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T] *a,,.. , I o VV AMr l?WWW W ' A STORY OF ' / x vvwww O By EBEN I ^ ***ii Copyright by Robert Bonner's Sons. CHAPTER XXIV. P4. CONTINUED. "I sw'ar to man, I don't b'leeve it!" cried Bill. "It can't be that the singin'-teacher's a hoss-thief." "He is," cried Rhoda. "I heard what Nannie has told yon. May I never speak another word if we haven't torn you tne irutn. "Wayne's a hoss-thiefl" repeated Bill, incredulously. "It can't be!" "I dunno but he's as likely to be as anybody else," said Perkins. "I'll tell you what my plan is: Let's hunt up the other party. Then le' 's take ' Brayton -with us and go into the Big Swamp. Ef we find the thieves we'll fix 'em, an' that'll let him off. Ef we find we've b'en fooled " The unfinished sentence had a great deal of stern meaning in it. , The plan was agreed to. -"'An' after we've b'en there, we'll come out an' call on Mr. Wayne," said Bill, who, much against his will, was convinced, of the truth oi jsnoaa's story. He began to feel vindictive against Wayne for having duped him, as he must have done if he was a horse-thief. "See here," he said, turning sud denly and facing Dick, "didn't I see you makin' marks on that oF cottonwood?" "Ifo, Bill Green, you did not," answered Dick. "I don't say that you didn't see me there. I was there. I ' went to see what-1 could find on the tree. I had been there before, and found something that I didn't understand. But I wrote nothing there. That's the truth, Bill Green, whether you believe it or not." "I mought ha' b'en mistaken, but I don't see how I could ha' b'en," said Bill. "Anyhow, I tho't you did. Hope to die 'f I didn't." Considering Bill's proverbial stub' bornne8S, this was a surprising admission for him to make. "Dick," said Nannie, coming up to him, with tearful eyes, "you haven't told me whether you're glad to see me or not." "You know I am," said Dick, and the look which accompanied the words was eloquent enough to satisfy Nannie that she had a very warm corner in his heart yet. "If you hadn't come just as you did. I'd have been a dead man by this time." v "Don't!" cried Nannie, turning pale 1 again. # Then Bhoda came to shake hands with Dick, and though little was said in'words, a great deal was expressed in looks, and looks are often far more expressive of our deepest feelings than any words can be. Perkins came back presently with the other party, of whom he had been in search. "We mustn't be losin' time," he said. "We've got tu build a raft tu git intu the swamp on, an' there's no tellin' how much we'll be hendered. So le' 's git down tu bisness." "Luck go with you," oried Nannie, as the party set off. - Dick's kiss was warm upon her ___ cheek.. He had kissed Rhoda, too, and she was so happy that she never thought of being jealous over it. But as the men passed out of sight among the alders fringing the creek's banks, a fear of what might take place m the Big Swamp, if they failed to find the real thieves, came over her, and made her faint and dizzy. The danger was not over. "I shall not breathe one easy breath till they're all back home," she said to Bhoda. "Isn't it awful? And,to happen in camp-meeting time, too!" "I think I've got even with Mr. "Wayne now," said Rhoda, as they turned to retrace their steps homeward. "I've spoiled his plans completely, and I've done a good turn for v Dick. I never heard of suih a thing, outside of a story. I wonder if it is all so? Pinch me, Nannie, so that I'll know I'm awake." "Yes, you're awake," answered Nannie, "and so am I, and so hungry, and tired almost to death. I didn't realize it till we'd got started for home. "Oh, dear! It's a long way there yet. If we only had Doll and Nell to ride!" . i*' - . CHAPTER XXV. AA1 vr J. XXX. XA1A A^TAillUAAAO. As may readily be imagined, there was great consternation in the Boone household when the absence of Nannie and Rhoda was discovered, on Sunday morning. Mrs. Boone had passed a somewhat sleepless night, and rose early. She busied herself getting breakfast, wondering, meanwhile, why Nannie did not come down as usual to help her. ''Poor gal! I s'pose she was jest beat out with what happened las' nieht " thouorht her mother. "I don't wonder, nuttier. I be, myself. I'll let 'em sleep till breakfas' is ready." At last the meal was on the table, and she went to the ladder leading to the attic where Nannie and Rhoda were supposed to be asleep, and called: ^ "Come, girls, time you was up. It's pas' seven o'clock, an' breakfas' is v, ready an' waitin'. Be spry now. Mis' Holdredge, air you up yit?" - Yes, Mrs. Holdredge, who had ocI cupied the room belonging to Nannie, i was ud and dressed, and came into ihe kitchen presently. "I didn't hear the girls a-stirrin' after you'd called 'em," sbfe said. "It inns' be they sleep sound this mornin'." Mrs. Boone went to the ladder and called again. [ No answer. k "It's curi's," she said. "Nannie ' ain't never hard to wake up." 1 She went up the ladder till slie could eeeinto the attic. 1 No one was there. The bed had xot even been slept in. "Oh, Mis' Holdredge, they ain't L ? HE kJiLUnJL l. 3 >/VWWWW W rHE FRONTIER. ^ vwwww. =C. REXFORD, W ft TPs 7f\ ^tK 7J\ ISP )K here!" she cried. "Did you hear 'em come in las' night?" No, Mrs. Holdredge had heard nothing of them. "I do b'leeve they must ha' stayed tu Ezry's, after all," said Mrs. Boone. "I'll run right over 'n' see. You set down an' be eatin'. Mis' Holdredee. afore the vittles git cold. I'll be right back." But inquiry at Mr. Porter's failed to elicit any information regarding the whereabouts of the missing girls. "Hain't seen 'em sence about ten minnits after you an' Mis' Holdredge lef' las' night," said Samanthy. "Mus' be they took it intu their heads to go to Stevenses', though what should possess 'em to go there at that time o' night, I can't see. You run right back home, Mis' Boone, an' I'll go over tu Stevenses' an' see'f they're there."So Mrs. Boone returned, with dismal forebodings, while Samanthy started out on a search for the runaways. "Fust it's hosses they're a-huntin' an' then it's gals," said Samanthy, with a shiver, as she looked toward .Via Viarn and thoncht. nf thft dead man lying inside. "Them words o' the elder's las' night was awful comfortin'. He don't think I was tu blame, an' bein' an elder, it seem'B ef he ought tu know, ef anybody." The dew had fallen heavily, and Samanthy thought it advisable to go around by the main road rather than by the 'cross-lot path through the bushes. As she came to the forks where she was to turn she looked down the tyill, and away at the foot of it she saw two females. "Marsy on us!" she exclaimed. "Can that be them? It looks like 'em, fer sartin. What on airth'd 'a' took 'em that way? I'll wait till they come np;" ' ouo oat uuwii uu u ivg auu vrttiu^u.. "Fer the land's sake, girls, where hev ye b'en?" she shouted, as soon as they were within hearing distance. "Hunting horse-thieves," answered Nannie, who, though tifred, was in the best of spirits. "Everybody else had gone into that business, and we thought we'd see what we could do at it." * "Wall, I hope ye've found'em," said Samathy. "We have," answefed Nannie. "That is, we know where they are, and the men have gone after them, and we expect they'lkget them. Oh, Samanthy, I've seen Dick, and if we Hadn't got there just as we did they'd have hung him. They had him strung up over a limb when we got in sight." "0 Lordl You scare me!" cried Samanthy. "Wall, it's a fact, isn't it, Rhoda?" said Nannie. Rhoda corroborated her statement. Then Nannie jwent on to tell what I have already told the reader. "The hand o' the Lord is in it," said Samanthy, solemnly. "Praise His holy name." Rhoda wondered if Samanthy wasn't going to "get the power." About nine o'clook Mrs. Boon? looked out and startled Mrs. Holdredge with the announcement that "Samanthy'd got 'em." "I was almost sure they'd been stole, 'long with the hosses," she said, and begun to cry. And the returning wanderers found her in tears. Again their story had to be told, to a running accompaniment of "0 Lords!" and "For the lan's sake!" and "Who'd 'a' thought it?" from Mrs. Boone and Mrs. Holdredge. "See here," said Samanthy. "Not a word o' this mus' git to the singin'teacher. Ef it does he'll be a li'tin' out afore the men git back." < It was agreed that not word of what had been done should be told to any one. This compact having been enforced by repeated cautions on her part, Samanthy went back home. "Where was they?" asked Mrs. Porter. "I jest got to the forkB o' the road when I see 'em a-comin'," was Samanthy's reply. "It's curi's how gals will act, a skylarkin' 'round nights, when theyorter be abed. Ef they was my gals I'd l'arn 'emsuthin' they'd be likely to remember a spell." Wayne was listening for her answer to Mrs. Porter's question. "There! I wonder if you can make onTT^irtrr nnf a' fl>of 0" aoi/1 fioinoni^xr (uij vuiug uuv v/ vuovi oaiu uauiau uuj } with a glance in his direction "Ef you can ye 're welcome to." CHAPTER XXVI. WAYNE QET8 HIS DESERTS. The attendance at camp-meeting on Sabbath morning was much smaller than it had been on the day before, there being but few men present, but what it lacked in numbers it made up in zeai. "I'm determined to do what I can to make this a day long to be remembered in all the region round about," said the elder, to Samanthy. "I want you all to help me," he told the friends who gathered about him when he came upon the camp-grounds. "Let us pray for a shower of grace, brothers and sisters, a good big shower of it, and not a little sprinkling." The first exercises of the morning were a "love-feast." Have any of my readers ever attended one? It is a meeting in which all rise and speak freely, telling of their hopes and determinations, and testifying of the help and comfort that religion had been to them. It lacks the formality of class meeting, in which each person is expected to speak, and is called on to do so. It is a free, unurged expression of the religious nature, and has social spontaneity in all its utterances, which makes those who take part in it feel at ease, and among friends.. It binds strangers together by one common tie of faith, and is full of helpful influences. To believing souls it is indeed \ a "feast" from which they arise i freshed and strengthened. Deaoon Snyder delivered a mo powerful exhortation to the nnrepei ant and back-slidden, as a prop winding-up of the love-feast, and thi ' > * i i -I i.V _ A. me more iormai exercises ua wo ui began. [To be continued. ] A QUEER WESTERN OASIS. How the Artesian Wells Are Suppll That "Water It. Artesian wells are usually expensi luxuries, but there is one spot on t' American continent where they a cheaper than dumps and more commi than mortgages. This is in the cent of what used to be called the ,Gr American Desert. The boundary the oasis forms an ellipse, one foe of which is at Wilburn, Kan., and t other at Meade. A winding streai called appropriately Crooked Cree forms the long axis of the ellipse. T1 > little lozenge-shaped district, lying the arid forehead of the West, is pre 1 ably the best watered portion of t noit+li'a lon/1 anrfa/>A A farmer here may have an artesi ' well in his baok yard, another at 1 barn and a dozen more in differe places on his farm. All he has to ' is to bore a hole fifteen or twenty fe deep and stand to one side. T water qtftckly comes bubbling np ai runs busily away to quench the thi] of Crooked Creek. No well in t whole district cost above $50, but are satisfactory. There are upward of 250 wells in t narrow basin, yet only a few of the are intelligently managed. There a three or four wells whioh yield fori five gallons of water a minute, frc twelve to twenty that yield thirty gi Ions, and the rest grade on down eight or ten gallons. It is. comput that enough water flows from t ground each year to cover 12,000 act of land one foot deep. The residents, however, are e organized and have never heard of t question "How can I use what have?" Therefore, they waste t water shamefully, and the distri< instead of being a garden of perenn: beauty and prosperity, is chiefly i markable for the size of its mosquito ? j iu. i ? ;?? t .... rr? ttUU bliO UUttlDDliCOD UL AID JLlUgO* JLLC and there a more progressive farm has drained his quagmires and sho^ what he can do with these blessings nature. From the time when students fli turned their attention to it, this sp has been a puzzle. The people w] live there imagine they have only thin crust of earth between their fe and a vast underground lake, that tl land rests upon this lake as ice do upon water, and that a well bored in its bosom allows the water to rise jn as it oomes up through oracks in ti ioe. Bat deep borings have prov< that the lake does not exiet. The State Geological Survey h about settled the question, and, aft all, it is a very simple one. The flo of all the western territory is made t of deposits of that age called by geol gists the cretaceous. Above thi however, is a wholly'different form tion, the tertiary deposit. It consiB of a loose material; shale, clay, Ban soil, varying in depth from fifty to 2i feet. This forms the surface of tl land and is spread over the area even withoutrespect to the under formatio It appears to have been put on like suit of clothes to warm the bones naked old nature. , The water, fallen as rain all over tl Rocky Mountain slope, sinks throng this loose crust* until it comes to tl cretaceous rooks. Then, finding i downward course Btopped, it follow the dip of the strata and flows gent eastward upon its cretaceous b< beneath its tertiary coverlet. Wher ever a stream has cut its channel do~n nearly to ine noor enormous sprini are continually to be found,"and th in the dryest region, not ,an actu desert, on the globe. The artesian district, then, is easi accounted for. By some combinatic of circumstances the earth's surfa< has been worn away in the narro valley of Crooked Creek almost to tl floor of the country,' and the wat flowing slowly along under the hig lands of the West emerges here for brief peep at the day and then pasei on benenth the eastern hills. Queer Thing* in the Tariff. There are some queer things in tl tariffbill. Several years ago, when Judj Kelley, of Pennsylvania, was Chairma of the Committee on Ways and Mean the members were revising the tarii and somebody suggested that the e: isting duty of thirty per cent, upc alkakange should be increased to flfl per cent. The question was discusse for an hour or more, when some men ? il in-- 1 T J 1.1. _ oer Ol me commiuee, wiio iiau mut no part in the controversy, exclaime* "What in thunder is alkakang anyway?" Judge Eelley asserted that it was kind of acid. Somebody else said was a drug. A third member sai that he knew it was a chemical < some sort, but wasn't quite sure whi it was used for. The item was passe over for the moment to allow the clei of the committee to ascertain whi alkakange was. He consulted all tt scientific bureaus of the Governmei arir) all hnnkn nf rfiferenrtfi wit.hm T getting any light on the, subjec Finally some one suggested that might be a mistake of the printer, an< sure enough, an investigation led 1 the disclosure that several years b fore, when the tariff was under consi< eration, a line of the bill, which coi tained only one word, got "pied" i the printing office. The printer pi the letters together the best he couli with the expectation that the clei of the committee or the proofread* would correct it. It happened to I overlooked, and this word that meat nothing might have remained on tt tariff list for all eternity had not a ci rirms flonoresaman asked what meant. A similar case occurred some jeai later through the bad penmanship i Horace Maynard, of Tennessee. E attempted to write "styrax." and tl printer made it "sturrax." This ite: remained on the tariff bill for sever years, until somebody discovered tl mistake. Styrax is a drug made froi a plant grown in Java, Sumatri Borneo and other parts of the Ea Indies.?Chicago Record. The population of Dublin, Irelan< has decreased within the last iocl years from 261,000 to 240,000 it- w nr^ 1 V II r z m i nt KtALivi i " 9MMM While red is much in vogue for all p ed ages it is peculiarly suited, according s to May Manton, to the gowns designed h ye for children's wear. The attractive ^ he ? jti?r~ n an wadBiri ' q ,er WTrf i&za A IP Ell' ^ ^ GIRL S COSTOilE. M and stylish model shown is of cashmere " be In the brilliant shade known as tulip, 0 ee with trimmings and sash. of black a( velvet ribbon. The full waist, which ^ pouches very slightly over the belt, is made over a lining that fits the figure * inugly at the front, the backs of which be "e u*e cut exactly as is the outside. The tr ?*> poke portions of surah striped with at 'a' narrow black velvet are faced onto the b< >e* lining to the depth indicated. The yt 68 full portion is applied, the fulness pt ra jrranged in gathers at the waist and v? 61 ihe pointed edges finished with two rc pn bands of velvet. The sleeves are'two- w of ' - . es BP STYLISH LADIEi - Beamed and fit snugly well above the sa ie elbow bat show alight puffs at the na je shoulders which support the full ar - 1 TOi tu epauien-eo. s, The skirt is cut in four gores and te: ff, fits smoothly at th6 front and hips. It w< i- is lined throughout and is trimmed1 >n with double row of velvet ribbon sb :y applied in points. At the waist is a bt sd belt with bow and ends of wider rib- lii a- bon. % cl< sn To make this costume for a girl of to i: twelve years will require three and th e, three-fourths yards of forty-four-inch T1 material with one-half yard of twenty- se a two-inch silk for the yoke. ar it _ Ladies' Blouse. 0f The popularity of the cfoth costume is an established fact, says May Man /\ti TVia at.Trlin'h mndAl ahrvwn in the ,g .v?, ~ ? 4 .jj large illnstration is well adapted to at zibeline, broadcloth and cheviot, worn ie with a skirt of the same, and over a shirt waist of silk or velvet* As illusjt trated, the material is zibeline in deep j Bordeaux-red with trimming of astra^ khan and yoke of smooth-faced cloth, j banded with narrow black braid. ^ With it is shown a belt of handsome e. black leather, and a hat of black velj. vet with ostrich plumes. ' The foundation for the blouse is a fitted lining made in the usual manner, and closing at the centre-front, j The blouse proper is fitted by shoul.j? der and under-arm seams only, the 3r tabbed epaulettes being cut as parts )e , of the back and fronts. The yoke is 1 19 seamed to the right shoulder, and ie hooks over to the left. The blouse : - "* 11 L-.li. A , poucnes wen over tub umt nuu musco ^ invisibly at the left Bide. The basque j portion is separate and seamed at the r8 waist line. The sleeves are two- , 3f seamed and show only slight fulnesB j [e at the shoulders. Beneath the epau- ~ ie lettes they are seamed to the lining F: m only, an extra strip of the cloth being of stitched on to insure strength. The fo l0 entire garment is lined with taffeta m silk in a harmonizing shade of red. fo a To make this blouse for a lady in fo the medium size will require two tb yards of forty-four-inch material. Winter Costumes. ? While trimmed skirks are certainly 01 'J newer than the plain ones, says Har- n< )F FASHION, f er's Bazar, there are many very mart oostumes made with skirts that ave no trimming whatever, and rhich are severely plain and of ledium width. The tailor-made owns espeoially have the plain skirts nitA as nftan as tha trimmed nnns. A eculiarly attractive model for a cloth own has the plain skirt and short icket trimmed with velvet and ohinhilla fur. The jacket is belted in, nd has a jaunty little basque, which i trimmed all around with a band of lie ohinchilla. Revere, wide at the jp, and tapering in at the waist-line, re bordered with the fur. The high ollar has a band of the fur, and there i fur around the flaring cuffs. A tted vest of gray velvet is one of the matures of this gown. A smart gown f cashmere is made with the skirt lightly en train, and all fulness well >wards the baok. Around the foot of le skirt iB a pattern braided in velvet bbon. > The waist is cat so as to give readth, and yet tapers at the belt, hich is of folded velvet ribbon. Wide at short revers turn back sharply om the vest, and are faced with Blvet, and the waist itself fastens jross diagonally, wiCh the edge flnhed with braiding to match the patirn on the skirt. The sleeveB have tree iucks across ine pun. ignite ke the old portraits when stocks ere worn is the eflFect of the band onnd the throat of monsseline de >ie with a bow-knot. The vest, also : the monsseline de soie, is shirred srosg horizontally. Dr4w For a Child. No other style, however good, ever ipersedes the one shown in the ilias ation. While it is in every way suittie for a wee child of two it can also > worn by girls up to the eighth ?ar. As illustrated the material is lie pink cashmere with bands of velit ribbon of the samb oolor and bole of the material embroidered with hite and edged with frills of pink . I ' . ' - 5' BLOUSE. tin ribbon. White goods, suoh as insook. Persian lawn and the like e equally suitable for dressy gowns, ' lile ginghams and sundry oottohma- 1 rials are well adapted to morning jar. The full front and back are fitted at oulder and nnder-arm seams only, ( it arejmonnted upon a short bodyling, which, together with the gown, oses at the centre-back. The bole>, which is quite simple, is joined at ,e shoulder and under-arm seams. , he sleeves, of bishop shape, are one< | amed, the fulness at both shoulders j j id wrists being arranged in gathers. '? 1 I L ILD'S DRESS. ' 1 1 rills of the ribbon edged with bands j velvet make the finish at neck and 1 rm tiny cuffs. j To make this dress for a child of ^ ur years will require two and oneurth yards of forty-four-inoh or tree yards of thirty-six-inoh material. , General Boulangev's black charger, 1 i which he hoped to ride to a throne, ] 3w draws a Paris cab. 1 v DOGS THAT DRAW LOADS, \ SUDdliiUic run inc nunat in COUNTRIES OF EUROPE. Cost and Training of Dogs Cud as Draught Animals?They Hani Delivery Carta in (!ities and Farmers' Produce in Bural Districts?Stringent Police Regulations The use of the dog as a draught animal is steadily increasing in Belgium, Gfermany, Switzerland and tne Netherlands, according to recent consular reports, in spite of the strenuous opnnaifinn rvf ?Ha Snnifltvfnr thfl PrflTfln tion of Cruelty to animals, and notwithstanding the severe discrimination Against the dog-owner in all highway privileges and expenditures. The dog, says the New York Post, has proved to be so peculiarly adapted to the needs of the small farmer and the tradesman, and, withal, so easily acquired and so willing and cheap a servant, that the transportation of small quantities of merchandise through short distances is chiefly done by him in those countries. In the cities he hauls the delivery carta of the butoher, the grocer, the baker, the milkman and the shopkeeper; in the rural districts be draws the peasant's farm produce to the market, and does many an odd service that commonly falls to the lot of a donkey or a horse. His usefulness is, of oourse, strictly limited, by his strength no less than by the police regulations, to "small teaming," bnt his worth is evideht in his persistent numerical increase. It oosts nothing to train a draught dog, little- to feed him and but little more to possess him; he is housed without inconvenience or expense; he does his work faithfully and well, and in these potent considerations lies the explanation of his widespread use. .The draught dogs are harnessed from two to six abreast to a two or four-wheeled cart. When a single dog is used, he is hitched to a shaft under* neath the cart, and merely aids the driver, who, pushing from behind, does the greater part of the work. The harness is simple, consisting of a broad strap, or breast collar, of. leather, passing around the breast and tapering back about three feet on each side, lengthened by traces of cord or leather, which are attached to the whiffletree. The collar is held in place by a back-band and girth, and the leather muzzle, wtaon all dogs, m or out of harness, are required to wear at all seasons when outside their owners' preihises, serves as a bridle, and completes the working gear. The twowheeled cart is about four feet high, weighs some two hundred and fifty pounds, and is provided with long handles, which are held by the driver, who guides and balances it, while the dogs, hitched to an iron braoket, trot beneath. The four-wheeled oart, which is used almost exclusively in the oountry and remote villages, is two and one-half feet high, weighs x 1 a J3 J ADOa* one uuuuicu auu mnjr puuttuo^ j and is usually drawn by four or more dogs harnessed abreast in front. The cost of a draught dog varies considerably, age health, strength and spirit naturally being important factors in determining it. In Ghent a young dog of ordinary promise may be bought for $6 or $7; a well-trained dog, between one and three years old* will cost from $10 to $12, while $16 is asked for a very fine dog. In Brussels a good draught dog sells at from sixty to 125 franos ($11.58 to $24.12). In Antwerp the prices are. about the same, a'well trained strong young dog ^ costing from $18 to $20, while a sixyear-old dog can be bought for a sum between $8 and $10. In Frankfort, Germany, the value ranges from $15 to $25; in Lucerne, from seventy to 150francs ($13.51 to $28.95). Food and maintenance are trifling items of expense, as a full-grown dog can be kept strong and healthy on the kitchen waste of a household of five or six. In the country districts the food is milk, bread, and vegetables exclusively, and, although it is apparently insufficient, the dogs thrive. If the food must be bought, a stable of six dogs oan be kept at an expenditure of about six cents each per day. Carts and harness may be had to eoit the purses of the purchaser. . It is impossible to determine even an approximate average of the weight a single dog can draw through a given distance in a given time. Somewhat indefinitely, it may be said that six dogs can draw a load of 800 pounds daring several conseoutive hours without sign of distress. It is a fact also that two dogs can draw a peddler's load from five o'olock in the morning until eight o'olock in the evening, with onlysuoh refct as the intervals of sale may offer, and that they will then be less fatigued than their master at the end of the day's work. One dog alone arenerallv has strength enough to draw a milkman's crfrt and sixty gallons of milk over a long route in a rolling country. The average working life of these faithfal animals is ten years. , They reach their fall strength at three years, and from then until they are nine years old should be at their best. With good care and sufficient food most dogs are capable of service even until fifteen years old, and many trot their daily round with oheerful alacrity although bearing the weight of twenty years. {Hants With a Cat. A nimrod of Milford, Penn., hasn't any use for a bird dog in his hunting expeditions. He takes along with turn an ordinary cat xu penuim ?u? duties usually falling to the dog which the average hunter takes along to help him find game. The capabilities of the cat were first discovered the other day when the young fellow left the house on a short ezpedi* tion after birds. He had gone but a short distance when he discovered that the house cat was following him. He tried to chive it back home, but it persisted in accompanying him. It illustrated its ability as a hunter by ".pointing" a woodcock in the most approved style, and after they had been brought down, "flushed" a parbridge, which its master also bagged. Sinoe that time pussy always accom panies her master on his hunting trips, and does her portion of the (fork aB well as any dog might. For Love of a Lais. A traveler was discussing the lasso is a useful means of catching men as nrell as animals, when a listener interposed with?"Why, the first syllable ilone has caught many a man." FAME'S COST. Oh, Morn not things of low togrM, .1 And sigh for wealth and state; far bettsr court hMifllty Than burdens of the greet. For he who wins ambition's ttght . Can never be at ease; .Vfl He gains, 'tis tniea worldly height, ; But has a world to please. C ML VXW.CJB lUUIVIW H UVBwAB i*VW| - ' c . And in his new estate n He finds, though bright thoM bopozt gSn^r^GjH *Tls thralldom to be great. ; 0 The flatterers that abort him tbio&g / 1 Each has some dole to ask; ' To please them Is no Idle song, 1 v But a herculean task. ^ ,H We value things af they appear, -s/: J Nor oonnt the eoet and pattt ^ : ^Xfl iwa^3^s_r, 9 PITH and point. was. Why, he woke ut iU Tit-Bits. . ' Friend?'"What did t single bonquet atyonr detat?";. that fool of a gardeneir ditln't ; ^ stand me, and sentthem ?Fliegende Blatter. ''1? "If is predicted tha^the' battfw; of H the fnture will be fonght in "That won't fl heroic in bfttti?'iialfcw fl S - 1^_ _ - 1* ? - -^- 1^- - 1^- :*./. man who had gathered Mm through this mass of traah ;:.? Landlady?"The price of this room :' .1 is thirty marks. Will that auitJ.'B Student?"Perfectly." Landlady-r "Then you can't have ji A man who %'ffl meekly accepts each an e*orbil*nfc:. I price, obviously does not intend io ; {, B pay his bill.Fliegende Blatter.' - A Dog That Bides A Horse. .# fl A small terrier pushed* upon th$ ^ % ,fl shoulders of a cart liorue, where- fe* balanced himself like a circus rider*# his bearer jogged along, created, con-- ffigB eiderable merriment an terday. When the driver stepped the:; : horse the dog sat down upon the I of his friend and eyed the crowd that. ' Jj collected with mnch interest. I "That horse and dog," explained the driver to an inquisitive yonnggter, "have tteen personal friends ever since ' they met, four years ago. They* will ? not be separated. The dog sleep* in \f- ifl the feed box of the horse's back. If > J ihe dog gets ont of Bight of the horse '' -fl the latter is sure to whinney for iim. jfl The dog learned to ride on the horse himself. I have never taught him. invthincr."?New Tork Commerica! f idvertiaer. -Im Wanted the Kortnie. < A Swede came into a lawyer's office t one day, says the Cincinnati Enqnir- < er, and asked: "Is hare ben a law- .. yer's place?" "Yes; I'm a lawyer." "Well, Maister Lawyer, I tank I shall . have a paper made." "What kind of . a paper do you want?" "Well, I tank I shall have a mortgage. Yon see, I 1 ? ? ?;a?o nt land from Nels UUjr illO C9 |/ACVV v* , aww. ? -'--Kwm^^ Petersen, and I want a mortgage on ", ! it." "Oh, no. You don't want a ? mortgage; what you want is a deed." * "No, maister, I tank I want mortgage. You see, I buy me two pieces of land \ before, and I got deed for dem, and '? 'nother faller come along with mortgage and take the land; so I tank I better get mortgage this time." ... < ^ Singular Case of Human Shrinkage. A singular case of human shrinkage is reported from the Soldiers' Home at Sandusky, Ohio.. Peter Cooley, ?x +/-i fh? home about /y'i WJLIU Yitba autuivro\k ?v four years ago, was, when he enlisted fl in the Fourth Indiana Infantry in M 1861, five feet and two inches tall and straight as an arrow. His perpendicularity has been in no wise affected since that time, but to-day he stands exaotly four feet and four inches in his a took- J ing feet, having, without in any man- I ner affecting his health or general ap- I pearance otherwise, grown ten inohes I shorter. He is a well-built, compact I old man. now in his eighty-first year, and is as lively and active as a boy.? fl JJetroitJFrae Press.