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’Lons Come# 'Liu With the Brooia. Just as soon’s I get to playiu’ Noah’s ark or train of cars, Out there in a nice warm kitchen, Trouble’s in lor mo—my stars! ’Long comes 'Liza with the broom: “Look out now, I’ve lots to do; Clear your duds out of my way— Can’t be bothered here by you! n Then I think 111 try the stoop; Ho I move as meek’s a lamb Get to playin’ nice as ever— Out comes Liza’s broom, ker-slam! “Come now. boy—you’re in my way!” Out she flies. “I’ve got to sweep!” My Noah’s ark. my cars and me Ail go tumbling in a heap. “Want to sweep me off the earth?” That’s how I talk back to her; But it’s not a mite of good— ’Liza comes with such a whir, Sweepin’ dust right in my face, That I have to cut an’ run, Glad to hurry from a place Where there's not a bit of fun! When I have a little boy, He shall play just where he likes, Litterin’ up the kitchen floor All be wants to, makin’ kites, Pastin’ scrap-books, playin’ cars— Jollies! place in all the town: There shan’t be a ’Liza then Always bossin’ my boy rounl —Harriet Francene Crocker, in St. Nicholas. Pretty Custom in Merrie England. “Haying” parties are now the pop ular al fresco entertainment among the children of the English gentry. When the hay on the farms connected with the estates is cut and dried, and just before being carried to the barn, invitations are sent out to the children of the neighborhood, who come at the stated hour under the convoy of their nurses, to play for awhile under the fragrant cocks of hay, then ride on the overflowing loads to the open barn. A supper on the lawn crowns the little fete. School That Began at Soon. “The Three It’s at Circle City” is the subject of a paper by Miss Anna Falconer in the Century. The author says: During the short winter days it would often be noon before all the children put in an appearance. When I arrived, at 9 o’clock, it would either be dark or brilliant moonlight. Smoke might be seen lazily rising from four or five cabins out of the four or five hundred. I would light one lamp, and wait. By 10 o'clock a few children would straggle sleepily in, just as the day began to dawn. By 11 o’clock, shortly after sunrise, the majority of the children were at school, some coming without their breakfasts. By half past twelve all who were coming that day would have appeared. It was hard to get up before daylight on those cold, dark mornings. I often used to wish that I was one of the little girls, so that I too might sleep until daylight. No one in camp pre tended *n Cfftt earlfr nnless there " WtrsTSome special work on hand wfllSfl 1 must be done. As I was going home to my lunch at noon, friends would sometimes call out to me: “Good morningl Come in and have some breakfast. We have fine moose-steak and hot cakes.” On Saturdays and Sundays I lived and slept as did other people. Even when one did not sit up later at night than ten or half-past it required an effort to rise before daylight. There is something in the air and in the manner of life which makes one sleepy. As the days lengthened the children came earlier to school. A Big Bee Story. From California by way of the San Francisco Call comes an account of what is believed to be the largest bee hive in the world, a cleft in the face of a*cliff. There is no danger of getting very near this natural beehive without knowing it, for at all hours of the day a swarm of insects hover about it for several hundred feet in all directions, and an incessant buzz that can be heard an eighth of a mile fills the air. But men do venture near after having first put on a suit of leather clothing, fastened & mask of wire screen around their hat brims and lighted a big torch. It takes nerve to approach close to the opening in the rock, and the ex perience is memorable. Bees in numerable light on the intrnder.hum- miug fiendishly and endeavoring to sting him to death. They form a per fect cloud, and the air is filled with a fetid smell and a fine dust that gets through the wire screen and causes an irritation of the eyes. The insects really show signs of vicionsness, and fly into the flames of the torch in countless numbers, as if they intended to extinguish it. Around and around they fly with a deafening buzz, and strong, indeed, is the man who can stand their onslaught for more than a few minutes. It is almost impossible to make out just where the entrance to this na tural beehive is. There is a sort of cavern in the cliff that seems to have a crack through the inner wall from top to bottom, but most of the bees hover around a hole about eighteen inches wide, and appear to make that the point of ingress and egress. Many days it is impossible even to see the cliff, so thickly covered is it with the insects, and they roll . in and out of the opening like a stream of molasses. During the summer dead birds can always be seen on the ground around the month of the hive. They have been stung to death while attempting to fly through the swarm of insects. Four-footed creatures never ventnre within half a mile, seeming to know that death lurks there. Tb« Boat-1) wallers of Japan. Young people who live in London or New York may fancy that oar cities are crowded, and that many famillea must live without very much air to breathe or space for the boys and girla to play in. What would they say to the boat-dwellers of Japan? In that crowded conntry hundreds of families spend their lives and bring up their children upon the water, and know nothing of the land, except as they make an occasional visit to it when obliged to purchase supplies or attend to some unusual business. In every bay along the coast ara found hundreds, if not thousands, of small craft called “junks.” These are small, flat-bottomed boats, and are owned and inhabited by a man and his family, just as houses are in other parts of the world. Their busi ness is the transportation of goods and merchandise of all kinds, and their navigation is a sort of family affair. One traveler says: “I have seen a boat twenty feet long most adroitly managed by three children, all under seven years of age. I am told that, notwithstanding their aptness at swimming, many boatmen get drowned, for no boat ever goes to another’s aid, nor will any boatman save another from drowning, because, as he says, it is all fate, and he who interferes with fate will be severely punished in some way.” Among these wonderful aquatic families children of three years old will sometimes swim like little fish, and if one is backward in learning, he will be thrown overboard and teased and tormented until he is obliged to learn the art in self defense. Ah! it is in reading and learning about the people of other lands that we find how much we have to love and be thankful for in the broad, free life of our own. But even here there are children who would be the better for such frequent baths, and perhaps you would have great difficulty in per suading the little Japs that life in the hot and crowded streets of our great cities was to be preferred to that of the jnukmen on the rivers and harbors of their own country.—Detroit Free Press, A Little Haymaker. When haying began every one on the farm worked with might and main, and none harder than Charlie. He followed the mowing machine round and round the piece which his uncle was cutting, watching the grass- heads and daisies nod and fall before the sharp teeth which he had turned the grindstone for his uncle to sharpen, until he was so tired that he could not sleep when bedtime came, and was discovered one night trying to climb the bureau, for what purpose was not known, unless to get in walk ing trim for the next day’s mowing. And when it came to raking and “tumbling” he was on hand with the little pitchfork which had been found for him, and Charlie could make as good a tumble as any man on the hay field, although it took all his pluck to Attack the windrows in which the hay was heaviest. one tbinpr that he always disliked, though he never shirked it, and that was riding to the field on the hay-rack. It was all right until the wagon turned into the meadow and began to bob and bump over the rough ground. Then began his troubles. Every hummock over which the wheels passed would throw him up in the air with a bounce like a rubber ball. And when the horses were put into a trot, so that the hay might be gotten in before the thunderstorm came up, and the pitchforks rattled and tossed about in the bottom of the wagon, the shaking-up that he endured was enough to turn him to jelly, if he had not been so tough—to say nothing of the danger of pitching overboard— while the men laughed aloud at his unwilling antics. He was more than repaid for this, though, in riding back on top of the load after having raked after so clean that not a handful of hay was left behind. When the load went rumbling into the barn his services usually ceased, except such matters as running to the well for a pail of fresh water for the men. But one day Charlie pleaded so hard with his uncle to be allowed to help “mow away,” which means to stand in the haymow and stow the hay away as it is thrown up from the bed, that he finally won his consent, and Charlie clambered up on the mow with his pitchfork and made ready for duty. Proud that he was at last to do what only the men had done before, he waited for the first throw. How it did come piling up on him under the vigorous unloading of Uncle Kent—great forkfuls,heavy and dusty, and how hot it was up here where no breath of air came! Would the load never be off? Faster and faster it came. Charlie could hardly get one forkful out of the way before another was waiting. At last, as he was struggling to pull his fork out of some that he had stowed away with great effort, a big forkful came upon him unawares which knocked him over and buried him up completely. Nearly smothered, he worked his way out, thinking that he should have to call out a surrender; but great was his relief to find that this was the last forkful and that the rack was empty. “Well, how do yon like mowing away?” said his uncle, as he came sliding down from the mow, covered with dust, his cheeks aflame and his arms and legs trembling with the ex ertion. “Oh, pretty well,” said Charlie,but he never asked to mow away again.— Youth’s Companion. Tb« G#n>« of Do ml nor*. Two persons playing dominoes ten hours a day, and making four moves a minute, could continue 118,090,000 years without exhausting all the com binations of the game, the total of which is 248,628,211,840. HOMESICKNESS KILLS* , Many Soldier#, Eapertally Wonnded or 3a Prl*on, Die From Thai Caua*. r H * rve J Atkina, Company I, -nd Massachusetts, died July 26,of nostalgia.” The above is extracted from an offi cial report. Nostalgia is, in plain words, homesickness. A Boston Journal reporter visited * men of miliUry experience and learned that this disease is by no means un common among troops. Dr. Abbott, secretary of the state board of health, who was for four years a surgeon in the civil war, said, when a^ked if the disease was com mon: _ Dh, yes, I have seen many cases of it. Men become discouraged, de spondent, lose vitality, and with it their hold on life. In the official re ports over five thousand cases were recorded, of which but few, compara tively, died. There were a great many cases—very many more than five thousand—that never got into re ports. Most of them were those ol boys under twenty.” Colonel William M. Olin, who served in the 36th Massachusetts through the war, said: W hen a man got that he simply lf>st his grip. ’ His nerve gave out and he ceased to care about anything. The neatest of men would become slovenly and let everything go to th« dogs. There was a man in my company who was discharged because the sur geon said he would die shortly if re tained. Another who enlisted in New York and was sent out tons just after Spotsylvania very nearly died. He Lad enlisted in the 36th because his first cousin was a first sergeant with us, but before he joined his first cousin had been killed. He came to us, therefore, with no friends in the regi ment, not even acquaintances. We nicknamed him ‘Jennie,’ because he was a girlish-looking boy. For two or three months he seemed to steadily pine away. He moped about with a despondent air, and grew thin and pallid. There was nothing in the ^•orld the matter with him except homesickness. We thought he was going to die, until all at once he turned abont and began to pick up. He had got over his homesickness and he grew steadily well again, until he was fat and healthy. He had at one time been actually attenuated and in * dying condition.” A prominent physician of the Bos ton city board of health, a veteran of 4 C i vil wal, conflrm «d the statement that deaths occurred from nostalgia frequently. ® “I was wounded and in hospital myself, he said, “in a cot next to a fellow much older than I was,and who was not so badly hurt, but he got homesick and lost his grip. He would have got welly ordinarily, but he piped away for lack of word from home and friends, and he died. “I think many more deaths are r or instance, a man who is not seri ously ill or wonnded lies in a hospital, where it seems as if nobody cared whether he lived or died. He can only lie still and think. The mail comes, and there is no letter for him. That is the last straw. He can’t re alize at such a time that' there may have been fifty letters sent him that have been lost or gone astray, owing to the conditions of war time. He loses hope and vitality. His nerve goes, and he does not care to live. He dies, and his death is attributed to wounds or whatever his regular sick ness has been, but that man has died of nostalgia, just the same.” CUBAN FORESTS. JPS FOR HOUSEWIVES Evapnralr<! Milk. Yc»y use evaporated milk in placvdinary milk for your cake, addiaufficieut quantity of water to nit as nearly as possible like fresfc. I prefer, however, where cakeitain a large quantity of but ter, ie water, even if I have an abuce of fresh milk. Water makike lighter and more dolicaie thaik. Evaporated milk may be nse* cream sauce for any of the cauivegetables , r fruits, or for creaiUce for puddings or vegeta- blesj which cream sauce would be appAAte. Whv Celery I* C*efu1. Cf is useful as a salad owing to its vknowu value as a nerve build er. tsh the celery, trim off all the greealks, and pare the root. Cut into«ds the white stalks and the portef the root clinging to them afteoring. Toss them in a bowl withe same dressing used for a to- matqid lettuce salad. A celery maytaise is a delicious accompani ment a gtfme dinner. Trim the eelewut the bleached portions left into i-inch lengths, and season it withialtspoonful of salt and two or threaakes of the white pepper cast er. >ver it with mayonnaise and aervi once. WISDOM. An Immense Amount of Valuable Timber Land in the Island. Cuba still possesses sixteen million acres of virgin forest abounding in valuable timber, none of which is use ful as coarse construction lumber, while nearly every foot would be salable in the United States and bring high prices. Cuban mahogany and cedar are particularly well known in the United States. The mahogany is very hard and shows a handsome grain, and is preferred by many to any other variety in common use. The moment Spain drops the reins of government in Cuba and . trade rela tions are re-established with the States, there will be a movement both inward and outward of forest products which will have a beneficial effect up on the industry in both countries. First to feel the force of this move ment towards rehabilitating Cub4 will be the lumbering interests of the south Atlantic and gulf coasts. Prior to three years ago they looked upon Cuba t# an excellent outlet for the coarse end of the mill cuts, and since that market has been closed to permit the prosecution of a most hideous and revolting war, the coarser grades of yellow pine produced at coast points have been marketed with great diffi culty and seldom at a profit. It is unfortunately true that Cuba will be unable to realize so promptly from a movement to re-establish her mahog any and cedar trade, for it is claimed by'prominent operators that the in dustry has been so completely crippled by the ravages of war that a period of time running from twelve to eighteen months will be required before logs can be landed at ports in this country. It is hoped that all this may be ac complished without shedding an addi tional drop of blood. Prior to the war the annual net revenue of Cuba was $80,000,000. With peace restored it would hardly be better than $50,- 000,000.—Lumbe min’s Review. Meaner Than She Meant. He—Can you read faces? Bhe—Sometimes. He—What can you read in my face? She—Not much.—Boston Courier. fuare* of Rhubarb In Jelly. Ccr a quart of peeled rhubarb cut iinch and a half squares with cold bter, and at the first boil pour off t water, cover with fresh, sim mer * ten minutes and, while each squais whole, try with a fork, and wheseginning to soften add a large cup <sugar. Stew a few moments longtuntil the sweetening takes ef fect, ten stir the hot juice into quar ter os box of gelatine that has been soakg in the juice of an orange, re- morethe rhubarb carefully that it may it break, put half the juice in a shaow dish on the ice, keep the rest luid. When half the juice has jellieqslace the squares in it, pour the liquiihver and serve when the whole has be >me firm. If too solid put in a workplace to limber aud scant the gelati| next time. Melon* for Ureakfii*t. persons who suffer indiges- tioi f om eating melons as a refresh- ing “ippetizer” iu the morning will fim that no unpleasant results follow the t tse as a breakfast dessert. To the nost unthinking it should be ap- par Dt that introducing a cold mass intqthe stomach before eating must necessarily redtms jits temperature be low that required foV.digestioa. There are itomachs hardy enough to endure this treatment, but people eJiould dis abuse themselves of the ide» s that it is the proper and healthful thitaz to do in all cases. Anyone who is of melons will find them as palatab after the introduction of warm fo into the stomach as before, and ge e&llj* the result will be. more satisfai .. —ig -and tax on the digestive organs. NOT IF HE KNEW People Wonldn’t Tramp Over reekhatn’* Lawn. - Some people are naturally lazy. In fact, most people are. It is this in born disposition to get through life with the least possible effort that makes one walk on the grass merely to save three or four steps. Inciden tally this natural laziness upon the part of the human race is responsible for the fact that Ebenezer Peokham, who lives ou Cedar avenue, has been unable to get a good brand of sod upon the exposed corner of his neat little lot. Half a dozen extra steps are neces sary to take one aronnd Mr. Peck- ham’s corner, but five out of every six people who have in the past had occa sion to turn that way have felt it their duty to “cut across.” At last Ebenezer Peckham made a vow. It was to the effect that he would get even with the human race or know the reason why. In pursuance of this determination he got two stout stakes, each about two feet long, and he pointed each of them at one end. Then he secured 20 feet of clothesline and chuckled softly to himself. Revenge is sweet. In his mind’s eye Ebenezer Peckham could see members of all the various grades of society turning flipfiaps, and cartwheels and standing on their heads, and rooting up the turf. He thought of inviting a few friends around to see the fun, but that would involve delay, and he couldn’t wait. So he got a hatchet and pounded his stakes into tho ground so far that a horse might have pulled at either of them without dislodging it, uud then he tied his piece of clotheliue across the path that had been worn into his little patch of lawn. Tho rope was about six inches from the ground— just high euough to trip a trespasser going or coming. “Now, dadgast you,” said Mr. Peckham, as he finished the job, “we’ll see how you like that! I guess maybe there’s more than one way of doing most things, but I think this'll be good enough for me.” Then he retired to his porch and sat down iu a dark corner, from which he could see the fun without beiug seen. “By George,” ho said to himself, “It’s a shame not to let anybody else enjoy this. I wish Dave Brimmer could be hero. He'd split himself wide open laughing. Dave would just take to this sort of thing. I wonder—” But while Mr. Peckham was indulg ing in his mental talk there came a sudden clanging of bells and rattling of wheels, aud somebody aronud the corner yelled, “Fire. WORDS The infinitely little have a pride in finitely great.—Voltaire. When passion is on tho throne rea son is out of doors.—M. Henry. Rashness is the faithful but un- happy parent of misfortune.—Fuller. He that swells in prosperity will be sure to shrink iu adversity.—Cotton. Poverty is the test of oivilty aud the touchstoue of friendship.—Haz- litt. Enjoy present pleasures in such a way as uot to injure future cues.— Seneca. By the streets of “by and by,” one arrives at the house of uever. —Cer vantes. Quarrels would never last long if the fault was only ou ouo side.—lioche- faucauld. Punctuality is the stern virtue of men of business, and the pracefal courtesy of princes.—Bulwer. The injury of prodigality leads to this, that bo that will not economize will have to agonize.—Confucius. Hearts may be attracted by assumed qualities, but the affections are only to be fixed by those which are real.— De Moy. There is always room for h man of force, and he makes room for many. Society is a troop of thinkers, aud the best heads amoug them take the best places.—Emerson. In all the affairs of life, social as well as political, courtesies of a small aud trivial character are the ones which strike deepest to the grateful and appreciative heart.—Henry Clay. An Uloeruled Tooth. Mr. Dobson looked across tho table at his wife with a smile of irritating tolerance. “Now these headaches of J ours, my dear,” he said, “I can’t olp feeling that they are partly the result of imagiuatiou. You are a lit tle prone, I fear, to exaggerate your sufferings. I think you should guard against that tendency, or you’ll soon becomeoneof those chronic invalids.” Mrs. Dobson’s pale face flushed, but before she could reply, her hus band was appareutly seized with a spasm of pain. He hastily left the table with his napkin pressed to kin mouth. Mrs. Dobson followed, and found him in the library anxiously re garding a small, grayish lump held in one band. “The filling has come out of that wisdom tooth,” be muttered, beneath the napkin. “The dentist saiiVif the nerve was ever exposed feared ulceration; he was again, he loaiou «...— , only able to put in a temporary filling last week. It is already jumping, and I must ’ i i i ihave a hot-water bag aud do up my EbenezerPeckbum leaped clear over | facerightftway for the night> Rn P d g £ the railing of his porch aud started for the conflagration. The sight or sound of a fire engine always aroused the sleeping youth in Mr. Peckham. Like an eagle in its flight, he swept aronnd the lilac bush near the side- to the dentist the morning “ Mrs. once. keeping hot compresses on band’s face, but he sul(Ti first thing in the Dobson was all/sympathy at She passed a ^akeful night, • ^— on her hus- ’ered agonies muituvi VSSW . . . . ~ , m II walk, and then there was a display of from the tooth in spite of all How to Boll a Ham. Select a good ham—one that is thick through and short for its weight. Be sure, also, that the skin is thin, that point determining the age of the animal from which the ham is cut. Scrape and wash it well, and put it on to cook iu sufficieut cold water to well coyer it, adding a good kaif-cupful each of vinegar and molasses. After it come to a boil the heat should be reduced to just the simmeriug point A twelve-pound ham will re quire five hours’ simmering. When half-done add two bay leaves, a dozen cloves aud a teaspoonful of sage. Let it cool over night in the water in which it was boiled. In the morning remove the skin, place the ham in a dripping pan, and bake for an honr in a moderate oven, hasting with mild vinegar. When nearly done sprinkle well with brown sugar, aud brown. A boiled ham keeps much better for the added baking process. An indifferent kaia prepared as above is better than the finest sugar-cured product care- lesily cooked. Hou*«hold Hint*. To mix a little consomme with clam broth adds considerably to the flavor of the latter. Wash chamois skins in warm suds, riose in warm water aud dry them by stretching aud rubbing. A new filling for sandwiches con suls of thin shavings of sugared gin- ge ' and candied orange peel. A pleasing new fad is the “wedding cl sst” To be quite the thing this td onld be of carved antique oak or its st nblance. To clean mirrors make a paste of w liting and a pint of water. Leave it on till dry, aud then rub off the p< wder with a chamois. A chemist says that medicine stains u nally yield very quickly to an ap- p cation of alcohol. For the obsti- n te iodine-stains ether is recommend- e . A point to give the new honsekeep- e is Hiat chiu.i plates, cups or sau- c rs should not be piled one upon un- o her while they are hot. They must l i cool before they are jmcked. Otker- v se the glaze cracks easily. The old-fashioned sugar tongs v tk spoon points are recommended f r use in hulling strawberries, when i is desired to keep the shape of the l >rry intact. The large fine berriea i e frequently served with the Lulls < i, passing a little dish of powdered i igar with each plate of berries. The correct way to carve a fish is i run a knife down the back, cutting trough the skin. Remove the fins, «n cut into even pieces on one side, lien these pieces are served, remove ie bone* and cat the under side in lie same wav. rocket, continuing with a sort of pin- wheel movement, embracing a brilliant shower of stars, and ending with a low, plaintive groan, as Mr. Peckham, with a dislocated shoulder,a nose that had been doing special duty as a plow share, aud trousers that had once kuown their proper place, rolled over on the grass. They put him tenderly to bed, a kindhearted neighbor palled up the stakes, and people come and go across the Peckham lawn again at thtur plea sure.—Cleveland Leader. Pictnr<>*<|ue Havana. Havana in dilapidated and pictur esque, and the traveler will find as much of the bizarre and unique in a stroll up the Prado and about the les ser streets as he has perhaps ever en- conutered in a like distance any where. To me the most interesting hour in the day iu one of those antique towns is in the very early morning, when the place is just getting awake and the hucksters are coming in. These country people arrive in all sorts of ways for the daily market. One group comes afoot, with tremen dously heavy loads of frnits and vege tables carelessly balanced on tbeir heads or swung on their backs. Here is a swartby fellow leading a horse bearing capacious reeded panniers of fruits aud stalks of sugarcane. Lumbering wains come straining into town, drawn by heavy-necked yokes with restraining nose-hitches. A four-team of these cattle and their great cart will alone block the aver age side street, so the conntry ox carts rarely get very far into town. When two of them meet there is au ably conducted debate on road rights and considerable native profanity. An ambulating haystack adds a pictur esque touch to the scene and a breath from the fields. As the diminutive horse under the load swings down the way the grass often brnshes the bouses on either side and crowds the footmen to the extremity of the eight een-inch sidewalks.—Womia’s Home Companion. Walking Lizard*. The remarkable “frillec Heard” of Aust.alia, which runs about on its hind legs in a partially erect attitude, has been pictured in this column. It is now asserted that some other lizards practise the same manner of locomo tion. A resident of the West Indies, in a letter published in Nature, avers that all the lizards in that part of the world, including even the tree iguana, which attains a length of five feet, ran erect on their hind legs when hurried. It is suggested that these animals may have descended from some remote an cestor in the age of the great reptiles which was able to walk and run on its hind legs, but the sigl\t of one of the monsters of those days in such an at titude would bare inspired more ter ror than amusement. he mumbled behind his in the morning; and without for breakfast, Mrs. Dobson took him, weak from pain, to Doctor Brown’s office. “Your face hasn’t swollen yet,” said Doctor Brown, with the cheerfulness born of long experience of his profes sion. “Did you save the filling?”— Youth’s Companion. The Future of Siberian Convict*. The people and the press of Siberia are unanimous in their support of Count Duhofskoi’s memorial to the throne, which aims at the concentra tion of all the oonviots, of the criminal class st least, into stations, depots, aud colonies-on the island of Sakhalin. That the press of the country should bo so outspoken in its opposition to the continuance of the present system is certainly a healthful sign, aud I be lieve that the foreign critics, in leav ing this long-controverted question in the hands of the Siberians, who are most directly concerned, and who are perfectly acquainted with its many phases, will do well, and perhaps then time might be found to ferret out and expose abuses which flourish nearer borne. While all classes in Siberia nnite in asking for the abolition of the convict system as now in force, they are equally unanimous in denying the existence of the inhuman abuses which in the past have been imputed to it. In their opinion, however, a continu ance of the system would prove a great menace and an actual danger to the seourity and peace of the industrious settlements, which are springing np and entering npon a flourishing and prosperous existence all through the country, upon the line of the Trans- Siberian and upon the banks of the Amur, as well as all through the Pri morsk, or Maritime Province. This danger, they point oat, arises from the ease with which often inveterate and hardened criminals obtain, almost im mediately npon their arrival iu Si beria, a ticket of leave, and then show too often how # unchangeable is the bent of their criminal character by the immediate commission of some horrible crime.—Harper’s Magazine. Bat and Snake Kept Hon*e Together. Joseph Garrish found a log along the Potomac River, near Williamsport, Md., and proceeded to chop it into firewood. While in the act of split ting the log he was surprised to see a snake, three feet long, and a large rat occupying the seme nest in the hollow of the log. Both rat and snake, which seemed on very friendly terms, at tacked Mr. Garnsh. The snake coiled for a spring and the rat mads for him, biting viciously at his feet and finally running up his pantaloons leg to his waist. The rat was finally shaken oat and despatched with the axe and tha snake experienced a similar fate.— Baltimore Sun. *