Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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One of the hotteat regions in the United States is along the line of the Sonthern Pacific railroad in Arizona. At Bagdad in that territory, the tffer- Borncter has been known to stand as high as 140 in the shade for days in succession. Thd ticket agent at Bag dad says that he has seen the mercury standing at 128 on the cool side of the depot building at midnight. It is said that the old black overcoat •f ih« German army will shortly be abolished. Experiraeuts have been nade with various regi.-ients during the past twelve months with overcoats •f various shades of gray, which have led to the concldsion that light gray is the color least distinguished at a dis tant;**, and therfore best adapted for wear in view of the use of smokeless powder. Facts show that it is possible to pre vent disease. As science has moved we have obtained a bette- knowledge •f the laws of life and health. Great improvements have been made in the mode of living. Houses are better constructed, ventilation and drainage arc more complete. Food is more varied and nutritious, clothing is more adapted to the climate, and the moral and physical aspects of the community, taken as a whole, are improved. Hence the death rate has been reduced, and the mass of men and women may console themselves with the fact that they are likely to attain the alloted four score years of life. "With regard to diseases, the death rate of small pox •since the passage of the first vaccina tion act in 1840, has diminished from 57.2 to 6 5 per 100,000 for 1880-84. The diminution in the death rate from *71 ihus fever is quite as striking. Diphtheria and scarlet fever are more •bedient to the skilful physician than ever before, while in cholera, the deaths have ditnished since its last appearance as an epidemic, and it aever has appeared in the same pro portions since. International philan thropy and experience have had much to do with the change, and the o is veason to believe that the future may be prolific of even more improvement than the past. As Too Go Throogh Life. Don’t look for the flaws as yon go through Hwi And even when yon find them It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind And look for the virtue behind them. For the cloudiest night has a bint of light Somewhere in its shadows hiding; It is better by far to bunt for a star Than the spots on the sun abiding. The current of life runs ever away To the bosom of God's great ocean. Don’t set your force ’gainst the river’s course, And think to alter its motion. Don't waste a curse on the universe— Don’t butt at the storm with your puny form— But bend and let it go o'er you. The world will never adjust itself To suit your whims to the letter, Some things must go wrong your whole life long, And the sooner you know it the better. It is folly to tight with the infinite, And go under at last in the wrestle. The wisest man shapes into God’s plan, : As the water shapes into a vessel. —[Ella Wheeler Wilcox, in the Weekly. GOLD-HEELED SHOES. BV GEORGE I. PL’TNAM. For i he first time in the statistics of the semi-tropic and nut industries of this country have been collected and are now printed in a bulletin, which kas just been issued by the United Stales census oflice. It is stated in the bulletin the acreage of oranges, as a matter of course, exceeds that of all the other products, yet the possibili ties of pineapple culture on the south east ’coast of Florida and for 100 miles rrt f r ^ i »^ 1 »■»! are such as to give promise of a very great and profitable extension of the culture of this delicious fruit Pecan eultu r e in north-west Florida and all the Gulf States has apparently just begun to develop some of its wonder ful possibilities as a reliable and profitable crop, while there is every leason to believe that within a few years the figs, olives, maderia nuts and lemons of California will rival in Talne her wondrous crops of •ranges,- and yet a comparisou ©f the tables of bearing and non-bearing trees will show three times as many non-bearing as bearing orange trees in the census year, and as planting has been go- ibg on more rapidly than ever since the census was taken the number of trees now growing in California must be neaarly double that of eighteen month ago, all of which means an •ntpat of at least 10,000,000 boxes of ©ranges from California before the •ndof the present century. The Flor ida figures show a greater proportion •f non-bearing trees than do those of California, though most of them have been planted five or more years, while the /everse is true of California. Most of the orange trees in that state reported as non-bearing have been planted since 1886 and very many of them during the census year. Ari zona makes quite a showing of young ©range trees, the mere beginning of m new industry there, where soil and climate seem well adapted to the per fect development of citrus fruits, and, with an abundance of water for irri gation, the development is likely to be rapid. However, the time of ripening of the fruit in the different ••belu” is such as not to materially in terfere with each other. “A million a minute! Gold heels on ray shoes!” A tall spare woman bobbed up from the blueberry patch and looked around half guiltily, then drew a reassured breath, for no one was within eai-shot. “True as I stand here,” she said, addressing a mingled multitude of ferns, rocks and berry bushes, “some day I’ll do it. And when I’m worth a million a min ute, I’ll have gold heels to my shoes.” She shut her dps tightly, defying more thoughts to escape; but even then the line of her mouth was pleas ant. She knelt and industriously stripped the low bushes, holding her pail beneath with an experienced hand to catch the dropping berries. She had 15 quarts to deliver at sunset, and the terms of her contract left no time for monologue. This was Abby—“Miss” Abby to the children, “Aunt” Abby among the sick, simply Abby to ordinary adults. People did not trouble themselves about her surname. They did not even think much about her, but accept ed her as their just due from a friend ly Providence. Children discovered her living in a little house in the edge of Pomfret, and spoke of Miss Abby as au acquisition. Then some sick man, yearning for herb remedies, was gratified by her and thereafter declared Aunt Abby had saved his life. The wise— those who moiled with an eye single to the inrolling dollar—began by mistrusting her sincerity, and ended by questioning her mental bal the house appeared deserted, and she passed on. “It’s pension day,” she thought. “I know where she is. Upstairs crying for him that’s gone. Blue—blue as she can be. H’m! I’m blessed that my past don’t sorrow me, nor my future either. There it is now! Mil lion a minute! Gold-heeled shoes! Keep it up!” Abby spoke of wealth with rich exaggeration. Her ideal independence was simply freedom from debt She had one desire that ruled her life —and that, to possess a home. The knowledge that her landlord might, on a lapse of payment, turn her out, rode her as a sense of inferiority. Her material standing seemed as insecure as her credit. But to own the ground she walked on, that was to wear gold- heeled shoes. Every step left the impress of wealth’s equality. All her efforts, then, were directed to the reduction of the insufferable mortgage that threatened her home. She labored hard in every channel knoyvn to her countrywomen. She picked and sold berries. She gathered and cured sweet-flag. She had a patch of garden with many herbs in it, and others she gathered wild and sold in bunches for the druggists and medicine-makers. She stitched boots wheu that seldom work offered. She knit and sewed. She did not know an idle moment the year round. By years of patient toil Abby had reduced the amount of the mortgage to one hundred dollars. And one night, when she looked at her bank book and counted the day’s receipts, she found enough to cancel the debt. It was a matter of verification only, for she knew to a cent the state of her finances. Pardonably she wept a little that her work was accomplished. The goal was reached she had set, and be yond which she had not before looked. Now she was brought face to face with blankness. Whither should she wander through it, and what should she strive for? She asked herself these questions, for it was borne in upon her that the old desire was a thing of the past, being gratified, and that she must discover a new one. Through anticipation, her hope had mirrored brightly, hut now she found its reverse side dull; and with the dis appointment mingled a bitter surprise that it was so. The widow broke in upon this con- jured-up sadness with real living sor row of her own. She was crying,and all Abby’s heart-tenderness went out to her at once, for the widow was a «*! can never pay you back, Abby, but while I have a crust— Oh, Abby, I can't tell you all I think,” she cried, for the event bore a poetic fancy Into her plain-furnished mind. “But I do believe your gold-heeled shoes are lay ing up for you to walk the streets of Paradise,” - ]—Harper’s Weekly. proud little woman, and had kept her Tlii»y <lirl not ynrenive how griefs at home until now, fairly driven : u ild live by works non-resi''itaut for consolation to Abby’s kindly a^ms. ^ And there she lay and sobbed her story—how Jim had been placed under bonds and had broken them, and could not pay and must go away to some prison. Little by little sue laid bare the trial of desolate years, and Abby listened sympathetically. A Superstitious Career. He—You acknowledge that you — *r—like me, yet refuse. She (belle of the season)—Yes, I mast. Thirteen is an unlucky num ber. “Eli?" “You are the thirteenth man who has proposed to me; and if we should become engaged, I’m afraid some- ibinir dreadful would happen ” “You are fooli-hly su picious. What could happen?” “1 might marry you.’ - —[New York Weekly. A Complication. “What’s the matter, Parker? Yon look blue.” “I am. 1 asked Mbs Morrison to be my wife.” “Ah! Rejected?” “No. Referred me to her mother, and—well, her mother rejected me herself last September at Narr.gau- *eti.”—[Harpei’s B z n-. one could live by in a stipulated wage. Abby moved towards a competency as steadfastly as did the wise, but by a different path, pleasanter and as di rect There were happy, kindly faces along her way. And if they did not always comprehend her, they at least, nodded and smiled encouragingly as she passed. To such a one, brighten ing some dark turn of the path, she would say: “You wait till I get ray gold-heeled shoes. Then I can smile for you.” “Real gold, Abby?” inquired the practical oue. “Y r es, indeed. Why not? When you’re worth a million a minute, you can do that sort of thing.” At sunset she walked, fatigued, to the village store, and delivered the berries. “And here’s your pay,” said the storekeeper. “Eight cents a quart, fifteen quarts, dollar twentv. What you going to do with so much money, Abby?” with an expectant oblique glance for the benefit of some dozen loungers. “It all goes towards those gold- heeled shoes,” said Abby, cheerily. Then the loungers followed the store keeper in a laugh. “Abby’s all right,” said he, after she went out. “You don’t have to measure her berries. But she’s a little queer. A fel.ow ha* to laug . at her now and again.” Abby ploughed her way home along the dusty July road. “One twenty, one twenty,” she repeated. “There’s a day’s work for you. There’s another peg in your gold-heeled shoes. They’re coming, coming.” She invigorated herself, mind and body, by this alchemic formula. ‘•Gold-heeled shoes” to the storekeeper and his ilk was a- vairary for their diversion. To Abby the words were mere quantative signs. The widow Barker, with her way ward son Jim, were Abby’s nearest neighbors. Barker pere had served in the navy. After his death a small As the Flame of the Candle. One who looked the crowd over aa we waited for the train would not, writes M. Quad in the New York Sun, have set us down as hard hearted and indifferent; but so we proved to be, as a young girl not over 13 years of age, leading an old man who was stone blind and very feeble, passed slowly around the room soliciting alms- They got a penny here and there, but even those coins seemed to be given grudgingly, and those who gave nothing consoled themselves with the reflection that the pair were frauds and really needed no financial assist ance. AVnen they had made the tour of the room the girl led the old man to a seat in a corner, and after a few words had passed between them they began singing a hymn. She had a wonderful voice for a child, clear and sweet, and his was a deep bass. The hymn was that entitled “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” YYm have heard it by a full choir, accompanied by the strains of a grand organ, but you never listened so intently as we did there. There was a plaint in that girl’s voice which touched a chord, and there was a quaver in the old man’s bass which saddened you. They sang low and soft, and they had not finished a verse when half of us were standing up to see them better. The girl kept her eyes on the floor at her feet. The sightless eyes of the old man—her father—were raised to the ceiling, and over his wrinkled face crept a glad smile as they finished the chorus: Nearer, my God, to Thee— Nearer to Thee. The hymn was not finished when every man began feeling for a contri bution and women opened their porte- monuaies. It was different now. They were no longer frauds and every one was glad to give something. Two or three were ready to move about to take up a collection, but they waited for the end of the hymn. When it came to the chorus of the last verse the old man was singing bravely. Half way through his voice suddenly choked and the last two lines were sung by the girl alone and died away in a sob and a cry. All of us saw the old man’s head drop forward and his body lurch. He would have fallen o the fiourhaaTrtTTTrfi^fl^h^eTz.fcG held him up. A dozen of us w< there in a moment, but we were late. The old man’s life had gone as you breathe upon the flame candle and on his. ashen lips trembled the sacred notes of the| fraiu: Nearer to Thee! “Jim could get away,” said the widow, “he would go into the navy, as his father did. Jim always wanted to, but I couldn’t let him go; he is all I have. He can do nothing else, and I would not let him go. I was so selfish—I kept him against his lean ing—and now he must go to prison. It’s a judgment on me.” And Abby consoled her distress and lulled her to rest as gently as she would a grieving child. The next day Abby strode down the white rode to the village, and drew all her money from the bank. The cashier joked her upon extravagance. “Going to buy gold-heeled shoes now, Abby?” She looked up smiling. “Yes. my gold-heeled shoes. Took a Jong time to pay for them, didn’t it?” “I wish we might all get them if it would make us look as happy as you do now,” said lie. Abby matched from the bank into the presence of the town officials sit ting on Jim Barker’s case. The coil- stable was there, ready to conduct him to the state reformatory. “What will it cost to get Jim off ?” she demanded. ••One hundred dollars,” said the clerk. Abby counted the amount on the table, while all the room stared. •‘Come, Jini,” said she. Not so Long, hut Quite as W It is customary for railroads t aunual passes to the highest of other railroads in the same of the country. A while a; president of a little lumber rai Minnesota—a line only fou hnjg and built solely for the t Uticm of lumber—called at th otace of the Great Northern at S|f. Paul, presented his sail f.hat he had issued an a sideiit James Hill of iern and would like py. The office erup struck by this nd politely refuse luest. The caller g| demanded to see y. Being ushere lill’s private offi s case and aske ly dear sir, yo •r line, and a y i” said Mr. Hi, it,” replied it it is custoj requests for courtesies magnates ?&iinot affort against each other, y a matter of regular f It’s part of the railw see, and wc ought no of the regular usuag lie DIRT ROADS. Best Methods of Maintaining Country Thoroughfares. Proper Drainage is the Essen tial Feature of Improvement. m” Hill to Presi- he again r an an- road is not over it is Jim came from his constable-guard- lines.' See?” insistent ry to honor We railroad discriminate know. It’s —discipline, business, you o violate any of reputable ed corner, and followed her out. He was amazed. IIis malodoins cereer had not brought him many acts of kindness at towns-peoph?’s hands. “What does this mean, Miss Abby?” he said, huskily. She smiled at him reassuringly. “Just this, Jim—gold-heeled shoes. And, Jim, go home now, and say “Y'es—perfiips; that you have \io ref Your is only a \jay' four miles long; be< her camp and eA,diii| knows where. “Well, Mr. Hill, mit that my road yours; I never clai| ie( i i t W as. But ft don’t you see railroad lines? [•eight line about lining at a him. the Lord only m willing to ad. isn’t as long as pension came regularly, affording the good-bye to your mother. Then be a ai y road is just ns ilide as yours, sir. widow a meagre living. It was her sole support, for Jim was a thorn. Upright mothers quoted him to chil dren as a warning. He even pricked Abby until she was half minded to report his lapses to his mother, when she would fall iu a temper and rate herself roundly. “Gold shoes, indeed! I don’t de serve leather. As if that woman didn’t have trouble enough without its being piled on free! Providence has been toe good to me; there’s nobody to mourn over; nobody to worry over. A little cross like this will do me good.” Abby had intended to stop for a moment’s chat with the widow, but •Be- © gone; he told “How could uood sailor—and a man.” O Quickly he stood bareheaded fore God, I’ll try,” he said. That night the widow again lay in Abby’s arms. “Jim’s me all,” she whispered, you? Abby, Abby, here I’ve lived be side you for years, and I never know you.” “I haven’t changed a speck,” said Abby. in affected grimness, her face turned away. “Abby, don’t turn away; you’ve saved Jim. Y'ou’vc saved me. And think what it cost! Oh, Abby, your gold-lr eled shoes!” ••There,don’t mind. Leather is good enough the rest of the way.” and I want you tof kBei) t i iat f act in view. Don’t you forget it. sir.” “By George! I I never thought of that,” cried 11:11, [ lll( i a minute later the caller ieft the sflice with an annual pass over the ejj*:,.,. Great Northern system. — [Chicsg,, M t ii. Mould Provide the Water. “Never mind. d^-n-Q^y cried a girl who had been cast G rf ijy | iei . family on marrying a nt - er .d 0 . W e!I. “With you I can be cou:ei,t t 0 live on bread and water.” ’ was the earnest ou’ll just get the around and try to [Harper’s Bazar. “Y'es, beloved, reply. “And if bread, I’ll skirmil earn the water.’] By this term (dirt roads) is meant those roads which are formed of the natural soil found in the line of the roadway. They are so common as to be almost our only roads outside of town and city limits, and will for many years be used largely in country districts, and especially on the lines of cross roads which connect the main high ways. Dirt roads, at their best, are greatly inferior to Macadam and Tel ford roads in every essential of a good highway; in durability, cost of main tenance, drainage, tractive qualities, and, in many locations, in point of economy also. But the dirt road is here, and the public hand must bo directed to its treatment. The first and most important thing necessary for the maintenance of a dirt road may be stated in a single word—drainage. It is the one thing that can neither be dispensed with nor neglected. Most dirt is soluble and is easily displaced under the softening influence of rain, and this process is hastened in the dirt road by the passing of heavy wagons over the wet surface. On every mile of roadway within the United States there falls each year an average of 27,000 tons of water—a heavy, limpid fluid, always directing itself to the nearest outlet and seeking the lowest level. Water is hard to confine and easy to release, and yet, through sheer neglect of the simplest principles of drainage, water is the most active de stroyer of our country roads. In providing for the drainage of a dirt road we should first consider the material of which the roadway is composed. If a heavy, viscous clay predominates, the ordinary side- ditches should be of good depth, and will even then, in many cases, be in adequate for thorough drainage with out the addition of a centre-drain run ning midway between, and parallel with, the side-ditches. The centre- drain should of course be filled with looso irregular boulders, cobble stones, broken bricks, or similar fill ing. covering a line of tiles or fascines at the bottom, and should be connected with the side-ditches by cross-drains carrying the water outward from the centre-tb’iin at proper intervals along the longth of the roadway. Centre- drains, though often greatly needed r the improvement of country 'yads, are uot in common use. They ild somewhat to the cost of the road- ay, but, in most cases, considerably inore to its value, and should be em ployed in all situations where sand or gravel cannot be had to relieve the heaviness and water-holding proper ties of the clay. If gravel, sand, or other porous material can bo con veniently or cheaply obtained, the centre and cross-drains may often be dispensed with by mixing the gravel or sand in plentiful quantities with the clay roadway, so as to insure as nearly as possible a porous and self- draining surface layer, which should not be less than ten inches in depth, and should be laid on the rounded or sloped sub-soil so as to insure easy drainage into the ^side-ditches. In locations where the prevailing material is of a loose, sandy nature, the difficulties of drainage are more easily overcome, and side-ditches, if found neceasary at all, may be made of moderate depth and left open,with out incurring risks and dangers of travel that prevail where the deeper open ditches are use for draining heavier soils. But, on the other hand, the light and shifting nature of sandy road-material destroys its value as a surface layer for an earth roadway, and its deficiency in this respect is most easily remedied by the addition of a stronger and more tenacious sub stance, such as still clay. When mixed with sand in proper proportions (which in each case depend upon the nature of the c’ay and sand used, and which cau be it be deter mined by experiment), this composi tion afltords many advantages which make it superior to a roadway com posed of either sand or clay when used alone. The sand serves to quick en the drainage and to destroy the sticky, tenacious qualities of the clay, while the clay supplies the quality of cohesion in the substance of the road- surface, counteracting the shifiing qualities of the sand, and making the roadway more easily packed and rolled, and more likely to retain its proper grade and slope.— [Century Magazine. Curious Conveyance In India. A curious inode of conveyance in India is the thoppa, a long cane basket with a seat in the middle, from which hangs a small board to sup port the feet. Over the head is a covered top of cane and cloth. As you sit in this basket, says Grace Grimwood, in “My Three Years in Manipur,” a man carries you on his back, supporting some of the weight by a strap which attaches the back of the thoppa to his head. He always begins by informing you that you are much too heavy to be lifted by a single individual, except for double pay. but eventually picks you up and carries you as if you were a mere feather weight. Going along backward and know ing that, should the man’s headstrap break, you will doubtless be precipi tated down the clifi, are not pleasur able sensations; but oue becomes ex ceedingly callous after a lengthy course of thoppa rides in the hills. Sometimes the bearer remembers that it is a cold night, and his patron is going to a ball, and to be there four or five hours while he is left outside in the cold. Having arrived at the conclusion that the cold will probably by that time be intense, he will begin the journey enveloped in all the clothes he can muster. After he has gone some distance with the thoppa he becomes warm, and rapidly divests himself of his many wrappers, placing them on top of the machine, where they flutter about, now and then hitting one play fully in the mouth or eye. Having made themselves as unpleasant as they possibly can, they end by falling off into the road. The bearer perceives them, and im mediately descends with you to his hands and knees, and grovels about until be recovers the fallen raiment. During this process your head assumes a downward tendency, and your heels fly heavenward; should you move ever so lightly in any direction, you im mediately find yourself sitting on the ground, in an attitude less dignified than hasty. Then you may rage at the native, and abuse all his relations, according to custom, in his own language, and you will not Impress him in the least; but use good, sound, fishwife Eng lish and he will treat you as becomes a person worthy of respect. Lost in the Australian Woods. At first sight it would seem impos sible for one to lose himself in these sparse, open woods, wherein long avenues open and through whose feathery gum trees the sky can always be seen. I can vouch by personal ex perience, however, that nothing is more deceptive than the apparent se curity of the Australian bush. All the trees are alike and afford no land marks; the monotonous gray color of the trees and leaves is without accent or change for miles and miles, and the hazy atmosphere that fills the place from decaying vegetation and the sweating balsam of the eucalyptus add to the unsubstantial effect of one’s surroundings. Straying a little out of the beateu track through a very open stretch of woods, in chase of a flock of cockatoos, I once became in five minutes so bewildered and turned about as to into deeper labyrinths, while confideut that I was returning to the road. It was a cloudy day and night was cofning on as I wandered for half an hour amid new perplexities and in an awful silence. "What might have been the result I do not know, had I not heard in the distance the ring of ax- blows, and seen the spectral smoke curling up, which show the work of the squatter in cutting a clearing for his future home. I soon came upon three stalwart young men who were hewing at a giant log; two horses were hobbled in a grass plot near by, and before a canvas-covered wagon a woman was cooking the even ing meal over a brush fire. Apprised of my predicament, one of the men left Ids work to set me right, turned in the direction which I thought to be less likely to be the right oue, and in five minutes put me in the road to the station from which I had set out. My experience had been a mild one and with a fortunate issue, but it gave me an insight into the causes of some of the mental wrecks which the traveler through colonial wilds so often encounters.—[New l r ork Times. A Remedy That Never Failed, His history is briefly told. After sevreal days of thought he discovered a sure way to make money, and, like other men, he was in a hurry to try it. He made haste to insert an adver tisement something like the following in several country weeklies: “Sure way to kill potato bugs; send twenty 2-cent postage stamps to X. Y r . Z. —, for a recipe that cannot fail. Then he hired a dray to bring his mail from the postollice, and had 10,- 000 of his recipes printed. Inside of two weeks something like 6000 or 7000 farmers had contributed twenty 2-cent stamps eacli for the printed recipes, f Then several hundred of them bought clubs and railroad tickets and © started out to interview the advertiser. At his office they were infoimed that he had left to attend to some business in Europe, and he was not expected back. All he had left was a package of 3000 or 4000 slips of paper, on which were printed the following: “Put your bug on a shingle. Then hit it with another shingle.”—[Chica go Tribune. At Night-Tine. We soothe the child for some withholden pleasure, I TUI sweet eyes smile that were fain to week: “Tomorrow—only wait until tomorrow— After you sleep.” So we are soothed with solemn dreams ** heaven. When earthly days no further solace keep; Hope tells us there shall|be a happy mor row— After we sleep. —[Anue Reeve Aldrich, in Picayune. HUMOROUS. Plenty In It. Buifincli—How is that little mining scheme of yours getting along? Any money in it? ■Wooden—Any money in it! Well, I should say so! All of mine, all of my wife's, and about fifty thousand that I got from my friends.—[Bosto u Courier. It is easier for a ship carpenter to spar a vessel than it is for him to box the compass. Telephones are a great convenience, and yet people are all the time talking against them. If you pine to be introduced to a rich lumberman’s daughter, see that you look spruce. The quality of mercy may not be strained, but it frequently manages somehow to get exceedingly thin. “Patti has a pensive air about her, don’t you think so?” “Not a bit of it. On the contrary, it is ex-pensive.” Bards often write. “Oh, onward flow, Thou silver stream the meadows through.” Suppose they told it not to go— What do you think the stream would do? Teacher—Mary? And what is your last name? Y'oung Woman I can’t tell just yet, but the cLaticos are it will be Smith. Hunker—What a talker Miss Trotter is! SpatU—She comes by her loqua city very naturally. Her father owns several gas wells. He—Upon my word, 1 think I’ve gone through every experience except hanging. She—Cheer up! there’s a chance for that yet. “Bitten by an alleged mad dog” is the way in which it is put in some papers, to avoid hurting the dog’s feelings should he merely be laboring under a temporary aberration. Ho must have been a very bright boy, a very bright little boy, who said to his mother: “I wish a lion would eat me up.” “Why?” the mother asked. “Because it would be such a joke on the lion. He would think 1 was inside of him and I should be up in heaven.” The world is like a crowded ’bus; A few good men perhaps May find a seat, but most of us Must hang on by the straps. Valuable Bugs. Secretary Lcloug and Quarantine Officer Craw of the State Board of Horticulture were in ccslacies yester day. All the aftei^^bi they bent over a inysterious-lool^^^^kof boxes and tathed learucAtr bugs in boxes, bugs on the tables, bugs ou chairs, bugs in the air and bugs everywhere about the place. In all there were about 6000 beetles, and of that number between 200 and 300 were alive. “Those insects,” said Mr. Lelong, “I confidently believe will be worth over $20,000,000 to the state. Wheu the Australian ship Monowai arrived, she had on board the consign ment of little insects that are expected to do so much good to the state. They made the trip in the ice chest to keep them dormant, Mr. Lelong explained. They were immediately taken to the State Board of Horticulture and wore sent oil - , after careful examination, to be colonized in Los Angeles. They were sent here by Professor Albert Koebelc, who went to Australia, New Zealand and adjacent countries as the accredited agent of the Department of Agriculture and of the State Board of Trade to search for predaceous and parasitic insects. Professor Koebelo discovered the vidalia about three years ago, and their introduction into the orchards of the state has made a profit of countless millions. With his present shipment he sends a posi tive assurance that the beetles will be found all that is necessary to destroy the dangerous insects of the state. If he be correct in Ids estimation of their value, then the bugs that come upon the Monowai will represent by far the most important event in the horti cultural history of California. There are representatives of thirty species of beetles sent in the last lot. They are all new to the state, and lit tle is known of their habits other than the brief statement of their usefulness written by Professor Koebele. They are fatal to the pests of all citrus and deciduous fruits, apples, prunes,pears, peaches, oranges, and in fact almost every fruit that grows in the state. One of the greatest problems in the mission of Professor Koebele was the discovery of some destroyer of the red scale. He thinks that among the insects which the officers of the Board of Horticulture inspected so enthusi astically yesterday will bo found the desired destroyer. So confident is he in his opinion that he declares he will not return to the United States until the arrivals prove to be all that he has claimed for them.— [Sau Francisco Chronicle. A Lively Creature. Teacher—How many legs has a cat? Class—Four. Teacher—How mauy legs has a chicken ? Class—Two. Teacher—How many legs lias a mouse? Little girl—Ooo! ’Bout .. hundred. —[Good New*.