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LOVE AND HUM/IN NATURE, Tale of a Short ConrtsMp oc tlie Mississippi River. BY JOHN HABBERTON. CH A IT Kit I. Jack Brewster was a Yankee wh thought he knew everything, yet h knew only two things well?honey am heredity. He got and 6old more hone; from a given number of swarms of bee any other man in his native State M many reports of county and Stat fairs still prove, and his honey was th flw?etest and clearest that ever reache< the markets of Boston and New York He knew what to plant wid when t< plant it in order to have a great dea besides chance bloom for his bees to de 2>end upon, so besides getting more boney than anyone else he never lost i warm of bees by a strike against poo: browsing ground and a consequent ml gration In search of better. As for heredity, -why. human natur< was almost all he found worth studying after he left school. An early copy it his writing book at school had in' formed him that "The noblest Btudy o: mankind is man," and his father hac Informed him, as the result of persona experience, that "Whoever had made uj that line had a very level head, s< Jack had successively and successfully ized up every man in the village befor< he himself was old enough to follow ? plow. A? he gained years and knowl edge, he was taught by reason and instinct that woman, being of the earn* Secies as man, was also a noble study e soon informed himself, with som< eurprise and not a little indignation that woman was the harder study o: the two; at least, he made more ml6takes than had been his lot while con . ^mnloHnfi tha four men anrl linvs n' . --W- - his native village. The same rules die cot seem to work; the girls who oughi to be nicest, according to masculinc standards, did not amount to anything at any rate, tney were not particularij interesting, yet others, whose faces and features wouldn't have promised anything in a man, proved delightful company. In his desire to study mor? carefully he made his acquaintance ae olose as possible, and some girls were so mistaken as to his intentions that, when disappointed, they had theii fathers or big brothers call Jack to account in a way that caused his bones to ache for some weeks. His attempts to explain were laughed to scorn or sworn at,- 60 when his third difficulty oi the kind was manifestly impending, the well-meaning but blundering youth shook the dust of his native town froc his feet, and made haste to bury himB0it and his sorrows in Boston. But change of base did not change his business and mental bent. Although he took the first business chance that offered, he often made a great detour on 01b VV ilj UvtWCCiJ umuc uuu uucuuiu^ bouse to take in the streets of commisBlon merchants who dealt in honey, and be lingered critically and lovingly over the samples exposed to view. He Btndied people, too, though afar off. He did not know the family history of any one whom he met in business or on the streets, so he had to content himself with studying physiognomy. There must have been method in his madness, for his employers found him quite uselul in "sizing up" new customers, and be had a promising future before him, when a chance nowspaper paragraph caused him to leave at short notice and bnrry to the South. It was not a Question of heredity that oaused this move, it was the report of a. new wrinkle in the honey business. Up in the New Jiamshire bills, where Jack was born and brought up, th| summers are short and the winters lonir. so the bees have a short workinc ' 'season and must have a large part of their harvest left for their own sustenance during the winter, Here came a story, however, of a fellow who put up a lot of hives on a big bcow, took ttjem away down the Mississippi below l<ew Orleans, about the end of February, where everything came early into bloom, and had himself towed about a hundred miles each week, thus following the blooming season and giving the bees the best chanco that nature could provide for creatures whose instinct it vraB to work so long as thero was anything to work upon. The plan sounded sensible; if any one could make money In that way he, Jack Brewster, with his unequaled knowledge of bees and their ^ays, could make more. Three weeks after the idea struck him Ja?k had a scow well loaded with bee-hives and was moored to the levoe of the lower Mississippi, within easy scent of a great orange grove, and wondering why he had never had the sense to think out the new system for himself. The bees attended strictly to business; so did Jack, so long as there -was anything for him to do, yet ho found most of his time at his disposal and nothing to do with. it. At first, as he still knew everything, he determined to do missionary work and teach the natives everything they neodod to know. They weren't a bit like New Hampshire people and didn't do anything in tho way he had been taught to do it, which, of course, was the only proper way. A few endeavors in this direction taught him a great deal, at much cost of paHence to the good-natured natives; he speedily learned, too, that New Hampshire dash and nervousness were entirely out of place if he expected to keep his health and temper, so he dropped back into his old habit of studying human nature. Not many people Jive directly on the banks of tho Mississippi, and the few who are there know all about their neighbors, like the inhabitants of small neighborhoods elsewhere: so Jack foon heard all the koselp or whatever locality he and" hl6 honey-makera chanced to be visiting for the week. The talos did not differ much from those he had heard at home erver since he was a boy; they could all be traced back to the few sentiments which underlie pretty much everything that human nature does or has done since the world began, but because the dialect arJ surroundings were different Jack 6ron determined, like every other modern Yankee who had gone South, to write a book about it. There certainly were some differences, * however, in the people be now saw and those from whom he came, and the one which impressed Jack most forcibly was that the women wore superior to the linen. rtmng men of fine physique and ihlgh spirits were scarce, and not for the Jfew England reason In elmllar oasesall gone Somewhere to eeek their fortune. On the other hand, almost all the young women whom he saw were ec pleasant to the eye that he wished he might see them again and often. The ? n-.i ??onn ahniit whinh hf It>uujt.'uu nus uw? w?v. ? _ .could talk freely with the natives, yei fry rolling it around his mind for som< time he succeeded in polishing it unti le felt justified in trying it on a new acquaintance in about this shape: "Men along the river toll me they frequently have chill6 and fever, and thai ahs climate don't allow the ?eo to very active, yet I can't see any slgnThat the younger women suffer in that way.'" "No," said Sam Mazzitt, the man addressed, as he motioned the visitor to a seat on the log on -which he was resting in front of his own door. "I reckon"? here ne paused to puff contemplatively 1 on his pipe?"I reckon the Lord thinks Bomebody down here ought to have a chance to be spry." I Jack made a mental note of this for 1 his intended book, and then doubted whether it would do. "Fact Is," Sam went on, after a little more reflection, "gals ain't out in the woods an' swamps as much as men, an' they don't drink"?puff?"nor chaw"? ' cuff?"nor smoke; leastways, not many j B* PAUSED TO purr CONTElfPLATIVXLT Al! HIS PIPE. > of them takes to 6mokin' till they've ? been disappointed in love. Say, stran5 ger, where's your own pipe? I'll git a ? coal of Are out here for to light it" Then ho turned toward the house and shouted "Lizzie!" ? "Please don't trouble yourself," said Jack, hastily. "I don't smoke." s The man looked sidewise quickly and . suspiciously. f "What's that? Don't smoke? Well, some don't; but it's pooty bad for 'em in these parts. Tubbacker keeps off the f chills an' fever." i Jfcck was about to unfold a theory, t which he had formed 6ince his arrival > on the river, that tobacco, which every; one seemed to use, was probably one of r the causes of malarial complaints, by I making the liver torpid, when he heard a voice saying: "What do you want of me, pop?" Jack turned and saw In the doorway of the log house a specimen of that portion of the population that had seemed to him specially interesting. It was a * girl in faded calico dress; but Jack wondered what the young fellows in his i town at home would h87e said could i they have 6een her. There were some very good-looking girls in that town. ' Jack and the other boys had often looked ? at' them admiringly for an hour at a time, when they should have been listening to the 6ermon which the minister was preaching that self-same hour, but none of them were like this girl. Yet 6he was not different from many whom he had chanced to see during his short trips ashore?merely a rich qllve complexion, large, warm, dark eyes, and a great deal of black hair, with a head set firmly on a shapely neck. How could she be daughter of the thin, sallow, wrinkled, awkward man boside him? She must have inherited her good looks and fleure from her mother. Jack resolved that he would Improve the chance ' acquaintance, if possible, to see if there J might not be something in the idea of ; inheritance by sex. "It's nothin', Lizzie, gal," said the [ father; "I was goin' to git you to fetch but a coal to light the stranger's pipe, 1 out it seems he don't smoke. Say, my 1 friend, I know it ain't any of my busi- ' nees, but didn't you ever smoke?" "Oh, yes," said Jaok with a laugh. ' "Once, when I was about 12 years old, , I smoked about an inch of a cigar. It answered me for life; I can taste it ' now, or whenever I think of it." "Oh, I see," said the man, with a ! kind though pitying look; cigars ain't 6afe^ If you'd bef?un on a pipe, now, , you'd havo been gettin' as much oom1'ort out of tubbacker by this time as me. Meanwhile, th6 girl had come from the house and stood in front of her ' father, listening to the conversation 1 end looking at the visitor without any , show of embarrassment. This seemed odd to Jack. If up in New Hampshire ' he had stopped at so common and shab- , by a place to speak to a native who did J not know him, the women of the family would have regarded him from afar oiT, and looked uncomfortable if they chanced to meet him face to face.- But 2irl '.ooked him full in the face, as ] pleasantly and with as little concern as .t if he had been an old acquaintance, and t said: f rop gets bo mucn comiort out 01 nis i pipe that I like to Bee him smoke." Jack quickly determined, that he 1 would like to talk with a girl like that? 1 a girl who made bo little fuss about get- i ting acquainted. He had already found 1 that formal introductions were not in 1 fashion among the humbler residents < along the river, and that no one eeemod 1 to have any distrust of a man who at- 1 tended to hie business and did not cr>n- i cern himself unduly with other people's < affairs. It was as delightful as it was t strange?the way of Southern girls, or i euch of them as he had met, in talking to chance acquaintances; they were as frank and free aB if among old friends, they did not seem on guard against possible Impudence and any impulse toward flirtation seemed far from them. Was this a result of heredity? He thought it must be, yet how could it have come about? He would look into it; he would have plenty of time on his hands before his bees had got all they could out of the Louisiana lowlands. "Supper's ready, pop," said the girl, "hadn't you better bring your friend in?" "Of course," said the head of the house, knocking the ashes out of his pipe and aiising, "Come along and have a bite with us, stranger." "I am very much obliged," said Jack, "but if I am to enjoy your hospitality let me introduce myself. My name is Brewster; I'm down herewith a boatload of bees, making honey for Northen markets." "Thatso?" asked the host, so much surprised that he forgot to offer bis name in return. "That's queer. Don't they have any bee-trees up that way, i I'd like to know?" i Jack thought not; he had forgotten : that there were such things as beetrees, though now he remembered to have read of them. He was about to explain the shortness of' the Northern 1 6eason and to tell of his method of work > when he found himself within the house 1 and in the presence of a woman about a6 old and thin and sallow as her hus uauui "Mother," said the host, "this Is Mr. Brewster, from up North." 1 "Glad you dropped in, sir," Baid the 1 -woman. "Set down." 1 The supper was exactly the eame as 1 Jack had seen at all other evening meals that he had been on tables in the lowto lands?fried pork, fried flsh, fried bread, 5 and coffee, which he felt sure would I have been fried if any way could have I . been devised for preparing coffee in a frying pan. On his boat, thanks to a lot of stuff which he had brought down from t the North, there was frequent change ! in the bill of fare. In hi6 New England home be had feejn taught that_much ''r" . '-r?'* ' / " >' \ , . . fried food was unhealthy, yet, right opposite him at a table sat a girl whose complexion would have been the envy of all the New England girls he knew. Could It be that heredity had accustomed the Southern physique to that sort of diet He would make a note of that for future thought. Meanwhile, he determined that in this humble home, in which not a book was visible, he might hope to repay hospitality by offering some glimpses of a higher civilizatihn, bo he began to talk about the land from which he came, Somehow, though, his remarks did not seem to excite any curiosity; the family listened respectfully, but that waa all; it was only when he asked questions that the conversation became gen* eral. "Have you lived here long, sir?" he asked the host. -T* 1 T t A It. , ? XiVei ntuvo j. iuuuu n who ueie, nan the reply, "except the time I was off in the war. I belonged two or three hundred miles np the river, but I got down this way one spring, an' somehow I wasn't ever able to git away again; eh, old lady?" The wife nodded assent, and Jack wondered how it could have been. He ventured the remark that the land eeemed rioh all along the river bank, and he supposed it was as good on tub host's farm as anywhere else. "Can't say muoh about the farm,* said the host, with the shade of a laugh, "seein' I don't raise muoh but a little corn an' tubbacker. I was flshin' an' huntin' when I first come down, an' flshin' an' huntin' when I first met her, an' I've je6t naturally been flshin' an' huntin* ever since. Seemed to be a land of sweets when I first got into it, an' it's been goin' on seemin' that way ever since." "I don't wonder," said Jack, for the land was affecting him in the same way. The fragrance of orange, magnolia and the many odorous shrubs and grasses filled the air all the time he was ashore, the bouquet of his boatload of hives enveloped him when he was afloat; life wa6 exuberant all around Mm, while the girls?cool-headed though he was? they, too, seemed to suffuse with sweetness all the atmosphere about them. Even the smoke of the native tobacco pipe was sweet Jp.ck had detested pipe-smoke at home, and had often lost part of an exciting debate in the village .store by going outside for fresh air, but hare the odor of burning perique was iragrance to his nostrils. No sooner was the meal ended than the host again lit his pipe and the two men fell Into chat on the one conversa "THIS IS MB. BnEWSTEE." tlonal stand-by of native-born Americans?politics. The visitor soon discovered that he could teach his host aothing on this topic, and that the tromen also talked well on the same subject?a subject which Jack's mother md sisters had always declared too tiresome to De enaurea. now oouia a man so intelligent be satisfied to live so plainly? "Have you many neighbors?" Jack isked. "Yes?ye6, quito a heap of 'em," was the reply. "There's fiaper, up the bend, about a mile away, and Truigg, a couple 5l miles down. Oh, yes; neighbors mough to keep ue from bein' lonesome. Then the store's only four miles off; there's always sure to bo somebody there. Then we see all the Bteamboats that go by; they're a powerful sight of jompany." Jack stole a glance at Lizzio; her parents might be contcnt to lazily dejay in a lone cabin on the river bank, but girls were not made that way?at least, not such girls as ho had known. But Lizzie's fa.?e was as placid and contented as if she hnd not *an ungratifled longing. He would And out about that, before his next iaovo up the river. "It's always pleasant here, except when it rains," said the girl. "There's always something new out of doors. f - J A., 1LI-1. T ?... t op ana momer turn*. ? uujjia iu gu iu school, and sometimes I do, but it's an iwful long walk, and it's real hard to jit indoors for hour6 -when there's so nuch going on outside." Jack unconsciously looked through .he window to see what it might be that ivas "going on." There was muchactivty on some of the large plantations he lad strolled out to, a mile or more from :ho river, but little c.ould be expected lirectly on the stream; the Father of Waters has a way of carrying off with lim large slices of his own banks, so jobody cares to live near the edge if he jan build his home farther back. The scenery near the house was not invitng; there were plenty of cottonwood ?*vc!fni\ aiu,* kbobd the bosk and 'sycamore trees, but whereabouts along the river were there not an equal number within sieht? Suddenly the girl sprang out to the front of the hou9e. .lack followed her with his eye6 and saw a young man with a gun sauntering by and looking toward the house. "Now I seo what is going on," said .Tack to himself, and somehow the information made him feel sober and weakened his conversational powers. The girl soon returned, followed by the young man, who entered the house without removing his hat and remarked: "Evenin'." "Evenin'," replied the hostess. "Evenin', Bill," echoed the host. "Always room for one more. Thi6 is our friend Mr. Brewster, from up North." The young man nodded lazily to the guest, leaned his gun against the wall, and drew a chair to the table, putting his hat beneath it. Lizzie began to Berve the remains of the supper and Jack tried to lose interest in the couple. He did not see what business it was of hie, &ny wftyi if_a splendid girl like that V -v r . , : chose to throw herself away on such a slouching, gawky fellow when she might have the society of a more intelligent man, he was sure she was welcome to gratify her own tastes. He had heard of wild roses before, but he never had learned that they ever came to much. He didn't care even to remain within hearing distance of ouch a couple of fools, so he invited his host to stroll down and look at the bee-boat, which was moored half a mile down the river. i*o ub coarnruED.] RTf.T.TflTOTTK TJ FGATYF1W1 J -f J ' J V1JUV v/ V 'TM1 - " AA 1 Vl? THE LOBD'S LEADINGS. Nothing is more natural than the deep desire of the young Christian and of the Christian past youth, but earnest and loving with the love of the tried and the true, to be *up and doing for Christ Often this desire is so peremptory and so insistent that it blinds one to the fact that the Lord's work is here, as well as yonder, in our own kitchens, streets and drawing-rooms, as well as on the outly- , ing post of service. A sweet young girl, wistful and eager to fill every day with some blessed and direct 1 work for Jesus, was one day walking on a commonplace err.tnd near her own house. A stranger paused to inquire the way, and tho information was courteously given. Then, ' to the girl's heart, not too much occupied 1 with its own concerns to be impressed with the want of another, came the thought that the woman who had asked the question was aged, looking feeble and bewildered, and | bope the marks of poverty. The girl turned retraced her steps, found the woman and took her to the place she sought. It was a half-hour out of her day and she discovered in thnf e. that thft Mtrn.nirer.iust dismissed from a hospital, had come from her own home to seek and save a deeply tempted soul, a soul in extremity. The young girl took the ministry on her herself, a ministry of love, care and time that extended over months, but in the end the soul found peace. This was a leading of the Lord. We may not, perhaps, be able to invest with much glamour of romance a mission of the Lord to hard-working Mary, bending over her tubs in our own laundry. Even to go a Utile farther.it seems fine: to leave home and endure hardness in some circumstances, extending relief and showing compassion to the poor and the wretched in a crowded city neighborhood, than to give companionship to an aged relative sitting alone by our own lire. Both kinds of work are right and are the Lord's but we should be very sure of the Lord's leading when we choose between them. Are we quite as ready to li^e ic the radiant joyou9ness of Christ's realized love and constant presence in our own village as in a distant lieid < xs our own urea latner, a little cross and fault-finding after a wreary day at business, as much an object of tender solicitude in our eyes as somebody's le6S worthy and very disreputable father who lounges around saloons, and does no work that be can help, but for whom a mission, properly sets wide its doors of blessing ? Understand, I am not speaking one word against the home mission, or the city mission, or the foreign mission work, all of which I dearly love. Only, for some of us, the lord's leadings are not in these directions, but are more strictly limited to the little brother needing help with his Latin lesson, the fragile mother with an aching head on her pillow, the friend gay of manner and genial of temper, who is in danger of drifting into evil associations. On the other hand there are those who are called, sternly and strongly, to go forth, out into the world, up into the New England valley,among the bills where the candle of faith burns feebly and the churches languish for laok of enthusiasm out into the pathways of sorrow and the purlieus of ein, over the ocean to the heathen. If it be a God's call, and you heed it, wherever it lead it will lead to blessedness. SPIRITUAL LOCKJAW. Religion does not consist in talking, but all who have had experience in such matters know that he who has no religion of which to speak, is perilously near having none at all. Among other right habits which the young convert should be instructed to look after very sharply is the habit of frequently testifying. It is almost impossible for him to realize its importance. It seems a little thing, a matter of no consequence, whwein inclination or feeling may be safely followed, and if no very convenient opportunity is afforded something which without harm may be entirely neglected. Its omission does not greatly trouble his conscience. It is the easiest thing in the world to slip into silence and listen to those more fluent or forward. I But the effects are baleful, if not absolutely 1 fatal. Emotion denied expression dwindled, just as a fire goes out when all vents are shut. Isactivity here indicates and encourages inactivity elsewhere and everywhere. For lack of exercise strength departs and apfetite is lost. The muscles of spiritual pc;ch unused become rigid, and a sort of lockjaw ensues which is premonitory of death not far away. At a great peril does a Chrisian fail to confess Christ when any kind of a suitable chance is given. His silence is loss in many ways. He loses the stimulus to a more carefufdaily life which that public committal of himself would bring. H? loses the sympathy and prayer of others which the disclosure of bis purpose and temptations would afford. He lose3 more than half the good of the meeting, for no one profits by them as do those who actively contribute to their enrichment. Words alone will not carry one to heaven, but words that come from the heart are more than . half deeds. The mouth i should be opened more frequently for Jesus. SINS, INFIRMITIES AND DUTIE3. It has been said that every act, however minute, is either a duty or a sin. While a most important truth underlies this somewhat startling assertion, we would suggest that at least one class of actions comes under neither of these two categories. Infirmities are certainly'not duties, nor can they prop- : erly be called sins. Unintentional transgressions of the eternal, immutable, perfect law of God, unavoidable wrong doings, are not sins. We are not to blame for them; they require no forgiveness. An infirmity is a coming short of the ideal right; a sin is a coming short of the possible right, of that right doing which is possible to us now with i our fallen, enfeebled, imperfoct powers. It is of great importance that these two things be distinguished?that sins be not called inflrruitias, nor infirmities sins. Very serious harm is done in both directions, but chiefly, we think, by terming sins infirmities. This lowers the standard of attainments, checks aspiration, dulls the conscience, and gives rise to unfounded professions. One of the be?t proofs of real growth in grace is increased tenderness of conscience, increased refinement of moral perception, increased recognition of little sine, particularly those sins of omission which are so commonly overlooked. Few people seem to realize that it is a duty to use all our powers to know the right as well as to do it; that our ignorance is often blame worthy; that it is a sin to be unwatchiul or to live below our privileges, to be making only a little progress when we might make a good deal. If these things were better understood. we should hear le9S frequently the bold declarations as to having been delivered from all sin for such a term of years. INDIA BUBBEH KNEES. Long prayers are not always strong prayers ; still less is vociferation an indispensible or important element in supplication. Nevertheless it may be suggested that the rapidity with which our age moves on has too largely communicated itself to our devotions. Some people?must we not say most people??are no sooner on their knees than they are up again, leading one to the supposition that an India rubber pad has found a place over the knee-cap, giving a natural rebound the instant the floor is touched. This a pity. It is one of the inventions of this marvelous century of which we cannot altogether approve. It is a change which is not an improvement. How can we really renew our I nnnn fho T nrH ^ XVlfrh- f mrUUKlU UUICS3 no niwi UJJVU . out communion with God we are not likely to grow into His likeness. It is true that a certain posture of body is not essential, but that it is greatly helpful all experience shows. I And there is small probability that one will talk much with Jesus by the way unless at . stated intervals there are quiet, deliberate, unhutried conversations with Him in secret. We plead, then, for the disuse of the India rubber knee, and a return to somewhat more ( old-fashioned methods of petition. Bail Police Marksmen. !?The New York City police ar? required to practice shooting at a target.' 8ome of them could not hit a target two and a half feet , square at thirty feet distance in fifteen shots. V-%;; V.':" : ICE YACHTING. MOST EXHILARATING OF ALL WINTER SPORTS. Traveling at the Rate of a Mile a Minute?The Very Apotheosis of Jfotlon?Construction of Ice Yachts. "T" -y E who lias not been ice yaohting is blessed in that he has J | a new eeneation to experi~ ence?something to live for. To ride on the wiDgs of the wind at a rate that sets one dizzv. so crreat is its speed, and yet to ride, or rather to glide without a jolt or a jar, but with a friotionlees smoothness as easy a* a bird's flight, is the very apotheosis of motion. Man has invented nothing to beat this; the exhilaration of a ride in the cab of a cannon-ball locomotive, the zest of sitting behind a team of record-holding trotters, the keener joys of a gallop 'cross conntry, the delights that a free sheet and a flowing wind bring to sailormen, must all yield to the sense of intoxication contained in the flight of the ice boat. Like the house in Whyte Melville's poem, the ice yacht is "not much to look at, but a good 'un to go." Adorn it and fix it np as von. will, it is to the sailing yacht ae the skeleton is to the body?a'mere framework. It is as \ TAKING A SPIN ON primitive and rough and ready in its design as the savage's first "dugout" ?a horizontal piece of timber, a transverse piece of timber and an upright stick, in other words, a keelson, a runner plank with its glossy shoes of cast iron or steel, and a mast for the sails, that are the motive power. Simple as is the main design, there is as muoh care given to the construction and t<> the details of an ice-boat as to a sailing yacht. The rigging ICE BOATING ON THE HUDSON. must be of the best and strongest, and every bit of the frame work has to be put together with as much care as were the component parts of the "one-hoss shay." The ordinary ice-boat weighs well over a ton, and for anything to giveway when a body of such weight is traveling over a hard surface at the rate of twenty or twenty-five miles an hour would be in the highest degree unhealthy for the man sailing it. The braces and bolts that hold the runner plank to the keelson cannot be too strong, though they may be too rigid. An ice-boat sails all the better for a little elacticity in its backbone. The rxwner shoes must be perfectly true ? ? J -i?- - ?1? i> 1AA nil li birttlgut ttiiu luuuu tuo vu vu&u entire outting surface. Some ice yachtsmen, with plenty of money to spend, have their runners cast of Tobin bronze and tined down by machinery. During the past twenty years all ice craft have had three runners. The spread and length of the two forward ones have been gradually increased along with a proportionate decrease in the sail area. Ice yachtsmen have found out that this is the best way to prevent their craft rising and rearing, for an ice yacht develops its highest speed, when close hauled, over smooth, black ice, with its windward forerunner shoe held steady three or four inches above the ice and tho- leeward shoes bearing the brunt of the whole work. The first essential for an ice-boat is the very best seasoned lumber, free from knots or checks. Basswood is generally used, as it combines strength and lightness in an uncommon degree. The backbono of the average boat is about 17 feet 6 by 4 inches, which is brought down to about three inches at AN ICE YACHT B the apper side and 4 by 4 inches at the extreme stem. The two side timbers j are each about 13 feet long by 3 by 3A inches, and are bent into a slight bow. The runner plank, fastened by Jag screws at exactly right angles to tbe Uo/.i-Knno ioi'n n hnat. nf this size about I 12 feet by 14 inches. There are several ice yacht clubs on the Hudson. Pouglikeepsie has the ! Oak Point Club and there is the New ! Hamburg Club. The Orange Lake Club is also iu a flourishing condition. Orange Lake is situated just outside of Newburg, X. Y. f .rv-*'? - :* \ iV * + vSWj^ \'. ' '*. *%r. V . The record for speed in a raoe among Orange Lake Ctybs is held by Br. Kidd's Snowdrift. On January 14 of 801 last year she sailed over what was ostensibly a ten-mile course, but ] what, with taoking, etc., really pa. amounted to eighteen miles of actual ^ sailing, in 17 minutes and 14 seconds, ^ something less than a mile a minute. ^ The race was for a $400 silver cup and open to all ice-boats, without handi- yf cap. It is now held by the Shrews- 00 bury Ice Yacht Olub, of New Jersey, bu whose boat, the Soud, came to Orange it Lake with 1000 feet of canvas and 00 xl i. 1 _X X.J wua. away mo iropuy moBi oovewu ui qj ice yachtsmen. ? th Any man who can sail an ordinary Tj boat can sail an ice yacht if he will js only remember one thing?that the te latter craft cannot sail dead before the wind. A glance at the construc- _ t'on of an ice yacht will show the reason for this. By letting oat the mainsail the boat wonld head herself so quickly as to ontstrip the wind, and thns leave her without any driving power except her own momentum. Moreover, with a yacht making a mile a minnte in the teeth of a snorting northerner there is no time to trim sheets. As yon start with your sheet so yon must finish with it. In iact all ioe yachting is close-hauled work, and . many a yachtsman makes his sheets fast with three half hitches at the beginning of the season, and never gives them aninoh of drift till his [ A SPEEDY ICE-YACHT ON ORANGE I boat is placed out of commission for ta the season. fe Windward work is the ice yaohts- al xr.an'8 forte. He can work right into w] the eye of the wind and still make Ti progress with his boat in a way that ?t wonld make Captain Haff, the Defend- pi er's Captain, wonder if his eyes weren't sii deceiving him., J< MEMORIAL TO MEH OF THE PRESS. Monument to Be Erected at Crampton's Gap on South Mountain. The memorial gateway at Crampl ?_ s-t o xv u?.i.:. *v._ ton a vitsp, ouutu iauuuwkiu) w iud work of the press in the American Civil War, of which a picture is shown, will be built of the mountain sandstone, found free there. Its arches are of limestone, and its band or frieze of terra cotta. A tablet will contain the names of the artists in the ! war. The place of the monument is central to Antietam, Harper's Ferry, Winchester, Monocacy, Point of Bocks, etc., and nearest to a railroad, one mile below the point, which was also a battlefield, and is 1000 feet j elevation. It is fifty-five miles from Washington and at a cross-roads, on L - of ??-j9** ' pr ARMY CORRESPONDENTS' MEMORIAL. 01 an the settled mountain top, with a stone BP turnpike to the station. Cheap labor 0D , and material make the construction of Pa this tall battlemented gateway, with ^n its horeeshoo arch, economical com- P1. pared to city work. It is about forty m feet square, the tower fifty-one feet and the main arch of sixteen feet span. The plan was drawn by the architect of the Congressional Library, JohnL. en Smith meyer, from the conception of pc George Alfred Tcwnsend, one of the correspondents who gave the land and ba materials. 8*( ki iu ACE?THE START. ! To Encourage Matrimony. Belgium proposes to facilitate marriage by reducing the legal age for re' both sexes to twenty-one years, instead pe of twenty-five for the man and twenty- Ne one ior the woman, as the law is noW, th imd by making the consent of the nil father alone necessary, instead of that pr of both parents.?Detroit Free Press. 20 i mi Andrew Carnegie gives a liberal an- 61 nual income to the art gallery which foi he established in Pittsburg, with the bl< proviso that it shall buy two pictures all by American artists every year. thi ** PRATING BY WHEEL. I me Queer HabiU of tle TibetMM Described. MB It is in their dress, their way of pre-, ring food, in the ornamentation of sir persons, that the Tibetans show sir peculiarities, says the New York mes. Has the evolution of thej imney pot hat ever been discovered? H| here did the stovepipe incumbrance me from? Here is the print of & ^Hj mmer hat as worn by the Tibetans.^ .IE is of straw, covered with red or bine tfcon. Being apparently topheavy, ' made .indifferent as to the size of, e bead of the wearer, the hat i# pro-' ded with a throat-latch. The crown eight inches high, and the brim fit* [ en inches in diameter. Hh One funny business peculiarly Tibe '' ' irit'. iAKE, NEW ~YOBIL -T ?. n is the use of the khata, or scarf of HI licitation. This is a br* of sflk?:r >out as fine as gauze, of a bluish. ; H| bite, and is fringed. If yon were a I betan, yon wonld be qnite lost with- I it this scarf. You mubt tike a sup- | y with yon for all ordinary occa 3 ns. If'you meet a friend, quickly >u must ram a kha ta, at him, while H >n take the one he offers you. When , 'fl v' TIBETAN FKAYEK WflBEL AND HAT. fl| u send a letter it most be folded'.<;.^H on a scarf. Ton might give the H test present or convey the noblest flH atimenta; tbey would go for noth- . 3 without the accompaniment of the dta The ornnd Father Hno -writes tertainingly of the scarf of cere* j^E )Dy, and tells how millions of them ist be in use. It is the prayer wheel, the mechanil device by which the Deity or the IH spirit may be propitiated, which so astonnding to us. Prayer wheels fll 8 of all sorts and kinds, and, if . XH namos were in nse in Tibet, prodigisly floe prayers might be reeled off . this way. Some of the native" HB leels rnn by water power, and there e windmill prayer contrivances. A rrel of prayers, always rotating, or; tap, is common in Tibet. Some nes the formula "Om, mani padme, im" is printed 400 times on a sheet. paper, pat in a wheel, and, with; Vj oper gearing, can be made to repeat: H ran off the formula 40,000 times,) iM d the more frequently the wheel Bj ins the better. Prayers are printed B l bits of flimsy paper, and these' B pers are tied to a string. Whenever. fl e paper flatters in the wind then the g oas Tibetan believes he is credited H th a prayer. Water-Kepellaut Walls. To be able to make walls that mjll * tirelj resist moisture is of great im>rtance in localities where the earth damp and sodden. Experiments ve been made with briek and sandDne, saturated with oils of various nde. It is proven that raw and >iled linseed oil are the best subances with which to treat such wall aterials. If bricks are heated a? hot they can be handled with bare mds, then dropped into oil and alwed to remain there nntil cold, then < aced where tbey will drain and laid a wall with good Portland cement j 1 or tar, they are practically imperv- I us to water. Of coarse, a great deal I expense attends this work, bat there I e places where nothing else seems fl answer as well. For ordinary eel- fl rs and walls, where sach extreme cety of handling is not required, a flj ick coating of Portland cement mor- | r laid or. very smoothly and washed B er with several very thin coats of I most all Portland, will secare the I most dryness and cleanliness. The fl i&lities of Portland cement are not H Uy appreciated by the average ' I useholder.?Ledger. H Hoiv Far Blood Travels. fl The mileage of the blood circulation . I reals some astounding facts in our 9 rsonal history, says the Chicago :ws. Thus it has been calculated at, assuming the heart to beat sixty- ' H ae times a minute at ordinary heart n essnre, the blood goes at the rate of 7 yards in the minute, or seven les per hour, 168 miles per day, and B .320 miles per year. If a man eighty- fi ar years of age could have one single sod corpuscle floating in his blood his life, it would have traveled in lit same time 5,150,880 miles.