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t ^ S&'K.ISl! >teeeie?e?eeeeeee?e * \ I Swamp <5 M/f I.WVWVWV1 o *^s A STORY OF TI V/ yft www^v W By EBEN E. / X r\*.SK*.S\+./\A./\ *AaAAA?A?A?A?A>A^/V * Copyright by Robert Bonner's Sons. CHAPTER IV. ] CONTINUED. "I want to know if you think so!" exclaimed Nannie, with a defiant toss of her head. She had felt what was coming, and dreaded it, for she knew that she^iad been to blame. "I wasn't aware that I had 'met with a change,' as Deacon Snyder says." "You know what I mean, well enough," said Dick, hitching his chair Dearer tne taoie wnere i>auiiie wua standing. "Since?since that Wayne came you seem to Lave forgotten that there is such a fellow as Dick Brayton. . Why, Nannie, you hardly speak to me, nowadays." "Just hear that!" cried Nannie, to Borne invisible person. "Hardly speak to you, indeed! I'm sure I've spoken to you as often as you have spoken to me." | "Well, yes, that may be," admitted Dick. "But, you see, Nannie, I didn't feel like talking, when I didn't know as you wanted me to talk to you. It seemed as if you'd rather listen to Mr. . Wayne." "It seems that you're a kind of jealous of Mr. Wayne," said Nannie, folding the towel she was ironing with slow and elaborate precision, as if all her energies were concentrated on doing that one thing. "Well, that may be," said Dick. ; "Granting that it is so, Nannie, haven't I a right to be?" "Not that I know of," answered Nannie. "Before he came I supposed it was nnderstood between us that we were to be married, some time," said Dick. ; "Persons haven't any right to take it for granted that anything is understood," responded Nannie, tartly. ' "You never asked me to marry you, that I remember of." "Perhaps I was wrong in not saying in so many words what it seemed to J me you understood well enough," answered Dick. "It seemed hardly ' necessary. However, it isn't too late , to ask the question now, is it Nannie?" "I don't know what you're hinting j it," said Nannie, beginning to hum a . tune, and concentrating her attention vnfflna nf a nillnw-OftfiA. ' "Just this," said Dick. "That I love you and want you to marry me. Will you?" "Why, Djck, how abrupt you are!" ixclaimed Nannie. "I don't want to marry you?or any on? else?yet awhile." "Don't keep a fellow waiting to know ;he worst or the best," said Dick, impatiently. "Is it yes or no, Nannie?" "I?I like you pretty well, "answered Nannie, "but I don't want to settle flown to washing dishes and sweeping floors and cooking things to eat three ' iimes a day, and nothing else from } morning till night, for a long time yet. [ want to' see a little of the world. I im going to coax father to let me go to 1 3chool this winter. I don't much think 1 " i i 1 : ??/I ;t I'll 11K6 liuuscn.ccpiii5, ouj ?tcij , nun u it's a housekeeper you're -wanting, I think you eau find one that will answer the purpose a good deal better than I would. There's Lucindy Smith?" ' "Hang Lucindy Smith!" exclaimed Dick, beginning to lose his temper. "Yes or no, Nannie?" "No, then," answered Nannie, her temper rising in opposition to Dick's. "That's the way to talk," cried Dick. "Say what you mean, square out, and don't waste words beating about the bush, even if it does hurt a fellow a little to hear it." He got up, took' his hat down from its peg by the door and went out. "I?I hope you don't blame me, Dick," said Nannie, following him to the door, feeling as if she would like to cry, and, at the same time, partly angry. "Yes, I do," answered Dick. ? "I have reason to, too, and you know it as well as I do. But we won't talk about it. It's over and done with." Then he turned and walked down the path, and it was late at night before he came back and went to bed. "What queer things men are!" Nannie said to herself as she cried herself to sleep. "I know I didn't do just right; but he needn't have been so jealous, and he needn't have been so foolish as to think a girl means everything she says." CHAPTER V. THE RIVALS COME TO BLOWS. A week went by. At the end of that time Nannie had come to the conclusion, from Dick's actions, that he considered everything at an end between them, as he had said. He spoke to her pleasantly enough, when he spoke at all. He did not seem to try to avoid her, but there was a sense of distance between them which made her feel that he'was more like a stranger than the Dick Brayton she had known. That Dick was gone. This one was like him, and reminded her of liiin in many wnys, but she missed the Dick of two weeks ago. Considering her unqualified refusal of his heart and hand, it was rather singular that she should be indignant at him for not seeming to grieve over her rejection more. She felt that he ought to show great disappointment ATWI /lucnmulonf ouil ltu/Mincii he (lid not she felt personally ag- I grieved. He bad altogether too good an appetite for a rejected lover, and he didn't seern inclined to withdraw from society, as it seemed to her he ought to, under the circumstances. She began to think that he hadn't cared as much for her as she had thought he did, and felt offended because of it. * He seemed to take a real pleasure in j talking with Rhoda Stevens at singingschool, and he went home with her twice a week. Why this should have j worried Nannie, since she had refused | . - fiw \*/ tE ^ L-t' ^ Secret. | WWWV \?/ /^s ^N%T#T*TT^T% in JTKU1N 1 1CK. www*. e* \ i;?4 / \ REXFORD. \v' ?t\ ^ hp* * to receive his attentions, I cannot e plain; but she (lid. She really felt i if she hated Rlioda and never want? to speak to her again. "It looks as if both on 'em w< a-playin' at the same game," she heai Mrs. Corbett say. to Mrs. Smith, 01 uight at singing-school, "an' I kindi surmise Dick's got the start of he 'Tain't anyways likely as Mr. "Wayne marry her, an' 'twouldn't be at a s'prisin' if Dick did marry Rhody, f< he's alius had a kind o' likin' fer he Wall, if Xance loses him she'll hev n body to blame 'but herself, fer Die 'u'd hev stuck by her if she hade -i 1 ?? piajrcu Uf-i UI1 U1UI, uc^iu nnu, On Sunday evening Uncle Josia Watkins came in to spend an hour < two at Mr. Boone's hospitable heart! Uncle Josi was everybody's relativ You will always find these uncles an aunts in all country places. He wi one of those men who always kno what is going on from one end of tt neighborhood to the other, and it wj his particular delight to keep ever body well posted as to what was takir place. He was to Brownville what tt daily mail is to us of to-day, and i everybody liked the old man, he wi always sure of a welcome wherever 1 went. "Try some o' this terbacker," sai Mr. Boone, taking down a big browi paper parcel from the shelf over tt ~ ~ 11 -1?/lAtrm lkftln tenar-uuur. vjuu it num uvuu uviv this week. It's better than Jon< sells. It's stronger an' more satisf1 in'." Uncle Josi produced a corn-co pipe and filled it leisurely. He wt never in a hurry about anything whe he had something to tell. When 1 had filled the pipe, he raked a coi out of the ashes and deposited it o the tobacco. After a few vigoroi "draws" the tobacco ignited, and as blue cloud of pungent smoke curie about his head, life leaned well back i his chair and prepared to take h: ease and retail his stock of news. "I heerd from my son Philand< last week," he said by and by, aft( all the neighborhood happenings ha been discussed. "My son Philander, he explained to Mr. Wayne, who hn also "dropped in" to spend the evei Lng, "he lives at Catfish Corner: twenty-five miles oft', I reckon, ai mebbe more. Do you know jest lio fur't is, Solomon?" "No, I don t, jest," answered Mi Boone; "but I sh'd reckon 't was i much as twenty-five miles, if n< furder. It's a right smart ways, ani how. Leastwise, it seemed so to m las' spring when I druv home froi there -through the mud jest as't w? breakin' up." "Wall, 't ain't less'n twenty-fiv< unyway," said Uncle Josi, looking t the fire, as if he wished it would te him the exact distauce. "But, as was sayin', I heerd from Philandei an' he writ that they'd lost every hos as was wuth anything in the who] neighborhood." "You don't say so!" exclaimed M: Boone, greatly interested at o'nc< "Hoss distemper or glanders?" "Wuss'n that," answered Unc! Josi, mysteriously. "Wuss'n tlia Solomon." "Ef there's anything wuss'n ho.1 distemper I'd like to know what't is, said Mr. Boone. ''Hoss-thieves ailed 'em," announce Uncle Josi, with a very impressive no of his head and speaking slowly, thi they might fully understand tl magnitude of his information. "J hoss-thieves ain't wuss'n hoss di temper, I allow I don't know whi is." " 'Hoss-thieves!'" Mr. Boone r peated the words, as if he could hard] credit the statement, and as if thei was an ominous foreboding of dangi to Brownsville in it. In those da^ nothing could excite a frontier settl ment like the report of depredatioi by horse-thieves. "Why, I haiu heerd anything o' hoss-stealing' fer long time?not sence the fust year come here." "No, I know we hain't heerd c 'em in this part o' the kentry answered Uncle Josi. "Fust they wi over in the east part o' the State, a then in the southeast, an' so on 'roum It's my opinion that all the hossi that's b'en stole' have be'n picked 11 by the same gang that's kep' a-movi 'round the kentry from one place another when it got too hot fer 'er an' now they've got to the place whe: my son Philander lives. They'll 1 here fust thiug ye know." "I'd hate awfully to lose Doll a Nell," said Mr. Boone, as he refill* his pipe thoughtfully. "I would so Nell and Doll were probably wort more than any ether four horses Brownsville. "I jest wish we could git holt o' tl tarnal thieves," said Uncle Jo? ??'ni >/i i.? J.UCJ H UC jJUl IJ apt l\J UU T JU.1U1 done 'em, ef we could, I reckon. Bla their picters, I hain't no kind o' p tience with 'em! Thieves is bt enough, but hoss-thieves is the wu kind o' the whole lot." "I allow you're right," respond* Mr. Boone, with several emphat nods of his head. "Yes, sirree; they be purty likely tohev justice dune 'e ef we could jest git our han'a on 'e once." "What would the justice you ref to consist in?" asked Wayne, w] had seemed to be a careless and ind ferent listener to the conversation. "A rone." answered Uncle Jo.' sententiously, with a tap of his crooki forefinger against liis neck, to int cate where the application of the rei edy would be made. "Seems awful to think o' hangi 'em." said Mrs. Boone with a shu der. "Good enough fer 'em," said Unc Josi, warmly. "Good enough fer 'er I say. I hain't no pity to waste < hoss-thieves. Not a mite! Not / mite! Wouldn't lift n finger to save ; / 'em from liangin' ef I knew I could ^ save 'em. That's what I think about 'em. Other folks can think as they see fit, but I say hang 'em jest as fast as vou ketch 'em." " 'First catch your hare,'" laughed \ Wayne, quoting from au old recii>e in i somebody's cook-book. Dick had been listening to the conversation without taking part in it. Wayne happened to look at him and | saw that his rival was watching him j intently. "What is your opinion?" he asked with a half-insolent smile. ? "If you were a horse-thief I'd show n you," answered Dick, curtly. He cared to have nothing to say to the singing-teacher. He was irritated by v. i,;a ni>ooonoa in tlifl ronm. To be as spoken to by him roused a quick anger :d in him, which would not be kept down. is A hot color flamed into Wayne's face d for a moment. He liked Dick no betie ter than Dick liked him, and the other er's reply stung him into quick rer. sentmeut, for some reason. But he '11 seemed to think it not advisable to .11 bandy words at that time and place, ar and he made no response, r. Presently Dick got up and went o- out. He was leaning over the gate, ;k whistling a fragment of the dolorous >'t tune of "Barbara Allen," when Wayne came sauntering down the path, perih haps half an hour later. ir "If you'll be so kind as to get out. * " Al 1, 4-1.^4- >? 2. oi me way, jl 11 iuiuu^u iuai jjuit, e. he said imperiously. id Dick pretended not to hear him. is "Did you hear me?" demanded w Wayne, angrily. ie "Did you say anything?" asked is Dick, coolly, without offering to move. y- He -was aching for a quarrel with ig "Wayne, and it seemed as if one was ie near at hand. The hitherto repressed is dislike of each for the other was ready is to culminate in an angry outbreak, ie now that the opportunity was favora- j ble. id "Yes, sir; I did speak to you," an ,i tit? -I- 8WW6U wajuo, JLiuu^uuijt K;iuuu le aside and let me pass." w "You can climb over," said Dick, is with most provoking coolness. 7- "I don't choose to," responded Wayne, Hotly. "Well, then, go around or crawl l9 through the fence, if you like that ,n better," said Dick. ie "I shall go through that .gate," al said Wayne. "I don't want any of ,n your insolence. I know why you feel l3 so sore, and I can't say that I wonder a at it." d "If you don't keep a civil tongue in n your head, you'll be likely to feel [g sore!" cried Dick, facing about. "Do you know what you're saying?" ;r "Perfectly well," answered Wayne, ;r defiantly. "When a girl gives a fel(| low the mitten, I suppose it does cut ? him a good deal. You have had the <2 experience lately. How is it?" 1. He accompanied the words with a , low, sneering laugh to which his a' anger gave a grating edge. w "See here," cried Dick, with a dangerous fire in his eyes, "I'll Btand no r< more of your insolence! If Nannie IS I Boone sees fit to throw ine over for j such a fellow as you are, all right; but r_ I neither you nor any other fellow will ie twit me of it, as you Jtiave just uoue, a without -something happeuing to him. j lS Do 3*011 understand what I mean, Mr. Wayne?" ; "Uh, you threaten, do you?" sneered I Wayne. "I don't care that"?with a 11 contemptuous snap of his fingers? I "for you or your threats. I'm not r> afraid of you." iS "I don't know whether you are or ie not," said Dick, between his teeth, while his eyes flashed fire. "But I r ! know this, sir, I can knock you down a as easy as nothing; and if yoii dare give me another insolent word, I'll do [e it, too." t "If by insolence you mean telling the truth about your getting the miti8 ten, I shall have to repeat my inso? lence," responded Wayne, with an air of bravado. "I wasn't aware that it (| affected a fellow as it seems to do you. I(| The sensation can't be very agreeable, it judging from your looks. Can't it ie rf "Yes, sir, I can, ami I will," inter- | s. rupted Dick, with a well-directed blow I it from his muscular fist planted squarely ; between Wayne's eyes. The singinge_ teacher fell to the ground like %n ox ! I before a butcher's ax. "I should say that sensation wasn't | very agreeable, judging from your looks," said Dick, folding his arms g and smiling down upon his rival, who ig was half-stunned by the blow. His face was covered with blood. ' [To be continued.] I For Those Fat an<l Tlione Lean. >n A table of relative heights and i weights given by Mrs. Etta Morse is Hudders in What to Eat is worth re- ! n' peating. The weight of ordinary j [1. clothing is included in the table. The ] as woman who reaches the minimum or ip ' maximum weight for her height is n' recommended to look carefully after to her diet, not only that her figure may n, be what it should be, but for the sake re of her general health. The table is: ! je Aver- Mini- Mnxi- j mum. un.1.4. n' 5 feet 115 93 132 1(1 5 fuet 1 inch 120 102 138 5 feet 2 inches 125 100 114 5 feet 3 inches 130 111 150 li 5 feet 4 inches 135. 115 155 ju 5 feet 5 inches 140 - ll'J ltil 5 feet ?inches 143 121 165 5 feet 7 inches 145 125 lo7 ie 5 feet 8 inches 148 12G 170 ii 5 feet 1) inches 155 131 17y 5 feet 10 inches 1(10 13(i 184 . 5 feet 11 inches 1<?5 138 11K) st G feet 170 141 1% a l(* A Wo ml roil* Worm. Dr. B. Loyil Duncan of Fairmont, ill 1 ^ a > wllo ia visiting 111s iainer, ,jc | James Duncan, of Bridgeport, Ohio, 1ms shipped to the Smithsonian InstiJn tute one of the most remarkable speeim mens of worms ever seen. A few days ago I Dr. Duncan was digging angle worms er ' preparatory to going fishing, in WheelLU) ing Creek, when he discovered what if. appeared to be an extraordinarily large one. The worm began crawling out of the ground. The doctor, thinking it a remarkable specimen, allowed it jj. to extend itself from its hole without injuring it. The worm when contracted and in its normal shape was exaetn> ly thirteen inches long and nearly half j an inch in diameter. When stretched to its full length it measured a little ,je more than thirty-live inches. n. 3ii A (lull remark shines in the shadow a of a great name. * _. / NEW AND SEASONABLE, survit ur inc. lm i co i oi i ll j in FEMININE CARMENTS. Small Basque of Tjolmcco-Brown hurtle*' Cloth, With Soutache JSraid For Decoration? Ladles' and Misses' Ilusslim Itlonse Waist In tlie New Shade of Tan. Tobacco-brown ladies' cloth, according to May Manton, was the material selected for this Binart basque, with soutache braid employed as a decora A B A.SQTJE WITH VEST FBONT. ;ion. The adjustment is accomplished )y single bust-darts, under-8,rm and tide-back gores and a curving centrejack seam, all of which are carried befond the waistline in pointed outline, jBSBh ' LADIES' AND MISSES' W t shaping that is universally becoming. The fronts open upon a vest of ivhite satin-faced cloth, and are ;rimmed with parallel rows of braid. The vest is included in the shoulder ind under-arm seams, and closes I through the centre-front with button j Holes and small buttons. The neck is : rat in V shape, displaying linen chemisette and white satin tie. An attractive feature is the neat coat collar, of ihe regulation taijor cut, the free edge 5f which are trimmed with braid. The sleeves, presenting a decided change I :rom last season's models, are twoseamed, finishing with a slight puff at the shoulder. Cloth, serge, cheviot, aovelty and other similar fabrics are ill suitable, with braid or machine stitching as a finish. The model is admirably adapted to early autumn wear, and, in conjunction with a well2ut skirt, will complete that most 1 A/?n?./\n\irtnl r\f r>Acfnmf'i4 prHUtlCUl UilU CUUUVlUiUMi u* wvwv?V?, , a tftilor-inade gown. To make this basque for a woman | i Df medium size will require two and one-half yards of forty-four-inch material. | Russian Blouse For Liulie* and MIsfMjft. I The stylish basque exhibited in t'ae i large illustration, and described by Mary Manton, is made of silk and wool novelty in the new shade of tan l known as beige. The trimming is black ribbon velvet that is applied to the edge of the right-front in a single band that holds to position straps of the same width velvet having mitred points. The sleeves are decorated at ; the wrists with a band of velvet aad deen frill of lace, and a fancy belt en ! circles the waist. The hat accompanying is brown straw of sailor shape, the ! severity of which is somewhat :rej lieved by a veiling of spotted chiflbn. The blouse bodice is arranged over a glove-fitting lining that reaches to the waist line and closes hi the centrefront. The fronts of the material are > smooth-fitting across the shoulders and bust, with the fullness at the , waist arranged in gathers and droop; itig over the narrow belt in. slight ! hlouse eft'ect. The right-front over j laps the left and closes invisibly on the j j left side, which flushes with a full ' ruffle of butter-colored lace. The back is seamless, with a scant fullness I at the waist laid in close overlapping ! plaits. The model shows an added basque | that is joined at the waist to the blouse i proper. These basques, or peplums, ! promise to be exceedingly popular during the coming season, being exhibited in the latest of Parisian importations). At the neck is a plain collar covered with a stock of ribbon edged a divi/lar) frill nf lanA. Tllfl I > 1 sleeves are narrow anil fit the arm | closely from the wrist to the elbow, j above which the effect is slightly i wrinkled or mousquetaire. They are finished at the top with puffs of the j same that are caught on the shouldere in graceful and stylish effect. waists 01 tins description can oe made of novelties, plain, checked, : striped or plaid woolens or light- j weight cloths, and may be trimmed j with either ribbon, braid, passementerie or velvet. Silk, velvet and cor- . duroy are also applicable to the mode, j To make this waist for a lady in the medium size will require two and three-fourths yards of forty-four-inch material. The Vogno In Winter Millinery. Certainly, if there had been any doubt of Henry of Navarre being forgotten it would be dissipated by the fact that on the head of almost everything f<m'uine there waves, this autumn, his historic white plume. It stands up as bravely as possible. In addition, feathers of all shades obtain, although they have not driven either i flowers, ribbons, velvet or spangles out of the field. # i The shape preferred is the one most becoming to the individual. Furs, especially sable and chinchilla, are fashionable garnitures, and rich velvets and silks are draped over soft frames, producing wonderfully effective results. Purple is still holding the imperial sway it has for three years, although a wonderful deep red is a close rival to it, while royal blue, silver-gray, black and white, white and black, all black and all white obtaid. Brilliant buckles and pins are used to fasten flowers and plumes to position. Indeed, wherever an effective bit of color or brightness can be artistically arranged, there it is in evidence.?Ladies' Home Journal. Child's Apron. * Figured dimity, embroidered edg JSSIAN BLOUSE WAIST. ing and insertion were the materials i used in making this neat and simple j apron, but dotted Swiss, cross-barred j muslin, striped and plain cambric, percale and gingham are equally suitable. The upper portion consists of a short fitted body having a straight lower edge, the neck being cut in low rounded outline. The skirt portion is simply gathered at the upper edge and joined to the body, a band of needlework concealing the seam. A belt of insertion encircles the waist and is carried forward to the centre, closing with button and button-hole. The skirt is hemmed deeply at the bottom; narrow hems finishing the back edges where the closing is effected. An attractive feature is the fanciful bertha, cut in two sections, that is included in the neck, falling deeply over the sleeves and forming an epaulette that adds to the breadth of shoulders and is universally becoming. Both it and the neck NEAT AND SIMPLE CHILD'S APRON*. ??__?- i are finished with frills of embroidery j headed by bands of insertion. ? * - A'M I To make tbis apron ior a cuuu ui eight years will require three yards of! thirty-six-inch material. Courtship is dull business in Japan, | as it is not customary for anyone to j j kiss except man and wife. Even I mother and child do not exchange this ; I mark of affection, i . KLONDIKE'S GOLD MINE AN INTELLIGENT MINER'S ACCOW OF THE NEW ELDORADO. Great Qaantltien of Gold Found In Swamp?More Than 8130,000 in Gt Dust Taken from a space <ox Feet?Bootfuls of the Yellow Mot Everything i9 Klondike now, d clares the Washington Pathfinder, ai whether a man is "going" or not he interested in all the real facts si rounding this remarkable region facts that are so unique that we ha in the Klondike affair a new chapter the history of gold discovery. "Dei loads" of literature, to use the appi priateterm, are being published abo the Klondike. Much of it is superfl ous, but out of it all we may be sun vast amount of knowledge concernij our ice-bound polar territory will 1 spread abroad. Even now we can s that the prevailing notions as to t climate and other conditions of Alas have been in the main wrong. Fr( this on, however, the Yukon count will no longer be terra incognita. One of the most interesting stori that has come from the Klondike is the shape of a diary kept by Sami Clark, who left for the Yukon in t spring and who writes intelligently the country. He says that the c server would never suspect the exii atiao nf frnld-hearincr rocks in suci country, where there is only "bla lava, white and gray sand, limesto and slate, and nothing at all to in< 3ate the immediate vicinity of t countless millions which lie unearth beneath the gulches." Mr. Clark's diary goes on: "Mat claims pay thousands of dollars to ? day, and some clean up from two five thousand twice a day and thii nothing of it. Every can, pot, buck and sack on the claim is used; th cannot get vessels of the proper ki: quick enough. Two men left on t last steamer the other day with seve ty-five pounds of dust each. . Mi come down from the claims with apa of gold on their backs and throw it i to a corner, and there it is. Nothi: is locked up or hidden away; gold seen everywhere and everybody h some. "People are' paid big for fillii sacks with moss to chink log cabi: with. One woman asked a man to i a sack with chips from a tree near 1 and gave him $1.25 for his five mi utes' trouble. Gold is more plentil than water, for that is scarce. T,1 river is muddy and the springs a colored from moss. Tiie saw mm rushing day and night. Men stai and watch each log sawed and gr the lumber as soon as it is ripped u A man cau sell anything on earth ai at nearly his own price. "Have been to the diggings. 1 the best ground is in a swamp, a: the rock slides, but gold is all places where no sane man would ev dream of looking. The-mines'we discovered by a squaw man who vt salmon fishing, in bedrock whi came to the surface in the only lit spot in the creek. There they d twenty feet in swamp 4nd morass a thicket, frozen, in this strangest pla on earth for gold. In Berry's cla: he took out $131,500 in a space 75k and 20 feet deep, by burning a drifting under the pay streak. Oth claim owners about him did still b ter. Claims were 500 feet up a: down from rim to rim. In places th are a quarter ot a mue wme ami i pay, and in others not so wide. Do\ a narrow creek men are filliilg rubb boots, tin cans, canvas bags, in ft anything that will hold dust. It is < timated that $6,000,000 has be taken out so far (June 15) and not or half of the Bonanza and El dor a claims even open to bedrock. The is room for 500,000 men yet on tl Klondike and side streams if they a all good. The country is not hi prospected nor any idea of the exte of its wealth known as yet; been d covered only ten months." A Few Facts Abont Gold. The standard gold coin of the Unit ?. nnn rTU? ?? &IflX69 IS . UUU pure. jliic uuuou cvj ereign is .916 pure. Gold is measured by Troy weigl the grain being the lowest unit. The are 7000 grains in an avoirdnp< pound, only 5760 grains in a Tr pound. A "short ton" of gold woul therefore, contain 14,000,000 grair and it would be worth some 8600,0C The "grain" used in weighing gc was originally a grain of wheat. T "carat," or perhaps "carob," was t seed of the coral flower, a fine seed even weight. Used in speaking gold, twenty-four carats means pu gold. Gold dust generally runs from 8 to 819 the Troy ounce. That broug down from the Klondike usually we not much over 816 the ounce. Gold is one of the heaviest kno^ metals, with a specific gravity 19.35. Gold dust is rather less hea^ but a tin dinner pail would hold a ] of it. A cubic foot of pure gold won weigh 1240 pounds avoirdupois, man looking at it would think he con lift it. but?. It would be worth $37: 000. A gold brick ongbt to be worth Sli 000, if about the size of the ordiun oue, but something depends on wheth the gold runs all the way through t brick. The stock of gold coin in the pr: cipal Nations is as follows: Te Nation. Amount. Capi United States ?672,200,000 $? Great Britain and Ireland 584,000,000 li France 772,000,000 2( Germany 075,000,000 li Italy 100,400,000 Austria-Hungary 167,200,000 J Russia 483,600,000 ! Australasia 130,000,000 21 Egypt 121),300,000 li Eel's Eccs in Demand. Here's a chance for some one. one has ever seeu eel's eggs. It is lieved that they spawn in the oce: as they never increase in a laml-locl pond. Fame and distinction aw the one who will solve this probl that the naturalists have found much for them.?Lewiston (Me.) Jo nal. Property in Three Cities. The value of the house property London is 33,365,000,000 that of Pa 81,430,000,000, that of New York 8 355,000,000. gp, v , V =p * S. THE MAD WORLO. \ The mad world rushes along the ages \ And forward! forward! Is still the cry. *' No time to rest, for the battle rages; Then hurry and worry and struggle and die. / a No time to rest by the fountains, flowing >ld Through shady groves, where the poeta 70 sing, ?1 With froah Tclnrla hlnrolnfT And tclld flower? growing, e* And Pan to pipe for our pleasuring, id _ ia The sun goes down in a blaze of splendor, ir. And the moonlight trembles along th? seas; The nightingale's song is sweet and tender, we But the world is too busy to care lol iu these. i&cL 0 foolish world, in your greed for treasur? . ?" You are taking the husks and leaving the ut grain; u- Zou are missing the sweets that make lift a a pleasure, And getting the trouble and labor and *g pain. be ? D. H. Morehead, in Boston Transcript* 6 he PITH AND POINT. ka )id May?"Did you and Cholly have ,ry any luck fishing?" Maud?"He did; 1 didn't." May?"Then you're not ,es engaged after all?"?Puck. in Philanthropist?"What was the imiel mediate cause of your fall, my good he man?" The Good Man?"My sweetnf kdv/innad ma " Pnof^n TVftnfl? >b- cript. at" He?"If people said just what they 1 a thought, it would do a lot of harm, ck wouldn'tit?" She?"Well, it would re!?.e iuce conversation about nine-tenths." he Puck' e(j Penelope?"What did he send you for a wedding present?" Pauline? "Cut glass." Penelope?"Ah, tabloid ware, I suppose?" Pauline?"No?a " \' necklace."?Truth. j ak Prisoner Reformer (to convict)? *" . et "Have you any complaint to make?" ey Convict?"Well, I'd be better satisad fled if I wasn't locked up."?Philadelhe phia North American. n- Ethel?"And when he said he was en willing to die for you, what did you ' ck do?" Penelope?"Why, I nearly n- fainted! The idea of the only man, at Qg a summer resort talking of dying."? is Puck. j a3 Teacher (in kindergarten)?"You've - ^ omitted something, Mabel, in making *8 your letter Ts.' What is it?" Mabel as _<?i guess I forgot to put eyebrows HI over them."?London Household Words. ,nj "That man wants a design for a lJ1 laundry advertisement," remarked the e artist, thoughtfully. "What is it to be?" "All he said was that he wanted M something appropriate. I guess I'll fix him up some sort of a wash drawing."?Washington Star. "A great * many people go beyond i their means trying to make a show," I 11 J 1L - . kll aeciareu mo aaoc a(j "That's right,'* assented Chumpley; ' > in "I blew in $10,000 trying to make a er show, and it busted the third week ,re out."?Detroit Free Press. ' & as "It won't be long," said the man A ch1 who loves to talk science at the table, I tie "before all our engines and that sort I ug of thing will be run by the heat of the nd sun." "But," asked his wife, "if . j ce they go to using up the heat of the \ -i im 3un that way, won't it make the ^ 75 weather too col4 to grow crops?"? nd Cincinnati Enquirer/ ier Now it chanced that the pilgrim ac- ^ et" josted an inhabitant of the town pd through which he journeyed. "It e7 seems to me," remarked the pilgrim, "that there are a great many muddy 5-11 crossings in your town." "Mere illuer sion, old man," answered the inhabilct tant. "You get that impression from 53- ?r> manv of our ladies wearing knick eD arbockers or short skirts."?Detroit ,e" Journal. !*? Small boy dashed breathless into a !r6 nerchaut's office. "Is the guv'nor e |n,.? ?<Yes; what do you want?" "Must ,r.1 3ee him myself; most partikler." "But a pou can't; he's engaged." "Must see .n him immejit; most pertikler." The 13 boy's importunity got him in. "Well, /, ooy; what do you want?" "D'yerwant 1 orffice boy, sir?" "You impudent poung rascal! No! We've got one." "No, you ain't, sir; he's just bin run ,T over in Cheapside." Boy engaged.? Tit-Bits. 1 1 A New Use For Cata. J German journalism does not often _ awaken suspicions of intended humor, j but a Munich paper gives an account ' of a newly formed London society, (q' ! behind which one can fancy a huge .1.7 j Teutonic grin. The society alluded to is said to be a "National Club for tne Propagation of Cats," and the reason I 0j why the peaceful domestic feline is 6 0j suddenly becoming so valuable as to I rp merit "propagating" is, we "are told, I that it has dawned upon the promoters I p of the club that the cat, possessing, aSv fl y it does, great latent electricity, ip, or^J ,nj will be, an excellent "generator or condensator of electricity, which may yn be of great value to sufferers from neuropathic and neurasthenic dis- I orders." Just how these novel "gen- I IqJ erators or compensators" are to bo | made use of is not divulged, but the I ljj project appears pregnant with interest ^ ing possibilities from cats worn after I j j the fashion of porous plasters to mas- I 2. sage with live cats. Whatever may be I ' intended to ba done with them it is - _ | probable that the unfortunate beasts ' ; will direly need every one of the niDe H I Iivps with which thev are said to be fl ler ke endowed.?New York Commercial ifi Advertiser. n in- I Famous Cheese Doomed. K| r J France, and through France the I ta. ; whole civilized world, will probably I ' 35 | sutler in the course of a few years an I I S). i irreparable calamity. Roquefort, one I )!io of the most famous of cheeses, is I ! threatened with speedy extinction. No B? ! : part of the blame for this disaster rests I j j with nature. Man's greed alone can I 5.5." i be held responsible. The milk of the H * *"> sheep that browsed on the thyme-ciaa m j banks of the Larnac and Aveyron has H j long since ceased to suffice for the mar- H Xo ' ket. Flocks were accordingly fed in H be. I the grassy pastures, and yielded mora H au j milk, but of an inferior quality. Worse H :ecJ still, cow's milk was mingled with that H ait ' of the sheep, the cheese being artifl* H ?orui snfledv deteriorai H em ciuiijr m/ww, -r?? too tion ensued. Buyers now look asrk-*^B ur. ance at what is called Roquefort, and H a business worth nearly one million H dollars every year and employing 60,- H 000 people seems likely to perish. A H , 0j strong effort is being made by the H rjg local authorities to revive old methods JH ;j , of production, but a name and an art H ' once lost are with difficulty recovered, H London Chronicle.