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ON LIFE’S BANQUET STAIRS. W. PM* eachotharea Uf«’« banquet etalre; New guMU are mounting to the festal light. While wa descend together to the night. Close muffled 'gainst the ooteide wintry aim They tread upon oar shadows as they climb With quick, strong steps to join the crowd and crush. W* see In sparkling eyes sad speaking blush How expectation gilds the coming time. / Toang forms go by us. tossing rosy sprays In brave apparel, tinU of flower and bird. Of blossom patches by the summer stirr'd. With sheen of silk and gems that scatter rays Knew we sacb aeet, true heart, when mount ing op? Such haste to lift the chalice to our lips. To learn if pleasure sweeter is in sips, Or when, with manhood's thirst, we drain the cup? Shall we stand by and carp at these amt say. “Oo, giddy ones and mothliko Ore youi wings. Pleasure la pain, and laughter norm* brings?” Shall we speak thus who once were young as they? Farewell! We’ve supp'd. Life's wine was keen and bright; Old friends move by and gain the outer door- Tbe wind blows buBeta with a northern roar. And peat the shsdowsglesms the distant light’ -W, W. Hasten. AN ADEQUATE REASON Hig Mine was George Carew, and at the time of which I write he was a passenger on board the Royal Mail steamer Cobra on her homeward voyage from Buenos Ayres to Southampton. It was late in the year, and the passengers were comparatively few. I cannot with truth say that Carew was a gener al favorite on board. He was taciturn as a rale, and when he was not taci turn he was apt to be dogmatic. Among the male passengers he was nsnally spoken of as “a decent fellow enough, but queer.” The feminine por tion of the community thought—or said they thought — him uninteresting. Among their number was a tall, pretty blond, who had gradually pierced the armor of his reserve, and in whose com pany he had even been seen to smile. They becanfb very good friends—so much so indeed as to draw down upon the young lady’s head various maternal lectures on the folly of encouraging young men who were nobodies. But as Carew, of course, did not hear these lectures, and aa Miss Ida Lennox was a self willed young person, their friend ship suffered no interrnption. There was a certain Mrs. Bonverie on board, an extremely handsome widow, in whom Carew, for some unknown reason, had aionsed a violent dislike. She was clever as well as handsome, but was possessed of a passionate and somewhat uncertain temper 1 — which last, however, in virtue of her many eonnterbalancing good qnalitiee, was universally condoned. One evening at dinner Mrs. Bonverie was expatiating to those nearest to her on the value and antiquity of a very enrious and beantiful ring which she wore, and which she had picked np in a tour through Italy. She affirmed it to be at leaat 800 years old. It was a broad gold band, chased richly and with mar velous delicacy and set all round at regular ‘ intervals with large diamonds of exquisite brilliancy. Inside were two capital letters, N. C., each letter formed of tiny seed pearls sunk into the gold. Mrs. Bonverie, who was of a romantic turn, was of opinion that it had been an ancient betrothal ring. There was a half effaced date inside, which the widow’s right hand neigh bor^ pale, consumptive looking clergy man, was in vain trying to decipher through a small magnifying glass. Presently a lady opposite begged to be allowed to examine the ring, and from her it was passed from hand to hand pretty well np and dovm the length of the table. But, strange to say, it did not come back to its owner. It had apparently disappeared. Every one declared it had passed safely ant of his or her hands. Where was it then? There was a great commotion, of course; ev erybody rose, and a thorough search was made, on and under the table and from one end to the other of the long saloon. The ring, however, was not forth coming. Its owner had by this time become somewhat excited, and a rather disagreeable scene ensued. In point of fact, Mrs. Bonverie insinuated that someone had appropriated her ring. Upon this, some of the male passengers . angrily suggested that, if Mrs. Bonverie entertained suspicions of that nature, •II present had better turn out their pockets. To this proposition there was • general assent All resumed their seats, and there was a hurried disentombing of keys, letters, pocket handkerchiefs, etc., bat no ring. Carew, to the surprise of all, qnietly refused to exhibit the contents of his pockets. "But merely as a matter of form, Mr. Carew,” expostulated the captain. The yonng man, however, repeated his refusal courteously, hut mote in flexibly, if anything, than before. There was an awkward silence. Then Mrs. Bonverie forgot herself. “May I ask, air,” she said, address ing Carew in an excited tone, “why yon refuse to do aa all your fellow pas sengers have done?” “Ton may, madam,” waa the brief and haughty answer. "Well, sir, and why not?” ‘•Because. I have a very special reason for not doing so,’’he answered in a carefully repressed voice. “And that reason?” "I fear I must decline to give it,” he answered qnietly, hot with an om inous flash in his gray ayes. "Then yon are aware of the imputa tion your refusal casts upon your char acter?” inquired the lady scornfully. "That is a matter of the utmost in difference to me,” was the icy answer. Bat the speaker’s band, as it lay upon the table, opened and shut in a quick, nervous fashion which showed that hs waa less unmoved than he looked. Whereupon Mrs. Bonverie waxed more and more indiacreet, and all bat accused Carew of having the ring in his poHMfinl nn -‘Mrs. Bonverie, Mrs. Booverie,”re monstrated the captain, “this is really not quite fair. ” Here CerewJ who had been growing whiter every moment, rose from hie "I regret that yon should here such an opinion of me aa your worde imply, Mrs. Bonverie,” he said in a queer, un certain vo'ee. “May I suggest that you drop the subject for the present? My temper is not all that it might be, and I ahonld be eorar to be aniltr of discourtesy to n lady. ” Then be left the saloon and went on deck. After this day, however, Carew ob- served a gradual but marked difference in his fellow passengers’ demeanor to ward him. His greetings were received coldly, though with scrupulous polite ness. Groups began to melt insensibly away at hia approach, or his advent waa a signal for a dead silence. If this general boycotting affected the object of it, he did not ehow it, hut simply withdrew into himself and avoided other people as deliberately aa they avoided him. To only one person did he make an advances, and he only made them once. It waa in this way: Early one morning he was standing looking moodily to leeward, when he suddenly became aware that Miss Len nox had come on deck aud was leaning against one of the doors of the covered stairway. Their eyes met. She blush ed deeply, made a half hesitating move ment of her head—which might have meant a morning salutation or might not—and turned away. But Carew took steps toward her. “One moment. Miss Lennox,’’ he said in an odd voice. “Will yon tell me why you have avoided me so persis tently during the last few days?” “Avoided you?” she stammered awk wardly enough. “Oh—I, really—notat all. But—but” Carew smiled slowly, but his lips were pale. “I beg your pardon,” he said quietly. Then he lifted his cap and walked away. As be did so he saw one of the male passengers grinning from behind an abnormally large cigar. He did not pitch the youth overboard, hnt he conld have done so with pleasure. After this little episode, Carew was, if possible, more ostracised than ever. Only the captain treated him with com parative cordiality. But as the days went on he, too, became lees kind, es pecially after one forenoon when he opened to Carew the matter in hand. The young man cut him short at once. “I don’t care to disenae the thing. Ton can believe what your passengers seem to believe, or you can let it alone. It is nothing to me.” Captain North shrugged his shoulders and walked off. Carew laughed. His laugh was short, though, aud bitter. If this suspected young man had been anybody in particular it is possible they might not have been so hard upon him. But aa he was simply George Carew, with nothing beyond an average good looking faoe and well set up figure to recommend him, and as, moreover, his clothes had a look of having seen better days and were by no means of the latest cut, he was clearly not an ac quaintance to he regretted. At dinner that night Carew found himself next a small, gray clad yotflig woman, with a pale, serious face aud a smooth, birdiike head of dark brown hair. She had also, as he absently noted, exquisitely shaped hands. He had never entered into conversation with the little woman; Indeed he had hardly been aware of her existence be yond hearing the captain address her once or twice as Miss Neville. As he took his seat beside her tonight, however, she said in a low, clear voice, “Good evening, Mr. Carew.” It waa so many da^s since any of the lady passengers had addressed him at all that he actually started. “I beg your pardon?” he said. “I only said good evening,” the girl in gray made answer, looking np at him with a little smile. Then he noticed that her teeth were very pretty and her eyee very satisfac tory indeed. Before he had time to apeak, she went on: “The captain says that before many days we shall be in the bay of Biscay. I have not crossed it since I was a little child. I suppose it will be frightfully rough?” “1 think it is more than likely,” he answered, gazing steadily at his plate. Whereupon they drifted into a sub dued, friendly conversation which last ed till the end of the meal. Carew was not a particularly soft hearted fellow, but it touched him strangely—this un locked for partisanship. It gave him a queer, unwonted lamp in his throat and made him feel womanish, which annoyed him. Next morning he saw the girl in gray on deck. She was Handing quite still, watching the screaming aea birds that flew and dipped astern. Her pale, seri ous little face already seemed to him like the face of a friend. As he passed her with a slight bow she turned, held out her hand and bade him a cheery good morning, supplementing it by some trifling remark regarding the weather. He stopped, answered her and stood beside her for a minute or two. Then he flung away his cigar and leaned his arm on the railing. His companion scanned his face swiftly and covertly. She thought he looked dispirited, and she felt for him, for she was a tender hearted little woman. They talked on indifferent subjects until luncheon and repeated the process between that meal and dinner and also in the evening. ' And so it came to pass that Carew began to look upon this small, gray clad creature as his one friend in all his present world. He learned a great deal about her from her half unconscious confidences—among other things that her Christian name was Joyce,and that she waa an orphan, and that she had known trouble. But •he learned little or nothing about him. The Cobra touched at Corunna, where one or two Englishmen came on board. Then came the redoubtable bar of Bis cay. On the night they left Conuma there was a glorious moon, under the rays of which Mias Neville and Carew were walking up and down on deck. The steamer was rolling a great deal, and he had offered her his arm, which she had accepted. She treated him in a frank, unembarrassed fashion, almost as a sister might have done—and he? Well, men are susceptible, you know, and 1 am bound to say his feelings to her were not altogether those of a brother. When they had taken a few tarns in silence, she said suddenly, “Mr. Carew, we seem to have became such good friends by this time that I should like to say something to yon which other wise I should not presume to say.” She looked np at him as she spoke, and he looked down at her. “You know yon may say anything yon please to me, ” he said, with a curi ous lingering tenderness in hia voice. “You won’t think it a liberty, will yon?” she went on. “I shall assuredly net think it a lib* arty." .was the brief tanrv. Qn- tctniy her eyes were very lovely, mey thrilled him throngh and through. ”1 want to ask yon, then,” she said somewhat nervously, “why you allow those people to believe what they be lieve about you?" She felt him wince slightly. There was a silence. * The monotonous throbbing of the engines amidships mingled with floating scraps of half heard talk and laughter. Then Carew said in a hard, bitter voice: “Unfortunately I am not respon sible for their beliefs. Miss Neville. Beeidee, what they believe of me may be—true. 1 am—pardon me—an utter stranger to yon; you have no reason to belieye in my innocence. ” “1 do believe in your innocence, though,” she murmured, an excited thrill running through her voice. “May I ask why?" He spoke clear ly, hut she felt his arm tremble under her hand. For one swift moment she looked np at him, and her eyee were full of tears. But he did not see them, for he waa gazing straight before him. “Why?” she repeated, with a curi ous sobbing little laugh. “Because 1 —know I” A minute later she was gone, and he was watching the last flutter of her gown disappearing in the direction of the stairway. Late that night Carew sat In his cabin, leaning hia elbows on his knees, and staring earnestly at something he held between his fingers, something that twinkled and sparkled as the light of the electric lamp fell upon it It was a broad gold gipsy ring, richly chased, and set at intervals with large dia monds. Inside were two Roman let ters formed of tiny seed pearls. s • s s s . • For two days after that it blew a pretty fair gale. It rained a good deal, too, at intervals; and such of the pas sengers as were not violently seasick in their berths kept to the saloon or the music room, with the exception of two or three hardy males, of whom Carew was one. As he passed the door of the stairway toward the evening of the second day, he saw Miss Neville, who bad just struggled so far, and was clinging to the door to windward. She was look ing white and ill, he thought, but when he told her so she only laughed. “Do you care to come for a turn?" he said. , "It doesn't rain now, and I will take good care you don't fall," he added. She consented, but the steamer was pitching so heavily that after a few turns Mies Neville said she would rath er sit down. So Carew provided her with a shel tered seat, brought a warm rug to wrap about her feet and seated himself beside her. It was now almost dark. A few stars shone here and there in the stormy sky. The wind shrieked and whistled drearily. The deck was deserted. For quite a long time both were silent Then Carew said in a half whisper: “Yon are trembling. Yon are not afraid of the storm, are yon ? It is noth ing for the bay, I assure you. ’ "No—I am not afraid.” "You feel quite saie here with me?” he went on, sinking his voice lower yet. “Yes,” she answered somewhat tremulously. After a pause he laid his hand on hers as it rested on her knee and said in an edd, deliberate kind of way: “ Will yon let me take care of yon al ways? I mean as my wife. * I have grown to love you very dearly, and I think I conld make yon happy. ” For perhaps a minute there waa utter aileuoe. Then Carew withdrew his hand, say ing hastily and In an indefinably changed voice: "Ah! you do not care for me. Perhaps it is as well, and per haps I had no right to ask you to do so. I forgot for a moment that I am a man under a clond—a cloud that in all prob ability Will never be lifted, for I tell yon honestly I have no means of right ing myself. Forget what I have said. ” The words and tone were hardly lover- like, but there was a slight, almost im perceptible quiver in the deep voice. A small hand stole softly into his. “I do care for yon, ” said a happy lit tle voice, "and I wonld take your word against all the world.” Another panse. Carew did not even press the hand be held. Then he said harshly: “Bnt suppose I cannot give you my word ? Suppose I tell you that I am what our fellow passengers think I am?” “I should not believe yon,” was the confident answer. “But if I tell you that you must be lieve me?” Hia face as he looked down was very pale and wore an expression she conld hardly fathom. She uttered a half suppressed little cry, but she did not take her hand away—only nestled It farther into his. He grasped it almost painfully; then let it go. "Foolish, trusting little woman, ” he ■aid in a strange voice. “Must I give you proof that your trust is—mis placed?” He held out his other hand to her. In its palm lay the ring. Even in the dim light the recognized it at once. There was a curious, breathless pause, during which Carew never took his eyes from the girl’s face. * ‘ Well ?” he quietly said at last. Ha felt her little fingers close tightly on his. “I can’t help it,” she said brokenly. “I love yon—I love you.” “And will yon be my wife?" She could not see his face, hut his voice shook. “Yes,” she whispered, hiding her face in both her hands. But the hands were gently drawn. In the eemldarknees she felt his arm come about her, and his mustache brush her Ups. “Darling,”he murmured passionate ly, “yon shall never regret It—I swear,” and in his eyes glittered some thing that looked Uke tears. • ••••• Next morning one of the Englishmen who bad come on hoard at Corunna, and who had been ill ever since, ap peared on deck. As it happened, the first person he saw w:>s Carew. They greeted each other cordially, and after the fashion of old friends. This Englishman, by the way, waa a well known statesman, and a very good fellow besides. In the smoking room that afteroonn some one kindly put him on his guard as to Carew and supp’ied the details. “I thought I wonld mention it, you know.” amended the man whs had spoken. “I saw yon speaking to him •while ago.” “thank you,” was the dry answer. 'Tve known George Carew for a good many years. I think 1 have a pretty good idea of hia idiosyncrasies, and I don’t think annexing other people’s property la one of them. By the way, you may not have heard that he has come into the title and is now Lord Evandale. 1 though I'd mention it, yon know,” he added with a somewhat grim smile. # In the silence that followed, the speaker lit a fresh cigar, rose and went out. , b I bltyqtj to. have to relate that dnri: the remainder of that day a good man', of the Cobra'* passengers became and denly imhned with the conviction of Carew’s—or rather Lord Evandale’■— Innocence and evidenced as much. How their overtures were received perhaps 1 need not say. Joyce Neville was a little ahy with her lover when she knew. Bnt in the course of a starlit walk on deck he made that all right. She, it seemed, had had the idea that he waa rather obocure and hard np than otherwise, at which confession he waa a good deal touched. I think it waa on the evening before the Cobra got into Southampton that the head steward made a startling dis covery. Mrs. Bouverie’s ring was found in a distant corner of the saloon, where it had been effectually concealed by an upstanding corner of the carpet Captain North publicly restored the ring to its owner that night at dinner. There was a very uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Every one had an awkward kind of feeling that some sort of apology should he made to the haughty looking young man who waa at present helping Mise Neville to clar et And every one had an equally awk ward conviction that any apology or any explanation whatsoever wonld be worse than impossible. The subject of their thoughts, how ever, forestalled anything of the kind. There was something rather fine in his appearance jnst then, aa he leaned back in his chair and threw a keen glance first up and then down the table. “As Mrs. Bonverie is now, I hope, satisfied that I did not steal her ring,” he said in a cold, clear voice that pen etrated to every corner of the long sa loon, “I will explain my reason for re fusing to turn out my pockets aa the rest of you did. I possess a ring which ia the exact fao simile of that poeseeeed by Mrs. Bonverie, aud as I had the ring in my pocket on the evening in question I naturally objected to its be ing mistaken for any other one’s proper ty. You are all at liberty to examine it. If Miss Neville chooses.” Aa he spoke, he turned and slipped the "dou ble” of Mrs. Bouverie's ring on the third finger of Joyce Neville’s left hand. The look which accompanied the action spoke volumes. There was a pause of intense as tonishment; then a babel of excited and wondering exclamations, in the midst of which Lord Evandale rose and went ont on deck. The rings were identical, with one exception—in one the initials were N. O.; in the other, C. N. Mrs. Bonverie looked crushed and un happy, for of all things she dearly loved a lord. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth, too, in the cabin of the Lennoxes.—Montreal Star. An Exception to Natara’a Lawa. According to the general laws of na ture, when a body is cooled it becomes heavier than when it is hot. There is at least one exception to this role, and that is in the case of water. Now, be fore you read further, shut your eyes and see if you can figure out just exact ly how important this exception is to humanity. Cool a can or other vessel of water from, say, 70 degrees down to 40 degrees and then pour it into a tub of water the temperature of which is any place between 50 and 80 degrees. Yon will notice that the cold water will immediately sink to the bottom, and right here is an explanation of the mystery of river and lake circulation. Bnt when yonr cooling process goes be low 80 degrees, strange as it may aeem, the water becomes lighter than it was when it was only one or two degrees warmer, and if poured into a tub heated aa directed above will stay on top or im mediately rise to that position. Now, let ns suppose that water continued to get heavier aa it got colder, as other bodies do; what would happen? Ice as soon as It formed would sink to the bottom, layer upon layer, and in this way seas, lakes and rivers wonld be frozen solid. Bat one freezing would do for all time, as the raya of the sun would not penetrate the thin skim of cold summer water to a sufficient depth to thaw the rigid inaas. For ua it is fortunate that there are “exceptions to all rules.”—St. Louis Republic. Treatment Tor Wound*. Dr. Eichler, in the “Aerzt, Prakt,” advocates Pern balsam aa a dressing which causes lacerated wounds to heal quickly, its point* of adaptation being that it adheres well and covers the en tire surface of the wound*; it ha* a drying effect, bnt stimulates granula tions, and following application a scab is formed under which healing goes on. Dr. Eichler statea that it* nee is especial ly indicated in the treatment of wound* having a tendency to marked suppura tion or partial gangrene, and in in juries of the hands and fingers the re sults are excellent. In practice, after coeptitionof the margins of the wound, the Peru balsam is poured over the sa tire suffice, which is then covered with thin layers of gauss moistened with balsam an<’ an ordinary dressing. The latter may he left in place for several days, though it is an advantage to re move the outer drawing daily and moisten the gauss with the balsam without removing it from the wound. —New York Tribune. ____ Gambling. ~~ — A considerable proportion of failure in business and 90 per cent of the de falcation* and theft and rain of youth among people who are employed ia place* of trust are due directly to gam bling. I have seen in my vast employ ment so much misery from the head of the family neglecting its support, and squandering his earnings in the lottery or the policy shop, and promising young men led astray in a small way, and Anal ly becoming fugitives or landing in the criminal dock, that I have come to believe that the community which li censee and tolerate* pnhlic gambling cannot have prosperity in business, re ligion in its churches or morality amoof ita people.—Chaonoey Depew. QUEER PLANTS U3£0 FOR FOODS. LIUU Kqwwq and Edible In sects of the Prslrle. Over at the department of agriculture, hidden away in an obscure corner, it an odd sort of exhibit of queer foods eaten by out of the way people. There is a loaf of bread made from the roasted leaves of a plant allied to the century plant. Another kind of bread is from a dough of juniper berries. These are rel ished by some tribes of (ndisns, while others manatacture cakes out of differ ent kinds of bulbs. The prairie Indians relish a dish of wild turnips, which civilized people would not he likely to enjoy at all. in the great American desert the "screw beans,” which grow on mesquite bush es. are utilized for food. Soap berries furnish an agreeable diet for some sav ages iu this country, while lu Califor nia the copper colored aborigine* do not disdain the seeds of salt grass. Also in California the Digger Indians collect pine nuts, which are the seeds of certain species of pine, sometimes called "plnons,” by kindling fires against the trees, tbns causing the nuts to fall ont of the cones. At the same time a sweet gam erodes from the bark, serving the purpose of sugar. The seeds of gourds are consumed in the shape of mush by Indiana in Arizona. In addition to all these things the ex hibit referred to includes a jar of pul verised crickets which are oaten hi that form by the Indians of Oregon. They are roasted, as are likewise grasshoppers and even slugs. These delicacies are cooked in a pit, being arranged in alter nate layers with hot stones. After be ing thns prepared they are dried and ground to powder. They are mixed with pounded acorns or berries, the flour made in this way being kneaded into cakee and dried in the sun. The Assiniboines use a kind of seed to stop bleeding at the nose. Among other cartons things nsed for food me acorns, sunflower seeds, grape seeds, flowers of cattails, moss from the spruce lii tree and the blossoms of wild clover. The exhibit embraces a number of models representing grape seeds enonnonsly en larged. It is actually possible to tell the species of a grape by the shape of the seed. There is a jar of red willow bark, which Indians mix with tobacco tor the take of economy. This, however, is only one of a thousand plants that are util ized in a similar fashion.—Washington Btar. A Jamaica Congregation. In ponrs the black portion of the con gregation. It is composed for the most part of women. They are gorgeously arrayed in silks and cottons of the most bewildering brilliancy, with golden bee hive shaped ornaments in their ears and twists of gold about their necks, and ail are beaming and smiling with the nt- most complacency and self satisfaction. With a great many of them the first dnty is to take off their boots or shoes. Small wonder, for half of them are in the habit of trndging 20 or 80 miles a day barefooted to and from market, and the other half, if they do not nse thetr feet so hardly, at any rate never confine them. Poor or wanting in proper pride in deed mast be that woman who cannot raise a pair of boots or shoes for Sunday nse I It means agony, yon may conceive, to keep pinched np in stiff leather a pair of feet nsed to free, untrammeled move ment, bnt it has to be borne, and it is borne—for a few minntes. It is man aged thns: On the road toebnreb a halt is made at abont 200 yards' distance from the building for the parpose of pat ting on the boots or shoes, which have been hitherto held in the hands. Church is then hobbled into and the boots or shoes taken off, to be again pot on aa the service draws to close. Church is then hobbled ont of, and at a respecta ble distance from It the instromenta of torture are again got rid of, not to be pot on again for a week.—All the Year Ronnd. Klaetrta Quantity and Tension. Electric quantity and tension—or In tensity—are terms based on the assump tion that electricity Is a fluid. Quan tity is the amount of the flnid that a body contains as its charge and the ten sion or intensity on any point of Its sur face—insulated electricity lies on the surface—la the depth, or if the depth remain the same the density of the flnid at that point. The quantity baa refer ence to the number of particles electri fied and the amount of force lodged in each; the tension has reference simply to the Inductive force lodged in each. Particle* that are highly electrified most polarize powerfully the particle* near them, and if powerful enough cause discharge. Tension or intensity, therefore, la the power to polarize and effect discharge. The quantity of elec tricity passing in a current is estimated by the power of the current to deflect the magnetic needle by the chemical de composition It effects, or by the temper- stare to which it raises a wire of given thickness and material. The tension or intensity of the current Is the power which it has to transmit a current •gainst resistance, such as that offered by a bad, long or thin conductor. Ten sion, strictly speaking, is not • property of the current, bnt of the battery which generates the enrrent.—Brooklyn Eagle. Snow is sometime* found in polar and Alpine regions, where it lies nnmelted from year to year and the annual fall ie small, colored red by the presence of innumerable small red plants. In its native state the plant consists of bril liant red globules on a gelatinous mass. Red snow was observed by the ancients, a passage in Aristotle referring to ^t, but it attracted little or no attention until 1780, when Saussure observed it in the Alps and concluded that it was due to the pollen of a plant It waa also noticed by the arctic expedition under Captain Rose on Baffin’s bay shore on a range of cliffs, the red color pene trating to a depth of 12 feet Leas fre- S it is a green grfcwth on snow.—La- ’ Home Journal. Wfc»« aa Old Lady Tam Tm almost afraid aometimes," said a white haired woman at a club meeting not long ago, “when I eet the attention given to athletics, the Delsart* system, physics) culture or whatever name under which the enthusiasm exists that the coming woman ia going to be a superb animal—nothing more." — New York Times - The title m syor comes from the franca and originally signified “one who keeps gnard.” He waa the head steward of a city, administering its attain la the aane of Uw king. A.G0NAN DOYLE. Begins In Our Next! Wives and Daughters Often lose the benefit of life assurance, taken out for their protection, because of ill-ad vised investments. Again, the intentions of the assured sometimes fail of realization through the prodigality of a ■ son to whom the sudden pos session of so much money proves too great a temptation. The Equitable Life has provided against these contingencies by offering The Tontine Installment Policy. The premiums per thousand are much less than under older forms of insurance, and the amount is payable in ao, a 5 or 30 annual payments, thus securinga comfortable income for the beneficiary. Write to W. J. RODDEY, Manager, Tor th* Carolina, / ' ROCK HILL. S. C. fl Study in Scarlet JS A- Higb Grade Detective Story $ Bu fl. GONflN DOYLE, Who is pronounced by Harper’s Weekly the best writer of detective stories of the age. % i# ITWILL BEGINSOOfi IN THIS PTO EAGLE BRAND THE BEST ROOFINCt Is nn equalled lor house, barn, fact ory or oat-bnildings, and cotta half the price of shingles, tin or iron. It is ready for use and snail rad. Will a^op leak* In tin or iron roofs that will last for years. Try it. Send stamp for sample* and particu lars. Excelsior Paint aid Roofing Go., 188 DUANE 8T., NEW YORK, N. Y. Deo 28—2m. wr.wF.tfLaw -wW^ TTART8VILLE RAILROAD. ** In effect Dee 8,18 DAILY MIXED TRAIN >•«*•*•#*•••«** 8.00 a Ok OB Leave Hartsville...., Jovann Flo> d s....................... 8.88 a as ArriveD&rlington. 7.20 am Leave Darlington »*••••••■••***•**• 8.80 pm Floyd’s 8.00 p 1 JOVftQJp >•••*••**•****•*••••• 8.30 l) 1 Arrrive Hartsville 8.40pi J. V. DIVINE, Gen. Bmpi CHARLESTON, SUMTER AND ^ NORTHERN RAILROAD CHARLES E. KIMBALL Receiver aU JMl NORTH. ICUb UflU. XU, . low*. SOUTH. 1 2 A.M. PM. Lv 7.80 Charleston 8.45 At 8.40 PregnalT* 7.27 10.47 Sumter 5.27 12.05 Darlington 4.12 12 56 Beonettoville 3.21 1.20 Gibson 2.57 1.47 Hamlet 2.80 Ar 8.00 Raleigh 1015 Lv P.M- P.M. No. 1 connnects with Seaboard Air Line at Hamlet for Raleigh Wilmington, Charlotte, Shel by, Routherfordton ; and at Charlotte with R. & D. Vestibule Limited for Washington and New York. Passen- ers can take sleepers at Charlotte at :89 p. m. No. 2 passengers by this train have through Sleepers. New York to Char lotte, connects with 8. A. L. at Ham let from Charlotte, Raleigh and North, snd from Wilmington, -con nects with S.C. By. at Pregnalls for 1 lharleston, Columbia, Angugta and the West. Dinner at Hamlet. C. MILLARD, Superintendent c. A D. and C. A S. RAILROADS. In effect Dec 3, 1893. Through Passenger Train. Leave Wadesboro 4.80 a m Bennett’s 4.61 a m Morven’s 6.04 a m McFarland 5 17am Cheraw 6.00 a m Cash's 6.12 am Society Hill 6.26 a m Dove's 6.44 a m Floyd’s 6.49 a m Darlington 7.00 a m Palmetto 7.11 a m Arrive Florence 7.25 a m Leave Florence P m Palmetto . 7.28 P m Darlington - 7.88 P m Floyd’s 7.50 P m Dove’s P m Society Hill . 8 13 P m Cash’s P m Cheraw 8.50 P m McFarland 9.13 P m Morven’s 9.39 P in Bennett’s _.... 9.54 P m Arrive Wadesboro . 10.15 P m Freight Train. Leave Florence a m Darlington 8.40 a in Arrive Cheiaw a in Leave Cheraw p m Darlington p m Arrive Florence . 6.00 p m A. F. RAVENEL, President N ORTHEASTERN RAILROAD. In effect Jan. 11, 1894. SOUTH BOUND. No. 61 Leave Florence 7.45 a m Kingstree Lanes 9.20 a m Arrive Charleston 11.20 a m No. 85. Leave Florence 8.37 a m Lanes 4.52 a m Arrive Charleston 6.50 a m No. 23. Leave Florence 7.25 p m Kingstree 8.87 p m lanes.... 9.00 p m Arrive Charleston No. 58. Leave lanes 7.05 p m Arrive Charleston 8.45 p m Train on C. A D. R. R. connects at Florence with No. 61 Train. HORTH BOUND- No. 78. Leave Charleston . 3.35 a m Lanes 5.30 a m Kingstree 5 52 a m Arrive Florence 7.10 a m No. 60 Leave Charleston 5.00 p m Lanes 7.05 p.m Kingstree 7.25 p m Arrive Florence No. 14. Leave Charleston 8.30 p m Lanes 6.29 p m Kingstree 5.46 p m Arrive Florence 6.45 p m No. 52. Leave Charleston 7.00 a m Arrive Lanea No. 52 runs throngh to Columbia via Central R. R. of S. O. No. 78 runs solid to Wilming ton, N. O., making close connection with W. A W. R. R. for all points North. Train No. 14 runs via Wilson and Fayetteville—Short Line—and makes close connection for all points North. J. F. DIVINE, Gen. Supt. w ILMINGTON, COLUMBIA A AUGUSTA RALROAD. In effect Dec. 8, 1808. SOUTH BOUND. Leave Wilmington.. Marion Arrive Florence Leave Florence Sum ter Arrive Colombia Leave Florence Arrive Snmter Leave Snmter -.. Arrive Colombia... *•*•**•****•< No. 55 ... 3.20 p ....8.11 p 6.60 p No. 60 .. 7.10 p . 8.28 p .. 10.00 p No. 58 ... 7.45 a .. 9 20 a No. 52 .. 0.58 a .. 11.06 a No. 52 runs through from Charles ton via Central Railroad; leaving Lanea 8-40 a m, Manning 918 a m. HOBTH BOUBD. Leave Columbia..... Snmter Arrive Florence Leave Florence ......... Marion Arrive Wilmington Leave Columbia Arrive Snmter ***••********** 1 Leave Columbia- Snmter Arrive Florence.... No-58 ran* thiou No. 51. 4.80 am 6-57 a m 7.15 a m No. 58. . 7.40am .8.28 am .11.10 am No. 58. 4.20 pm 5.85 pm No. SO. . 5.45 p m .6.56 pm *u unarleston No. 58 rune tniouaii *u unariestot via central Railroad, arriving Man ning 8.15 p m. Lane* 7.00 p m, Charleston8-45 pm. Train* on Manchester and Augusta E. R‘, leave Snmter daily except Sun day, 10.50 a. m., arrive Rimini 11:59 a. m. Returning leave Rimini 1.00 p. m.. arrive Snmter 9:10 p. m. Trains on Wilmington, Chad bourn and Conway Railroad lea vs Chad- bourn at 10.10 a m, arrive at Conway 19.80 p m, returning leave Conway at 8:00 p. m., arrive Chad bourn 4:50 p. m. Leave Chad bourn 7.00 a m and 5.15 pm, arrive at Hah 7.46 a m and 8.00 p m. Returning leave Bab 8.15 a m and 8.80 p m, arrive at Chad 9.00 a m ana 7.15 p m. Daily 8nn j3&ir F, DITOE. Qenl