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V -.f y7<- r 'V- v.. b fHE EAHT UPON THE SOOT. BY 1RTHTR E. SMITH. Oh 1 I lore, upon the roof, to near the patter of the rain, And the music, when it daeheE swift against the window pane, Then 1 love to sit and watch the wheat bending onto the breeze, And the drippinR of the rain-drops from the arching linden trees, For I know the storm will vanish soon and bright the sun will shine, A T Isvm mnrA CTTfiflt. "Will rftifi# their love-lit eyes to mine. Bow I love to watch the leaden clouds sail swiftly overhead. And to hear the distant thunder's roar, and the Storm's heavy tread! Tnere is grandeur vrhen the great clouds roll across the western sky. And the grey mists sweep in splendor down the wooded hillsides nigh, While in sheets, before the wiDd, tie rain drives o'er the parched plain, And the proud pines sway and bend before the strength of the hurricane. Bat I like the storms of life, because they make the heart more strong; When the storms of sin sweep down, the heart grows stronger 'gainst the wrong; As the oak upon the hillside, wrenched by ev'ry passing gale, Ever takes a deeper, firmer root within the strength'ning soil; So the heart, when wrenched bv storms of sin, for strength looks to the Lord, And takes deeper, firmer hold in the precious glories ol his word. Oh 1 I love, upon the roof, to hear the patter of th? rain. And the music, when it dashes twift against the window pane. For there's hours of solid contort when the skies are ovcrcast, And Dame Nature, fresher, fairer will seem when the storm is past. As the san shines brighter after the dark clouds have rolled away, Eo the soul, after fierce trials, will upon its pilgrim way. APPtETON, Wlfc . The Piccadilly Puzzle. THE STORY OF 1 TERRIBLE EPISODI III THE LIFE OF A\ ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. By F. W. HUMEL CHAPTER XIII?Continued. "I wish to know," said Dowker, "if you ere aware that jour wife called at Lord Oalliston's chambers on the eight of the murder?" "Who says so?" asked Balscombe, harshly. "No*one," replied the detective, "but ' did she?" "I oannot tell you," 6aid Sir Rupert; and he gave the same account of his movements on the night in question as he had done to Norwood. "Oh," said Dowker, stroking his chin; "so you were in town after all on that night?" Sir Rupert looked uncomfortable under the steady gaze of the* detective, and nnt nnmpvhat confnsedlv. that he was. "And you,K questioned Dowker, taming to Norwood, "think it was Lady Balseombe that Desmond saw?" "Yes; because he said he eonld not get permission to speak except from the lady on board the Seamew, and the lady we know is Sir Rupert's wife." "But Lady Balscombe did not leave this house till after 12 o'clock, and as the woman saw Mr. Desmond before that time it could not have possibly been Lady Balscombe." "How do you know my wife did not Wave till after 12?" demanded Balscombe. "From the evidence of her maid, Anne Lifford." "Yes, she told me the same thing," in* terpoeed May, "and if that is bo, veil * she looked at the other three in helpless confusion. "As Mr. Desmond refuses to give ue any information," said Dowker, the onlj thing to be done is to wait and find out * -the truth from Lady Balscombe herself.1 "What could she know about thie woman's death?" asked Sir Bupert. "She might not know much," replied Dowker, significantly, "but enough te show in what way her sister met her death." "Her sister!" echoed the others in sur prise. Yes, I have ascertained Lena Sar? chine to have been the sister of Lad; Balscombe." "Are you mad?" said the baronet, anfrily. "Do yon know who my wife was?" "I do. The daughter of Captain Michael Dicksfall, of Folkestone?he had two daughters, twins; one, Miss Helena Dicksfall, ran away with Lord Calliston three years ago and became Lena Ssrschine, the other, Miss Amelia Dicksfall, married Sir Rupert Balscombe." The baronet sank into his seat looking pale and haggard. "My God," ne muttered, "this is worse and worse. I knew Amelia had a twin sister, but understood she was dead." "Dead as Helen Dicksfall, not as Lena Sarschine." At this moment a servant entered with telegram which he handed to Sir Ru pert. ~ Tearing it open the baronet glanced hastily over it and then sprung to bis feet. "Now -we will know the truth," he said, triumphantly. "What do you mean?" a6ked May, trembling in every limb. "Simply this," said her guardian, crushing up the telegram in his hand, "the Seamew is on her way to England." CHAPTER XIV. A STARTLING DISCOVERT. Myles had no warmer supporter among all his friends than Spencer Ellersby, The young man appeared to be genuinely sorry that bis evidence about meeting Desmond in St. James street should be used against him. "Hang it!" he said to Marton, as they were seated at their club, "if I had only known how it would have been twisted I'd not have said a word, but that detective fellow got ii out of me .somehow? brute of a fellow?killed my dog, you know, Pickles." "Well, I hear they'll not be able to prove the dagger in Desmond's possession was the' one used," Baid Marton, "good for poor old Myles?hey!" "I think it's rubbish, the whole thing," retorted Ellersbv, hotly, "what the deuce _1 1J 1?{1I .v.;a fnr' Sha DUUUiU OiJlOD A1U iUlo n Viuuu aw* vmw was nothing to him; more likely CallieUnq knows more about it." While this interesting conversation was going on, Sir Rupert, Dowker. and Nor wood were all in a first-class carriage on Iheirwav to Brighton. As Marton had informed Ellersbj, the Seamew had returned to England the previous day, ana now the trio were going down to see if Lady Balscombe could give them any information likely to solve the mystery of the mnrder of Lena Stir-chine. On the way down Norwood told Dowker the discovery he had made about the dag. ger, at which the detective wab much as tomsnea. "If, ss you say," he remarked, "She lodging-house servant can prove the broken dagger was in the house all the time, it certainly cannot have been the weapon used, an 1 yet it corresponds in every particular with the other weapon I took from Cleopatr.t Villa. I can quite understand Miss Barschine taking it and ' the manner in which it came into Desmond's possession, but if this was not tlie weapon used, where i6 the weapon that wasV" "There are plenty of these daggers," suggested Norwood. "Certainly?but the coincidence in this ease is that the dag', er found in Mr. DeBmond'i rooms, which came from the ' - ! ' : house of the murdered woman, was poisoned, and Lena Sarschine was killed by a poisoned instrument." "There were no other daggers taken from the house, I suppose?" asked Norwood. 14 "Not that I know of," replied the detective, "but I am convinced that the whole secret of this crime lies in the con*"" \TTS/ir-rnnn /I nn n vers at j on ueiwocu jh, i/vowvuu Lady Balscombe." "You do not say my wife is guilty of Ihis murder?" said Sir Rupert, angrily. "I say nothing." replied Dowker, evasively, "till I see Lady Balscombe." When the trio arrived at Brighton it was growing late, so they went to the Ship Hotel and had something to eat. Finding out from the waiter that the Seamew was lying a short distance from the pier they went down, and hiring a boat rowed to the yacht. When they climbed ap on to the deck they were accosted by one of the officers, who wanted to know their business. "We want to see Lord Calli6ton," said Balscombe quietly. "I'm afraid that's impossible," replied the officer, "a6 he went up to town to-day on business." "Ib there not a lady on board?" asked Norwood. "Yes?you mean " "Never mind telling us her name," said Balscombe shortly, feeling a horror at hearing his wife's name mentioned. "Can we see her?" 1 Will 8bK, ausweruu uio umcer; anu he went down-staira to the cabin, from which he soon reascended with the news that tb?y could go down. Dowker went first, followed by Norwood and Sir Rupert, all feeling in a strange state of excitement at the prospect of the coining.interview. The cabin was small, but luxuriously fitted-up in pale-blue 6ilk, and the walls paneled in oak, with 6mall medallions of seascapes around. A lamp hanging from the ceiling shed a soft, mellow light over all, and on the table below was a work-basket and some embroidery. "She has been working, I 6ee," whispered Balscombe with a sneer, ne the? entered into the cabin. No one was preB. ent, but suddenly they heard the rustle of a dress, and a curtain at the end of the cabin parted, admitting a woman?a tall, fair-faced woman, with shining golden hair. At this 6ight, Norwood and Dowkei turned to look on Sir Rupert, to watch cue enect 01 me sigui ui wu who uu uiuj, when they saw he was pale as death and bad made a step forward. "Yon wish to see me?" asked the lady, advancing toward the group. "You you " cried Sir Rupert ib a choking voice. "You are not Lad; Balscombe." "I!" in surprise. "No!?I am not Ladj Balscombe." Dowker and Norwood turned suddenly, "Who are you?" "Lena Sarschine!" CHAPTER XV. MORE REVELATIONS. If there were ever three men taken aback, those three were certainly in the cabin of the Seamew. As for Miss Sarschine, she stood looking calmly at them with an expression of surprise. "Will ygu kindly tell me what you want?" she asked quietly. "Is it to see Lord Calliaton?" "No." reolied Dowker. who had some what recovered himself, "we wanted to Bee you." "To see me?" she said with surprise. "Or, at least, Lady Balscombe." Miss Sarschine smiled contemptuously. "I understand what you mean," she said, coolly. "You thought that Lord Calliston had eloped with Lady Balscombe?60 he intended to have done, but I changed his plans and eloped instead." "And where did you leave Lady Baiscombe on the night you visited her?" asked Norwood. "I do not snswer that question till I know who you are," 6he said boldly, frowning at him. "I will tell you," said 8ir Rupert, who had hitherto kept silent. "This gentleman is Mr. Norwood, a solicitor; this Mr. Dowker, of Scotland Yard; and I am Sir Rupert Balscombe." "You?you Sir Rupert Balscombe?'' Ehe said quickly, "Your sister's husband." "How do you know Lady Balscombe was mv sister?" "I found it out," interposed Dowker, 'from your father, Captain Dicksfall." "My father," she murmured, turning pale. "You have seen him?" "Yes." "Well," she said coldly, "now you have Tound out my relationship with Lady Balscombe, what do you want to see me about?" "Her murder," said Dowker, in a deep roice. She sprang forward with a 6udden cry. "Her murder?her?what do you mean?" "I mean that the victim of the Jermyn street tnurder, whom we thought to be you. turns out to be "Lady Balscombe." ' "My wife?" said Sir Rupert, with a omsn hnrvinc hi? face in his hands. "God!?it's too horrible," cried Lena, and sank down into a chair. "Amelia dead?murdered?by whom?" "That's what we want to find out," said Norwood, coldly. " What enemies had Bhe?" muttered Miss Sarschine half to herself. "None that would desire her death. I cannot understand?I cannot." Then suddenly struck bv a thought she asked. "Why did you think that the dead woman was me?" "Because she was dressed in youi clothes." "Yes! yes!" she said, feverishly. "1 can understand now?I can understand." M Wl. nAA V 1 o 4 9" OpVa/1 TT LIOIO U1U >UU DOO UCi iboi, ODACV Norwood. "At her own house in Park Lane." "Did you leave her there?" "No! 6he left me.'1 "Oh!" cried Dowker, a light breaking in on him, "now I understand?you changed clothes there, and she left 'the housa first." "She did?to go to Calliston's rooms/ "I thought so, said Norwood, with a cry of triumph; "it was Lady Balscombe Desmond 6aw." } "Desmond! Desmond!" Bhe echoed, f What has he to do with this?" I "Simply this?he is now in prison on a charge of murdering Lena SarEchine." "I see you mistook my sister for me ? but murder?I can't understand?I can't undeistand." And she pressed her hand nnrnoo Vt Sir Rupert looked up. "Listen to me," he said, sternly; "a man's life hangs on your evidence, so tell us all that happened between you and my wife on that night." There was a carafe of water on the table, and filling a glass from it Lena drank it up quickly, and then turned with ashen face to the three men, who tat cold and silent before her. "I will tell you all,"she Baid, in aBhaky #oice, "and you can form your own conclusions." THe three settled themselves to listen, and she began to speak in a trembling voice, which gradually became steadier, the following story: "I need not tell you my early history, as you already know it. When I left Folkestone I went abroad with Lord Calli6ton. and when we returned he took the house Tor me in St. John's "Wood. I stayed with him because I loved him, and he promised to marry me?a promise he has Bince fulfilled. When my sister be came known in London as Lady Balscombe, I soon found it out from Calliston, and then implored him to make me his wife. He laughed, and Baid he would. Then my sister fell in love with him?not he with her, I swear, for he loves no one but me?nnd in the end Bhe persuaded him to elope with her. I discovered the fact from my maid, who learned it from Lody Balscombe's muid. Anne Lifford. v ' ' ' \v ' - ^ ' i 1 ? and in despair I went 'to see Calliston and implore Jbim to give np the mad idea Blinded with rage and despair, I took s dagger from the wall of my drawing* room, intending to kill Calliston if he did not agree to give up my sister. Soundi melodramatic, I know, but look what ] had at stake! Calliston was not in, ane I only saw Mr. Desmond, who tried to persuade me to go home again. He tried to Ret the dagger from me, and I flung if across the room. By accident he pat his foot on it and broke it. So, seeing it was useless, I made no further attempt to gel it, and he put tia pieces in his pocket Then I went home in despair, but conic uot rest. I went out with the intentioz of catching an early train to Shoreham concealing myself on board the yacht and then confront my sister when she ar. rived. "Then I thought I would call and im. plore her to give up my lover. She had gone to a ball, but I waited for her, and when she came into the room revealed myself. We had a stormy scene?she refused to give Calliston up, and, at length, the only thing I could obtain from her was this, that she would go to Callis* ton's chambers, ask him if his love wai for her or me, and when she got his answer return to me at Park Lane. I agreed to this, but proposed, aB she would com promise herielf in going to a bachelor'! rooms at that hoar of toe eight, that shi should pat on my clothes, and, as we were very like one another, she could Sass herself off for me in the event oi isoovery. We changed clothes, and she vent away while I remained and locked myself in her room. I waited nearly all night for her retnrn, bnt as she did not come I left the house about 4 o'clock in the morning, and went to London Bridge station, where I caught the 5:45 train to Shorehim. I was dressed in Lady Balscombe's clothes, and went straight on board the yacht without awaking suspicion, as they were expecting my sister. I went into my cabin and fell asleep, worn out with tho events of the night. When I woke, about 10 o'clock, I found we were on our way, and that Lord Calliston was on board. Being told that Lady Balsrnmbft wan on board asleep. he did not trouble himself to see me, or else he would have discovered the truth, but said I was not to be disturbed, and gave orders for the yacht to start. When he did see me I need hardly tell you hi6 surprise. I told him all, and we bad a terrible battle over things. He wanted to go back again to England, but I swore I'd throw myself overboard if he did, so he yielded, and in the end we made it up. We started for the Azores, but the yacht became disabled in a storm, and pat into a French port, where we were married by the English Consul. Then we started back for England, and arrived yesterday. Lord Calliston went up to town on business, and I remained here; so that is all I know of the affair." "Then you are now Lady Calliston?" said Sir Eupert. "Yes, he has done me that justice at last." "Thon T V>nn? Tnn'll have a harmier life and end than your Bister," said the baronet, bitterly; "but even what you have told ui does not solve the mystery of her death." "It solves a good many things, however," said Dowker, cheerfolly; "it proves the truth of Mr. Desmond's statement about the dagger, and shows us how it was Lady Balscombe went to Lord Calliston's chambers, instead of Miss Sarschine ?I beg pardon. Lady Calliston?but tell me, maaame, did your husband know of the murder before he left England?" "No, how could he?" she said, in surprise. "He came down to Shoreham by an early train and the yacht left at once. "Butfhe would be sure to see about it in the morning papers?" suggested Norwood. "He would only see the announcement, but no details," said Dowker, "and think ing Lady Balscombe was on board th< yacht and Miss Sarschine at home he would never think one of them was tn< victim." "Well, gentlemen," said Sir Rupert, fnrninp hifl hacrpard face toward them "now we have discovered the dead woman to have been my wife, what is the next thing to be done?" "See Lord Calliston," answered Dow. ker, promptly, "I want to know all his movements on that night." "\ou dou't suspect him?" said Lena, turning on him like a tiger. "I never said I did," he replied, quietly. "I merely want to find out hi6 movements, and I daresay he'll have no hesitation in giving an account of them." "Of course he won't," she replied, wearily. "And now, as I've told you all, you'll permit me to retire. I'm quite worn out." She bowed to the three men, then left the cabin slowly. When she disappeared, Dowker shook himself briskly. "Well, gentlemen, we must go back to town at ouce and see Lord Calliston. I want an account of all his movements on ?' - 3 T - 1 J? L T V. ~ tnai nigai, hqu a aixouuy jtuuw Wiiertj uu was at 9 o'clock." "Where?" asked Norwood, curiously. "At the ' Pink 'Un,' Soho, to see a boxing match; afterward I don't know where he went, but I must have a satisfactory explanation." Butyou don't think he murdered Lady Balscombe?" said the baronet. Dowker looked wise. "No," he replied, significantiy. "1 don't think he murdered Lady Baiscombe, but he might haye murdered Lena Sarschine." "You mean he might have mistook my wife for her?" "Exactly." [TO BE CONTINUED.] Tmr Ran Franrisco Examiner haa hit upon a noyel plan to interest the young people of the Pacific coast in the World's Fair and also in their school work. The Examiner proposes to send twenty of the brightest school-children that can be found in California to the World's Fair, and beer all the expenses of the trip to and from Chicago. The excursionists are to be selected by ballot and by examination. The contest is open to children in the grammar grade in cities, and to those not over 15 in the country schools. The pupils in the schools arc to sslect by ballot one pupil who 6hall enter the examination, which will be conducted by th? State Superintendent of Education, and the twenty are to be chosen bj examination. It is a plan which does credit not only to the enterprise of the Examiner but also to its patriotism and its consideration foi the schools of the State, for it will be an honor to the l-eacher as well as to the pupil to have one chosen from his or her school. It will also excite an interest in tho fair among the school-children, and if the young people are not well informed regarding America and its history, it will be because they are unable to get the books that will give them the information they seek. As a rule people are good enough except in the little things of life. So many of tham lack the ability to be agreeable; 60 many of them are bores on/1 V* o vn fAnlieK n/?f inna that. Q T1 hour's study might rid them of. A man who never steals may he very impolite and very tiresome. A man who is never guilty of murder may be unfair and have contemptible ways, i / DEEP SEA SEALOGT HOW THIS INDUSTRY IS CAIt BIED ON. On the Track of the Seal HerdsAnimals Murdered Wholesale? Xifles for "White Men and Spears for Indians. >. ^ the temporary li&S' agreement for pron?sj j tecting the seals of Alaska, known as . . |mB the "modus vivendi," were not reMl kg-' newed, the whole IUh) piratical fleet of " _ Ml' sealers would enter i/j/l'? Bering Sea in July ^P? out one seas0D the entire Pribylovherd, i *$MMIHR ?Ktr0S?!ilseai ?ii t, ,-m- jjjg juuustrjr ju those waters forever. To make this understood, writes Rene Bache in the Boston Transcript, it is only necessary to explain the astonishing scientific system of slaughter adopted by the pelagic (that is, open sea) sealers. Suppose that there were a single great herd of one million valuable fur-bearing beasts which traveled continually over a kiteshaped track, many thousands of miles in circuit, on the great plains of the "West. Imagine that these animals devoted eight months in every year to j A a1-!- rrnvrinrr frr\m traversing ?uis rouic, uc?ci nuj.u6 .wu. it, so that their entire company was always sure to be at a given point on the road at a certain date, though halting together in an isolated spot for four months annually, to breed and rear their young. How long would it be before the greedy huDters would have wiped them all out. If the latter were permitted to surround them at the breedingplace, a single season would suffice for their extermination. f ? ? I. ' - CHEEPING IN BETWEEN A SEA-1 That is precisely the situation of the seals. The herd?there is only one? leaves the Pribylov Islands about November 10 each year, to spend the winter in warmer waters. Passing southward through the Aleutian chain and out of Bering Sea, the animals swim in a southeasterly direction, toward Santa Barbara, about 400 miles south of San Francisco, on the Pacific coast. There they turn and go northward?nearly a million strong?bugging the coast, past Oregon and Washington, and along the southern shore of Alaska into Bering Sea, reaching the Pribylov Islands again by July 10. Upon those lonely rocks they breed and nurse their young for four months, at the end of which time the pups are weaned and big enough to accompany, the annual migration. The track they follow is never varied I rone, ana eacn week in the year finds ttiem at the same stage of their route, so that no difficulty in discovering the herd is experienced by the hunters, who pursue the poor beasts relentlessly month after month, killing, killing, killing?until they get back into Bering Sea again and nre safe for a while. No present project for putting a stop to this is entertained. The modus vivendi and the seizures of vessels have mere'y related to the exclusion of the. pelagic sealers from Bering Sea itself, where they are anxious to go and wipe out the whole breeding herd while it is assembled on two small islands,thus making an end of the species at once and "for good." Some very interesting points may be \ ' A KILLING VA.1 mentioned respecting the extraordinary business of pelagic sealing. For the pursuit of this industry small schooners of from forty to sixty tons are equipped. Each such vessel starts out on a voyage with three or four months' provisions, a quantity of salt, a supply of repeating rifles,and fifteen or twenty men. Usually the crew includes a few Indians Irom Vancouver's Island and Neeah Bay, Washington. The schooner sails out into the path of the herd of seals. She has ao trouble in discovering when the right point is reached, by the popping up on all aides in the water of the animals' heads. Then 6he lies too, unles9 the weather is too rough, and lowers into the sea a number of small dories. Each boat is occupied by two men. One of them sits in the bow, with a Win " - r 1! : cnester nne or iowuug-pieue wnucu with buckshot across his ]ap, while the other rows. The effort is to extend from the vessel a line of from seven to ten dories, which shall be within hail of each other, so that they can find their W3y back in case of a fog or storm. Having taken their positions, they wait for the chance of a seals head popping up within range. The animals, while traveling, only appear on the surface at the intervals necessary for breathing, taking a quick and cautious look around, and immediately diving aijain to swim and fish. They do all their swimming and fishing under water. When the hunter sees a head pop up, if he is quick enough he may have time to aim and lire before the seal hn<: taken , - .- v-V ; y:v7;> an instantaneous surrey of him and dived. Usually, when the animal comes up close alongside the boat, its fright is so great that it disappears too suddenly for a shot; but, if it pops up at a distance of fifty or 100 yards, perhaps it may p&use two or three seconds and afford an opportunity to the marksmen. A POACHER SHOOTING SEALS. At best the aim is necessarily very uncertain, inasmuch as both boat and seal are tossing about in the lumpy water. No matter whether it is hit or not,the seal disappears instantly. If killed outright, it sinks; but, if the marksman, by keeping his eye on the spot where the carcass went under, can so direct the boat as to pet there ouicklv enough. he maybe able to see the body of the animal going down in the crystal-clear water. In that case he whips oat his gaff-pole and fishes it up. To succeed in this, however, he must arrive in time at the exact point where the game sank, since it is only from just above that it will be visib'e through the choppy waves, which show not a bubble for a guide. A dead seal will sink from six to ten feet while a skiff is rowed fifty yards. There is more skill in finding the prey after it is hit than in shooting it. Supposing that the seal is slightly or mortally wounded, it dives and swims away, in most cases to perish later. If merely stunned, it flounders about on the surface and is easily taken; but that seldom occurs. From this brief description some notion can be formed of the enormous waste of life in this kind of hunting, which, according to the testi * ^^TyS,IOX HERD AND THE WATER. mony of the sealers themselves, destroy! fifteen animals for every one secured. After a few d&va the herd thus inter cepted by the schooner will have passed by. This is discovered from the fact that no more beads of seals are seen popping up in the water, Have the unfortunate beasts at length made their escape from this predatory vessel? By no means. She simply spreads her canvas to the breeze, sails for sixty or 100 miles, overhauls the animals and droceeds &i before. So it continues week after week, month after month, until they have beet pursued to Bering. Sea, into which some bold poachers follow them, lying off the Pribylov Islands in the fog which hardlj ever lifts, and shooting the breeding mothers that venture out into the ocean. In 1886, there were seven vessels engaged in the sealing industry on the northwest coast. There were twentytwo in 1887, thirty-three in 1889, fortyfive in 1890, and one hundred and ten last summer. This year there will be about one hundred and twenty*five schooners in the business. All of these craft and more than 2000 Canadian, American, Japanese, and Indian hunters are devoted to the indiscriminate slaugh ter of this herd of valuable creatures, which are to-day almost ninety per cent, lemaies. By July 10th the entire herd will be on two islands in Bering Sea, breeding and nursing their young. The pups are all born by July 20th,and up to November 10th the mother seals are constantly goiog out to the ocean fishing banks^for *G AT WORK. food. They nurse their offspring at intervals of from one to four days, and travel in search of fish fifty to 300 miles away from the islands. The fleet, entering Bering Sea in July, would draw a cordon around the islands, practical!] annihilate all the mothers before th< ADULT SEA LION AND YOUNG. helpless young are weaned in November, and leave the infaBt seals to starve bj myriads on the rocks. While not liter' aliy exterminating the species, the result t-:- ?-?m Vio tn Hoctmu the sealing U1 ILI13 nvuiu u\, >U uwuv. industry forever. True, the pe!agi< sealers would ruin their own business, but they belong to a class of people whe care only for to-day and do not look forward to the morrow. The Indian hunters carried by the sail ing vessels take an important part in the chase. They are turned loose on days wheu calm weather has succceded a storm. At such times the seals, which have been so tossed about in the water as to have had no sleep for a considerable period, indulge in the luxury of sound naps on the ocean billows, lying on their backs at the surface with only their noses and "heels" showing. Thus rocked in the cradle of the deep, they peacefully repose, doubtless enjoying pleasant dreams, -while the savage in hi* canoe approaches silently from the le?i ward. When within striking distance, the hunter drives a toggle-headed spear into the unconscious animal, drags the prey up to the boat, and knocks it on the head. This method of slaughter, though not less indiscriminate than that adopted by the white men, has the ad vantage that do seal that is struck is lost. Frank Leslie's Illustrated also gives a page of pictures, from which the two double-column cuts are taken, showing the methods employed in catching the seals on King's Island, in Bering Sen. A Store on the Congo. This is a picture of a sort of building that is very common at all the missionary stations along the Congo River. It represents the store at Banza Manteke, one STOKE AT BAKZA HANTEKE, CONGO. of the largest stations ot tbe American Baptist Missionary Union on the Congo. Missionaries have found that trading is a necessary part of their work. The Congo Free State ihas issued a silver currency which has holes stamped through it, so that the natives, who are not blessed with pockets,can thread the coin on strings and wear their money around their necks. They, however, are not taking, very kindly to the medium of exchange. They cannot see that the coins represent any value, and they decline to receive them in exchange either > for labor or the products of their little farms. The missionaries are therefore compelled to use merchandise as money. These goods are in considerable va riety, including unbleached cotton cloth, red blankets, bandanna handkerchiefs, second-hand clothing, old red coats from the British army stores, cheap blue glass beads, and many other articles. The goods are sent mostly from Liverpool, and are packed away in stores like that shown in the picture. From Matadi, the head of navigation on the lower Congo, caravans of men take the goods to various stations up the river. . Once every day the missionary opens his store. In this picture, Mr. 0. E. Ingham, one of the best known of the Congo missionaries, is represented as standing in the door. It is the hour when the store is open, and Mr. Ingham is exchanging goods for yams, fowls and other articles of food. The missionaries F also use these goods to pay for native labor in buiding their houses and for . other purposes.?New York World. The Useful Elephant. The normal load for continuous travel of a fair sized elephant is eight hundred - pounds, so the animal is equal to eight ELEPHANT CARRYING L0G8. ponies, small mules, or asses; to five stout pack mules or bullocks, and to three and one-tbird of a camel. Under such a load the elephant travels at a fair speed, keeping well up with an ordinary - army or baggage train, requiring no made road, few guards, and occupying less . depth in column than other animals. He is invaluable in jungle country and all roadless regions where heavy loads are to be moved. In Burmab, and on the east and southeast frontier, elephants are absolutely necessary for military supply. When once a good road is made the beast is, of course, easily beaten by wheeled carriages. He shines most as a special Providence when the cattle of a baggage train or the horses of a battery are stalled in a bog or struggling helple-sly at a steep place. An elephant's tusk and trunk serve at once as lever, screw-jack, dog-hooks, and crane, quickly setting overturned carts and gun-carriages right, lifting them by main force or dragging them in narrow, winding defiles, where a long team can not act; while his head, protected by a pad, is a racn of immense force and supe rior handiness. A born forester, it is in jungle-work . that the laboring elephant, outside Govi eminent service, is seen at his best. The tea planters of Assam and Ceylon > find him useful in forest clearing and as r a pack animal. They even yoke him to i the plow. He is the leading hand in the teak trade of Burmah?unrivaled in the , heavy toil of the timber yard, where he i, piles logs, with wonderful neatness and quickness. Small timbers are carried on the tusks, chipped over and held fast by I the trunk. A log with a thick butt is [ seized with judicious appreciation of ) balance, while long and heavy balks arc levered and pushed into place.?"Beast and Man in India." A Cariouj Phenomenon. ~~ 1 Johnnie with his mouth open as wide ' as he can get it?(1) for medicine; 0_ for honey Judge. There are very nearly ten thousaod steamships in the world, and their aggregate burden amounts to abou-; ten million tons. .. 'i.'-Y SLEEP. HH9 Rett, my baby and sleep, BR Winds sinking over the deep, 9^B| Over tbe coral caves sweep. HHS Beet, my baby and sleep. Bail into sJnmberland's dreams, Sail where in silvery moonbeams, HH Fairy forms dance in its gleams. HH Best, my baby and sleep. Let Hie bark float with the tide, HB Oct o'er the waters so wide, PmH Lilies nod over ite side. HS Best, my baby and sleep. HH Wake with thy lips angel-kissed, Thy smile breaking through morning's List; to my lullaby, list, yWBK Rest, my baby and sleep. SHj ?Virginia B. Mosby, in N. T. AdvertisGT^HR PITH AND POINT. I Edward Emmons, the ossified man, dead. He died hard.?Boston News. .BH Han's life is a constant trial and all hilHH neighbors are on the jury.?Indianapoli^^H Journal. H Progress is very well, bat very feW^EH people rejoice over a new wrinkle.? Lowell Conner. BHI The unsuspecting schoolboy is som*flH timet like municipal revenues?raised b]HH tacks.?Lowell Courier. The politician who clamors for "sfrM^M| interchange of opinion" should attend sewing-bee.?Columbus Post. |H| Jagson says he used to think wotne^HH were easily moved before he had talkt^Hfl much with diaymen.?Elmira Gazette?^H uTTaiu rnn antr Tnnm for nnAfrr?" asked timidly. "Yea," replied the edi-^BH tor; "the lumber room."?WaahingtOtt^HI After a young woman gets to be thirtvHE she stops calling attention to her birta-|^D days by giving parties.?Somervilla^M Journal. BH Humanity is not easily discoorage&i^H The man -with the cracked voice alwayiflH insists upon leading the. singing.?Colum-BB "I see most of your hair is gone," said Brown to Burton. "Yes," replied Bn&-H| ton, "it'fl lelt for parts unknown."?Eato^l Field's Washington. Merchant?"Was there anybody f&HH here looking for me while I was outt^HB Office Boy?"No, sir. What hare yoal done!"?Yankee Blade. . Inquiring Friend?"Whafs your idctflfl of the limit of height in building*FV;^M Eminent Architect?"The length of owner's purse."?Chicago Tinus. Miss Smiiax?"My, what a bounciiut^H baby that is!" Baby's Brother?"Yes'ata^^H it ought to bounce. It's jost swallowed |H a eubber ball."?Boston Courier. flH Poets hare very little chanc* Bfl In then degenerate days, U A good old-fashioned cook book fi tbe only thing that pays. -New xorkSon. He?"Don't you think women oagbt' M to have the right to propose?" She? ^9 "And give the men the right of refusing! No, indeed! The ideal"?Indianapolis; Amy?"I received a proposal on ,a;JB postal card to-day." Mabel?"TfawB wasn't one of the seal*} proposals wefH read about in the newspapers."?DetroitIjH Free Press. | m "Is your father* very observing manP II "Well, I'm not sore; but yesterday, |IE when ,he suddenly sat down on the side* ;H walk, he looked four ways at once."? j fl New Tork Journal. jgp| Cumso?"SoMrs. Banting is a daugh- 'H ter of the Revolution, is abet" Mrs. Bl Cumso?"Yes. Why?" Cumso?"To me she looks old eaough to be the mother H[ of it!"?Brooklyn Life. fjH She?"Oh, yes, I quite believe thereVflH a fool in every family. Don't you?!' E.m ?"Well-er my opinion s rather biased^ Ton see, I'm the only member of our HH family."?Drake's Magazine. "It's most decidedly queer to ire," remarked Chollie's father to that young.' man', "that in a country where thought is free, you seem to be utterly unable to^H get any."?Indianapolis Journal. H "Ta'as," said Magby. "I was deoced^^B sorry me father left me everything and cut me brother aff with nothing. It will force Tom into twade and tbe name *11 be disgwaced."?New York Sun. Hfl "So you still insist that men were more honest in the clden days than now?" "Sure. You see when a man was pretty certain of living 150 to 900 flfl years he could afford to be honest."-* JH Indianapolis Journal. T. Cascaknow Jenks (to new valet)? "And what is your name, my good mant" The Valet?"Bill,sir." T. C. J.-"WeI!,^ you bad better not come. With such;^R|^| name I would probably forget to pay- H you."?New York Herald. / H Hiss D.?"Angelina, why doc't ;you H marry Lieutenant X?? ?" Miss A*.? H "First, bccause he has no brains-/and he can't ride, dance or play 'tjinnia, ;> ( What could we do with him?" ipss D. H ?"But he swims beautifully." /Miss A. B ?"Oh, yes; but one can't ke?p one's H husband in an aquariunq, you know."-* H Life's Calendar. H Costnme of the Italian Fisherman. 8 Id costume the Italian fisherman ha* no resemblance to his inland brother. % He wears a sort of Greek-like tuni<? ; sleeveless and reaching barely to the kneee. This is brought closely to his body with a broad leather belt, in the inside of which he carries bis rosary, his f scapular or perhaps some holy relic for protection at sea. Rude sandals of toogb fish or goat skm are bcund to his feet J with tough thongs that ore crossed arcund the leg to tnc knee. His hair and beard arc seldom cut ortnmmed. It often has the wave of a sculptured god's and as he rarely wears any head covering,save perhaps a cotton kerchief bound around his head with the ends floating in his hair, which is sometimes as blonde as a Scandinavian's, his whole aspect irresistibly suggests a primitive Greek o? the classic loneliness of his own loved shores.Orleans Picayune. Sfl<l Fate of Saltan 3Iura<l. In Turkey the cx-Surtan Murid,. brother c f the pr^seut Caliph, r under t. restraint in one of the U-aPt 1 airy-like palaces that line the shores of the Bosphorous. He was deposed after a reign of only six months on the ground of insanity, and as his recovery would involve his restoration tvj the throne m the place of its present occupant, it is probable that he will remain demented, at any rate nominally so, until his incarceration is terminated by death.?2s*w York Tribune. v'