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/ TVailintr. ? Sweet childhood with tliy painted toys, 1 Oblivious of those fleeting joys, ? 0, sing and sport, for soon, alas! ( Those bright and joyons days will pass, But wouldst thou know thy latent powers, That slumber through thoso sunny hours, t In vain thou shait inquire of fate. * Full manj-a year yet thou must wait. ( Ambitions youth with eager eyes, Looks forward in thoso halcyon days ' To laurels bright ho hopes to gain, Bat long he struggles for in vain; t Like mirage oft before his eyes, Appears the goal and envied prize; ^ He still pursues the alluring bait, But ere he grasps it long must wait. Matured manhood with like zest, ^ Pursues his phantom with the re3t; But with more obstacles he copes, Though not less ardent are his hopes. Advancing years now trials bring, ( While older ones around him cling, 7 With life alone these terminate, ( But for deliverance ho must wait. Old age, with snowy locks, appears, < Beneath his weight of cares and years . Subdued are now ambition's fires, < And higher hopes his soul inspires. Almost within his eager guzo Are dazzling gleams ol heavenly rays; And ere he sees the "Golden Gate." < He hath not now long to wait. ? Julia De Lacy. ^ A MISUNDERSTANDING- ; "Why don't he come?" said Lillian 1 Bourne, peeping earnestly between the 1 boughs of the monster lilac-bush, whose purple plumes waved to and fro t in the evening breeze. "Oh, why don't < he come ? I can't possibly be mistaken- 1 He said on Tuesday evening at seven 1 and it's twenty minutes past,by grandfather's big clock ; and, oh, dear!" with < a sigh that stirred the bunch of pansies jgl^^pinned on her left shoulder, "there 1 |||pKsn't a soul in sight!" By all the signs and symptoms < WE Lillian's little pink ear should have 1 Wm burned that evening, for they were all ? Wr talking about her at Miss Lorinaa W . Larkins' tea-party in Dover street. 1 "Oh, she's a born coquette!" said Misg "Lorinda. Two lumps of sugar did ' you say, or one, Betsey Young? She can't help it. It's in her nature- '< Don't you remember, Mrs. Pepper field, 1 what a flirt her mother was before her ? 1 But she'll never play List and loose * wun uiiDert uawson again? tnat m < go bail!" < "Oh, do tell us all about it, Miss 1 LarklnsP' said the widow Pcabodv, < with her mouth full of chicken salad. 1 "Well, if you won't repeat it?" ] "Repeat it! We! Never, as long as we live!" was the reply that went 1 around the teartable in on'e accent. ( Miss Lorindd- I 1 "if s all quite private and confidential, s i between ourselves. But it was at the * Medbury's party. What business the Medbury's have to give parties, with bought ice cream and two violins and * a harp, I don't know. Every one is ? perfectly aware that there's a mortgage n the place, and that her dressmaker's 5 bill ain't paid. But that ain't neither 1 here nor there. I was there, in my dyed green gown, trimmed with Aunt * Liddy's old English lace, and I was a- 1 ookin' at the big orange-tree in the conservatory?that's another of Mrs. * Medbury's sinful extravagances?when 1 I see Lily Bourne, in her white frock. * on the other side of the bank of flowers, a-gigglin' and arwhisperin' with Squire A Rufus Darling!" "My!" ejaculated the other ladies> s with open mouths. "And up came Mrs. Medbury, all in r a smile?she smiles twice as often as before, since she got them new false s teeth?and whispers in her ear. And says Lily, out loud, says she, 'Oh, I t can't! I'm engaged to Mr. Darling!"' c "Xo," cried Mrs. Pepperfield. "I heard it with these very ears," ^ solemnly answered Miss Lorinda. 1 "Engaged!" shrieked Mrs. Young. A whose own dimpled neice was even * then laying "siege to Mr. Darling's ' adamantine heart. "Engaged!" repeated Miss Lorinda a Larkins. "And she keeping company with ' Oilhfert Dawson!" exclaimed the widow C | Peabody, breathlessly. J "But she won't never trifle with him < no more," added Miss Lorinda, with ill-disguised admiration. "For I met '< Gilbert, yesterday afternoon, and I asked him about his mother's rheuma.. 1 tism, and what the New York doctor ] ^^^said about it; and he never took no (luesti?ns- You know t way young men have when i 'Excuse me, Miss 'but I'm a little in a ] over the top of 1 tWiifaTiirhiwin11 ?n b LllU1^ aii. < S^S^?CTaBMWW^^^^^Mourne,s', says ' hurry.' 1 ?' And t this 1 She's en. 1 I. And 1 iellin' herself for money and a fine louse. For everybody knows,' says I i that that's all that Rufe Darling's got ] o recommend him; and he's old J mough to be her father into the bar- ? rain,' says I. And he just turned lus ; rorse and kerridge around, without i ?ver having the politeness to say good-hy,' and druv' oft like Jehu in ; ;he opposite direction." i "Young men ain't accountable when they're in love," sighed Miss Polonia 1 Johnson, who was suspected of being < ;he poetess who wrote the love sonnets n the Pekasset Weekly Oracle. : "I ain't onp that meddles with other ] 'oiks' affairs," said Miss Lorinda, ; viciously biting off a piece of sodaMscuit and butter; "but I shall never ' jncourage ilirting with any man, 1 svhile you're engaged to another. It's dean ag'in my principles!" s And before the next day's sun had set, everybody in Pekasset knew all ibout Miss Bourne's engagement to 1 - ?. ? T\ i < squire nuius leaning. "Don't mind it, Gilbert," raid old ] Mrs. Dawson. "Do not let a girl's silly caprices break your heart." ] He lay on the sofa in the pretty 1 little "keeping-room," where the lloor svas carpeted with blue, because blue i ivas Lillian Bourne's favorite color, ind the walls were papered with punches of white-and-gold lilies, i because the lily was her name-flower. Fringes of pale mignonette hung on ] ihe window-boxes, and a canary chirped gleefully in the sunshine; for Gilbert 1 iad made his home beautiful because < le wanted Lillian to like it. "Mother," said the young man, with i tremble in his voice, "I loved her!" i "But you were never actually betrothed," spoke the old lady, pitifully. ! "Xot in words, mother ; but we unlerstood each other, and? Xo matter; ] t's over an J past now," said Gilbert, sadly. Mrs. Dawson pressed his hand with i :rue maternid sympathy. 1 "My poor boy," she whispered'Try and forget her." 1 "I can't do that, mother. But," with 1 i sudden resolve, "I'll go away from lere. I'll accept my Uncle Haven jura's invitation to go with him to hose old Mexican cities, where he is 1 ;o sketch and paint. I'm not much of m artist myself, but I can manage to while the time away somehow. At all events, I can't stay here and see Lillian 1 narried to that pompous fellow, Dar- i ing!" j lie had not been gone ten minutes so the village, after that momentous ( conversation, when^th?i(i^l^Te_t Ue. J iniest of knocks to the door,.J in re. , sponse to Mrs. Dawson's "Come in!" here entered?Miss Lillian Bourne j lerself. I Fresh from the spring woods, with a ^ casket of the pale pink, trailing arbutus ] ?he herself had gathered, in her hand. ( But she paused on the threshold as ] she saw the hardening lines around the ] nouth of Gilbert's mother. "Am 1 in the way?" she askedf , luridly. "Have I come at the wrong j me?" "Pray walk in," said Mrs. Dawson rying to simulate the cordiality which ler soul refused to offer to the girl who jad broken her son s heart. "I found these arbutus-stars in the voods," said she. "I knew you were 1 ond of them. May I put them in a j aucer of water for you ?" j "Mrs. Dawson assented, still without j nuch warmth of manner. ^ "I am much obliged to you," said r he, coldly. . "1 hope Gilbert is well," said Lillian, he color flaming hotly up into her :heek. "Quite well, I thank you!" said Mrs. Dawson. *'IIe is going to Mexico with ny brother, Mr. Kavtnburn, next veek, and is consequently very busy, because? Why, what is the matter diss Bourne?" For Lillian had grown deadly pale, ind uttered a little cry. "Its?its my tooth," she faltered 'It has been lilled; and sometimes the sold air makes it jump so dreadfully! ? think I'll ?ro home and nut a little oil 1 ' o x )f peppermint on it." i And so Lily slipped away, and cried 1 ill the way home, behind her veil. i But by the time she readied her own ittle room, however, sorrow had given i jlace to anger. "What have I done that he should 1 ;reat me so?" she asked herself, with i ndignant heart-beats. ] And then she gathered up all his 1 iKocnnfc? fl-io lmnr'li nf withoporl men- i intds, tied with the faded blue ribbon' < :he little agate cross, the copy of i 'Aldricli's Poerns," the peach-stone < jjisket that he had carved himself, and J :he glittering crystals which he bad 1 wrought her from Diamond Island, and 1 :he two or three letters and notes he 1 lad written her at one time and another, s "I will senil them back!" she declar- 1 may take them to Mexico if J don't want them any By a strange coincidence, however, is she was setting forth to the village iosti oilice with the neatly-tied packet, >he met Mr. Dawson himself. Ho stopped. She stayed her footsteps^ ilso. They both colored, celestial ^ ros\*-red. \ "I am very glad I met you before , rou went to Mexico!" said Miss Bourne, haughtily. "Are you?" said^Gilbert Dawson, :rying his best to appear like a statue Df ice. "I wish to return you these things/' uiid Lillian. "Of course, the}' are of i tto consequence, but I thought perhaps you would like them back again." "Thanks!" said Gilbert, stiffly. "You were right. It was exactly what I was going to ask you for." "It's a pity you ever gave them to me, since they meant so little," said Lily, with a quivering lip. "It's hardly worth while to discuss that question now," observed Gilbert. "I can only hope that you will be very (lappy With Squire Darling. And?" "I ?" cried Lily?"with Squire Darling? Why, what on earth have I got to do with Squire Darling?" "Aren't you engaged to him ?" ask. 5d Gilbert. "I?" echoed Lily, once again. "Lily, don't trifle with me," sternly uttered Dawson. "I am in earnest, [lave you promised to be Rufus Dar. ling's wife, or have you not?" ' "Of course I haven't," said Lily, be. tm/vnn lnu/vVif(M< <*TT ATI' uwccii icais aim laujjiitw. ?? could I, when- he never asked me? And if he had?" * ! "Yes!" cried Gilbert, with kindling ayes. "And if he had?" "1 should have said Yo!" whispered Lily. "Why?" demanded Gilbert, im" periously. Lily hung down' Zie?'"pretty head. "Because," she faltered?"because I lon't like him. Because I love some- j body else!" Something there was in l?er look and j tone that set Gilbert Dawson's pulses 1 to leaping madly through his veins. "Lily!" he cried?"my Lily?tell me whom it is that you love!" And'she answered, in a paroxysm of hliiQhpc* "You, Gilbert!" ' Miss LorindaLarkins and her friends were utterly amazed when they heard that Gilbert and Lily were to be mar. ! ried as soon as Miss Peckham could ! get the wedding dress ready. "Well," Miss Lorinda cried, ^his j Joes beat all "l^jtoifrosed, as/nuch ' i^ttrtrld' bf, wa5r~fi3u& ifrrs "j; Squire Darling." , "Oh, yes," said Lillian, calmly, "I leard some of that silly rumor. Some , gossip heard me say At Mrs. Medburv's ( party that I was engaged to Squire , uariing. &o i was, dut, it was ior a i , piardrille only. It's surprising how | . itV.c it takes to set the silly tongues of I [ Pekasset wagging." Miss Lorinda turned very red. She , vould have liked to box Lillian Bourne's ears, but she dared not 111 she could say was: i "Oh, indeed! "Well, folks will talk!' , ?Helen Forest Graves. "Quid Times?" The boy reached the Rubicon of the ( vaterraelon patch, uacumus. citrulust md long and earnestly he looked up j . md down the dusty road, stretching ! iway in a long perspective of dusky . rellow down the long'avenues of maple i , ind walnut (juglans nigra). He peer.' :d between the weather-beaten rails of ( V.a <->lH tunrm fori en nnrl honf. his p.'iirpr jaze upon the held of corn, and saw 1 >etween its emerald rows the yellow , mmpkins shine. "The pompion," he , nuttered, "cucurbita pepo, a culinary ,'egetable of the order cucurbitace?; ^ lutricious,' but not ravisbingly edible . n a state of nature." lie listened for he sound of a human voice, the baying , )f a dog, the echo of a footfalL No 1 sound fell on his listening ears. He j vas alone in the world, far from hu- . nan gaze or human aid. The awful I >ense of utter loneliness, of voiceless, , ;.f-i 1:4..r^A u; llt'iess SUllbllUC tUclt UlUUUCU UVCi 1111X1^ atlier pleased him. It was what he j lad waited for. One more swift glanco 15 ( ip and down the road, and he said: 1 "The die is.cast. Ileaven helps those ,vho help themselves." And lightly springing over the fence le started to help himself without waiting for heaven to ask him which he ^referred, heart or rind. But his con* idence was not suffered to go unre. ivarded, for while heaven would not :ome itself, it sent its last, best gift, a ! loble woman, with an arm as big as a ;hurn, and a voice as big as both her inns to help him. AncLslie helped the j ad over the fence so swiftly that long, ong after he had stopped running, he ivas still wondering how, in the brief .pace of interval that had elapsed , jetween her coming and his going, she found time to raise eleven distinct and ! svell-delined welts on his.back and legs ( ivith a cross-cut black-snake whip. J ] VOLCANIC SURPRISES. The Theory of|Erup< Ions?How they ! Arise?Ocliiges Caused by Snow. For a volcano once supposed to be (nactive, Vesuvius lias prepared some < lively surprises for the dwellers in its 1 neighborhood. Its latest surprise has I been to shake up a railroad and destroy ; 3everal houses. The people of IIercu: i laneura and Pompeii thought Vesu- ' vius extinct until one day it proved in < l very thorough manner that it could ' still be roused to activity. Since men ; do one has been deceived by its < quietude. Other volcanoes besides Vesuvius < have from time to time indulged in what seems to be the general volcano : propensity of creating surprises. Thus no one would expect to have a mass of rock of some 3,000 cubic feet suddenly descend upon them from the sky. But people living nine miles from Cotopaxi were on one occasion treated to such a surprise. The Carthaginians, when they set out against Syracuse, were not prepared to cross the fiery river which, to their surprise, intercepted their march at Mount Etna. They had no boats with which to cross it. The great eruption of Tomboro surprised people for some 970 miles around, the distance at which the ?r\yr?f\ f V? n ovnlnoinn TVQC hpQT^ T'hP.V J-UIV/C VI UIO WV?SiV*JAV/.&A -? wondered what was the matter until they learned of the eruption from one of the twenty-six persons who were saved out of a population of 12,000. Surprises of another kind, fearful deluges, are the first indications in many South American districts that volcanoes whose peaks are in the region of perpetual snow have suddenly become active, the deluges being caused by the melting of great masses of snow. It must also be a surprise of a beautiful, though fearful kind, to see a fiery fountain play to a height of 700 feet from the side of a mountain. Such a fountain on Mauna Loa in 1852 was a magnificent illustration of volcanic fissure, the pressure of lava at the crater being relieved by this new outlet. The cracks often seen on volcanoes, which form dikes radiating from the center, are created in this manner. Small extra craters, volcanoes on volcanoes, which gradually become cone shaped, are found along these fissures. Another surprise. Tnere is no flame in volcanic eruptions, as is generally represented most graphically in rhrnmfv? Thn snnnositioua* flames are simply a reflection of i ae lava on : the cloud of ashes and cinders. The islands which have occasionally surprised the inhabitants along the i coast of the Mediterranean by appear- ; ing suddenly under their very eyes are the result of volcanic action. But . probably the greatest surprise connect- j ed with this subject is the formation of ' volcanoes. A volcano is originally i nothing but a hole in the ground, formed often at no elevation by the swelling and breaking of an earth bubble. The mountain which springs up around this opening is formed by accu millations of successive eruptions. Tfye great age of volcanoes which, like Mauna Loa and Blount Etna, are 14,300 and 11,000 feet high, can be readily appreciated from this fact, and from the further fact that Etna had attained almost its present height when it was observed by Greek writers 2,500 years ago. A volcano is a furnace on a magnificent scale, the lava which it ejects Koin<T m/illon rnrlr This rfinlf is Sfi thoroughly fused by some volcanoes that the lava is as thin as honey, and llows with a velocity of fifteen miles an hour. Sometimes it is spun out in long, glassy threads by the action of bursting gas bubbles. While there are two kinds of erup < tions, the quiet and the explosive, there are many theories regarding the heat which fuses the rocks into lava. Many think that the interior of the earth is in a liquid condition, but the better opinion seems to be that the lava occurs in subterranean lakes. But ' the theorists agree that proximate much nf vnlrnnio prnnt.ion is the con- ' tact of water with molten rock. i " i Peanut Flour. The despised peanut promises to be- i come a very important product of the 1 country. It yields a return already of ' over $3,000,000 per annum, and its growth is rapidly increasing. It is : not only eaten in the shell roasted, and 1 fed to hogs, but it recently has been ground into a (lour wnich makes a peculiarly palatable biscuit It is also being used in pastry, where it takes the place of cocoanuc, and is not only 1 oily and richer, but healthier and better every way. The peanut is easily i grown, produces an immense crop, and I is destined to be widely consumed, not i only for cattle, but in the form of j [lour and pastry for human beings. I i * i ?pg? BaMMBMBBaaBBMEMaBMB Otam " ?Q--r? oc TJIE DIVINING KOD. 4 ionieUiliiK for the Scientlfua?The Singular Power of the Sixth Sense. "The time is coming," said Mr Charles Latimer, "when scientific gen:lemen and others will be compelled ;o recognize the sixth sense. I read pour article on dreams, and desire to add another instance which I can pouch for. I have an aunt living in Georgetown, D. C. A short time since, while engaged in knitting, she fell asleep in her chair. She awoke suddenly, and, turning to a relative, said: 'Mrs.Abbott has been thrown from her carriage at Jdladensburg, and has bad I Vv.Al.nn ' "Vfro Ahhnt.t UOLU IItil <11111.1 uiunnu. ^u.4<n - ? Is a very intimhte friend of my aunt but is not a relative. Two hours later a messenger announced to my aunt's household that Mrs. Abbott had been thrown from her carriage at Blar densburg and that both of her arms had been broken. No, sir, I believe? yes, I know?that I can go to Brooklyn village, examine the blood of the burglar who attempted to rob Mayor Jones and whom the mayor wounded, and, by the aid of the sixth sense, discover the thief. I have a book, published in France over twoliundred years ago, in which is related the discovery of a murderer, who, during his crime was wounded, and whose blood stained the ground where the struggle occur red. A detective, who had discovered what I term the sixth sense, examined the blood and by means of the electrical current traced the murderer to a prison. He entered the jail, looked over those confined therein, and, plac. ing his hand upon the shoulder of a burly fellow, said: 'This is the man.' The detective took the prisoner back to the scene of the crime and the felon confessed. "The divininff rod is only another ex" emplification of the existence of a power not yet recognized. With a piece of witch hazel I discovered the coal mines which bear that name. I told the number of feet a shaft would have to be sunk in order to reach the coal and even gave the thickness of the vein. Yet people say there is nothing in it and that the divining rod is a superstition. If I have an idea that brings ne in money, then the public pronounce it a good one. Money is the foundation upon which people base their declarations. I got $5000 for locating the Witch Hazel mines, and am paid besides twelve and a half cents for every ton of coal taken out of them. Superintendent Whitejaff, of the water .works^jdjd not ctedit myabibty to locate water pipe. He came to my residence on.e evening, and I went with him through several streets, and with the aid of the divining rod told hira exactly where tho pipes were located. I offered to make a map of all the. pipes in the city, giving their connections and branches. Finally he asked me to go with him to the Public square. I traced several pipes for him there, when he asked me to find the big one. I not only found it, but told him how far it was below the surface of the earth. I have a letter in my possession from Mr. Whitelaw verifying my experimentst ??t?nf fr. tko roaiilon^n nf n rint.ftd J. UilUC ? Cixir \j\-f HLA\J iwiuvuw ? scientist in Philadelphia where I made another test of the power of the divining rod. I walked across his library floor and traced a pipe. lie said I was mistaken, as there were no pipes of any description beneath the floor.' I insisted that there was one at least, and told him I should be compelled to leave his house with the firm conviction that he was wrong and I right. Finiilly he made an'examination in the cellar beneath and discovered a tin pipe fifteen inches beneath the floor, the existence of which he had forgotten. The divining rod shows the superiority of mind over matter. I stand over a vein of iron ore, and the rod turns. My sixth sense realizes thd presence of a mineral, and the realization moves the switch. Here is a feelin cr that must sooner or later be recog nized. Men cry fraud and superstition, but I know what I know. I kpow that the switch turns when I walk above a metal, that it is indisputable, and to nie satisfactory. The same sense comes into play when people dream of certain things which are happening to friends, or are about toI prove the correctness of my theories to men. They say yes, and look mystified. If I catch them'in public they throw their heads back and decline to believe, simply because they are fearful of their friends' ridicule. But the time is coming when all must believe.'1 ?Cleveland Leader. M. Paul Trasenter, of Liege, gives the production of coal in the world iD 18S2 as follows, in metrical tons: Great Britain, 158,800,000; United States, 88,100,000; Germany, 65,400,000; France, 20,S00,000; Belgium, 17,500,000; Austro-IIungary, 18,000,000. ? r-r-ng ( CHILDREN'S COLUMN*. A Aloon Soliloquy. i 'I wish tonight could be today," she said; J ''I've kissed ray dolls and they ore gone to bed | And I've been sitting in the easy chair Cuddling my pussy cat till, I declare, Bite's gone to sleep whilo I've been rocking her. It's very lonesome now she does not purr; | II she were holding me I'd keep awake, At least I would not make her soft arms ache; But even a kitten seems to have her way More than a little child?sA^s got tonight today. 'If I should try to move and let her go, She'd wake my youngest doll right up, I know, And I'm so very tired. It seems to me Kittens are heavier than thev used to be. It's funny how a pussy goes to sleep, Rolling herself right in u little heap; I wonder if she's dreaming when she stirs, And if she tries to tell her dreams in purrs. It's very still?I wish she'd stir?you see Perhaps she'd purr a little dream to me. "I wish my dollies, every one, would wake, Then I should have to put puss down and take My youngest doll to tend?she wouldn't be One-half as mopy, and she'd smile to me. The sunshine looks so sleepy on the wall, The clock's hands, moving, seem eo very small, I hardly hear a tick?I wonder why? And things all seem to float, and puss and I Are flocting too?if I could have my way?" Aud so she did, and made tonight today. ?Mrs. Whiton-Stone, tn Wide Axoake, " The following adventure is from "Torn, Dick and Harry in Florida," by D. C. Beard, in St. Nicholas: Catching a Wild-Cat. The boat was anchored out a little from the land, and all was ready for the night, when a voice rang out through the still air: "I've got 'im! I've got 'im." . "What's that? Listen!" said Tom. "I've got 'im!" repeated the voice, now recognized as belonging toChitta, the Indian boy. "Without more ado, the three boys jumped into the skiff, and in a few mo ments were ashore; stumbling over roots, and splashing through water like mad, running pell-mell toward the spot where they heard the voice. "He is on the high land," cried Dick. This way!" and leaping over a fallen tree, he disappeared in the jungle. "Wonder what he's got?" queried Harry as, with perspiring face and torn garments, he rested.against a pal. metto tree. i . "The cat, of course," replied Tom, as he hound his handkerchief around his -wrist where a sharp thorn had lacerated it. "Well," quoth Harry, "if the wildcat is anything like those that I have seen in cages, the boy i|-T welcome tg - anffTtTWrt see^iyTTiuhibi, "Dick must be there'by this time," said Tom, "and possibly may need our help." There was a sudden crackling of branches; and Dick ran by, Jaughing and mutely pointing back. Tom and Harry ran in the direction indicated, and soon discovered the young Indian in a half-kneeling posture, holding tightly to something under an old root. ^The something proved to be a shorty scrubby tail, the owner of which was struggling frantically to prawl down the hole; and Harry said ir. was only a question of how long the tail would last. Tom was thunderstruck. The bare . idea of catching a wild-en", by the tail made the well-read young naturalist . shiver; but the ignorant Indian lad I knew more of the nature and habits of I I such creatures than books could teach, and, therefore, when he saw the animal dive into the hole, he knew that if caught by the tail, it would pull one way as long as he pulled the other. And as the hole was too narrow for the beast to turn, he was safe from claws aDd teeth until help arrived. In a little while, the required help J (came in the shape of Dick, who, all out of breath, bore in his hand a pair of canvas overalls. Thrusting one arm through the lower end of one leg of the trousers, he caught the cat's tail with a firm grasp. The negro now let go, and while i Tom and Harry were gone to the camp | for some twine, he pulled the top of j the trousers leg over the hole and held J it there securely. Dick then slowly pulled the frightened but ferocious an. imal backward out of the hole into the trouser's leg, not letting go his hold on the tail until the Indian had gathered the top of the trousers together over the animal's head, and tied them securely. When Tom and Ilarry returned, the cat was a-prisoner, and Dick was scolding and laughing, by turns, at the poor enraged brute's futile efforts to escape from the improvised bag, which danced and tumbled about in a most .comical manner. Fifty years ago a half-dollar would buy a whole turkey or a brace of roasting pigs in Ohio. It will not buy more than a bite of either; edible in these degenerate days. I I V I I I f i