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V RELIGIOUS CORNER. religion and reform all OVER THE WORLD. ! 1 fhc Living Fresent—Jenna It’a Me By Onr Own i'ecda We Mnat Reckon The Holy Coinmunlon— One of the Very Beat Way a. 1 VERY day is a fresh begin- Ding, Every morn is the world made new; You who are weary of sor row and Bin ning, litre is a bcautl- for you; w ful hope • V , f A hope for me and a hope for you. All the past things are past and over, The tasks are done and the tears are shed, Yeeterday'a errors let yesterday cover; Yesterday’s wounds which smarted and bled Aro healed with the healing which night has shed. Yesterday’s now is a past forever; bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight. With glad days and sad days which never Shall visit uh more with their bloom and their blight, Their fullness of sunshine or sor rowful night. Ltft them go since we cannot reveal them, Cannot undo and cannot atone; C,od In His mercy receive, forgive them; Only the new days aro our own. To-day is ours, and to-day alone. Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain. And, spite of old sorrow and of sin ning, And puzzles forecasted and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again. , —Susan ttoolidge. there was one man of whom he wa» terribly afraid, and that was Socratea Few men and perhaps no woman, paaa a glass or mirror, or even a well-pol ished door handle, without looking at themselves in It. This would not be a bad habit if they would reason in this way: “If I am bandeome I must take caie that my character corresponds; if ugly, let me bo all glorious within, so that I may compensate for the plain ness of my features. Rvlt Speaking. L I will speak no unkind or harsh wo/d of anyone. 2. 1 will repeat no unkind remarks I hear of anyone, and discourage oth ers, as much as possible, from saying unkind things. 3 I will Judge my neighbors len iently, remembering that my own faults are probably far greater. L I will never say one thing to others, and yet think quite differently; this Is hypocrisy. “Deceive not with thy lips.’’ C- I will make no Injurious remarks on the fallings of others, remembering these words, “Consider thyself, lest thou also be tempted.” 6. I will put the b^st construction on tho motives and actions of all my neighbors.—Presbyterian Review. Jesm, It’d Me. At a religious meeting in tho south of London, a timid little girl wanted to be prayed for; she wanted to come to Jesus, and said to tho gentleman conducting the meeting: “Will you pray for mo in the meeting, please, but do not mention my name?” In the meeting which followed, when every head was bowed, and there was silence, the gentleman prayed for the little girl who wanted to come to Jesus, and he said, "O, Lord, there is a little girl whet does not want her name to be known, tfut thou flbst know 1 her; savo her precious soul!" There was a per fect silence, and away In the back of the meeting a little girl rose, and a lit tle voice said, "Ploase, it’s me, Jesus; It is me!” She did not want to have a doubt. She meant it. She wanted to be saved and she was not ashamed to rise In that meeting, little girl as she was, and eay, "Jesus, it's me.” Hoiv to Hear C rent Sorrow*. Strangely do somo people talk of “getting over” a great sorrow—over leaping it, passing it by, thrusting it Into oblivion. Not so, no one ever does that, at least no nature which can be touched by the feeling of grief at all. Tho only way is to pass through the ocean of affliction solemnly, slowly, with humility and faith, as tho Israel ites passed through the sea. Then its very waves of misery will divide ami become to us a wall on the right side and on the left, until the fulf narrows and narrows before our eyes and we land safe on the opposite shore.—D. M. Cralk. How We Can Work Ilent. Everybody can do something to help on the work of the church, and most of us can do some things for which we do not yet perecivo our own fitness. Tastes, circumstances, natural advan tages and evident opportunities suggest how wo can work best, but even those who are not aware of any particular cal lof duty will soon become interested and useful when once fa irly set at work. Where there is such a willing and zealous purpose the fruits of true spiritual enterprise soon appear. fan Never Hie. Our souls can never die, Tho’ in the tomb We may all have to lie, Wrapt in its jfloom. What though tho flesh decay, Souls pass in peace away. Live through eternal day With Christ above. The Highest Flteh. To be patient under a heavy crest Is no small praise; to he contented is more; but to be cheerful Is the highest pitch of Christian fortitude. Ily Onr Own Deeds. You have individualities that may be eccentricities, says the Philadelphia Methodist, but they need not be; they may be your points of strength. Your efficiency may depend upon them. Do the work to which you are adapted. Make a distinct impreaslon In the sphere of your activities. He In league with others, for sometimes you will bo unable to do much alone, but be sure to do something. To vole to do some thing, or for others to do something, is frequently all that is done. We shall not be Judged by tWe deeds of the or ganization of which wo are a part, but according to the deeds that aro distinct ly chargeable to us. The Holy Cnnunnnlon. No one has lived the Inner life with out seasons of early passions when the romance of Jesus had captured the soul without experiencing seasons of later declension when the greenery of spring grew gray in tho city dust. It Is In such hours of coldness and weari ness we ought to reinforce our soula with the sacrament of the bread and wine. As one makes a journey to some country kirkyard where the dust of his departed is lying, and cleanses away the moss that has filled up the letters of his mother’s name, so do we in the holy communion again assure ourselves of a love so amazing that It passes knowledge, but so utterly divine that It mime be true.—Ian Maclaren. One of the Bret Ray*. One at the best ways to be loved In a conrnunity Is to seek its welfare by refusing to hear and retail gossip, by fair, kind, generous and helpful action, by allowing respect for others’ opln- ionn, by expressing one’s own in a polite but firm way, and by discharg ing duty with courtesy, considerateness and fidelity. More than anyone else, the wife should have the grace of si lence—the crowning household bless ing. She should know how to hold her pfeAce. She should know when to re fraln from speaking, even though her words be those of affection and en dearment Keif-Reaper t. Many people are accused of thinking ! too highly of themselves, but the fact : that the majority do not respect and reTerence themselves enough. Even in the most secret place we should scorn to do anything that would make us less able to respect ourselves. We should be like Socrates, who used to say that Oenia of Thought. Books are the masters who Instruct us without rods and ferrules, without hard words and anger, without clothes or money. If you aproach them they are not asleep; If, investigating, you interrogate them they conceal nothing; if you mistake them they never grum ble; if you are ignorant they cannot laught at you.—Richard do Barry. God be thanked, the meanest of His creatures Boasts two soul sides, one to face the world with. One to show a woman when he loves her. —R. Browning. It is not thy works which are almost as infinitely little and tho greatest no greater than the least; but only the spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or continuance.—Carlyle. Life differs from the play only in this,—it has no plot, all is vague, de sultory. unconnected until the curtain drops with the mystery unsolved.—Lyt- ton. Life is a festival only for the wise; seen from tho nook and chimney-side of prudence. It wears a rugged and dan gerous look.—Emerson. It is not explanations which survive but the things which are explained, not theories but the things about which we theorize.—A. J. Balfour. Good nature will always supply the absence of beauty, but beauty cannot long supply the absence of good nature. —Addison. He that falls into sin Is a man; thet grieves at it is a saint; that boasteth of it is a devil.—Thos. Fuller. Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above it—Washington Irving. Love not pleasure, love God. This wb the everlasting yea, wherein all contra diction is solved.—Carlyle. It is the customary fate of new truths to begin as heresies and to end as sup erstitions.—Huxley. Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.—Eliot. Ho who has the truth at his heart need never fear the want of persuasion on his tongue.—Ruskin. Honesty is the best policy, but ho who acts on that principle is not an honest man.—Whately. One crowded hour of glorious life, is worth an age without a name—Scott. Irrationaly held truths may be more harmful than reasoned errors.—Han ley. It costs more to revenge injuries than to bear them.—Bishop T. Wilson. Renunciation remains a sorrow, but a sorrow borne willingly.—Eliot. He that is of a merry heart hath a continual feasts.—Proverbs. SOLILOQUY OF THE DRAY HORSE “What wan I made for?” the old horse said. Munching cut straw la a wind-rifted shed “My lift* is a eurae from beginning to end. In bll the wide world I haven’t a friend. It's nothing but drudgery every day. Toil without payment, work and no play; Aid if I sink under a wearisome load, I'm made to get up with a merciless goad. "Curses, cold quarters, hard usage, poor feed, Too little at that for a work horse’s need. And seldom a good bite of oats or fresh grass, ‘Hard lines’ for poor horses when slaves to an ass! Oh, if we poor creatures were gifted with speech, What eloquent sermons to men would wc preach! Our merits and sufferings even now move The hearts of the kindly to pity and love. “The beast has his feelings, his needs, liis desires, Though few are the favors the poor horse requires. Our aim is to serve men, to love and obey, If justice and nierey in turn would repay. A word gently spoken, a pat on the neck. But makes us delighted to follow your beck; Then why, since the boon is so small that we crave, Should it not always brighten the life of the slave? “Too soon did the angels our champion claim, Gotham, where is the monument due to his fame? Might we horses build it, how soon ’twould arise A cynosure grand for American eyes. While crowning earth’s heroes, neglect not to bring An amaranth wreath for humanity’s king. He spake for the speechless, a cham pion brave. No shaft is too grand to distinguish hia grave. Who says that our sufferings here are in vain. No hope in the future to lighten our pain? Who knows what our maker may hold in his plan? Pd hate to swap chances with many a man.” —Ni w York Sun. A PAIR OF SHOES. Bertha eat on the floor critically eying a pair of new shoes; shaking her head, slit* said complacently: ‘’Vi's, they look pretty nice, very nice, but,” she added with a sigh, “I would have liked a pair of red ones. Mamina, when I was at the store this morning with grandma I saw a lovely pair of red shoes. I asked her to get. them for me, but she said she thought you did not cure for colored shot's; now don’t you?” “Why, I don’t know, my dear,’’ an swered Mrs. Bartlett, laughing at something that had come to her mind with Bertha’s question. “I guess grandma was thinking of a time when 1 did like colored shoes.” “Well, 1 think she was too, for she laughed, and told me to ask you if you liked them. I guess it is one of grand ma’s Jokes. Do tell me what It is. mamma. Did It happen when you were a little girl?” After waiting a moment, her mother smilingly r 'plied: “Yes. it was some thing when I was a little girl that made grandma laugh, but we didn’t laugh at the time it happened, you may see. Get your work, and I will tell you. “The shoes that grandma and I were thinking of were purple ones, brilliant purple, with little Hat heels, laced up to the front and reaching just above the ankles.” “Oh dear, how funny they must have been," laughed Bertha “Yes, as 1 look at them now, they must hare been queer little shoes, but at tbe time they were bought they were just as beautiful In my eyes as the red ones which grandma refused to buy for you this morning. When I was a little girl I lived in a small town in Ohio where my father was the physician. He had not grown rich, for It was an exceedingly healthy place. No one was very rich, no one was very poor. I had played all my life with little girls and boys brought up Just as I was. caring more for a good time than for fine clothes. “I had a playhouse built by a young uncle, but the furnishings were not such as children’s playhouses have in these days. My dishes were broken bits of china and glass, and among them were some that were so tine in j my childish eyes that they were only ‘ used upon state occasions. Well, as I said, 1 played and was very happy with my little friends, never caring for anything different from what we had. But one day something new appeared to us. Hattie Ray, my particular friend, had a cousin come to visit her from New York. She astonished us all by her clothes; never had we seen any thing so gorgeous In all our small lives, such dainty dresses and silk aprons with tiny pockets and bows, such beautiful stockings and shoes! Colored shoes, red and yellow and brown; for very common wear she had black ones. These different articles of clothing pleased the different fancies of the children. Hattie told me in con fidence she meant to coax her mother to give her a silk apron with pockets for her next Christmas present. “But nothing pleased me as did the shoos. Every night when I went to bed my last thought was of those colored shoes, and I resolved to have some red ones myself when I was rich. It was the fourteenth of June, just two days before my birthday, that my mother called me into the kitchen where she was making pies, and said: “ ‘Lizzie, you had better go down to Mr. Stout’s, and get a pair of shoe*. These are too badly worn for Sunday. I mtended to go myself, but 1 shall not have time; you have been alone before, and know w hat to do. Get the shoes a size larger and like those you have on. They are pretty heavy for summer, but they wear welt,’ she added, more to her self than to me. “Taking from Its peg mjr little pink sunbonnet, I started down tbe .path to ward that part of the village where the few stores stood. It was a warm day and 1 walked slowly along till I came to the little footbridge across a tiny stream. This was a resting place we children invariably stopped. Here the branches of a big willow tree over hung the little brook, making it a pleasant, shady place. Sitting on the bridge with my feet dangling over the side, my glance fell upon the shoes I wore. Coarse and ugly, but substan tial shoes they wore; bought for ser vice, uot for looks. Heretofore the prospect of a pair of new shoes had been quite enough to make me happy, but to-day the spirit of envy had taken hold of me. Why couldn’t I have dainty shoes like Mary Lester’s? Why had my mother said I should get more Just like these hateful old things? “I rose impatiently from my scat on the bridge, giving the little feet In the coarse shoes an angry stamp as I did so. Going down the road I grew crosser and naughtier until I reached the one long street where the stores were. Here I stopped to look in the windows to see the things that I had seen a ‘hundred years,’ I said to my self, crossly. Suddenly, my gaze fell upon a little china tea-set on exhibi tion. Now I had looked at this same little tea-set with its wild roses and pretty vines a great many times, but the mark, $1, had always made it seem far away. All the girls, from Jennie Todd, four years old. up to big Mary Roberts, wanted the tea-set; they had longed for it ever since the design ing store-keeper had put It In his win dow. “ T wonder who will get It?’ I said to myself, with a sigh. “Nowadays, that tea-set costing a dollar would seem a small thing. But a dollar In those days was a great deal to spend for a child’s plaything. I stood here some time looking and think ing. I wondered If the tea-set would be sold before I was grown up and could buy it myself. Finally I walked down the street forgetting about the line shoes In the desire for the tea-set. Suddenly I stopped with a cry of as tonishment. I had reached the'shoe store, and glancing up what did 1 see among tho same old men’s boots, with their long leather tops, and the boys’ shoes, with their thick soles and cop per toes? Could I lielieve my eyes? There like a dainty little princess was a pair of red shoes, yes, and further on a pair of purple shoes, too, colored shoes! Red, purple and brown! such lM*flutIcs. A long time I stood there, looking at them, then hurried into the shop. “ ’How d’ye do, Missy,’ cried the old shoemaker, who had known me since 1 had worn my first pair of shoes. ‘Want a pair of shoes, do ye? Well, let me see what kind does mother want?’ “Under my downcast eyes on the counter was a pair of shoes like the ones I wore. They seemed to read my thoughts, and look at me with re proach. I turned my eyes resolutely toward the window as I replied: “ ‘A pair of red ones, please.’ As the words left my lips, my heart gave a great bound, my boldness almost took «way my breath. “ ‘Did you say red ones, dearie? I am getting a little hard of hearing in these days,’ putiug bis hand to his ear. “ ’Yes, sir, red ones,’ I answered, loudly. “‘U-m-yes,’ doubtfully; ‘did your mother say you should get red ones? These are only for show. Just a few pairs—still, they are for sale too—’ he added, quickly, as he saw the look of disappointment on my face. “ ‘But I’m afraid I haven’t the size,’ looking down at my old shoes, ‘have only a couple of pair, but the purple ones, guess they are about your size.’ “Going to the window ho took out the purple slices, placing them in my hands. As my lingers pressed the del- Ipate leather, and I looked at the bright, pretty things, my last good thought fled—I would have the shoes! Sit ting on the old bench, Mr. Stout tried them on, and rather reluctantly said: “ ‘They are all right,’ and added as he wrapped them up, ‘don’t get the soles soiled or I can’t take thorn back, and it may bq your mother won’t want to keep them.’ “ ‘No, sir,’ I said; ‘father will be In to night to pay for them.’ “ That’s all right, child, that’s all right. Mind now. that you do not get those shoes dirty.’ “I hurried down the street, only stopping once to look at the tea-set. Down the path I flew with the pre cious shoos in my hands. When I reached the old willow 1 sat down, and wiped my hot little face and smiled. Those beautiful shoes! I would just take a little bit of a look at them. Breaking a tiny hole in the paper, I looked In. What a beautiful color they were! Slowly I untied the end, and took out first one. then the other. I turned them over, and won dered how I would look walking about in them. I unlaced one of my old shoes, took it off, and thrust my foot into the new one. Then I stood up on the pa per with both feet close together. How ugly the foot in the old shoe looked! Sitting down again, I removed the ob noxious shoe, and put on the other purple one. How fine and handsome they were. It did not matter to me that my dress was an old and faded print; I had no eyes for anything but the purple shoes. What was It Mr. Stout had said about getting the soles soiled? He could not take them baek. I would have to keep them. Softly I lifted one foot from the paper, and put it on the ground, then the other. In alarm at my naughtiness, I quickly stepped buck on to the paper. Here I stood for a moment undecided, thMi with a firm step walked back and forth several times to the bridge. The solos were soiled enough now! A naughty spirit within me said, ‘Wear them home, then your mother can’t possibly take them back.’ ‘Tutting on my sunbonnet, which I had taken off that I might better see my feet, I started once more for home with ray old shoes in my band and my eyes fixed*on the bright colored ones upon my feet. As I neared home I wondered what my mother would say, and If she would be very angry; then I walked very slowly, and by the time I had reached the gate, 1 had almost stopped. But I must go In some time, so plucking up ray courage, I entered the kitchen. My mother was still busy with her baking; she did not look up as I entered, but said: “ ‘Why, child, how long you were gone, did you get the same kind of shoes? Let me see.’ “All my courage failed; speechless and guilty I stood In the doorway waiting. As my mother turned quick ly at receiving no answer from me. her gaze fell upon the bright colored shoes. “ ‘Why, what In the world—where did you get those? Why don’t you an swer me? Lizzie, do you mean to say that Mr. Stout told you to take that kind of a shoe instead of those you hare always w'orn?’ “ ‘No—no—mamma,’ I cried, finding my tongue at last. ‘It wasn’t Mr. Stout's fault; he didn’t want me to take them; it was ju§t myself, my other ones were so ugly. I—I—I—O mamma, I didn't think you would care so much.’ The look of sorrow and re proval on my mother’s face was too much for me. T am sorry, indeed I am,’ I sobbed. “My mother stood looking at me In silence for a moment as I threw my self into the old rocking-chair, crying as though my heart would break. “ ‘Take off those shoes and put on your old ones,’ she finally said. Walk ing to the closet where she kept her best china, she took down an old blue sugarbowl, that had belonged to my great-grandmother. In this she often kept bits of change. She took from it now four quarters, and laying them on the table beside me she said: “ ‘Here Is a dollar your grandmother gave me; with it I was to get the little tea-set you liked so much. It Is a great deal to use for such a purpose, but your grandmother thought she could afford to give you that on your birthday.’ “My heart gave a great leap at the mention of the tea-set, but sank sud denly as my mother continued: “ ‘This dollar,’ putting down anoth er, T bad saved that you might buy some candy, nuts and apples, and on your birthday enjoy your new tea-set with your little friends. Put on your old shoes, take this money and go to Mr. Stout and ask him>to give you a pair of shoes like the ones you arc now wearing.’ ‘There was a look of sternness in my mother’s face I had never seen there before, a look that forbade any coax ing. Picking up the purple shoes from the floor she carefully wiped then\ saying: “ ‘Purple shoes will hardly look well with your green muslin dress, so I think we will put these away. You could only have worn them once or twice, anyhow, they are so frail.’ “Once more I put on my little sun bonnet and once more I traveled the old path across the bridge and under t he willows—a sadder but a wiser little girl.” “But the tea-set, mamma, the tea- set; didn’t you get it afterwards?” eagerly asked Bertha. Mamma laughingly shook her head. “I don't think I ought to tell any thing more.” she said. Bertha, well knowing her shortcomings, and the fact that they were so often overlooked by a foud and doting grandmother, looked so disappointed at this reply that Mrs. Bartlett hastened to add: “The next time-1 passed the china store the dear little tea-set was gone. If I cried over the discovery, no one knew it but the old willow who knew and kept all childish secrets. For a long time I mourned the fact that I might have had the pretty china: my punishment was hard, for my birth day came and went Just like any other day, but I knew I deserved it.” “Oh, dear,” said Bertha. “I was so in hopes that you got the tea-set after all.” “Well, dear, I did, after six months in which to think over my wrong doing. Grandmothers of your day and grandmothers of mine were very much alike, for when Christmas came around my dear grandmother put the tqa-set into my hands bercelf, feeling sorry for me, but knowing I deserved the punishment, she had bought the little dishes and kept them all that time.” “Well, I must say I think you did very wrong, mamma, to get tho sho«is, but still I am glad you could have the tea-set. Purple shoes! I don’t think I ever could have wanted shoes of that color.”—Tho Interior. Mourning for a Chinese Ruler. When a Chinese Emperor dies the intelligence is announced by dispatch es to the several provinces, written with purple Ink, the mourning color. All persons of rank are required to take red silk ornaments from their caps, with the ball or button of rank; all subjects of China, without excep tion, are called upon to forbear shav ing their heads for 100 days, within which period none may marry, play upon musical Instruments or perform any sacrifice. Metropolitan Frnit Culture Hewson—Say, what do they raise In these New York roof gardens? Newson—Peaches, my dear boy; some of the loveliest peaches in the vaude ville business—Philadelphia North American. MYSTERY OF THE DOWSER. THE PROFESSIONAL WAXES FIND- EES OF ENGLAND. Streams Four Hundred Feet Be neath the Earth's Surface Loeat- etJ—Employed by Laud Owners. P SYCHOLOGICAL sharps have been deeply stirred the past lew weeks, says a London let ter in the New Orleane Pic ayune,'by attempts made to fathom the mystery of the “dowsers. 1 You may not know what a dowser is, am? when you do know, you will probably discredit the existence of such a pef- sou. A dowser is a man, or woman, who is possessed of some curious oo- calt force which gives the owner tho power to locate hidden streams of water flowing 230 or 400 feet beneath the surface of tho earth. A dowser can walk over an unknown piece of country and point out tho exaot spot where a well or pipe can be sunk. Ho can tell tho exact depth at which water will be found, and also the num ber of gallons an hour which can be pumped up. Dowsers are scientifically termed hydroscopists. Tho prssenee of sub terranean water has a peculiar effect upon their nervous systeins. Tko dowser, vhon prosecuting his work, always carries a hazel twig in his hands. When he reaches a spot whe.’’© water is flowing underneath tho hazel twig bends and points downward. This sounds fantastic and unreal, but tho truth of it must be acknowledged or tho testimony of some of the most respected British peers doubled. The psychic folks, who have been investi gating the dowser mystery, have col lected a mass of corroborative facts from scores of great land owners and men who stand high in the opinion of the public. These men are either liars or the doings of the dowsers aro real. There are five or six professional dowsers in England, and tho leader of these is a young man of thirty, named Leicester Gataker. Ho is accumulat ing a fortune by his cutiouswork, and ho is kept so busy that he employs forty assistants, who complete the work his strange faculties map out. Dowsers have recently been employed by such august personages as the Duke of Rutland, tho Duke of Beau fort, the Duko of Grafton, Lord Jer sey, Sir E. Welby Gregory, and a host of others of like prominence. Dowsers demand rich pay, and it would seem that if people ot the caliber of those just named did not have iaith in tho art they would not take cognizance of it by patronizing it, and paying well for it, too. It is practically agreed among those who have studied the matter that tho gift is not only racial with tuo Brit ish, but sectional, as all of the dow sers coma from tho west and south country of England. This is account ed for by tho fact that dowsing has existed m tho Cornish mine sections for centuries. It is claimed that some dowsers aro able to tellot tbe presence of tin and other metals beneath the earth’s surface by using the hazel twig, or divining rod, as it used to be called. Such a faculty would, of coarse, bo of vast benefit to a mine- owner, as he could discover the pres ence of metal without first going to tbe expense of sinking a shaft. More than a score of books have been written on the subject, several of them by American students of the art, and from some of these it is learned that in olden times wielders of tho divining rod used it for a vari ety of purpeses, often times with success. It was commonly employed for the solution of mysterious mur ders and for the hunting down of criminals. In France it was used in the last century, but tho frowned upon it, and eventually the practice was abolishe 1. It may be mentioued that in the time of the in quisitions, dowsers wero put to death as workers in tbcjblack art. In the sixteenth aud seventeenth centuries dowsing was evidently an extensive industry. There is a book written in 164.J by the Baroness of Beausoleil, in which she gives a list of 150 mines discovered by herself and her husband by use of tho divining rod. From 1553 to 1700 no less than forty-six separate works on the sub ject of dowsing wero published, and when it is remembered that book writing and printing in those days wero iare things, the importance of the zubject can be imagined. An Ant Fifteen Years Old. Sir John Lnbbock, the naturalist, has been experimenting to find out how long the common ant would live if kept out of harm’s way. On Angnst 8. 1888, an ant which had been thus kept and tenderly cared for died at the age of fifteen years, which is the greatest age any species of insect has yet been known to attain. Another individual of the same species of ant (Formica fnsca) lived to tho advanced age of thirteen years, and tho queen of another kind (Lasins niger) laid fer tile eggs after she had passed tho age of nine years. Same Name Causes Complications. Major J. H. Flanagan, of Lincoln, Neb., and Major J. H. Flanagan, of Carthage, Mo., stopped at the same hotel in Kansas City. The other day each was called away suddenly, and when the Major of Lincoln got back first the clerk gave him two bills. He spoke his mind pretty Ireely to the clerk, and then wrote to tho Major of Carthage enclosing one |of tho bills and requesting him to pay up at once. —New York Sun. One Wreck a Diy. There are more wrecks in the Baltic Sea than in any other place in the world. The average is one wreck a «ky throughout the year,