you can take them to your own dressmaker to be made up. In the same stores the displays of ready-made dresses and wrappers are enormous. "When you leave the Bon Marche you find several commissionaires at the door, and to one you give the number of yout cab. He touches-his cap and is olf liko a shot, to reappear presently riding ii> j side your cab. You are forbidden t9 | fee him, but you do it, and he is delighted. Fashion Notes. A stylish jacket of tan color is trimmed with black astrakhan. Barritjt gloves are si ill the stylish wear for every day and arestitchcd in white. The ivory white shades in satin are those that brides prefer for the wedding dress. Siutn red is seen in velvet and makes charming wraps either iu plush velvet or cloth. Open worked stockings in black, silk or fine lisle thread are worn with satin slippers. Moire is without question the fashionable silk which disputes favor with peau dc soie. -Tniinfv hr.fld irps,r is the rule this sea son, the sedate Tittle close bonnet being quite passe. Angora fur so fluffy and becoming is used on soft woolen morniDg gowns in ' creamy white. Striped fabrics are in the ascendant, and vivid colors on neutral grounds the J preferred form. Heavily embroidered gloves with a j wide band on the bnck iu white silk are i not elegant or stylish. j Soft India silk, China silk, surah, and | crepe are the proper materials for the I useful tea gown or matinee. Belts, pockets, bands, collars, cuffs j of seal and other furs are seen on rich i peau de soie and other silk dresses. Striped fabrics look best when cut on | thp bias for the corsage and sleeves, all j the stripes running in points down, not upward. Fraizes high and of medium height arc as much in favor for dinner costumes as the fall of lace over theV-cut bodices and dog. Most dinner dresses for American womeuare made with high bodices or opening only in V shape in front, but high in the back. TJln?L- 1or./? ilrnecliifl fair to neVCf XJI U\. IV Kivv \?*wuvw ? go entirely out of fashiou. They only changc their shape and uudcr dress from season to season. The newest seal turbans have high, slender, tu poring crowns, Hat 011 top. The upturned brim or border is frequently of sable, otter, brown beaver, caracal, or some other tine fur. Dressy black costumes have the skirts j composed of lengthwise rows of cord | i iv_ i passementerie aim umi iv otlo.? .... bon. The ribbon, which is seven or eight inches wide, lias inch-wide stripes of velvet and repped silk. New cloths having a border woven on one edge are used lor long cloaks, the border being placed in two rows upon front and the back. These borders are of contrasting colors, sometimes showing cashmere designs. Braiding is, as every one knows, very fashionable in both wide and narrow braid*, aud in every conceivable design. A novelty in this line was worked in intricate patterns with smooth rat-tail chenille, like that so popular in fringe two or three seasons ago. Now that plain skirts are prt?ferrc.l to ! all others, much depends upon the per-1 fcctiou with which they are bung and the arrangement of their draperies. The highrv-t skill of the dressmaker is oiten taxed t?< mak" the skirt of a heavy clofh co.xtuini.* >tand out stylishly at the buck without visible support from beneath. A Wire House. A house of wire lathing is one of the curiosities of the Manchester exhibition. The architect is Mr. G. F. Armitagc, ami the wire lathing is stated 10 resist lire. This wire lathing ran be applied to ordinary wooden beams; and it can be used for the partitions bv itself; while wire cloths of various kinds form parts of the same invention. It will be seen that tho cottage is neat in appearance, and, if fireproof, it has at least one substantial property to recommend it.? CaaeW*. " I -V *'xrS:y " CANNING CORN. THE DEVELOPMENT OP AN EXTENSIVE INDUSTRY. Canned Com a Cosmopolitan Article ?The Corn Canning Factories of Main'*?Various Processes lu 0 tnning Cora. Canned corn writes a Bridgton fMe.) correspondent of the New York Tribune, is truly cosmopolitan, for it goes north, B0UU1, cuat auu WL'Sl IU lilO 1UU1 ters of the globe. That it is available in all climates, is illustrated by the fact that it opens well in Arctic regions, aa certified by Lieutenant Greely, while, on the other hand, may bo adduced the instance where it goes to a missionary port in Africa and has to be transported by negroes on foot 1,000 miles from the point of unloading. Through the Southern and Western states to the Uio Grande and beyond, to San Francisco, Portland and Astoria, Salt Lake City and other centres of the great South and West, almost evciywhere are seeu the familiar cases, bearing on thci: illumined label the pleasing legend which tells that with' ? \f?ino'a nTAfl^ TP- I Ill ILXtXJ UO iuilltu iauiuw ii nowaed sweet corn." For, as an offset to her long, cold winters, her rocks and hills, and her meteorological, topographical and climatic drawbacks, Maine can boast of growing the best apples and sweet corn in the world. Other States may enter the Held, but only to bo distanced in the race. Some of th'; Western States produce quite good canned corn, but no other State than Maine furnishes it as nutritious, sweet and tender. For her silicious soil and sparkling atmosphere are peculiarly adapted to the growth of j oiwrar mm wliiih is a dwarf varietv. A VV*M? w _ . chemical analysis of corn packed in Maine, Maryland and Iowa as representative geographical points, showed the following as to the food value of the three lots: Maine corn, 458 7-10; Iowa corn, 350 7-10, and Maty land corn, 303 7-10. In other words, the Maine stood thirty per cent, above the Iowa and fifty per cent, above the Maryland in food value; or if Maryland corn is worth eighty cents per do/en, and Iowa a dollar, the Maine would be worth one dollar and twenty-five cents. Like most other kinds of manufacturing industries the process of packing sweet corn has undergone a complete revolution within a few years by reason of the introduction of improved machinery. Up to the year 1874 the corn was cut from the cob by hand, i. e., with a small bent knife, with a gunge, with which the manipulator rapidly pared off the corn by downward strokes, with Ihe other hand steadying and turning the ; ear against the inside of a long tray. Now a machine does the work aa well, one man doing as much as twelve men could by hand. The < ar is simply placed in position by the left hand, while by an immediate lever stroke with the right, it is forced through an ingenious arrangement of knives, and longitudinal scrapers, which in an instant cut off the kernels clean, and, what was the most i difficult obstacle to overcome, removes j all the juice without taking any of the ! hull; a feat not always accomplished by j new or careless operators by hand under the old system. Two makes of ma- j chines are in use by the different facto- ! ries. The fact that ouly five or six I weeks out of the year are available for j experimenting explains why it has taken 1 so long a time to perfect the cutting and other corn-packing machinery. Then the " pressing." In other words, to measure ana fill the can withacertain amount of corn and press it in through j the small c ircular hole in the upper end, j preparatory to sealiug. Two improved ; kinds of ma hine* have lately come iuto ! use, each of which does its turce-fold work with a marvelous nicety and quickness. With the machine in use at the Bridgton factory au ordinary hand can press (which moans measuring, tilling and prcssingi sixty cans a minute, or U,600 in ten hours?more than three times as much as can be done with the old hand press by the quickcstand stoutj est man, with the aid of a boy. I Next "scaling." Which means, to | place a tin cap over the aperture and ! , solder it on with a hot revolving iron, j ! In this department, too, there have been 1 , improvements, though not so radical j | as in some other branches. The can it- j self was first made by cutting out with j hand shears the round pie c which forms j j the bottom. Then they got a machine j called circular shears, and tho piecc of ; tin was put into it and turned round and : cut out in that way. Afterward a die i was used, which cuts the tin right | through, aud cuts the piecc out round. , The nevt improvement wa3 that, instead ! of punching the bottom o .t round and putting it into auotiier die and turning j up the edge, a machine was used which cut the bottom out whole and turned up j the edge at the same time. In this line, | 11? 1 - - ^ Ana i IUC I'VOIUliOUS Ilu\ u auinubiiu iivm uuu man's making 180 cans a day?which was considered a pood day's work?to the turning out of 720 cans, or four times j as many, with (he aid of machinery. The I cans are four and fi.e-eighths inches; long, three and one-half inches in diameter, and weigh, when tilled, twenty-six ounces. The next process, that of boiliug, likewise dis loses the march of impiove?r>nnf I'ntil wilhillll VPIIT Or tffO tllC - - J ? . cans were subjected tu immersion in 1 trinks of l?oilIu?r water over four hours;; uo w they are tailed in "wool baths" i from twenty to th'rry minutes, anil I finished by steaming in iron retorts J about one hour; a groat saving not only j of time, but in the number of inen. I.nst, lacquering, labelling, boxing and i shipping. This done, and then until tho i next corn season the factory is silent and deserted save by two or three hmd< nl- I ready ut work making cans i >r inrunvr ; year, and the foreman, lato ( Jeueral of a ! corn-packing1 brigade, now suddenly he- i reft of staif and men. But this ever-ac-! ive (jeneral is at wor!< once more laying ' liis plans for another s.-ason's campaign, j A Fi^lipriiiftirs Telephone. < >u vome parts of the coast of Sumatra | and the neighboring islands the tishcr-1 men test the depth of the sea aud also i the nature of the sea bottom by the j noises they hear on applying the ear to ; one end of an ore of which the other end | is plunged into the water. At a (lenth of twenty feet and less the ; sound is a crepitation similar to that produced when salt is thrown on burn-1 ing charcoal: at fifty feet it is like the i ticking of a wnteli, the tic tac being! more or less nipid. a o.* ling to whether ! the botton is entirely if coral or alterl natclr of coral arid mud or sand. If the bottom is entirely of sand, the j o#?iinrl !?<l(>nr if of mud. it resembles! tho humming of a swarm of bees. On < dark nights the fishermen select their; fishery grounds according to these indi- i cations.?Sciewe Go.trip. _ i We arc always complaining our days j are few and acting hs if '.here would be no cud of thom. ^?j??.? ' M CURIOUS FACTS. V Andrew Milton, of Medina, Mich., ft chronic w hi tiler, has just completed hid 18,400th ax handle. What is known in Roman history as the Augustian Era, began February 14,27 B. C., 727 years after the foundation of Rome. ? A petrified snake, three inches in diameter and several feet in length, was thrown out by a blast in the quarries ill Dead wood. Dak., recently. ' The buyer of a large Cincinnati tobacco ' ?* ? ?'-j * ?/? Arm a'voan ta House, WLIU JB pmu f lir,vw a know good tobacco when he sees it, neither smokes nor chews. Coaches were introduced intoEnglaad about 1510, and forty years later thera were but three in use in Paris, they haying been introduced into the French capital in 1524. The Capitol at Washington coven 8.5 acres. The present structure wa? begun in 1818. George Washington laid the corner-stone of the first Capitol September 18, 1793. This was burned by the British army in 1814. The first national convention of the Republican party was held at Philadelphia, June 18, 1856, and the nominees of that convention were: For President, John C. Fremont; for Vice President, "William L. Dayton. Secret voting was practised by tha ? ancient Greeks and Romans. The word ballot comes from the French ballotta (ft little ball). The first record of the use of a ballot box is that of 1526, when such was employed in the election of aldermen of London. The power of the waves in a atorm was shown recently at Bishop Rock, England, when an iron column twentythree fret long, and weighing 6,000 pounds, a part of a new lighthouse being buiit, which during a storm had been left lashed by a half inch chain at cach end to a strong eye-bo!t, was found tossed up by the waves twenty feet to the top of the rocK, swaying aoout iiKe a pioi-oui timber. An anvil weighing 150 pounds, whiih was left in aholc :>$ feet deep and only two in diameter, was washed completely out of it. A young man covered with the dust of travel walked iuto a recruiting station in Portland, Me., the other day, and wanted to enlist. He was examined and rejected because he weighed only 120 pound*. He said that he had walked from the Northern part of the State; that he weighed 135 pounds when he started, and that he thought that he would f&tup some if he had a chance. The recruiting officer told him to call again, and in less than a week he did, and had gained * fLjs i_ - so aeciaeaiy in nesa mat do wu? jc?ua?/ accepted. One of Boston's queer characters is a , man who can't for the life of him talk correctly, and who often acts very much as he talks?qucerly. When he talked 7 about the last big yacht-race, he spoke of the "Voluntary" and the "Fizzle." lie left his office the other day, having first put out his sign: " Been gone ten minutes." Once, out gunning with a friend, he came to a creek. His friend persuaded him to try and jump in. He tried, landed squarely in the middle of the brook, whence he shoited: " You knew I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't doit." How to Hake a Large Poultice. A flannel bag should be prepared, a convenient size being twelve inches by. eight. This should be closed at three edges and open at the fourth. One side of it should be about one inch, or one inch and a half longer than the other,: and it is convenient also to have four tapes attached at the points which form the corners when the bag is closed, in order to keep the poultice in position. " Besides this, another strip of flannel should be prepared, of the same breadth as the length of the l>ag, and long enough to ttrap around it once, or oftener. Crushed linseed, bowl and spoon should then be got together, and the spoon and bowl thoroughly heated 1 by means of boiling water; the poultice I should then be made with perfectly boil- I jog ^ater. and rather soft. As soon u 9 it is ready it should be poured into the I bag, previously warmed by holding it ..I before the fire; the flap, which is formed I by the longest side of the bag, should I now be turned down and fastened in it* | place by a few long si-itches with ? needle and thread; it should then be quickly wrapped in the strip of flannel (also previously warmed) and fastened - V; in situ, if necessary, bv means of the tapes It may be covered on the outside with a sheet of cotton wool. In thil way the poultice may be applied boiling hot to the skin without burning: the two layers of flannel, which are at first \ dry, nllow the heat to pass very gradually indeed to the skin; as the moisture ? l-fVtam of the poultice suuas imuugu they become better conductors, and the heat passes more quickly, but the increase is so gradual as not to cause any painful sensations whatever, but only one of soothing and comfort. The poultice, also, naturally keeps much longer hot, and the necessity for changing it arises much less frequently.? Jonw.l of Health. ,. ;'fj Potter's Clay In Japan. It is even common now to dig the clay at some one of the 250 beds known, load it on junks and ship to favored manufacturing places, where it is ground. beaten, levigated, Kneaaeu, momcu and the biscuit fired and glazed. Ozawa has given us a picture of such a pottery, with one of a series of chamber furnaces, which are usually built tip the slope of a hill, so that 1 h.- heat may ascend, and and the highest temperature be in the innermost oven. The raw material, alter being ground,stamped and washed, is further treated with hoe, trowel and basket-sieve. The finest sort is beaten with from 3,000 to 6,000 strokes of a club, so as to be full)' tempered for the wheel, or for tho?e articles which are built rather than molded. When ready for the baking, the first for the biscuit or dry clay, the st cotul for the glaze, a peculiar kind of charcoal is used, and the fire is kindle^ from a spark struck with flint and steel, which every smoker carries at his belt.~Scrib/icr. Cat Colonies in Paris. The Freuch capital barters me largest m number of cats of any ritv in the world in proportion to its size. Whole colonies I of them are to be found iu the vicinity I of the markets, where they feed on I broken victuals and make incessant war B on the rats. At the Halles Centrales S their numbers have increased so rapidly 9 of late that a portion of them had to be I destroyed, as they roamed about in bands I like wild beasts, and were beginning to be dangerous. Duprer, the well-known tenor singer, has earned the Le pere des H chats, for he daily feeds hundreds ol these animals at his own expense. Tho Prefecture de Police likewise entertains a large colony of cats, which are placed " J under the care of an old woman of TO, 4 who supplies them with daily ratioilB of meat and uiilk.?Le Afagasin Pittorajue. /M l? ^ m