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p- ' ? THE STEP-MOTHER. "The day died out in dreariness and dread, Grim shadows oropt through hall and corridor, While fading fire-light lurid flickering shed Athwart the panelled walls and oaken floor. ' "Around tho cheerless hearth the children pressed, Pale, patient, brooding o'er the dreaded morrow (Like half-fledged birds forsaken in the nest). Too cowed fo weep, too dulled with gloom and sorrow. "Upon the wall the treasured portrait hung, That well-rememhered smile forever gone. That pure white ncck round which their arms htul cIuiik, Those lipB once warm with kiss and beni- \ son. * *'At every fancied footfall, white with fear, The children started, trembled, glanoed around, Gazed in each others' eyes and seemed to hear The stranger's voice in every passing sound. - .nyw win nno come ( wun irown, or baielul smile Yet fearfuler, to greet the shrinking throng ? How look, how spcal< ? Why tarries she, meanwhile, Thu^ wantonly their torture to prolong ? " "At last she comes. Huah, hush, unwclcome gneft, Usurper of dead rites and dearest tks ! Ah, no ! false ft-ars; It is a vision blest? Au angel stands before tlioir glistening eyea. i ' "With men n smile ns mild Madonnas wear, i Oh ! such a look?so gracious and acrmeek ! ; The twilight glimmering round her golden ; hair, And tears of tender pily on her cheek." Miss Maceedy. ? ? : LITTLE BILL'S WOKK. CHAPTER I. # ^ ^ .untie I5iii nuci Knocked off work early; not bccause he was lazy; oh dear no, *there never was such another industrious little chap as Bill; but the day had been a fortunate one, he had sold off all his stock in trade (Bill was in the lucifer t-match line) and was returning home with ?evenpence clear profit in his pocket; n wonder he felt happy; no wonder his' "little dirty hand was thrust into his pocket, jingling the coppers pleasantly. He made a call at a cook shop and 'bought quite a lo^ of vituals with fourpence (it's wonderful what you can do if you only know how to <jo to market), next he stepped into a baker's and purchased a half a loaf, then left the shop and ran as fast as his thin legs would carry him, never once picking a piece from the bread, which he cuddled under his arm. Little Bill would not have been a pretty boy even had he been clean, which he decidedly was not; his eyes were small and sharp, his nose Hat, his mouth large, and his general appearance starved; probably he thought that dirt kept him warm, for it covered him more effectually than did his garments, which had large ventilation holes here and T 1J - 1 I \uvic, ?uu uu cviuuuLiy muuc no enort to remove it. I Little Bill lived in a court oil Fleet | street; I shall not commit myself by say ing which court, suffice it that 'twas the most narrow and dirty; probably had you asked Bill he would have said it was a very good court indeed, there was always plenty going on, innumerable small publishers brought out their penny papers the c, which brought hun v dreds of men into the court many times week, and Bill had almost as much as ; . he could do to give proper attention to the pictures which were posted up outside the offices; then there was often an V . exciting row, which ended in a fight ^ and the police; but best of all, now and again two men came with a harp and clarionette and played sv eet music which almost made Bill cry, while the other children danced. How old Bill was I cannot sajT, seemingly the school board officers had no control over him, so probably he was pa^t the age hen children are obliged to learn; however I do not know, only I should be sorry to seoany one I loved "with such an old careworn face at forty as little Bill had when [ knew him. Little Bill reached the court, and. "Without waiting to look at any of the new pictures which were temptingly displayed, aped away to its darkest corner and entered the dirtiest house; he staid a moment at the foot of the stairs, while a fit of coughing shook his thin, emu^ <;iatcd frame, then he began mounting the dark staircase till he reached the , very top of the house; arrived there he ^turned the handle of a door und found it locked. , "Is that you, Billy?" said a childish! S&, vojee. * "Is 'at 'ou, Billy?" said a more child's,; x 3Lsh echo. .: > 44Yes, why's the door locked? Ask father to open it." I''Father's gone out; he took the key xlown with him and said Mrs. Green "would give it to you when you came liome," said the voice which had first ?poken. * I 44 When 'ou torn' 'ome." came the echo. Bill did not speak again, but he put down his provisions and retraced his Ioiujia no i|uitMj tta [juaatuic. ivirs. urecn ^occupied the first floor back. Bill look?d into her room *, she was certainly not 'L there. Probably he knew from previous experience where to find her, for without a moment's pause he went down the remaining stairs, ran out of the court, and I entfireri tho nnhli/> linr ?f ? miKlin Knuoo ? , ? mwuwv which stands at tho corner of Fetter lane. A number of men and women were standing there drinking, talking And laughing loudly, but pleasantly. Bill went up to a great stout woman and touched her arm. "Please, Mrs. Green," ho said, "will you give me the key of our room?" Mrs. Green startled and turned round. "Bless us and save us, if it ain't little Bill," she said; "Why, child, how did you know where to find me?" "I guessed you'd be here," answered Bill; then, as the rest of the company laughed, bo added quickly " 'cause I J'' ' . - " ' *f A<' ? ' / S "C ^ ; '*1 .' V' \S r v - ' .;>>i'r V 1 , v 'ft , , / , rr; ^^\ !' y ' know as you like pleasant company." "Well, here's thekey,"sho said drawing it from her pocket, "blest if I hadn't clean forgot it; have a sip of this, Bill." She held a glass of steaming gin and water toward him as the spoke; if possible his tacc grew paler than before, and he turned away. "No. thank you, Mrs. Green." "Nonsense, Bill; it'll warm you.* He looked up into her face. "I'd rather take a knife," he said, "and kill myself, than touch a drop of that?than learn to like it." lie turned away as he spoke, and left the barroom. "Father has blue devils," said Mrs. Green, as though in apology for little Bill, as she tipped off her beverage, awful sometimes; can hear him yelling frightful; Hill minds him and the other children more like an angel than a human." "Where's the mother?" asked a man. "Lord knows; went off two years ago; l?it, bless you, she had them almost as bad at times." Bill soon rcached home again, unlocked the door, let himself in, and was received with every mark of alTection by a small boy and a smaller girl, both usually as tuny as minseii. "I've got you such a prime supper," lie said, taking the newspaper cover from the vituals which he had bought at the cook shop, 4,vou must eat it fast, and then go to bed in case father comes home; he don't like to find you up." He gave the children each a portion of meat and bread, then sat watching them. "Ain't you going to eat nothing?" asked Bill's little brother, looking at him in great surprise. 'Not yet; don't feel hungry," and again the crucl cough shook him. Supper over, the children went to a mattress at the further end of the room, and laid themselves down. Bill pulled the dirty coverings over tliem, kissed both their grimmv faces, then wished them good night, "and if father wakes you when he comes in," he added, vnn 1 of lnm I'maiv U ^ For a time the children were restless, but at length they sank to sleep, their dirty arms folded around each other, their dirty cheeks pressed together. Little Bill sat wq telling them for a time then rose, drank some water from out a J broken pitcher, and set out the remaind- ' er of the food. "Father may like it when he comes in," he thought, then went back to watch the children. After a time he heard a step upon the ! stairs, a heavy stumbling step, but he i did not move, and when a man ioiled | rather than walked into the room, he : just lifted his eyes and looked at him ! quietly, keenly; then rose, crossed the i room and gently drew the man to a; chair. "Head bad, father?" he asked. "Deuced bad," the man answered short 1 v -J. Something was evidently the matter j with little Bill's father, ague perhaps, j for lin shook all over, only his head and ; hands jerked themselves more than the j rest of his body, and now and then his j arms shot out spasmodically; his face; was gray, and great beads of pcrspira- j tion lolled down it; his eyes wandered i round the room, as though seeking for I something fearfully. "I'll just put a bandage on y'ead," said Billy quietly: "there ain't nothing like it. What arc you looking at, father?'' The man had risen and stood gazing in horror at the lloor. Bill made him sit down, and hastily bound a dripping rag round his head. "Is it rats, father?" he asked. The man shivered more than ever. "Yes, look, they're coming on to me." He gave a great scream, and would have leapt up, but the child's hands restrained him. "There is many, father, "he said quite quietly and naturally; "but, bless you, they won't hurt; sec, they are quite as close to me as they is to you." AUV iiiau o 1ILUU SUUUJV OU lliai LI1U wonder was it did not drop off; and ho glared up into the -boy's lace. "There was sich strange things about to-night. Bill," he whispered, lions and tigers?and all after me." Bill expressed no surprise, but thought a minute. "That's very like," he said at last, "I did hear as a menagerie had got loose; did you rtrn, father?" "And snakes," said the man, not heeding the question. "Ah, to be sure, there would be Bnakes," then following the man's eyes which opened wider and wider till they almost seemed as though they would drop out, "you don't happen to see any of them now, do you, father?" He pressed his hand more tightly down upon the man's shoulder, and wetted the'rag once more. "There's millions," the man answered, I "all a-comiug this way; let me go." He wrenched his collar from the child's hands, but he caught him liy the arm. "Father,"' he said, "dear, dear father, stop a bit; they wont hurt you, they're? they're tame snakes, and I want to tell you what I think brings them here." The man sat down again, his eyes riveted toward the father end of the room: tha child couched till he almost shook himself to pieces, then leaned heavily against his father. "It's kind of you to stay and listen to me, father,5' he said at last, "because of course it ain't nice to have rats and snakes, and?and sich like a crawling about the room if it can be helped, and I think it can, for I believe father, it's the drink that brings them." "What!" yelled the man, "d'you mean to insinuate that 1 takes too much; that they ain't there really; that I only Rl'PS in mu mitul unn?' "No, no, father," said the boy, gently interrupting him; "why, don't I see them as plain as anything, all a-running and a-crawling over each other?" "But they're gone now," 'said the man suspiciously. "Of course they is; you frightened thein when you leaped up and yelled. They can't abide noise, but Lord knows how soon they'll bo back again. Why, I do l>e]ievo," watching the man's eyes, "that they're a-coming now. Let me bathe your head again, father." Once more the dripping cloth was bound ar.'.und the man's brow, once more the child was shaken with his cough. "As I was a-saying, father," the boy continued, "I think it's th? drink, the smell of it, as draws them; I've heard that snakes and rata and them sorts are uncommon partial to spirits, and you see, father, there's generally a little smell of it about you, though it's but one glass you've took." Again the man looked strangely into the child's face. "Partial to spirits, are they! "Where did you hear that? "Well, I can't exactly sayt father; but I've heard that in India and France, and?and Iceland, where sich things live, and bite, father, for they're not quiet and harmless like they is here, that they fill tanks with spirits over night, and in the morninc? there's hun dreds lying about as drunk as can be, a-singing and?I mean a-hissing and a-biting of each other like winkie; then the people sweeps them up, and burns them; so I thought father, that, if that was the case there, may be you. though you ain't to say strong of spirits, yet do smell a little, might draw them varmints here, for they don't come when me and the little ones is alone; and p'raps, father, if you just took a beer fox a time, they might go away far enough not to be drawn by the smell, if you did have a glass of spirits, now and again." Once more the child stopped to cough, again dipped the rag in water and laid it on the man's head. "Try and oat a bit, father," he said, and silently the man turned to the vituals, then, uttering a mighty scream, flung the boy from him and rushed out of the room. Bill fell, but was on his feet in a moment. and after his father; the two children sat up in bed, but he had no time to notice them; down the stairs he went, through the court, along Fleet street, up the Strand, on, on keeping his father stiil in sight till they came to ? t? ? 1 iUlUl^ai Ol|UUlVf IUUU 1UI U IIIWIIIUII t L11U man stopped, then dashed toward one of the fountain ponds and sprang in; quick as thought Bill followed, ancl they beat about in the water together, the child pulling at the man, drawing him toward the edge, and at length they crawled out. "How did it happen?" said the man, sobered up at last. Bill coughed again and shivered. "Why," he said, quite calmly and naturally "we was running a race, and you fell into this 'ere water, and like a silly fool I couldn't stop myself and fell in after. Let's go home, father." CHAPTER II. Little Bill was ill, in fact had been ill for some time, but no one had noticed it; the other lodgers thought his cough a nuisance, as it often awoke them at night, but it never tntercd their heads that there was anything the matter with little Bill's lungs. However, some days after his ducking in the fountain pond in Trafalgar square little Bill found, to his utter amazement, one morning that it was impossible to move from his mattress; it had been a trouble often, but at last he really could not get up. "Sid," he said, giving his brother a push, Sid, ain't itqueer; I can't jjet up?" Sid awoke from his slumbers slowly and rubbed his eves "Can't get up. Hilly,'* he said, "why not?" "Well, I don't know; it's mighty queer, but it's because I can't, I suppose. I feel so strange, and faint like, that you'll best wake father, perhaps." "Father, strange to say, had stuck to beer for the last two or three days, and come home each night only moderately, almost respectably, drunk; consequently the snakes and rats, not attracted by the spirit smell, had not put in an appearance. Sid ran to his father's bed and shootf him. "Father," he said, "father, Billy can't get up." Father opened his eyes. "What?" he said. "Billy can't get up." "Why can't he?" ^ "He don't know, but he can't ' Father rolled out ot bed, and across to the children's mattress. "Why can't you get up, Bill, my boy?" he said. "I don't know, father; but I feel so weak and strange." He coughed violently as he spoke, and then a crimson stream flowed from his mouth, and over the dirty coverings; father's face turned very white, and he raised the boy's head. "Run, Sid," he suid, "run for a doc*w." Sid paused a moment in horror, then left the room, fell rather than walked down the stairs, scampered through the court, on as fast a? his little legs could carry him; he had no idea where to find a doctor, and probably would have run on forever, or at least till he dropped had a policeman not stopped him. "Whereare you going, boy?" lie said. Sid looked up, and in bis agitation did not r.otice the man's uniform. "Oh please, sir," he said, "are you a doctor?" "No, my boy; d'you want one?" "Oh yes. sir, please, sir, Hill's cut his mouth without a knife, and its bleeding frightful." The policeman took the boy's hand, and hurried him along till he caine to a chemist's shop; it was early in the morning and the shutters had not yet been taken down, so the policeman rang the bell. In a few moments one of the upper windows was raised, and a head came out. "Wanted, sir," said the policeman. The window was shut, and in a few moments the door of the shop was unfastened. "Where fro?" said tho policeman, speaking to Sid. N "Oh please, sir, I'll show you." He ran on in front of them, and they followed quickly; at length they reached the court; Sid rushed into the house, up the stairs and soon the doctor and policeman stood at little Bill's mattress. * 'Father" moved away, and the doc-^ tor knelt, took the thin hand in his, felt the puise, lifted the boy's head, looked into the white face, then shook his head sadly. * 'Nothing c?n save him," he said. "Father" threw himself down by Bill's side. "Little Bill," he said, "little Bill." Bill opened his eyes, the blood had ceased to flow, and only the dark stain showed what had happened. Poor lit' 0)'' v,-r'. Mk* ^ ^ . tie Bill, he had never had much blood in his week, thin body; it could not long supply such a stream.' "You don't see no rats, father," he whispered. "No, Bill, my child?my darling." "Nor snakes, father?" . "No, no." "Nor?nor nothing, father?" "Nothiug, Bill?but you." "It's all along of beer," said the child faintly; "they don't smell nothing now. But father, dear, dear father?promise me you won't go back to the spirits; Sid can't see as I see, and you have to look at them alone, for I'm?going." he paused a moment, nnd his eyes half closed, then he opened them again and looked up. "The little ones would be frightened if they saw them, father," he mi id, "stinging ones might come in time, and ' kill you all; so promise me, father, that vou'll not go back to spirits; promise little Bill." Round little Bill "father's" arms were clasped, and he drew him close, close to his side. "I promise," he said, "and I will keep my word, so help me God." A smile tlitted across the child's face, his eyes closed slowly, till his lashes rested upon his white cheeks, one sigh broke from his lips, then all was still. For a moment his father looked at j him silentlv, then cried aloud: "Little Hill, little Hill, speak to me." But little Hill's work was done, and I"God had taken him.? Tinsley's Maya' sine. His Mama-ln-Luw Tells About It. I do not know where he had been "spending the evening" as he calls it, my dear, but I know that the evening had waned into three o'clock in the morning whcn-I heard him fall over the rocking chair I left' in the hall for him, and if it should please heaven to send me grandchildren, 1 humbly trust they may all be born deaf?no, don't say "oh, ma!"?rather than have them even hear the language that man used, coupled with the name of your own mother. He left the hall door wide open, and in the white moonlight I j watched him stand on his hat to reach j the shadow of the figure 7 on the tran: som, blackly outlined on the white wall, ; upon which he vainly endeavored to i hanir his ovrrcrint. Affi?r spvnrnl fnil ures lie laid the coat carefully on the floor, and after fumbling in every pocket in his clothes he found some matches, and then held tip his foot and scratched them against the wall, under the impression, I have no doubt, that lie was rubbing them on the sole of his boot. He tried with match after match, to J light one of the brass pegs in the hat ; rack, making the most shocking aud absurd comments at ever}* failure. I could hear it no longer. I called out: "Henry, if you will cease disfiguring the wall ana the hat rack, and come here, I will find a light for you.'' That man?he turned in the most idiotic way to the hall door, and, after staring out at the moonlight in a dazed way, said: "Oh, ye/, yez-zi-see; got parlor all lighted up, ain't you? Whnz goin non? S'prise party?" Then I went down stairs and led him up to bed. No, my tlcnr, I am not going to scold him. No; when he comes down stairs I am not going to say a harsh word to him. I shall not say anything to him. I shall | merely look at him. [P. S. - She looked at him.] Bukdette. The Lime-Kiln Club. "Myfrens," said Brother Gardner ai he opened the meeting and nodded tc Samuel Shin to shove another herring box into the stove, 4,I trust dat each an' ebery one of you may take a deep interest in astronomy, but de man who sots on de fence in de day time lookin' fur de ebenin' sta' am gwine to be hungry in summer an' cold in winter. "A speerit of philosophy am to be in-' couraged in all, but de man who sots down to cold 'taters an' codfish, an' reasons dat it was to be, an' darefore is, can't borry any money of me. "De study of Natur' am to be commended, but doau' git so enthusiastic | obcr it dat you avn willin' to gee de children go bar'fnt in January for de sake of studyin' dcir heels an' toes. I.T? 1- - A ?-l e ruruucucsmuyoi political economy, if you will, but doan' make de diskivcry dat de hull subjeck resolves itself into 8cllin' your wote fur de wery highest market price. "De science of anatomy may well interest ebery one of you, but doan' stop short in your studies at de diskivery dat an aivernge healthy man kin hold down a hard-bottom cheer fur six straight ' hours widout seriously affectin' his constitution. "Seek to master de science of mechanism, an' doan' cmagin dat you hev got de -hull bizness in your pocket as soon as you hev demonstrated to de ole woman dat a dull ax am better dan a sharp one to split wood wid. "Brudder Shin will please light two j more lampg, stuff an ole hat into dat bioken pane in de alley winder, an1 we will purceed to bizness."?Detroit Fret l*ress. Farmer Schwab's Cieflulity. Christian Schwab is a rich Dutch farmer who lives in Saville township, Pa. He believes in fortune tellers and charms. A few days ago a party of gypsies came through the township. tscnwau nad his fortune tola by one of them. He was told that if he could place $25 at the foot of a white ash tree that forked east and west within nine paces of a running stream, and leave the money thero over night, he would find it doubled the next day. There was jus!; such a tiee on Schwab's farm. He placed 25 at the foot of the tree, and next morning found $50 there. He visiied the gj'psy again, and wanted to know if the money transaction could be repeated. The gypsy read the cards and informed Schwab that it could be repeated, and that he had better place all the money he could raise at the foot of the tree and make all he could, for it would be doubled. Schwab placed $700 as directed. The next day he went to gather the money. The $700 were gone. Schwab hurried to consult the gypsy. She was gone too. and the gailiblo farmer is still looking for her. THE MYSTERIES OF A DAY. NTKANGE, CURIOUS AND KTAIITMNO TUINU8 OCCUR KINO AIIOUT US. Crime* In Ir ?liitnl?l)cn<l in ilio Mnuw Kliilr | ?An IliHiirjinri? Cuno?Time* in Alnska -Th? Itmiktsr'H. Wutch, Etc., ICtc. Loici) Tollemache, wlio has just completed his eightieth year, is said to be the model English landlord. lie possesses about 40,000 acres of land in Cheshire, and during the whole of the agricultural depression from 1877 to 1885, lie had neither a vacant farm nor a tenant in arrears. Ilis estate in Cheshire has, during his lifetime, been cut up into farms averaging about 200 acres in extent, his lordship considering that a thrifty farmer with sons and daughters could do excellently on a 200-acre farm, while he would suiter severely on a smaller holding. In order to break up his estate into farms of that size, he built, or rebuilt, between fifty and sixty farm houses at the cost ot ?148,000, eacn 01 tucsc Homestead* costing about . 2,800. Jn addition to this, Lord Tollcinache has built 2(50 cottages for the accommodation of the laborers. In regard to the education of children on his estate an anccdotc is told of his lordship's practical common sense. Lord Tolleifiache was anxious to provide mixed schools for the education of the farmc s' and laborers' children; but after the buildings had been erected at considerable expense he ound that the tenant farmers objected to send their sons to the same schools with the laborers' children. Having listened quietly to the master's complaint, the noble lord said: "There is only one way out of the difficulty; I will send my own sons to the school." For nearly two years Lord Tollemachc's children attended the school, and their father adds, "to j their undoubted advantage." When Emory A. Storrs died a few months ago, surprise was caused by the statement that the noted lawyer, whose 1 impecunious condition was well known, had carried no life insurance for the benefit of his wife. The announcement is made that among Mr. Storrs' papers 4 1 il~ r J _ _ _ ? i Lucic nu.i luuuuuy junnu h policy in tne Equitable Insurance Company, of New York, for $20,000. "NVhcn Mr. Storrs' friends made inquiries they found that no premium had been paid on the policy. ! The agent who had issued it had aci copied Mr. Storrs' promise to pay, and j had made repeated but unsuccessful efforts to collect the amount. The policy was issued on January 1, 1885. There was a difference of opinion as to the value of the policy under the circumstances, some maintaining that it was worthless and others that the policy itself was an acknowledgment of the rceeipt of the premium. Alter consultation, the general officers of the Equitable Company in New York offered to pay $10,000 of the amount immediately, in j settlement. It is announced that, upon ' the advice of friends, Mrs. Storrs has 1 decided to accept the sum rather than enter into litigation, which would at least delay the settlement of her claim j for a long time. Hkrr Hagkk, the wealthy German ban If r, is the most punctual man in the world, and always carries a couple of I chronometers about with him. Thanks to this habit he is a frequent victim of pickpockcts, as not a week passes without his losing one of his watches. At first he had recourse to all kinds of safety chains; then one fine morning he took no precaution whatever, and quietly allowed himself to be robbed. At night, on returning from business, he took up the evening paper, when he uttered an exclamation of delight, and at once started of! to the police station. This is what he had read: "To-day, about 2 p. m., a violent explosion took place in a house in B ? street, occupied by Mr. S ?, a worthy townsman. The hands of the , victim are shattered and the left eye gone." The crafty banker had filled 'the watchcase with dynamite, which exploded during the operation of winding. Since that time no more watches have been stolen from the per?on of Herr Ila^er. SHEEHAN. who murdcrpfl his mnfhpr brother and sister in Dublin, Ireland, says he was led to commit the crime by the persistency of his mother in demanding ?300 dowry from Farmer Browne before she would consent to her son (the prisoner) marrying Miss Browne. Farmer Browne was willing to give his daughter a dowry of ?170, I but Mrs. Sheehan refused the offer. [ William then murdered his mother, | brother and sister and threw their i bodies into an old well. lie told the people that he had given his mother ?300 out of his marriage poition, and that the three missing ones had gone away to seek another place of residence. In a short time William married Miss Browne. He took possession of the farm and remained there about two years, wl\en he was evicted for pon! payment of rent. lie then left for Australia. A fter his departure the three bodies were discovered and he was arrested and brought back to Ireland for trial. Alaska forests contain timber enough to supply the world. Fine, spruce, fir, and hemlock cover every island on the j archipelngo and a goodly portion of the mainland. The trees are straight and *?ii i -i? >? 1 mil, mill jjiuw U1UHU lOglililtT. 1 110 Onijl sawmill at present is at Douglass Island, and so far there has not been a cord of timber cut for shipment. The trees, as a rule, ,do not always cut uf into goodsized boards. For fuel, however, the wood is excellent, and much of it i3 available for building purposes. There is little decorative wood, although (he VaII^W i\inA io ri*Vi1v aa1a*?a/1 4 J i iva?? V VVIVIVU U1114 Ull^ll I be used to advantage. Alaska spruce is an excellent variety, and often measures five feet in diameter. It is considered the best spruce in the world, and the supply is abundant. In the interior I timber is of much heavier growth than on the coast and island*. Regarding the hemlosk, there is a large supply, and the bark compares favorably with that of all the Eastern trees used in tanning establishments. j Thomas8. Struthbrs,of Buffalo,N.Y., has just returned from Cincinnati, where he wns called by the death of his ?on. : He whs accompanied by his remaining 1 son, T. W. Stratbers. They dronrs so St. Mary's Hospital, whcro the hoy hart di&d of typhoid fever, and there learned 1 that after three days the body had been j given in charge of the city undertaker, 1 who said he had interred it in the Pot; ter's Field, but no grave could be found , from his directions. The father then I determined to search the medical colleges. They went through the vats and dissecting rooms in the State Medical College, also the Miami, but did not | lind that for which they were on search, i Next morning they visited the Eclectic j College where, after a battle with the j ollicials, they found the body in a terI ribly mutilated condition on one of the ! dissecting tables. As they were unwilling that the boy's mother should know all the terrible details, the body was quietly buried in that city. A ckktain Duchess, happening to pass through the Burlington Arcade, in j London, stopped for an instant before a I bonnet shop. An elderly individual came up, and in winning tones inquired if she admired the bonnets. Slightly surprised, she answered thatshc thought them very pretty. "Then," said he, "would you like me to buy you one?" Thoroughly appreciating the jpke, she immediately said that nothing would please her better. After having carefully examined every bonnet, she linally chose one, for which her ancient admirer nromntlv naid. "What iiddrnss shall I send it to, madame?" asked the assistant. The answer came in a clear, steady voice, "To the Duchess of , No. ? street." When she turned round she found that her friend had vanished. It is said that a large part of the popcorn used in the world comes lrom Bloomington, 111., where the farmers' wives and children used to consider it their perquisite. In 1884 the crop was so large that the price fell to two cents a pound, and then experiments were made to use it as a food rather than a confection. A farmer who fed his cows with popcorn says they gave more milk than ever before. Others made ''mush" of it, and found it more palatable and nourishing than the ordinary article. Then the chemists analyzed it and declared it to contain more albuminoids than most of the other cereals; so popcorn bids fair to become a recognized diet. A sinouIjAu sort of manure for potato fields has been introduced on a Pomer annul mouei iarm. liitncrto fterrings and potatoes have been known as a palatable dish in family households. The manager of the farm in questron has hit upon the idea of blending them from the start, by planting his seed potatoes with a herring placed in every heap, and with so decided a success as to cause him to increase the area thus ! planted from twenty acres last year to j sixtv in the present one. The expense I he calculates at about nine marks per I acre, which is cheaper than the cost of any other kind of manure, and amply i repays the outlay. Of course it can ; only be employed near the sea coast. A peculiar instance of religious fer| vor has just occurred in Indianapolis, j Samuel Steinberg and liis wife, Polish ; Hebrews, each eighty years old, died ! froin_ the ellects of suffocation by gas j which had escaped from a stove, the : pipe of which had fallen early on Friday morning. That day being a holy day, i and one religiously observed among the ! sect to which the aged couple belonged, ' all work of whatever kind being pro! liibitcd, they would not raise a hand to j adjust the pipe. When found they I were so nearly dcnd tlmt it was imposi sible to resuscitate them. The old lady, however, before dying imparted the foregoing explanation of their condition. A leading publishing house states that when a manuscript is received it is . turned over to a "reader," who after ' examining it carefully, returns it with j his opinion as to its merit or lack of i merit. If a reader returns a manusc:ipt | with a strong endorsement, tlio merits of the work are considered from a commercial point of view?whether it is likely to sell, how much it will cost for production, &c. Frequently this manuscript is turned over to a second reader, sometimes to a third If all say, "This is a strong work; think it will pay you j tr\ publish it." or words to that effect, i of course their recommendation goes a long way in the question of publication. Santa Claus Will Skip Him. I A farmer and hi8 wife hitched their team in front of a Grand River avenue grocery yesterday and then went in to make some purchases. By and by they were seen whispering together in a very confidential manner, and as the woman gave him a handful of pennies, tied up in a rag, she was heard to say: "Now, don't you forget! There's eighty cents, and that will get a twentycent present for each one of them." He left the store with a fatherly smile on his face and started down town. Three long hours passed before his return and then a policeman had him by the arm. 'Does anyone know this man?" he baked, as he led him into the store. "Yest he's my husband," answered tne woman. "Chourse I'm yuze husband?chourse T Am J ^ mumKI a/1 4- V* r? vmam w ? | jl UU1) U1UIUU1GU VUG UIDU ?YiiU VT ilO BlUp* j high" drunk. I "Well, you take caro of him," said the ofiiccr to the woman as he surrendered his charge. ,lDid you get the presents for the children?" asked the wife as sho took a package from his pocket. "Sliertingly I did. Bless 'er little hearts?bless 'cm?" She opened the package, and there was twenty-four of the blackest, meanest looking cigarB ever put on sale. "Why, Samuel, what does this mean?" ^ she exclaimed. "Whaz 'er mean? Whaz 'er meant Why, '/-hem ish Chris'em presents for um blessed children 1" 4'They are! Why, you miserable old idiot, what do these children want of cigars?'* screeched the wife. 1 ''Whftz 'or want of 'em I Whaz 'er want of 'emt Why, 'er want 'em to put in papa's Chris'em stocking, of coursc f loaded him into the wagon, and | the woman took the lines ana started for home, and as she turned the team around she said to the grocer: "It's six miles home, and theifr pi* lour cigars to the mile. I'll xfcta^Jptaa caterer one of them.?