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ACCIDENTALS. bt omuls Kwematma. 'I'm glad when I am happy and happy when I'M Bat turns' the rem oh more weary whenever I am sad. My song's a very woeful contradiction of a tune That tellingly and tremblingly die ever much too soon. My jogB are throned forever In the eden love ol That buret through their abounding with enoumbranoeslike this. The swelling wave upheavals mat enlengtnen out my thread Are born betimes in hope a deferred that trret more are dead. The blight that thus enshrouding wields me thus enraptured away Is lost in the deep darkness that precedes the dawn of day. The fitful, fleeting fancies filigreed to suit their kind Is gulfed amidst the anxious inclination of the mind. The woof and warp abstractedly interchanged to a degree Inclines the understanding to the chaos of debris. Thus are the accidentals in the weather vane of life ftiat strengthen to a measure the sublimity of strife, And teach us much for nothing, save the sum 4 we have to pay, Which far exceeds the profits in the hope that's flown away. Though ever watchful., careful of the whirlpools that are past, We axe nevertheless drifting in the present's oeuelesa grasp. A WEIRD MYSTERY ^ ?o? TraGing a Dark Crime. 4 < nrvmmpn DADrMCAW Iff H ?SI ALtAAil ur.n nuuiiiuuiu am. *#. CHAPTER XXIIl. ?(Continued). I ventured to turn to the attack, Adroitly at first, so as not to alarm bim. "Colonel, you left that house without making a haul?was it on account of the old man's death?" "That was it, Joslyn." "The papers say he committed suicide." . "They don't know." "But the coroner's jury viewed the corpse, and their verdict was the same." "Fools!" he muttered. I was gradually getting deeper and deeper into the stream, but I did not mean to make any halt. Only persistent effort would carry the day now- The time had come for this Honlorn Ho ir\T> P.A fir ftlSfl bfl UlttM WV UVK/miV UIW ? placed in a ccll as the guilty assassin. He would soon be givon bis choice when I bad cornered him. "Come, Colonel, yon excite my cariosity. If the old Doctor did not commit suicide, what was the manner of his death?" My pointed question must have startlod him a little. He lookod at me keenly a moment, as though debating a point in his befogged mind. My curiosity was natural enough, however, and he did not seem to suspect. "I tell you, Joslyn, that man never committed suicide. He was murdered." 'The deuco vou say. Colonel!" "It's the truth. I know it" -"Come, come, you didn't have a hand In such a thing, Colonel?" Ho shuddered all over. "Of course not, Joslyn. I ain't In that lino, you know, though sometimes a man will be driven by circumstances into committing a crime his soul naturally revolts from." "Yet you tay the Doctor was murdered?" "Yes." "Did you, then, see tho crlmc committed?" I did not." * "Well, Colonel, yon bewilder me. If jrm didn't kill the old Doctor yourself, and even failed to see him killed, how tho deuce do you know he was murdered?" ' That was a shot straight home. If he answered it my end was achieved, and I could finish my work. Hore fortune took a whirl. Colonel Cain became reserved. I saw his lips close firmly, and my hopes took a fall, for I knew in my mind what that meant "I don't care to talk any further on that subject, Joslyn." "Why not? You bavo interested ma" "Oblige mo by letting it drop. It has a very painful memory connected with It that I wish to banish. * I rather thought so myself; at the same time it was not my intention to say this to the Colonel. "See here, you don't realize what you are doing. Colonel. You say you wore in that house the night Dr. Seabury died? tbat you know he was murdered, and that there are painful recollcctions con' nected with tho case which prevent you from speaking further. Now, all this leads me to believe, as it would any one else, that you had a hand in that affair." Ho turned on me savagely. 'I toll you, man. I bad nothing to do witn it?my hands have not the blood of this old Doctor upon them." "You swear this, Colonel?" "I do." "Then why do you object to telling me what you saw on that night?" "Whv the deuce do you want to kDOW?" "My curiosity has been aroused, as I said before." MI believe there ia another reason." "Name it" "Joslyn, yon are more than you pretend. I havo suspected it once or twice, but your actions allayed my fears. Now, I know by your persistency in pursuing this subject that you are more than Joe Joslyn, an amateur burglar." There was no denying it that the man had struck near home. I did not care now. The matter had gone so far that it was of little importance whether he learned my identity 01 not. If I cotMd but get the truth out of him, I would cast him aside like an old glove or a squeezed lemon, such was my eager? - ?- 4/v nnck fnrwo rrl UC50 by yuou *y* ? ? *? "Colonel, what do you mean? 8peal ut." "You arc a detective." -Well?" "And you have been hunting out th? truth of this man's death." "Colonel, I admit all you say." "Who arc you, then?" "rlave you heard of Ahner Ketcham?' Ho wiped his forehead with his hand but at the same time laughed harshly. "I reckon I havo. It's been a sly gam< you set for me, Ketcham. I suppose those there polico officers in tho house I wenl to crack, and tho chase over tho roofs, was a part of tho affair, to make ui frianda?" "1 assure you I bad nothing to do with them, except as you saw. I was lying in wait in that house, watching for you tc come, when I meant to make your acquaintance and warn pou that men were ready to nab you there, when, bless mj ?oul, if the three policemen didn't enter, "Vmm thoir low ronversation I eath ercd that tho man had betrayed you. The rest is already known." "It hurts me to know I've been hood. winked in this way. ~\Vhat good is it going to do you, Mr. Ketcham?" "I shall carry out my plan." "What is that?" "To learn what you know." Ho laughed in a sneering way. * "Yqu forget a qertatn old adage. _On< man can lead a "horse to water,Tat fort] can't make him drink against his will." "Then you refuse to tell me what I de i eire to know?" "I da" 1 "What is your reason for it?" i "Perhaps it's a mere whim of mine. Then again it may be that I'm mad a1 i the trick you've played on me, and determined to pay you off In your owe coin." "Colonel, you think this is smart." "Oh, no." "It's a poor rule that won't work botli ways." "Just what I thought" "We'll turn It around and see how th case stands." "Do what you please. I have nc further interest in the matter." "We'll see about that my man. Perhaps there are more ways than one in which to make a man open his mouth. You have admitted to me that you were in that house when the crime was com mitted." "Oh! have I?" "A denial will do you no (rood, for 1 knew it before. That was why I sought you out. I can prove it in a few minutes by a dozen different facts." "Weil, for the sake of argument, we'll admit that to be #o." "Then you will tell me what you saw?" "I swear I won't, Ketcham." I fastened my eyes upon him. At the same time I drew a revolver and brought it on a level with his head. "Colonel Cain, you are the only man who can solve this puzzle. Listen to me. You will either tell what you Baw on that-night, or go with me to the Tombs, charged with the murder of Dr. Seabury." CHAPTER XXIV. ^ man, a brave man, as strong a9 the set, reso%9n( lute expression of my face exJT "Arrest 'me?" he began, 7 and then seemed to reflect, f "Yes, I certainly shall." ^ Tlio Colonel appeared to study the situation. I could follow his mental progress by the look on his face just as readily as trace the workings of fever or other eickncss in a patient. It seemed to say: "I shall bo arrested anyway if I elude this man. I now know certainly that I am involved in the Seaburymurder case. "If arrested thev cannot prove me guilty, but I am wanted for other crimes, and a long detention, possibly a term in prison, would not suit me. UI give in?that is partly, but?what does this man know?" The Colonel's first audible utterance, tn.t.1nn. ?nr ftlbur X 111 J JT ii TO uiiuuwva wC..Wv.wH, prised and flattered me. "WelJ, you are an original one!" I smiled placidly. "You think so?" "I do." "Then reward the unique with prompt attention and confession. Colonel " "TT-l J I M "Xioiu our I paused. "1 have a word to say." "Say it then." "Lower your revolver and put it away. You, a valued friend, turn out to be my natural enemy?a detective; but I like you all the same. I admire you. You speak candid and honest You have led me into no traps. You have cornered me legitimately." I felt flattered. "You accuse me of a murder?the killing of Dr. Seabury. Well and good. I am innocent" "You say 60." "I can prove it" "That is well for you." "Don't sneer, threaten, or be over-sanguine. I know what I know. You know nothing. I can see it by your face: I can judge it by your following me the way you have done. I propose dealing squarely with you. I have a proposition to make." Somehow it impressed me that Cain was sincere. He was nettled at having been duped, but beneath it all I fancied that he had honestly decided to act 6quare?man to man. "I did not kill Dr. Seabury." I nodded, silently, reservedly. "I was in the Seabury mansion the night of the murder." That was a confession of importance at least "You cannot prove that I did tho murder. There is no court in Christendom that would convict me. I am in a "trap however. House-breaking proven, t confession in my case would mean tei years. That does not suit me?especial' ly just now." "You mistake," I said, interruptingly "There are clews to connect you witl the murder." "What?" demanded the Colonel, Ir sharp, defiant tones. "First, you were at the house at tht time Dr. Scabury was murdered." "Yes?admit that." "The creese you took from your roon was the instrument of death." Cain turned white as death. "Perdi' tion!" he ejaculated, uneasily, My face brightened. I knew it. ] I felt the victor. I pressed him closely eagerly. "Aha! You see " "I see nothing!" he almost screamed, convulsed with fury. "Demons, I am trapped! Oh, why did I take the creese? I mean?don't stare at me! Confount you?I'm in a pretty trap." Colonel Cain squirmed and mutterec and writhed. It was not being a pris no 11T7 In mr rvAwflf that, hnth ered him. No; I saw that the genera environment chagrined him. And now some other motive?som< , plan or hope disturbed by my revelation! and hold on him?seemed to distresi him. > "It's too bad;" be muttered, ii troubled tones, "too bad. Where wil the ten thousand?demons! don't stari so exultantly at me. It ain't me you'vt , caught." "Ain't it?" I remarked, incredulously "No." "It looks mightily like It." ? "Looks are deceptive." "And the truth will help you." "Will it? Yes, it will. Say, don'1 , make me dislike you. Don't gloat, i s want to be straight. It ain't that I'n \ afraid of?the murder?for I had n< hand in it. It's the row suspicion wil! j get me in?it's the loss of the?the? some money." l "All hinging on this same crime?" , "Yes." , "From whom?" Coinnfil Pain naiispd. Ha urnsft to hli i feet. Great drops of perspiration madi r his brow clammy. He sighgd dismally. He looked despondent and shook hli i head in a troubled sort of a way. Liko a person unmanned, driven to i : wall, Cain stared blankly, ruefuilj . at me. "Too bad?too bad!" ho mutterec time and again. Then, straightening up, th? olc shrewd fire came into his eyes. "Partner," ho said, with a lingerinf > touch of familiarity in his toi^e, 'let's b< r square.. It will pay both ct us. ion j want to know all about this Seabury ' . case?" "I must!" I replied, firmly. "Then, first and foremost, tell me all vou know." What?* ; I started at the man's audacity. ' "Tell me all yon know?show your t hand." "You are mad!" "Am I? Will you do it?" "Certainly not." j "Then it ain't an honest one. My side is clean and clear, but not a word?not a hint will I give till I know what you ( know!* cried Cain, with wondeiful force. "I'm in earnest?story for story. , When you know mine you won't be sorry that you acted squarely with me." chaFxeexxv. i I studied my man for a minute 01 two. 1 A strange man he was. I tried to an* alyze him, and, amid a score of quick theories, I acted on the most plausible He was in earnestr?pitifully, pathetically in earnest. I had drawn him to > me. Aside from that, some latent and 1 mysterious fear caused him to court continued surveillance rather than escape me by force or craft and not know exactly how the case stood. T- -J--- CaaV.??TT'O AflOA t Q h I in JL utouure ocauui / o mju * UUM blurted out the truth at once. With this 1 man I had done the same. I had not 1 acted deftly, in approval with usual detective methods of intrigue and cunning. My way had produced impressive results and I was gratified. I decided, unwise as It may seem to the reader, to make a confidant of Cain. I told him all?from the start to the fini6h?discoveries, suspicions, theories? every detail did I unfold to the anxious* eyed, engrossed burglar. His brow darkened as I proceeded. He looked eager when I commenced, anxious and hopeless ^vhen I had con* eluded my rapid wcital. "I throw up tha sponge.n His depressed words thrilled me. "You will tell all?" I asked, eagerly. The Colonel did not reply for a minute. He sat 'twisting his hands nervously, knitting his brows, and apparently communing deeply with himself. "Come," I urged, rendered impatient at his silence: "you promised." "I cannot tell all," he began. "Then, you have deceived me?" "No." \bufr - "Silence!" he tried, irritably and almost menaciDgly, "I'm in a fit. I don't confess from iovs of the law, but because I've got to. I'm in a box. In two boxes, in fact. If I go to jail and keep silent, those who aro interested will cover their tracks, disappear, and leave me to bear tho brunt of it. If I > lie or fight or scheme for freedom, I will be so hampered and hunted down that I cannot get the money?the money? 1 the money?perdition! am 1 a drivelling idiot?" I had to smile at the struggles of the entangled bird. 1 "Colonel^ I said, pleasantly, "don't evade?don't try to deceive. Come, man, the truth?the entire truth, and nothing but the truth. It's fair?it's manly. I don't believe yon guilty? there, I'm honest. You are implicated, but not very conbcieuce-stricken. Tell the truth." "In part?" "All!" "in part. Just so much as I have to. Now, look here, Doctor"?ho knew me in my true identity now from my recent straightforward story?"as I say, I've no love for tho law. I'd like to see the ? aoOA Knfftthnms HAATI curet'u ccauux j v.000 <vu ?.v.r In oblivion." | "Naturally." "Not from personal fear, however, but from what I know; because it will bring pain ai d regret to you when yon have hunted down the real criminal." I started at these Impressive words. ' What could he mean? Did he vaguely spspect my interest ,ln the beautiful Leonore? Was this new threat that chilled my soul really a suggestion of evidence of criminality on her part. Every followed out thread in the dust seeped to lead m<> invariably to this same distressing denouement "Even so," I murmured, faintly, "the 1 truth must coine out" "Well, I fehall tell it," announced Cain, i "That is, a part of it?that is, all I have to?that is, provided??" i "Well?" "Provided I am guaranteed immunity and freedom." ? "How can I tell?" "You must!" cried Cain, resolutely. "You must agree that, if I prove my innocence,* I will not be further trou bled." "Well, say I do?" 1 "And, further, that no one shall be arrested?no move made?until I have had opportunity to see parties interested ' in the case." , "What parties?" I demanded, mysk tified. i "That is my affair." "But why should you see them?" "To protect myself." How?" i "Rather, to secure my reward." "For whatr?murder?" i "No; for8ilcnce." "Silence?" > "Yes." "Then you are not an accomplice?" "No, sir!" i "What then?" ?A witnesB." "Yon saw the crime?" "I did." [ *Yon saw assassin?" "As plainly as I saw you." "You witnessed the crime, and the assassin saw you?" , "No." i "Nor suspected your presence?" "No." I "You mystify me," I gasped. "Do I?" smiled Cain. I "Yes." "I thought I would." "Explain yourself." 1 "Well, then, I saw the murderer?I saw the deed; and another, too, wit? nessed it." i "Incrcdible!" a "A man." "Some accomplice of yours?" i "No: we both saw it. He was no - ^- " _ ! -con. X party w 1 %/?uu i>ucu tu picvcun *?* ? 3 ing, he sought to protect the assassin." ? "You amaze me!" "He tried to bribe me to silence." "And you agreed?" "I did." "For $10,000?" "Exactly." "Not yet paid?" t "Not yet paid." [ "Who was he?" i "His name," replied Colonel Cain, i calmly, "was Theodore Parker. " 1 "Great heavens!" I was forced to ejac ulaie aloud by the quick emotions that surged in my excited mind; "Dr. Seabury's son?" CHAPTER XXVI. The astounding revelation of the burg1 lar unmanned me. I stared at him in ? dismay. I seemed in a flash to glance at the truth and guess at all the motives snderlying its workings. I That truth represented the certain confirmation of past suspicions. Theo4 dore Parker, alias Theodore Seabury, f had deceived me. Ho had affirmed that he had not witnessed the murder of hi' I father, and here was a credible because an accidental witness who disputed and I disproved his fals^ statement I Again came another complication. Neither of these men had taken a hand in the killing of Qr. Seabury. I felt sure of fi I believed every word that Cain spoke. Confronted on the witness-stand, one would surely acquit the other and justice would-be forced to credit them. Only each would be forced to explain the motives that bad brought them to the tragic scene. And tell the name of the real murderer of Dr. Seabury. Who was it that had done this deed of blood? My brain reeled, my heart was chilled, as I thought of it. I dared not trust myself to linger with these overpowering emotions that possessed me with Cain watching me penotratingly. , "Come," I said, arising to my feet, "we must leave here." He scowled dreadfully. Leave here?" he repeated, vaguely* auspiciously. "Yes." 'Where for?" 'Never mind that, Colonel Cain," 1 *aid. "Tou cannot dream how interested I am In all this strange case, i have been helped, enlightened by you. I owe you my gratitude. I shaJl prove'it to you. I want you to come with me to my office." Cain started. "Do you comprehend what that mean& fcr me?" he answered. "No." 'Recognition on the public street, it wo met a policc officer." "We must evade them." 'But later?" Come with me I promise to arrangt everything." ''But I do not choose to come." You must!" my?" YoU will accompany mc?not as a prisoner?as a friend. I trust you?I believe in you?burglar as you are Believe me,* I continued, earnestly, "it Is the best, the only way. All you care for is that you do not get arrested?" "Yes." "Nor become publicly implicated in the Seabury case?" "That's it" "And that you are allowed an opporttK nity to secure the money you referred to?" "Exactly." . "I agree to it all." "Can vou do what yon agree?" "Yes." "You promise?" "I swear it, provided yon do as I say.* 4, a v ?i. - a "ADt wiittt yuu aajri "It will not bo difficult. This crime must bo explored?tlio assassin must bo apprehendod. Chooso to go with mo as a friend, an equal, safe and frco, or to be bunted down by detectives, dragged to Jail, forced to confess, and, possibly, implicated in the crimo. Cain looked sullon and uncomfortable. "I prefer to trust myself in your hands," he said, finally. "You are wise. I shall not be false to you or my promlso." We readied my office two hours later. Untravcrsed thoroughfares and a close cab enabled a Journey untroublod by the police. When we again left the office Cain wore an effectual disguise. "Where are you taking me?" he asked, as we proceeded down the street. "Nowhere into danger," I replied. He walked quietly by my lido. I wa* silent, uncommunicative. I was in a fever of strange anxiety. There wero questions I longod to ask him, but feared ?ah, how shudderidgly I dreaded! "Hollo!" bo ejaculated at last; "there?" He had come to a suddeu halt |TQ HE COlCTJKTTip.j Shell Fish as Food. Some of the different varieties of ahell fish are considered choice articles of food. They have a nutritive value a lit^ - ? J aaaMtlAB 4a fl O V* V??lf lie icon IUU BVIUOWUBb niuiuu HI HUH) viav are not so easily digested. Oysters are the most easily digested of this class of fooa; next come lobsters and crabs, and lastly mussels. For invalids and dyspeptics this class of food should be excluded from the diet, with the exception of oysters, and thp&e for a person of weak digestion should be eaten raw, or merely wai med through, as cooking renders the oyster tough and more difficult of digestion. The raw oyster agrees with almost every one, although a few find themselves obliged to discard the hard part, eating only the soft part. The hard part if muscle, which binds the two half shells together, and the soft is the liver. The oysters of America and Europe differ greatly. European oysters are smaller and have a coppery flavor. Our Southern oysters are larger than the Northern. They are dredged along the coast and transferred to oyster beds in creeks close to shore, where they fatten. In London oyster salesmen sometimes keep oysters for a few days in water to wbich oatmeal has been added, for tbe purpose of rendering them more delicate and of better flavor. When out of season, during spawning time, the oyster is soft and milky and not fit to be eaten. Tbe lobster and crab are not suitable for an invalid or one of weak stomach. Of the two, though, the lobster is less likely to hurt. The flesh in the clawB is the most digestible portion. It is more delicate than that in the tail, which is firmer. The soft part in the shell,1 which is the liver, is much more likely to do harm than the claws. The gills, which are sometimes called "dead men's fingers," should be avoided, but are really not poisonous, as they are sometimes declared to be. Crabs should be carefully cleaned before cooking. They often unexpectedly disagree with a healthy stomach. This is probably due to garbage, on wbich they feed. The purchaser should be care to see that the lobsters or crabs are fresh, for they begin to putrefy almost as soon as dead. When canned lobster is used, on opening, the contents of the can should be entirely removed, for if a portion be left in the can it is liable to contamination. In some parts of Europe much more commonly than in this country muse els are used as food. They have been quite ' *- > : A 4?fo1 irequenny uuieu n? ^uuuuuus, auu m?i cases bare been reported from using them cooked as well as raw. Shell Jish sometimes cause an itching skin eruption. Nausea, vomitting and giddiness are sometimes the indications that they disagree with those who partake of them. Persons who suffer from gout or rheumatism seem most liable to bad effects fr?m eating lobsters or crabs.?New York Mail and Express. j?. ?rm>Te Tiemnant. Only eight of the 69,000 Frenchmen who fought under Napoleon at "Waterloo are now alive anu id franr.*. WWl ik Difference: Away back in me year 131a eggi sold Id London at 3 pence for twj dozen. 1 A TILLAGE ON ICE. THE WINTER WAY OP CATCHINC FISH IN SAGINAW BAY, Movable Shanties Utilized by th< Fishermen?Spearing the Fish Through the Ice?A Picturesque Occupation. 1 MONO the man] ? )ff J wayB in which th< (/ * spirit of progress JMrf P "ah I has manifested it i w^< Bays Franl Leslie's, thcrei 'sKinone ?* moM *n terest to the fol jt u lowers of IzaakWal I* jtfy ft ton **8n l^e m?d f jm '.HEfl-V^TV ern method o 1 1 tt^J li n \\. sPearing the w*b lL??Cb! ^ ' trout. In forme: years the fisherman, after cutting a hole through the ice, would lie fiat upon hit stomach with a blanket over his head to exclude the light, and in that uncomfortable position watch for the fish to make their appearance. A slight improvement over that crude method wai the headless barrel into which the fisher. man-squeezed himself, using the blanket T? I J A A . - i? X pi 'HI'"'Ml III 1 ' ) | /, ( 4 ' ; vj . . ft u DBCOYTNi for the same purpose. Now we find the fisherman comfortably housed in a snug shanty while following the. highly exciting and ofttimes profitable sport of spearing through the ice. The shanty, which is often the exclusive abding-place in winter of the fisherman, is easily hauled here and then about the ice by means of a hand-sleigh. The shanty of itself is very light, being made of thin lumber and covered oi lined with tarred paper to exclude the light, as well as the rigorous weather oi winter. In one end is a miniature sheetiron or oil stove, which easily furnishet all the beat necessary to make the litth house entirely comfortable for the in mate. In the other end ia a trapdooi through the floor. When this is removed it reveals an opening which must be placed directly over the hole in the ice. The few rays of light that would enter the house around the base are ex . eluded by banking with snow. Witt shanty located, one has but to take i seat within and commence "decoying,' as illustrated. For a decoy, a weightec wooden fish in imitation of a small herring ia lowered in the water to a poinl about ten feet below the ice. Constant moving of the decoy attracts the passing trout. It is quite important to so mani palate the string as to keep the decoj away from the curious trout, which soon gets into position where the spear can be brought into successful action. Landing the trout, as shown by the illustratration, is next in order. This is mosl easily and generally accomplished bj stepping oat of the shanty door anc drawing the spear after you. The weight of the trout varies fron five to twenty-five pounds. As in othei branches of the sport, the largest fish al / LANDING ways gets away, and thus it is that w< frequently bear old fishermen tell ol seventy-five pounders wbicb flirted with their decoys but missed connection with their aharp-tined sptars. In favorable winters spearing on Saginaw Bay furnishes employment fox several hundred men. As many as eight hundred shanties and buildings, with occupants numbering about fifteen hundred, have been stationed upon the ice at one time. Btores and saloons have even found sufficient patronage from bay fishermen to encourage their establishment at convenient points. Tne daily catch of the fishermen was often quite remunerative, as it represented a fioan. value of from fire to ten dollars. Buyers from Bay City packing houses would call as often as three times a ~sek, purchase his stock at the shanty door and then return to make shipments to Eastern and Southern markets. There is more or less danger connected with winter fishing upon Saginaw Bay. High winds may capsize the shanty if not properly anchored, or they may send the vast body of ice out into the lake unknown to the occupant of the little house. The latter often occurs during tbc night without the fisherman's knowledge. In the daytime the spearer can detect the movement of the ice by simply watching a marker dropped to the bottom of the bay. A bright piece of tin, a broken cop, or anything of that nature can be seen on the bottom in water forty feet in depth. The fisherman } is almost always supplied with a compass, so that he can make land under an unfavorable circumstance, such as a snowsquall in which all traces of shore are ? lost to view. When the ice is free trem snow and glaring, and a shanty has been tipped over by the wind, there is no tell* ing when or where it will stop. The fishermen have had some thrilling expej riences during such mishaps, especially 9 when it so happened that the door of I the shanty was next to the ice. In this . event it becomes necessary for the spearer c to make his escape through the aperture B in the floor. This task, with the shanty . driven by a fifty-mile wind, is by no . means an easy one. It is frequently the . cate that a fisherman, to make more sure . of his life during a sudden breaking up f of the ice, is equipped with small boat, r life-preserver and necessary apparatus to r enable him to reach shore. , ?' , In Almost Extinct Bird. > The link in the chain between the past and the present has in at least one case oeen estaoiianea. baentists one ana &u agree tbat the apteryx, a bird now ali most extinct, found only in the southern portions of the Island of New Zealand, i ; is bat a dwarfed specie* of the famous ~!a- > r f lr 9 THE FI8H. ' moa, stories of whose immence size and strength have been handed down by tribe lore and in the skeleton specimens to be found in parts of New Zealand and Australia. The moa was at least as large as the giraffe and possessed kicking propensities not equalled even by the ) proverbial raule. The apteryx, two specimens of which are now on erhibi; tion in the park museum, a*e very r strange birds indeed. They are about s one foot in height. I As the name indicates they are wing less, at least what little wings they have i are hidden well beneath their feathers, j and are entirely useless as wings. Their THE NEW ZEALAND AFTEBYX. r 1 feathers are >o fine that they resemble I hair in texture. Their legs are very i short, bat they are capable of attaining r a high rate of speed when close pressed - and ose their diminutive legs with great I THE FISH. s rapidity. The strangest thiug about the [ birds is their bill, which is very long i and cylindrical in form. The nostril, in. i stead of being at the upper end of the bill, is set at the point of the upper portion. The reason of this strange ar rangement is obvious when the mode by which they obtain food is considered. They find a likely spot where earth worms are liable to be concealed. They ; then stamp their feet with great force, i and placing their ear close to the ground listen intently. If signs are favorable down goes the long bill into the earth and after a little burrowing it is with3 3 - ? ? > o vnrm UrawU auu ginnjo uiwjo uj, _ The nostril in the end of the bill enables them to smell the worms within, a radius of four inches:?San Francisco Chron,I icle. A Bed Which Cost $3500. The state bedchamber (in the new Waldorf Hotel in New York), although not of great size, is the most costly room in the whole house. It is furnished and. decorated in the style of Francis I. The four-posted bedstead, with its canopy, is an exact reproduction in walnut of the * - * original in tne museum at viuuj. *uo cost of this bed alone was $3500.?New York Times. The Hoosac tunnel, Mauachuiettl, ie the longest in the United Stvtes, < Farm Fantj W?rt. As farmers' wives and daughters, w have learned to prize the day of small '' things. So we have set a value oa d?J horning days at Greybrook farm, an3 speculate not a little on the headgear of . Holfltein, Hereford. Durham and Short* | horn as they are driven past to the dehorning pans. > Many of the pretty, decorative and really useful articles on sale at thl various stores can be made witb very little trouble on the farm, if you speak (< for the horns before the family dogs get them. Some of the articles displayed as hatracks, handsome footstools, key-racks^ cornucopias, wisk-broom holders an amongst the few. Any of these will ifr tail for fl and upwards. KEY BACK. We begin by boiling the horns, I whole kettleful at once, antil the pith can be removed, then, letting them cool somewhat, tapping them against .1 J post tovempty their contents.: The larger ones we make into cornucopias; - J |. and so we notch them aroand, white | soft, in tiny, even notches, with a sharp penknife. These are also suitable for . pea jock plumes or winter bouquet noiaers. If any of the horns hare ridges 01 , rings on, it is better to cut or level them with a sharp knife before scraping them. with glass. Take broken pieces of glav and scrape downward from the tip of theJ horn, then sandpaper rigorously, and) < finish with emery powder. Polish with a chamois skin. . For a key-rack, suspend by a tiny' brass chain, and screw hooks to hang ; the keys on. Perhaps the nibest article, and the one that will repay yoa the most will be the footstool. For this choose three horns, as much alike as possible in color, fordo, curve and length; it yoa can get the horns from three-year>6ld Holsteim, do so. Afteri thoroughly scraping and preparing them. take pine wood cubes or blocics the diameter of the horns, whittle them per-) fectly round, drive them firmly into the; horns and tack with small brads. Now take a round piece of wood an inch thick and about the sizs of a large dinner- M plate, make three Urge holes in the cen-' ~7T ^4 IB rH^S GLAS8 AJTD PLU8H COVER JOE BACK, f ' ?| ter the size of the pest-laden horns, fcover* one Bide of the board with dark cloth and tack up over the rim, nearly cutting the cloth away from the holes; drive in the' pegged horns, letting the bulge of the horns be towards the middle, then aawj off closely the surplus pegs on the otheri side of the stool and nail them securely, by using wire nails driving them in slant* ing through the horns and edge of circular holes. Do not have the holes so closq that thfiy will split out the wood inter* veiling. Pad the top thickly with exj ?J ? l?o?? nf Mttnn btttinffi I'CUIUr auu a ihjv? wk www ? .? 0 f cover all with cottoa cloth nailed neatly \ to the edge of the circular board, and afterwards cover with plash. We asod bright green plush, with a band ol maroon velvet around the rim of the stool and fastened there with brax headed tacks driven closely together. Of course choice can be made of a cover of crazy patch finished off with adhesive gimp. But one made like the above wat voted handsome and durable bj all whe saw it. J Another article is the hat or towel ' rack. Required, a piece of broken look-J ing glass, any size or shape (cbieflV triangle, as that is usually the shape broken glasses fall into), two horns, a thin chair spindle well sandpapered, and nnir color vou choose to match ?j ? boms or plusb, acid a foundation board any shape you choose, long, oral or an elongated diamond. Fasten the piece of glass if triangular in form by narrow pieces of tape nailed across its points to ? the board with tacks. Let it be in the middle and bore two holes at a conreni' ent space on each side of the glass; let the space correspond with the length of the spindle. Cover the board with plush,. I _ HAT OK TOWEr. RACE. ?^ first cutting an oral the desired shape for the glass, turning the edges neatly , in and catching them down with invisible stitches. Fill the horns with the de-< 4 sired wooden pegs, and connect ine iwoj with the spindle by boring round holegj in the sides of tbe horns facing each: other; let tbe horns curvc upward. Fit securely into the holes left for them on each side of the glass, draw the pluab neatly over tbe board and tack firmly on the back of tte board. Line the back ' < with material and suspend by stoat hooks.?Field, Farm and Stockman. j ? Bier Australian Eels. \ A letter writer in Australia speaks of a huge ee), which i& sometimes met witb in tbe lakes of tbe Interior of that conn* try. His first introduction to them war somewhat original, tie had been swim ming Dear the shore in a beautiful se4 eluded bay, and feeliug fatigued seated himself on a log ^nearly' as large as hut body, which seemed to be resting on a ^ pebbly bottom. . Suddenly the log slipped from under him and moved , gracefully away. It proved to be an eel fifteen feet in Icoeth.? Cbicagp Times* J