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p:;V. DAN'L AND I. Which do you want T' said Dan to me, An' I looked across the hearth at him, X Tor, since it's got we can't agree, "We may as well get things in trim.' Ton shall have whichever farm yon will, An'a one-half interest in the milL" Of late there had bin a hitch somehow, An' to save our lives we couldn't agree. An' so we had concluded now That it was better to part, you see. He takin' one farm and I the other, deemed better than tryln' to live together. MAn' then there is the stock, you know? The cattle an' sheep, horses an' such; Ton shall have your share o' them also, Or, if a little more, I don't care much. An' I hope you'll find, as you think you will, You'll be better off without me, LilL "But Tm tbinkin'," said he, coughin' like, An' lookin1 just like be did that day They took an' buried our little Ike, "That may be, Lill, you'd better stay In the old place here, just as it is, Tou keepin' the trinkets an' things o' his. Tor I'm sure," he said, coughin' again, "If he'd ha' known afore he died That this was goin' to happen, then You'd a got all his in the divide, "Which bein' the case I'm not the one To rob you o' them whatever is done.'1 didn't dare for to look at him, Though I knew he wasn't lookin' at me; *y heart was full, my eyes were dim With the mists an' haze of memory, \ An'l saw our lives as they had been Ire a cross, harsh word had come between. When our home was always filled with cheer, And both our hearts were full of joy, As Dan sat there an' I sit here Watchin' the pranks of our little boy, Now a kissin' Dan or a makin' me Bit with him on his papa's knee. An' how he'd clap bis hands with glee, When Dan would pull me out for a romp, As he often did, just for to see Our little darlin1 laugh and stomp. aii i>ucu M/uiowiuit?, wuou uib romp was u er, He'd fall asleep at our feet on the floor. Then Dan would come an' set by me, An' take my hand in the tenderest way, An'talk of our joys an' the love that we Found a growin' sweeter day by day. An' now, I thought with a sinkin' heart, Dan an' I are a goin' to part An' my heart kep' swellin' more an' more, As one after another memory came, An' I got up and walked the floor, Try in' to think which was mos' to blame, But his faults were hid in the lapse of years, Or but dimly seen through the mist of tears. For somehow, try an' think as I would, I couldn't mind where the strife began; Just now I could only think of the good An' not the evil side of my man, Tfll in my heart I owned with shame That I it was, not Dan, to blame. An' when 1 looked to'ard Dan again He was com in' across the floor to me, An', to save my life, I can't explain How it all happened; I know that he - Caught me in his arms and kissed my cheek, An' when at last I was able to speak, Said I to Dan'l: "Say what you will, I don't want this nor the other farm For a one-half interest in the mill; I just wan't your protective arm To shield me as lonz as we both shall live. Aa' all the love you're able togive." ' ?Owen Emmett, in Cincinnati Enquirer. " A "HOLLO!" f%- ' i \ BY MRS. BERNARD WHITMAN. Miss Jane Graham was not a very attractive looking woman, nor wa9 she considered a very amiable one. She lived quite alone by herself in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of the town. 8he had lived there some ten years, not caring to make acquaintances. She went regularly to church in pleasant weather, and once a year the good old minister called upon her. He always spoke of ler as "Miss Graham." 'I he few neighbors called her "Miss Jnne" in a distant fort of mauner, but the .<-aucy boys and firls in the neighborhood used to call er "Old Miss Jane." Now Miss Jane was by no means old. To be sure, her hair was beginning to show a little gray, but then .Miss Jane had had the blackest of black hair in her girlhood, and that often turns before the age or thirty. Some front teeth, too, were missing?whether from, lack of care or from an accident no one knew ?reared to ask. Her face expressed irritability. f*he looked as if things went wrong, and I rather think her appearance expressed the truth. But with all her sour looks, 3Iiss Jane had two soft spots in her heart. The first spot was the bigger, and was filled . by Dolly, the cow. Dolly was, on the -whole, rather less attractive than her xi stress Her expression was not kindly, and ihe had a broken horn; but Dolly's looks belied her. She was really a very , am'able cow, in spite of one eje being in a black setting, and the other in a white; hut no one but Miss Jane knew her gentleness, for no one but jMlss Jane ever went near her. Miss Jane milked her and cared for her; put her in the pasture in the morning, and took her outatnight, and led her into the little Viofl oKn urao anrl KMN.V*} nuutv ouv/ it ao mimv.u auu iuu with care. If anybody had listened, he could have heard Miss Jane repeating oftly to her sometimes a couplet from Mother l-'oose which she remembered from her childhood: "Cusbie-cow, bonnie, come let down your milk, And I will Rive you a gown of silk." And "cushie cow bonnie" would let down the most surprising quantity of ; v milk for Miss Jane, and turn her liead and look at her out of those great eyes in a most loving manner. Yes, M'ss Jane did havo a very soft pot in her heart for Dolly, but nobody knew it but Dolly, and Miss Jane hardly knew it herself. nrVlA ntVior Crtff lxluno f Va Ano r?nocaor1 vviivi ov1 v I'ld'.Vi aW vug ^ub<70vu that either. It was really a very funny thing. And this time neither Miss Jane nor the object of her affections knew it. This time it was a boy! He wus a sturdy, freckled-faced little follow, perhaps eleven years old. In warm weather he went barefoot, which Miss Jane hated, for she saidMt was "a most d:rty way of doing things." Ia eo der wea'her hi; was fully dressed. He had no mitten?, to be sure; no ear laps, no mutiler; hut a ^arm jacket, rather faded, a well-patched pair of trousers, and stockings that now were darned, and now had a big hole in the knee. ' It was some time before Miss Jane saw all this; but she did see it as time crept on. At first she saw only the sturdy little bare feet go by her cottage every day. At last, to her surprise, one morning, a rough, boyish voice called out, Hollo!" ? It was no quiet, polished, or conciliatory voice. It was a loud call in a merry, careless, happy-go?lucky voice. Miss Jane was astonished, bhe looked at the boy sharply. He didn't seem to mind, bat trudged on. The next day he called out "Hollo!" again when he saw her, and again the next day. Still the same cheery, hearty voice, as if he were saluting another boy as sturdy as himself. Her surprise began to give way to a quiet interest in the little fellow, and one morning, to her own astonishment, for she had no thought of it the second before, she answered back, "Hollo!" It wasn't very loud, nor very enthusiastic, but the boy heard it, and gave a half nod. as if to say: "That's all right!" and trudged on the same as before. From that time it was a settled thing. She always said "Hollo!" in answer to his "Hollo!" Hers grew a little more hearty, and he always gave her that encouraging nod which meant, evidently: "If you keep on trying, you'll get there." If you had asked Miss Jane about the boy, she would never have betrayed the interest she be^an to feel in him. But it was just about that time that the weather began to grow cold, and sometimes a sharp frost and a good cold night made Miss Jane think about winter. ''That boy's haDds do look awful cold," she said to herself one day. "He can't seem to keep 'em warm. He's ablowing and clapping of 'em all th? time." And Miss Jane's little soft place grew a little bigger and a little softer, till she remembered a pair of socks up in a chest that, years ago, she had knitted for a brother who went away and had never been heard from. The socks were new. She wondered if she couldn't ravel them and make that boy a pair of mittens? She did not even know the boy's name. He was always "that boy" to her. He still called out "Hollo!" when he went by, and though he couldn't hear her answer, he still nodded in his cheery way. Miss Jane set up the mittens. Queerly enough, she set the first one up several times. She guessed it was too big at first. "No boy would want his hand all wobbling about in a bag," she said. Then she set it up so small that she was -i J i ir i. i.~ ?11. ? asnameu ui ucrseu nut iu - uavc iuvio sense." "When the wrist was done she fell to thinking that "that boy was so kind of cheery that he'd like a red stripe in 'em." He should have a red stripe, and when Mr. Collins called that day, to take her butter to towns, she asked him to bring her back a little skein of red yarn. After this the mittens grew, and it is well they did, for the cold winter had come, and the snow was growing deeper and deeper. "I guess he'll want them mittens now if he ever does, and I'll give 'em to him right away," So the next morning, when she heard his cheery "Hollo!" she rapped on the window-pane so loud that he came to a full stop. But recovering from his surprise, he started off again, nodding carelessly. Miss Jane was not expecting this, but she was rather relieved, for the moment she had rapped she felt that she was unprepared to say anything. What should she say? She didn't know. But she did know th-it she had Knitted tnose mittens ana tne ooy must have them. She must think up a way to make him stop for them. She did a lot of thinking that day and the next , morning when he called out, she hud ( ready fastened on a forked stick outside ( the window, the mittens. , She rapped loudly. The boy turned and saw them. With one bound he was up at the window. "Are they for me?" he shouted, joyfully, through the window. ] She nodded her head. s "You're awful good!" was his answer, ] looking up gratefully as he ran on his ] way. "I wonder if he thinks so," thought j Miss Jane. "He's got some manners, anyway." i That afternoon it snowed and con- < tinued to snow all night. Miss Jane j thought it looked like a heavy storm, i and when night came she made Dolly as i comfortable as she could, fed her and j went into the house. The next morning j the snow was drifted ao that poor Miss Jane couldn't get out of her door to go < to the shed. .Neither could she see out i of the window where she usually watched ] for "that boy" to go by. i She had plenty to eat and plenty of fuel till she should be shoveled out. She did not feel worried about herself. But poor Dolly! who would care for her.' She fairly cried as noou came on and no one came to her relief. She couldn't hear any sleigh-bells. She began to think the whole town was buried. Her one little attic window looked over to the woods which were deep with snow. Would no oie think of her? She remembered with a sigh how little she thought of anybody else. She remembered that she wanted to live alone; that, crushed with sorrow when one by one of her loved ones had died, and the dear brother was never heard from, she had turned against all the world. She 1 had rebelled at her hard lot. She had < moved away from everything she had i ever known and shut herself u,>in her i little cottage with no thought nor inter- | est in anybody elce. She knew no one i but the minister and?"that boy." \ A kindly feeling crept over her as she j remembered the boy and his hearty "Hollo!" every morning, and then she said to herself: "How glad I am I got those mittens done. 1 guess he'll be mighty glad of 'era such a day as this. J Anyway he w.ll, if he can get oat of the * house. I wonder where he lives and if ( he's snowed up, too?what's that?" j She listened, and a merry voice she ' knew full well called in the distance, ' "Hollo!" and Mi-s Jane screamed back * "Hollo!" as loud as she could. She did 1 not know if he heard her. She heard scraping and shoveling coming nearer and nearer, and before long a face was i peering in her window. "Hollo!" said the bright, cheery voice, and "Hollo!" said Miss Jane, in just as cheery a one as she could muster, for the 1 tears stood in her eyes. Then Miss Jane told him through the window about Dolly, and be^ed him to ] ! get to Do ly to milk and feed her. I "I can wait." she said, "and vou can ! dig me out afterward/' j The boy nodded. He evidently was ' not much of a talker himself, but he could work. 1 It was between two and three hours ( before Miss .Jane could open her door. ' "When she could, she had her table spread 1 : with hot coffee, biscuit and a pan- ( 1 dowdy. ' j "Brother Joe always liked a hot pan- < dowdy, when he'd been a-shovelin' ' snow," shesuid, "and that boy'd like it too, I know." I The door opened. "Ho'lo!" said the cheory voice, and ( 1 "Hollo, if that ain't Jane!" called out a ( deeper tone. 1 Miss Jane gave one look and screamed. She did not faint. She looked just be- ; J wildered?first at the boy, then at the j ! man. At last she gasped, "Joe!" And, ] j truly enough, it wa3 Joe?her brother ( ! Joe, who neVcr came back till long after she had given up looking for him. i j He, in his turn, careless in writing, had \ at last returned to his native village with i wife and boy. No trace had Miss Jane ; left and no news could He get of her | whereabouts. He had been gone so long that he had lost all interest in the people who used to know him, and when in the summer a cousin of his wife had died, leaving her a tiny farm in another part of the State, he had gone there, and in the busy haying, harvesting and preparation for winter, had little time to think of neighbors?still less had he dreamed that Jane lived behind the hill on the other side of the woods. So that boy was Joe's boy! His name? Joe, too, and she had never thought whether he had a name,?and those mittens were Joe's socks ? No wonder poor Miss Jane was bewildered. But truth is stranger than any fiction. Miss Jane still lives in the tiny cottage under the hill. Dolly, too, is as comfortable as ever in her warm, cosey shed. ''That boy" don't know where he lives. His father thinks he lives at home, but he always has two meals a day at Aunt Jane's, and when it is cold or stormy or Aunt Jane doesn't feel just right, he stays all night and perhaps all the week. Aunt Jane savs it always doe3 her good i r<rr.n. in v i/i. tu jiear mac "rioi.or?xouwa ^vrupanion. A Japanese Eel Dliiner. We celebrated a recent anniversary day by an eel dinner at a famous eel house, writes a correspondent of the Gtohe-Democrat, from Tokio, Japan. While we were takiug off our shoes at the doorway we could look through a latticed partition into the kitchen and see the cook, with murderous looking knife in har d, making choice of his li\ing victims that were looping themselves into bow knots in tanks of fresh water. If one wishes he is always privileged to select his own eels from the tanks at eel houses, although the first one that could be cau?htought certainly to answer quite as well. When we reached the larger upper room square silk cusionsin lieu of chairs were ranged around three sides of the room. The fourth side was left open for the passing of the pretty waitresses to and fro and as a stage for the performances of the two doll-like gei-shas, who snt demurely in an outer room awaiting our arrival. The feast began with a soup or stew of eels, the bottom of the bowl being filled with a delicate white curd ana the flavor of the dish being as mild and evasive as flaxseed tea. Broiled eels, skewered out flatly like a section of flounder and laid on top of steaming rice, next tempted us, and inspired by fierce appetites we did skilful and heroic work with the chop sticks. The plain, broiled bits are called white eels. After them came black eels, or eels dipped in soy before and during the broiling. They acquire a rich, brown tint and a most piquant flavor by this treatment, and the soy, or bean, with which the Japanese alwaye improve their fish and birds, might be usea in the same way in other countries. Japanese soy is the foundation of Worcestershire sauce and is much better before it is charged with all the spices and cayenne that convert it into the English condiment. Omelette, lily bulbs, bamboo sprouts and dishes of mysterious composition passed in review before us, but all the appetites had been broken on the dishes of white eels and black eels, and we toyed with Hie later courses, simply taking chop stick practice with the shreds and lumps af which they were composed. Fable of the Manchurian Mirror. The King of Manchuria had a magic looking glass, whereon whoso looked jaw, not his own image, but that of the j King himself. A certain courtier who | tiad longenjoyed the King's favor and was thereby enriched beyond any other jubjectof the realm, said to the King: "Give me, I pray, thy wonderful mirror, so that when absent out of thine nigust presence I may yet do homage before thy visible shadow, prostrating my?elf night and morning in the glory of :hv benigu countenance, as which nothing has so divine splendor, oh Noonday 3un of the Universe 1" Pleased with the spee.h, the King :ommanded that the mirror be conveyed to the courtier's pala-e;but after, laving gone thither without apprisal, he found it in an apartment where was iaught but idle lumber. And the mirror was dimmed with dust and overlaced with cobwebs. This so angered him that le fisted it hard, shattering the glass, ind was sorely hurt. Enraged all the nore by this mischance, he commanded ;hatthe ungrateful courtier be thrown ,nto prison and on the morrow beheaded, ind tnat the glass be repaired and taken sack to his own palace; and this was ione. But when the King looked again )n the mirror he saw not his image a3 Defore, but only the figure of a crowned iss?as the artificers and all who had ooked upon it had before discerned but 'eared to report. Taught wisdom and :harity, the King restored his courtier to iberty, had the mirror set into the back )f the throne, and reigned many years with justice and humility; and one day vhen he fell asleep in death while on the :hrone, the whole court saw in the mir or the luminous figure of an angel, A'hich remains to this day.?Detroit Free Press. Expensive Sugared Tlolets. As the listener stepped into his favorte confectioner's?a place where he jnjoys some acquaintance, and where a certain degree of impertinent inquisitiveiess might consequently be pardoned lim?he noticed in the showcase a box containing a few curious looking objects, ;he like of which he did not remember ;o have seen before. "What are those, please?" he asked. "Those," said the confectioner, "are nurared violets." "Sugared fiddlesticks!" "No; sugared violets." "Dear me! Can I afford to buy a few jf them "Possibly. They are imported from England, and we sell them for $4 a pound." "Is that all? Well, you may send me up half a ton, please; and be sure and ha\ e the men on the wagon take along baskets to deliver them in." The listener was inclined to treat that matter as a little joke on the part of the confectioner, but he found that the sugared violets were a reality and the price actual. Upon closer inspection jne could sec the violets nestled in its coating of sugar. Dainty food for an exquisite generation!?Bo?ton Trannrivt. A Petrilled Tree. A portion of a petrified tree was discovered in a solid sandstone rock quarry at Zanesville, Ohio, the other day. The tree is about the thickness of a telegraph pole, has well-defined bark and roots, [t was found while blasting, or immediately after a blast, fully sixty feet below the top of the hill, and was in solid rock. Uver it is the earth formation, then a species of shale, then limestone strata, followed by a conglomeration of stone, then some forty ftet of solid sandstone, near the bottom of which is the petrified tree.?Pittsburg B.svdtch. BUDGET OF FUN. | HUBIOROUS SKETCHES PROM VARIOUS SOURCES. Destroyed His Appetite?A Rift in tlie Clouds?His Share?Taking No Chances?Recalling Past Favors, Etc., Etc. Mr. Slimbrain (fishing for a compliment)?"Bobby, what did your sister say when she heard that I was going to stay to supper again tc-night? Bobby?"Let me see?oh, yes! she said Mr. Slimbrain must think we keep a hoteL?Ttxaa Siftings. A Rift in the Clouds. Old gentleman (to elevated road brakeman)?"Your life, my young friend, is a laborious one, and full of trials{" Brakeman?"Yes, sir; but there are moments when it is filled with a blessed peace, and happines and joy." Old Gentleman?''When you are paid off, I s'pose?" Brakeman?"No, sir; when I can slam the gate in the face of somebody who is in a big hurry."?New York Hun. His Share. "Oh. yes," remarked Ketchly, in a 3elf-satisfied way. "Lulu and I will jtart out in married life under very favorably circumstances. Her mother gives her a neat little home, her father furnishes it, and her Uncle Dei.ong has stocked one of the neatest stables in the city. Besides, Lulu has a snug income in her own name." "What part do you furnish?" "Well?principally the name?principally the name."?Tid-Bits. Taking No Chances. Pa, Jones (soberly)?"Clara, young Mr. Sampson came to me to-day, and 3aid you had promised to be his wife if he could gain my consent." Clara?"Yes, papa." "But you are already engaged to Mr. Babbit." "Yes, papa (with drooping eyes and a beautiful blush), but I wanted to be on the safe side."?Sijtings. Recalling Past Favors. Tramp (to Editor, who is hurrying past)?"Say, could n't you help me a little, please? I gave you a boost once." Editor?"What do you mean,fellow?" Tramp?"Don't you remember that burelarv bv ,Iim Crackitt and his pals i some years ago?" Editor?" Ves." Tramp?"And how your reports of it just set the UoicWa circulation aboomin'?" I -Editor?"Yes." Tramp?"Well, I'm Jim!" Advised His Mother. A Howard street mother has consider" able trouble with a little incorrigible* He is chock full of natural depravity* and yet is exceedingly bright. "I declare, 'Georgie, I don't know what to do to you," she said the other day. "I have punished you severely half a dozen times for this same offence, but it does no good." "It seems that it doesn't," he said. "Mother, I tell you what I'd do, were I you. I'd just give up in despair "? Detroit Free Press. , The Fool Killer. "Is there any such a thing as a fool killer, John?" asked Mrs. brown as she fnlded the newsDhner which she had been i reading; "I don't believe there is." "Oh! yes there is," replied Mr. Brown. Then with a laugh he added, "And you had better keep out of his way." "No," said Mrs. Brown musingly, "there isn't such a thing, if the e was, I would have been a widow long ago." Then she took up her sewing and Mr. Brown w6nt out on the stoop to see what kind of a night it was.?Boston Courier. A Blissful Evening. Mrs. Overtherhine (of Cincinnati, to daughter, returned from the Thomas Festival): "Did you enjoy the music, ! my denrf" Daughter: "It was divine, mammal: I was in a trance of dreamy enjoyment I through the entire exquisite performance." Mrs. Overtherhine: "Aren't you rather late?" Daughter: "Rather, I fancy, mamma, Mr. Ohl&en invited me to Bullwinkle's for a hot sausage. "?Life. A Sunset Reminder. ^"Behold that golden and gorgeous! unset,Angelina!" rapturously exclaimed her own Augustus. "Is it not transcendency beautiful?" "Perfectly heavenly." "How the rich crimson melts into the : delicate pink! How sweetly both colors j blend with the amber tinge of the broken i clouds about them! What emotions j does that magnificent scene raise in i your soul? What does it remind you i of?" ' Strawberry ice-crcam with a dash of i vanilla," she meekly answered, and she did not leave him a nickle to pay his homeward car fare.?Drake'* Magazine. He Told the Truth. Magistrate (to new policeman)?"Did you notice no suspicious characters about j the neighborhood New Policeman?"Sure, yer Honor, I saw but one mon, an' I asked him wot he ; was doin' there at that time o1 night. : Sezhe: 'I have no business here just; now, but I expect to open a jewelry store in the vicinity later on.' At that I sez: "I wish you success, sor.' " Magistrate (disgusted)?"Yes, and he did open a jewelry siore in that vicinity and stole seventeen watches." New Toliceman (after a pause)?"Begorra, yer Honor, the mon may have 1 been a thafe, but he was no liar."?tit. Louis Critic. An Average Cook "Hnw do vou like housekeeDinsr. mv i dear," inquired Airs. Matron * of"Mrs. Newlywed. "Oh, it's just lovely! Charley thinks its delightful! It's such a pleasant change, he says, from boarding-house fare, and he just raves over my cooking. I love to plan and prepare our little meals. Do stay for tea. You really must. It won't inconvenience me in the least. All I'll have to do will be to lay another plate. I have everything all' ready, and will -only have to speak to our girl and tell her there is to be one j extra." And when she spoke to the girl she said: ''Hun around to the baker's and get a dozen fresh rolls, a pound of assorted cake, and some lady fingers. And stop at the grocers and get some canned beef; and get some cold boiled tongue at the delicatessen store; and a jar of raspberry preserves, and somp tarts. I guess that'll be all we want but the tea?and you can make that."?Tile-Bits. It Went, All the Same. They were seated as usual. I believe . * ' C#,<s *. .. . , - : * ' I do not need to explain. They had | reached that confidential state when, after months of anxiety and doubts and fears as to whether she loved him or not, having found out that s-hi was only too willing, he felt like backing out. ' Well, you see I am poor, dearest." "Idon'tcare. It doe3 not cost much to keep a wife." "No, I suppose not." "Not when one loves, George." 'No, Isuppose not." "Ah, you think 1 am extravgant. I am not. Is's all well when pa pays, you know. That's all right But if I were your wife " . "Dearest!" "Yea. I can be so economical. It doesn't really cost any more to keep two than one." "Ves, I suppose so; yes. But it depends upon which one." ,'Oh, I can keep house." "Yes, dearest, but can I?" "I can cook." "My love, I would not wish you to do any hard work. I would not wish you to soil your dainty hauds. Don't you think, dear, we might live at the restaurant until?until " "Until when*" "Until I braced myself to eat what you cooked." Even that did not help him. She said: "All right," and kughed, and the wedding goes.?Sin Francisco Chronicle. Loathsome Sights in India. The advanced school of Anglicized natives is seeking to construct a political edifice of elective parliaments in India. The leading Bombay newspaper draws attention to two recent revolting inci dents as conclusively proving tne imperious necessity for social reform and enlightenment before it would be possible to concede electoral privileges. In the one case a tenant farmer, in the presence of the assembled villagers, amid the singing o;- songs and beating of drums, deliberately gouged out the eyes of his young wife, who was pinioned for the purpose by the neighbors, because he had been told by a demon that they would be replaced by gold eyes. This superstition was shared by the whole village and neighborhood, including the police, who alleged that the unfortunate woman had perished by cholera. In the second case, the scene was a temple, midway between Chuddergaut and Secunderabad. Three buffaloes were hacked and hewn into pieces, which were strewn all over the road, and the people in the immediate vicinity of the lhcerated animals were dabbling and dancing about in their blood, while others, holding the yet bleeding legs and joints, were whirling them round about their heads, and gesticulating furiously. A fourth animal, which was being cut up or wounded, was still alive, and added his painful bellowings to the horrible din. A little further on some two or three men with bodies naked and painted, held a goat by the legs, while from the still living and ' oon'n rr ftWftV IjUlVCrilJg UUUJ lucj nciv iwu>4M6 ? j with their ,teeth mouthful by mouthful the bleeding flesh, squirting and sprinkling it over the adjacent crowd. Other goats and buffaloes were close at hand, waiting their turn to supply the horrid sacrifice. To complete these Bacchanalian rites, a crowd of women, apparently intoxicated with drugs, with hair disheveled, wild in mien, and besmeared in blood, perfoimed a kind of satanic dance, accompanying each movement with violent shrieks. The object of all these loathsome orgies, which were witnessed and participated in by hundreds of persons, was, we aie told, to appease the Hindu goddess who holds m her hand the scourge of smallpox.?London Times. Caring the Bites of Venomous Animals "What is the proper treatment for a snake bite?" a New York Sun reporter asked a doctor. "The wound should be opened with a knife, a ligature bound tight about the limb wounded between the wound and the body, and the blood from the cut be allowed to flow freely. The ligature, if ohnttlrl nrtf rnmuin nn mnrfl than two or three hours, lest the death of the member follow from la: k of circulation. The wound should then be cauterized with a red-hot iron or nitrate of silver, and treated with a carbolic dressing containing one part carbolic acid to sixty parts water. If very severe, a charcoal poultice, composed of powdered charcoal alone, or combined with flaxseed, should be bound on the wound. This treatment may be applied without calling a surgeon, if much time must elapse before the arrival of the surgeon, and if promply and thoroughly done is very efficacious in saving life. There are no wounds so virulent and fatal as those caused by snake bites, for in their fangs is secreted an extremely poisonous substance, which is deposited in the wound through little grooves in the fangs. The fangs are jointed and fold back into the mouth wheu the animal is feeding, being used only as a means of defence when attacked. There are far more deaths from snake bites than by bounds given by dogs. If a dog is known to have hydrophobia, the person bitten by him should apply much the same treatment as in' case of snake bite, cauterizing the wound and applying the poultice of charcoal. Cats sometimes make ugly wounds, not from any inherent poison in themselves, but from venomous substances on their teeth deposited there by some food they have eaten, or decayed meat. The virulence of these wounds usually is destroyed by an application of aqua ammonia, commonly called hartshorn, and a poultice of flaxseed. No more efficacious remedy is known for the stings of insects, spiders, mosquitoes, etc., than ammonia or a poultice of common salt. If the sting is from a hornet, wasp or bee the salt poultice should be moistened with vinegar, and will relieve the _ - a. :?i. 4.1 ? )> pain aimusi iusuiuhj. Taking: a Live Rattlesnake to Bed. The U3es of the live rattlesnake as a medicinal agent are not well known. The father of one of m_v present ne:ghbors suffered some years a go from an ulcer on his leg. He did not seem to receive any benefit from rattlesnake oil, ao he took the advice of an old resident, now dead, and carried a live rattlesnake to bed with him, a:id kept it there three days. The old gentleman always insisted that he was bitten by the snake, and that the poison simply counteracted the poison of the disease tint was in the blood and drove it out. ilow true that may be I do not know, but it is certain that the man's ulcer disappeared, ai:d he got well and lived for several years. 1 don't know whether the snake died or not, but very likely it did.?New York Sun. The Doctor. The doctor by our bed will stand, With sober, thoughtful face, And hold our wrist, with watch in hand, To diagnose the case. And though he sees our tongue is brown, He gives us words of hope, And says we must not be cast down, The medicine cast up. And what a paradox it is, As everybody knows? We're feeling good to have him come, But better when he goes. ?Detroit Free Press. X. 4 - V . < * ' ' ' vV-\' THE IRON HORSE, j WORK WHICH ENTERS INTO THE MAKING OP A LOCOMOTIVE. Models of Soft Wood Made from Drawings?Iron Patterns?Car Wheels?In the Boiler Shop ?Constructing Cabs. "When you receive an order, say for half a dozen locomotives, what is the firsr. thing undertaken?" asked the reporter. "About the first thing to be completed," replied the foreman, "in order that the work may go on advantageous ly, is the frame ana Doner, me irame is simply a foundation of wrought iron beams upon which the boiler and cab rests. But to give you an idea of the process of making a locomotive* perhaps it will be well to begin where the first step is taken. If the engine, or any part of it, is to be of a different pattern from any we have ever made, the work begins in the drafting room where some four or more men make the drawings. The drawings are sent to the pattern shop, where some skilled woodworkers are employed. From the drawings these men make models or patterns ii\ soft pine wood. "You see," said the foreman, leading the way to a bench in the rear of the room, "here is a man making a wooden driving wheel of the latest pattern. You observe it is nearly done now, and when finished it will bo a pcrfect model, complete in every respect. From here the model ia sent to the foundry, where fifty-five workmen are employed. A similar model or mold is made in the sand and molten iron poured in ar iron pattern, lilro *Vio urnnrion rmfl thus hfiinfr made. I v"w ? o I If the casting is a locomotive driving; wheel it is next taken to the mach ne ' shop, its surface given a better finish and the rims trimmed to fit the tire. The tire is then heated so that it will expand sufficiently to be placed on the wheel, and when it cools it is held so firmly in its place that there is no danger j of it ever coming o.F. This is the modern way of putting on tires, formerly they i were held in place with bolts. After the | tires are placed upon the wheels the; wheels arc put on the axle by means of a hydraulic press of great power, which presses them firmly on, and the finishing touch is given them in a. double-headed lathe that operates on both wheels at the same time." "How long will a tire last?" '' That depends upon their thickness and the amount of service to which they are subjected. A four-inch tire will last longer, of course, than a three-inch one. But they generally last five or six years, and then they are expanded by heat, removed and new ones put in their place. "Come this way," said the foreman, " I will show you how we make the ordinary car wheel in the foundry," and he led the way through the main foundry, where castings varying in size from a common bra ket to a seventeen ton anvil are made, to the car-wheel foundry beyond. As the reporter entered ho saw a stream of molten iron pouring forth from a large blast furnace into an iron | receptacle that holds enough to make! one car wheel. Ou the opposite side of j the foundry, placed in a semi-circle, one after another, -were the molds into which the molten iron is poured to form the wheels. These molds are so arranged that the arm of a derrick, which is situated in the center of ,the foundry, will swing over them with its load of liquid iron. When four molds have been filled, the one which was first filled is opened, the red hot wheel removed and lowered in a deep brick-lined pit, made in the earth, that will hold about a score of wheels. When the pit has been filled with hot ^wheels it is covered with sand, and at the end of two days they have cooled sufficiently to be exposed to the open air. Eleven men are employed in this department and they cast twenty-four wheels per day. -The process of" finishing these wheels does not differ materially from that employed I in the manufacture of the driving wheels, j only the car wheels have no steel tires. "What is the heaviest casting required for a locomotive?" "What we call the foot board. It weighs about fifty-five hundred pounds." The writer was next conducted to the hnilpr shnn.where seventvmen were busy at work on another part of the locomotive. Six or seven boilers per month is the capacity of this shop, which contains powerful machines tor cutting the thick iron plates and making holes for bolts in the same. In the blacksmith shop, where all the wrought iron parts of the locomotive are made, fity-one men stood by the furnaces, steam hammers and anvils, that are required to shape the various parts necessary for the construction of the wonderful iron horse. Some were forging one piece, some another; here an anvil rang under the true and busy stroke of a brawny smith, there the blows of a steam hammer made the earth tremble about it. Leaving the smithy, the reporter and his guide went to visit the most interesting, perhaps, of all the many shops?the machine shops. On entering one sees but a forest of belts, extending from the ceiling to a multiplicity of wheels on the machines below. So many belts, so many wheels, one wonders what power can move them all. Here, then, with lathes and planes, and drills, and various ! other machines, the many parts of the j locomotive that come from the foundry i and blacksmith shop are finished, made ready to be put together in the construction of the wonderful machine. The heavy work, such as the finishing of the driving wheels, the cylinders and the frame, is done on the ground floor, while smaller parts are finished in the story next above. In this department, from morning until night, ninety-two men work on the body of the iron horse. ' Theie/'eaid the foreman, as he stood by the side of the reporter, watching a powerful plane smooth the strong iron j beams of the frame, "it requires more labor than one would at first imagine to finish the frame. It will take two men a week to get it ready to be placed under the boiler after it leaves the blacksmith shop." While all this work has been going ] on, in the car shop, where thirty-one j skilled carpenters are employed, the cab has been in process of construction., I Four men havp been busy all this time ' in the brass foundry making the brass j trimmings: half a dozen have been j working in the coppersmith's shop on the copper parts, and in the tauk shop another crew has been employed on the i tender. The frames of tenders are now made entirely of iron, formerly they were made of wood. After all these shops have finished each its part, the parts are taken to the setting up shop and put together in their proper places. The frame is laid, the boiler placed upon it, the appurtenances thereto added, and finally the cab put in place and the finishing touch given in the paint shop, where half a dozen men are employed. One locomotive has at last been completed, more than three hundred men have had a hand in making it, and the purchaser feels in his pocket for a $9000 note to defray the expenses.?Portland Pteu. POPULAR SCIENCE. Observations in the Atlantic give from forty-four feet to forty-eight feet as the highest measured wave}. But such heights are rarely reached, and, indeed, waves exceeding thirty feet are very seldom encountered. A writer in the St. Louia Qlobe-Dm/y crat is looking hopefully forward to the time when the walls, ceilings and floors of our dwellings will be.of malleable glass oas a period when approximate cleanliness will be possible. A Vienna engineer has just taken out a patent for a new smoke-abating pro- V cess. By means' of electricity he proposes to condense the solid part of the smoke as it arises from the coal, the carbon thus foimed falling back into the furnace. Professor Ieclerc maintains that odors are due, not to the emanations, as such, of so-called odoriferous bodies, but to the vibratory movement among such emanations, due to processes of oxidation. Scent, on this theory, is analogous to sound. In drilling glass, stick a piece of stiff clay or putty on the part where yoa \ wish to make the hole. Make a hole in the putty the size you want the hole, reaching to the g'ass, of course. Into i this hole pour a little molten lead, when, ? unless it is very thick glass, the piece 1 will immediately drop out. Two French biologists hare been mak- :/ ing experiments in typhoid fever vaccination. In mice inooulated with cultures of typhoid bacilli genuine typhoid fever seemed to be produced, but m mice m- . oculated with broth in which the germs had livedbutno longer containing them, subsequent inoculat on with the most in- ^0 tense typhoid virus was resisted. !v " Heavy machinery is now run by artesian well power in many parts of ' France, and the experience of the French . ! ^ shows that the deeper, the well the great- , er the pressure and the higher the temperature. The famous Urenelle well* sunk to the depth.of 1800 feet, and flowing daily some 600,000 gallons, has a pressure of GO pounds to the square inch. the water being also so hot that it is used for heating the hospitals. The remarkable substance known as poteline is formed by a mixture of glycerine, tannin and gelatine, to which' ; may be added the sulphato of baryta or > zinc-white: the rcvjliinff mass may be colored by the addition" of vegetable colors. While poteiine is hot it can be molded, aad when cold it is susceptible of every kind of manipulation, such to turning, filing, boring, etc., and takes a very fine polish. ' Nearly twenty years ago Dr. Willo directed attention to the fact that a transverse furrow appeared on the nails of the hand after a serious illness. Med- ' ical literature hf i since then contained a few references to the subject; he again brought the subject before the Patho- .; logical Society at its meeting on March 20, and related a remarkable case. In y that case the furrow waft caused by three days' sea-sickness. Of the present very liihited number of high stations for making meteorological observations, there are only two in Eu- rope which exceed 3000 metres inheight, being about 10,000 and 11,000 feet respectively. Among those in this country Pike's Peak, which has an altitude 'M of 14,000 feet, exceeding thus, by mora T than 3000 feet, any in Europe. These :;f$ great heights are much more accessible on this continent than in Europe, there being five in America where 11,000 feet or more is reached by railroad* built for facilitating mining Work. By means of recent improvements made in the manufacture.of ri^as many_?i one hundred and twenty, barrels can npw be rolled in an hour by one machine. Tbey are straightened cold and bored with corresponding speed, and even the rifling is done automatically so that one man tending six machines can torn out % sixty or seventy barrels per day. With *0 the old rifling machine twenty barrels was about the limit of a day's work; but the improved machines attend to every* thing after being once started, ana, when the rifling is completed, ring a bell to call the attention of the .work man. Y'tlJM Great Feats of Memory. Idiots have been known whose memory :?J for names and words was so retentive 1 that they could repeat a sermon verbatim, and indicate where the preacher blew his nose and coughed while ddirering it. Cardinal Mazzofanti, the linguist, who v * is f-aid to have known a hundred languages, declared that he never forgot a word he had once learned. To a friend who congratulated Leyden on his remarkable memory he replied that he often found it a source of . great inconvenience. On the friend er- . pressing surprise he exclaimed that he had often wished to recollect a particular expression in something he hadTcad, but could not do it until he had repeated the whole passage from the beginning to the expression he desired te recall. An English clergyman mentions a ma? who could remember the day of the burial of every person who had died is the Darish during thirty-five years, and could also repeatTthe name and age ol each deceasea person, and the names of the mourners at his funeral. But so V | weak was he intellectually that he could not be trusted to feed himself. Dr. Moffat, the distinguished Africa* missionary, and the father-in-law of Dr. . Livingston, once prcached a long sermon to a crowd of negroes. Shortly after he had finished he saw a number of negroes gather about a simple minded young savage. He went to them and discovered that the savage was preaching his sermon over again. Not only was he reproducing the precise words, but imitating the manner and gestures ! of the white prcacher.?Commercial Advertiser. ' Prize Verbosity. There were 450 competitors for th? prize offered by an English journal for the longest twelve word telegram, and the winner put the following, which V>TT toloorrnrtn officer* for transmissioa for twelve cents, the I regular rate: "Administrator General'! I counter-revolutionary intercommunications uncircumstantiated. Quartermaster* General's disproportionableness characteristically contra-distinguished uncoastitutionalists' incomprehensibilities. Detroit Free Press. How to Marry. When pretty, pouting lips say "no." Don't go And blow Your brains all out to simply show How deep you're plunged in mental woe And pain; But hid in Cupid's ambush lie, Nor cry, . , Nor sigh, Nor say all joy has passed yoq by, And when a chance is offered, try Again. ?Merchant Travelm\. M