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'AX. MAW A* RUT. rr KCCBAXD IIEAUR (The following room was found wnnng tht Sfleot* of Col. klehwd K»ajf, of. GnUfunili, -^Mitten tho day before he luomiuitted suicide, November, 1878]: *5' " •J0« mortnu nil ni>i bonitm. " When £ > For BMt<o eu(lliis't«me «TK1 1 am deep. And little voluble, cbuttering daws of mMI Peck at me curiously, lot it then bo said LY BOW* one brave ENOUGH to npeak the truth: Here IIPH a gr<-nt sou kille.l by cruel wrong. Down all the balmy its yd of liis fresh youth fo his bleak, desolate noon, with sword and i, »on«, id speech that rushed up hotly from tho heart, ie wrought tor iibortr; till his own wotind i had been stabbed) eoncealed with painful art , t h r o u g h w a s t i n g y e a r s , m a s t e r e d h i m a n d h e swooned, And sank there where you see him lying now, • With the word "Failure" wiltten on his brow. But say that be succeeded. If hemfcsed World's honors and'world's plaudit* and the 1 • wage the norWsdert lackeys, still Ms lips were i kissed Daily by those hi?h angola who assuage The thin»tirigs of tho poets--for he was Born unto singing--and a burden lay Mtehty on him, ami he luonned because •* Be could not rightly utter to this day Wt>it God taught in the night. Sometime#, nathless. Power foil upon him, and bright tongues ot flatties, blessings reached him from poor souls la ... And benedictions from black pits of sham*; And little children's love; and old men's prayers • And a Great Hand that led him unawares. And if his eyes were bluxted us--silence! he is in hia put, Greatlv he suffered ; preatly, too, he erred; S&fce died rich With thick Aims--silence Yet broke his heart in trying to be brave. Nor did he wait till Freedom had become The popular shibboleth of courtier's lips: Baft emote for her when God himself seemed 1 dumb. And all his arching, skies were in eclipse. Be was a weary, but he fought the fight, s And stood for simple manhood, and VII joved , To see the aujuot broalening of the light • And new earths heaving heavenward from tht 'void. Bo loved his fellows and their love was iwost • ?lant daises at his head and at Lis feet. IAISED FROM JE SLUMS. • * ' Adelaide Morrison was metaphysically Inclined. She had as yet no specially fixed creed or Jogged obstinacies, but at times she would so express herself that one could readily perceive a sort of mental agitation, and divine the up­ rising of embrvo theories concerning much-debated questions. Had her profession been that of letters instead of art, it is quite possible these vague tendencies might have strengthened in time to absolute beliefs, and blossomed or fruited in verse or prose for the delectation of the world at large. But she was not a writer. And brash and pencil afford one slight opportu­ nity to define one's "isms." She was not superstitions; yet she believed a good deal in dreams. She had some thoughts on evolution, but did not relinquish her Christian faith. She dearly loved to investigate; and many a psychological problem came to engross her as she toiled away in her sixth-story studio, day after day, far above the rush and clamor of the* city, or strollei dreamily homeward when the sun went down. It was something in this line that occupied her thoughts as she walked westward that pleasant afternoon. The setting sun was full in her face, yet so aLsorbed was she that she knew naught of it, nor of the noisy tangle of wagons and cabs and street-cars and promen- aders, out of whose maze she had safely threaded her way. Instinct impelled her; her gaze was introspective, and her face relaxed into a tender expres­ sion, A rather poetic face, with dusky eyes and hair. As she passed away , from the central hubbub and through a quieter street, some one touted her •Tin, and she stopped. "In a dream as usual," said the blithe voice of a friend. "Been to the mati­ nee ?" Adelaide answered slowly as one just ^fl^akened. "No, 1 have oome from the studio. 1 Would have stopped at your house, Nina, but I did not notice when I passed it" ;.*J'Come back," said the other, aprettv ilJBtle doll of a blonde. ' Miss Morrison shook her head. , "No, I must go on home. But you *will you not come with me?" She pot a slender, gray-gloved hand upon ner friend's arm, and at that gentlest of touches the blonde seemed to melt into accordant motion. They walked at a moderate pace. Adelaide spoke first, looking straight ahead in an ab­ stracted way, while her companion gazed up in her face. . *1 cannot tell you what it is, but something is making me very restless to-day. It Bteems as if some one I have known were in trouble and calling for me--calling, calling in a great despair.) If I could only know where to go and find him." Tha little friend laughed. 'frit is a he?" v ' j , Tpo* Adelaide's somber eyes, reflected pleasure. She went on in the same serious way. " j "It seem^ to me as if I must in some! WAV discover where to go." When she had said this, they walked along in silence until Nina remarked, suddenly. "To-morrow is Sunday. Have you anything new to wear?" i The trifling question jarred upon Adelaide at the momeut She did not reply. They hid reached her home by. this time and they went in together. Nina resumed upon the topic ob­ viously dearest to her souL "My new costume," she said, as they entered the vestibule, "is a perfect pbern." Adelaide was fumbling for her key. "Yes;" she said, mechanically. "A perfect symphony." They were ascending the stairs, Adelaide leading, to tUa topmoA floor, whete a sunny parlor made home for the young artist. On the first landing the symphony had been hastily sketched in four movements: bonnet, parasol, gloves, and dress. On the second a brief rhapsody had been audible con­ cerning minor details, and on the third,- the young lady of fashion had com­ bined a minimum of Christian charity with a preponderance of self-congrat«4 lation. - ' ' • "My dressmaker is such a worthy woman,* she said, and works so cheap! Indeed the poor thing has a hard time' making ends meet. If you want nn op- portunity to interest yourself in'an4 one, Adelaide, here it k I will tak<* you to see liar." Adelaide's parlor- had two windows *kite curtains fluttered, for ®e day had been warm. Before each stood a rocking-chair. She motioned Ivina to one and took the other. Then she spoke within eftort, reverting to .'fiat of which Ishe had already made pention. 1 ' • ' One person has been in my mind all fiie afternoon. I had not thought of Aim before in a long time, and now I cannot help but remember." Her friend straightened from lam gnid attitude to one of interest. "Yon mean that man who acted so »-* (jwfully last summer ?" sbe asked. Miss Morrison replied slowly. A • *#idden bright color glowed in her face -^}od went away again. At the same moment she seemed to haTe felt a nervous dosing of the throat "I mean the man who injured me. * "And you think he is in trouble, and you would go to him ?" Adelaide turned and gazed out of the window. In the street below a junk* cart's noisy bells were jangling. Adelaide's clear profile scarcely stirred. "I should hope," she answered quickly, "I should hope that I would go to any one in trouble, any one whom I could help. Nina grew animated. "I wish," she said, clasping her hands about her knees and leaning forward, eagerly, "I wish you would tell me the whole affair from first to last. You never have done so, and I only know that he acted outrageously. Adelaide started from her seat, crossed the room and returned. "There is nothing much to t?lL It is trust betrayed--treacherous ac­ tions. We were engaged to be married this summer. I had entrusted pro­ perty to his management He was thoughtless, eriminally thoughtless. He ttied to speculate, and lost, and in­ volved me terribly, and finally resorted to falsehoods to screen himself. That is all. He was quite handsome--very fascinating--but he was weak. Please don't ask me any more." /O Adelaide! It's so very--roman­ tic!" "It was very terrible," said Miss Morrison, "very terrible. But * * * never mind. I have tried to forget. Let it pass. It was bitterer injury than you could dream of." She stood up and paced the room. "I wish you would take me to see your dressmaker," she said presently. "A widow with many children, no doubt" "Widow? Yes; but only one child; a little lame boy. Well go the first of the week." "No," said Adelaide, impatiently, "now, let us not put it oft" "But, my dear, I will if you insist We'll go this evening after dinner." In the afterglow of the same sunset through which Adelaide Morrison bad gone home, a man was staggering blindly across another section of the town. His face was toward the East, and his uncertain footsteps bore him through streets of sin and squalor. Sometimes he paused and tottered as if ready to sink to the ground; then again he seemed to pluck new strength from despair. His bloodshot eyes had the look of fever. His dishevelled hair had here and there a streak of gray. Yet he was not old, save with present misery. His face was unshaven, and he breathed with parched lips. As the afterglow turned to purple haze he struggled at last into a neigh­ borhood near the eastern edge of the great island--a neighborhood where only at intervals one saw a house that was not tenement; where children swarmed upon the pavement and shrieked aloud their pitiful emotions! The neighborhood of the slaves of the world. Into this neighborhood the man staggered to seek one door of many and to drag himself step by step up barren stairways to a garret yet more barren. Friendless, penniless, hopeless 1 Bun to the end of his rope. "Only to die," he moaned, as he fell across his miserable bed. Where were his former friends, the gay, the careless ? What would they do for him ? Who would stretch out a hand to save him? And then one word came huskily from his patched throad--the name of a woman--a soft, sweet name! He lay there alone and unsuc- cored, and darkness closed around him. By and by, a long time after, some one pushed the door ajar, peered shyly into the gloom, and turned away, with light, irregular foot­ fall. The little, lame child of a neigh­ bor had been the only one to think or CUft • • • • # * Miss Morrison and her friend Nina, were late in calling upon the dress­ maker. The poor woman was eating her supper by lamplight in the swift and greedy fashion of her half-starved, overworked kind. Her child sat oppo­ site her--a wan little elf with jetty hair and unearthly eyes. He gazed at Adelaide as though fasci­ nated--the spoon dropped from his hand, his cup of tea remained un­ touched. Miss Morrison spoke very gently: "My dear, how old are you?" M "Eight." said the child. Then, in strange continuation, and quite as if the artist's dark, mild eyes had wrested the confidence from him, "there's a sick up-stairs." "A man that is sick, my dear?" MIM Morrison repeated. "I heard him groan," said the child, pausing, as if to make sure of the word, "and I looked in, but I couldn't see--because it--was--so--dark. " Miss Morrison glanced at the mother, who nodded assent. "It's true," she said, wearily. "God knows us poor folks have our troubles. He ain't been long in the house, and looks as though he'd lived better. I met him on the stairs last night He came up groaning and didn't see me. It's hard to be sick and without friends or money." "I think," said Adelaide, slowly, "that I should like to go and see if I could do anything for him." Her friend interposed. "Oh, Adelaide, don't It might be contagious!" A faint shade of scorn came over Miss Morrison's face. She arose quickly. "Little boy," she said, "will you show me the way?" She borrowed a lamp of the dress­ maker, and the lame little child went on liefore her. The door was still ajar. They pushed it wider and entered. She set the lamp upon the table. She was cold from head to foot She bade the child go down and finish his supper; and when he had gone she bent and touched the prostrate form, laying her cool hand upon one that burned with fever, and speaking quietly one word: "Ronald!" At the sonnd and the touch he stirred and moaned aloud: "Adelaide, Adelaide, only forgive!" Her swift glance swept the room and read its wretchedness. She could see his past since tli y had parted--the reckless,ruinous past that had stretched him here and left him to his death. Evil companions and evil ways! Where had he been, to what had he fallen since that dark morning in the summer past? And how strangely had she been guided hither! What might it all portend ? A frivolous friend, a woman who toiled with needle, a little lame child! f And a voice crying all day long in her ears that Ronald Power was in distress! He stirred again and moaned her name. Was he so very ill? Would he recover? It gave her a terrible pang to think that he might not. And all at once she felt hard sobs arising in her throat. Yet the darkest night leads to another dawning. And when the summer Sabbath wrapped the earth in glory, and the splendor of the sunrise transfigured land and sea, and the twitter of a sin­ gle bird was echoed by another and another until a million were alive on tree or house-top, Ronald Power awakened and beheld the sweet coun­ tenance he had thought to. see no more. "Adelaide!" he said, "o, Adelaide,* and covered his face. But Adelaide had prayed for strength and was calm. "By and by," she said when he pleaded for forgiveness, "by and by we will talk. I know that you have Buffered. m * * You must be quiet now." And then she stooped, like an angel, and touched his forehead with her lips. And from that how began anew. Ronald Power The Exhaustion of Petroleum. It can hardly be doubted, I fear, that the supply both of oil and gas has now been so largely drawn upon that within less than a score of years scarcely any will be left which can be brought at reasonable cost into the market. The boundaries and extent of the oil regions have been determined. All the sands in which oil will ever be found in such quantities as to be worth working are known, and have been drilled through in various places. It is scarcely possible that any new fields will be discovered which will be com­ parable, either in extent or productive- ness, with those now known. So far back as January, 1883, Professor Les­ ley pointed out that no petroleum is now being produced in the Devonian rocks, either by the process akin to dis­ tillation or otherwise. What has been stored up in the past, a process which probably lasted for millions of years, may go out But when these reser­ voirs are exhausted there will be an end of the petroleum .supply. "The discovery of a few more pools of 2,000,- 000 or 3,000,000 each can make but lit­ tle difference." Mr. Carll, whose opin­ ion on the geology of the oil-bearing districts may be regarded as decisive, has come to a similar conclusion. "There are not at present, "he pointed out recently, "any reasonable grounds for expecting the discovery of new fields which will add to the declining products of the old, so as to enable the out-put to keep pace with the ship­ ments of consumption." The stored petroleum in this region has then been very nearly exhausted. In less than a generation a small part of the population of this continent alone has used up nearly all th% valua­ ble stores of energy which had been accumulated during millions of years of the geologic past More recent inquries confirm the conclusions of Professor Lesley and Mr. Carll. The signs of exhaustion in the oil producing regions can now be clearly recognized, During the last four years there has been a steady di­ minution in the out-put, accompanied by an increase in the price per barrel, which, neverless, does not even main­ tain the nominal annual value of the supply. Mr. Wrigley announced in 1882 that 154,000,000 barrels of oil had already been raised uj> to the begin­ ning of that year, and expressed the opinion that mc/re than 96,000,000 bar rels remained to be raised. In this last estimate he was undoubtedly mistaken, for up to the beginning of 1885, no" fewerjthan 261,000,000 barrels|had been raised, and in the year 1885 as many as 21,642,041 barrels (nearly 3,000,000 fewer than in 1884) were obtained. But although the estimate of 1885 of the quantity of oil still remaining fell short of the truth, and though we may admit as possible that even now much more oil remains to be put out than the most experienced geologists suppose, the signs of approaching exhaustion are yearly becoming more unmistaka­ ble. The expense of bringing the oil to the surface grows greater year by year, and threatens soon to become so great that the profit! of working the oil stores will be evanes­ cent So soon as that state of things is approached we may be sure that the oilmen's occupation in Pennsylvania and western New York will be gone. It has been stated that the Japanese, unwilling to let the least friction of earth's interior stores be lost, have been known to excavate a vertical shaft to the depth of 600 feet in order to raise a few gallons of oil per day. But in America, when the oil mines are so near exhaustion as this, they will be abandoned; nay, they will be aban­ doned long before they approach such a condition. With the failure of the oil supply all the collateral branches of industry associated with it will fail, too.--Home Knowledge. The Leper Colony. Touching at Molokai, we were af­ forded an excellent opportunity for in­ specting the leper colony established there. Many of these unfortunates were found to be in the last stages of the disease. The sight of these poor creatures would serve to excite the curiosity of only the most morbid na­ ture. Their cheerfulness, even when rendered incapable of locomotion by the ravages of the disease, is somewhat remarkable, while their number in­ cludes many Europeans, the Chinese being by far in excess of all nations. The disease is said to be rather consti­ tutional in character than a result of cutaneous inoculation, as might be erroneously supposed. Science, how­ ever, has not been enabled to do much toward relieving the sufferings of these poor people, although their wants ap­ peared to be generously provided for through the liberality of the govern­ ment and that of foreign residents. The disease is contagious, while the hopeless misery of many of the victims in Hawaii would justly excite the pity of any beholder. One feature of the dis­ ease, as explained by my informant, is the fact that there are many persons living at Molokai who for years prior to their arrival there as patients had been living in various parts of tl-«» kingdom in utter ignorance of the ap­ palling fact that leprosy was insidiouslv attacking the system. One instance in point was that of an aged Catholic priest, who discovered his deplorable condition only after an accidental breaking of a lighted lamp. It fol­ lowed in his case that while removing some of the hot fragments in his effort to prevent any further damage, he found that he had lost the sense of feel­ ing in his right hand. Instantly divin­ ing that he was afflicted with the dread malady, he heroically sought refuge among others at the leper settlement on Molokai. where I believe he died several years since. WOMAN'S necessity is to lose herself --to give herself away. If she be hindered from doing this, in the sweet and utter forgetfulness of a noble and unthwarted affection, her next impulse is to self-sacrifioe. THE PROBLEM OF THE WORLD. Duatka of Life Upon the IsHk-Bwr At WIU fatars 0«s«rslloai • UtsT [Baltimore American.] #Attention has of late been given by political economist and others to tho solution of the problem of duration of life upon the earth. While there is little danger of the present generation being crowded from the earth's surface, yet to read the various theories and solutions of the problem as they are ad- van oed must prove of more than mere passing interest While the area of habitable land re­ mains the same, for there are no more "new worlds" to be discovered, the population of the globe is rapidly in­ creasing. From the year 1870 to the year 1880 the increase on the continent of Europe was 6f per cent; in Great Britain, 10$ per cent; in Australia, 5<H per oent,; and in South Africa, 73£ per cent The population of the United States has inoreased from about 4,000, - 000 in 1790 to about 60,000,000 in 1887, doubling every twenty-five years; while that of the entire globe has increased from about 1,391,000,000 in 1871 to about 1,600,000,000 in 1887. The United State exclusive of Alaska, Bqatfuns a population of 16 to the squ«#g mite; France, 181; Germany, 216; Chin$ 230; Italy,, 256; Gava, 398; Great Britain, 400, and Belgium nearly 500. It has been estimated that by the year 1990 the population of the United States will be as dense as that of China to-day. By the year 2040, a little more than a cen­ tury and a half, at the same rate of in­ crease, it will contain 886 inhabitants to the square mile, and twenty-five fears later, 1,762 to the square mile. At the present rapid rate of growth, therefore, the "new \frorld" long before the year 2040 will be as densely populated as is now the "old world." A hundred years later, other portions of the earth will also be full. Malthus, in his celebrated work on "Population," shows that, while the inhabitants of the globe are increasing in geometric ratio, sub­ sistence is increasing in arithmetical ratio, and that unless this condition of things in some way be changed the earth will soon be unable to support its teeming millions. The is the problem. What measures are proposed in order to avert the threatening calamity? t• One declares that "it may well, be questioned whether the labors of the humanitarian, or the fruits of science and invention, have been for the real benefit of the race." Another considers it "a grave error to endeavor to avert war among European nations, and seek to have standing armies disbanded." Another is confident "that the discov­ eries and devises of the past fifty years, which have lengthened the life period, have been curses instead of blessings to those they were designed to benefit." Malthus proposes, as a preventive, the increase of the quantity of pro­ visions by bringing all the useful lands of earth to the highest degree of cultiva­ tion, and, at the same time, retard the rapid increase of population by educa­ tion, which tends to lessen fecundity. Mr. Harrington, to whom we are in­ debted for some facts and figures, in a carefully prepared article attempts to refute the whole theory of Malthus, sees little cause for alarm, and declares that "the food and raiment consumed by what is theoretically oalled the lower classes of the people we£e greater in quantity and better in quality forty years ago than in any previous period of the world's history. They are greater and better to-day than they were then. In every civilized nation under the sun the pressure upon subsistance decreases as population increases." Way land sees no need of any other means to prevent tli9 too rapid increase of population than to secure a cor­ respondent increase of capital by which the population may be supported. This increase of capital is to be obtained by individual industry and frugality and national economy. "Let nations culti­ vate the art of peace," he says. "Let them reduce the unnecessary expenses of governments; let them abolish those restrictions which fetter and dispirit in­ dustry by diminishing the inducements to labor; let them foster the means by which the productiveness of labor may be increased, and the annul gifts of the Creator will so .accumulate that the means will be provided for the support of all the human beings which are an­ nually brought into the world. As soon as this accumulation bears a suita­ ble ratio to the number of inhabitants, we shall hear no more of the evils of excess of population. It is vain to throw away the food of 1,000,000 of people in a single day, and then be as­ tonished that 1,000,000 of peoWle.-are starving for the want of it. H^Mfe', tfe learn the economical evils of every form of vice; as, for instance, of in­ temperance. The money spent in in­ temperance is so much, absolute waste of capital. This is, of itself, in most civilized countries, enormous," The true solution of this problem is to be found in individual practice of industry, frugality, temperance, chastity, and righteousness. In the cultivation of these virtues, too, is to be found the remedy, the only remedy, for the cry­ ing evils of this age in which we live. A Qneer City. Brindisi is a city of some 17,000 in­ habitants, picturesque to a Northerner because of its semi-tropical aspect, but otherwise a noisome hole to be avoided. It has a prodigiously long history, which may be to its credit or discredit. Virgil, as all the world knows, died here. If he were at all disposed to die, previous to reaching Brindisi on his way to Rome, this would be the very place to carry him off. Even now its fiat alluvial environs reek with malariq^ but before the nineteenth century en­ gineers inaugurated the large draining processes which keep its harbor from stagnating, it must have beon a perfect plague pit Had Horace continued the satire descriptive of his and Mecaenas' journey from Rome to Brindisi, the epilogue might have told us that he was laid by the heels in<|he Brindisium, which was long<e finis vice. But the assumption is fair that, since he does but name the place, whereas elsewhere on the journey he finds words of praise or dispraise to bestow, Brindisi in his time was remarkable for nothing ex­ cept being the terminus for the, Appian Way. We walked through and round abont the city and found much to amuse us. Many Of the old Venetian buildings survive, though their exceedingl y or­ nate porticoes are in no harmony with the undignified mortals who swarm on the different flats of the lodging houses which degrade these fine houses. The streets are narrow and the build­ ings so tall that the sun can have little to do with the thoroughfares. But as if the urban architecture were not ar­ ranged to secure sufficient coolness for the townspeople, the*e love best, it seems, to live in low dark basements or. cellar rooms, that look as if they were eat out of a rock. Whole families herd in * single room. The two or three great beds that stand at angles to each other will each hold fonr or five indi­ viduals. Some we see already occu­ pied in the afternoon. But ordinarily the inhabitants of the house are sprawl­ ing abont the threshold, or turning the spinning-wheel, or kneadiag dough, or making boots. One feature is never wanting in the^e habitable caves--a gaudy little shrine in one of the cor­ ners facing the door, with a swing lamp hanging before a picture or model of the Virgin.-t-All the Year Sound. Something Abont Corkscrews. There seems to be nothing to say about a corkscrew. The corkscrew is ubiquitous and necessitous, but who ever stops to think of anything about the history or character of the cork ex­ tractor ? Yet there is really an inter­ esting article to be written about the little instrument. There are miles of corkscrews made every year. Ye3, and a good many millions. It isn't generally known that the corkscrew is made in largest quantities in Newark, Jersey's metropolis; yet such is ths case. There is one firm in Newark that beats the world at making and selling corkscrews. I got my informa­ tion about the little utensil from one of the firm. It is a startling tale ho told, and if it wasn't that he had the figures to back what he said, I should have thought his story was as crooked as the wire on the cork extractor he makes. In round numbers there were 150,000,- 000 corkscrews made by this one Newark firm last year, or corkscrews enough for nearly every voter on the globe. Iff the corkscrews, which aver­ age three inches in length, that were made during the year 1886 could have been laid length to length, they would have reached from Now York to San Francisco and then spanned the bread Pacific and touched tha shores of Japan. That will give some idea of the number. If all these screws could have been melted into one big screw, some Colossus could have pulled the cork from the surface of the earth and set the geyser spouting and the volcanoes erupting from the interior of the globe. But this was only one firm, although the largest, it is true. Could all the corkscrews made last year be known there must have been enough manufactured to supply nearly every man, woman and child on this mundane sphere with one. To make the 150,000,- 0i)0 of the Newark firm required sev­ enty-five men simply for the twisting of the screws, to say nothing of the making of the wooden and other styles of handles. They worked steadily the year round at it One would hardly think that mora than three or four varieties were required, but there are about forty varieties on the market The funniest of all the corkscrews is a left-handed one. The first one was made for a left-handed bar-keeper, and it suited so well that the Newark firm now keeps them constantly in stock. Another Newark firm makes 300,000 pocket corkscrews a year. The ques­ tion naturally arises, what is done with them all ? Lots of them are broken,, of course. Large New York restaur­ ants, like Delmonico's, the Brunswick, and the St. James, buy corkscrews direct from Newark, and get them by the hundreds at a time. It is no unusual thing for big hardware houses in Newark, Boston, Philadelphia, Pitts­ burg, Cincinnati, and big western cities to buy 10,000 corkscrews at a time. Rendering Fabrics Incombustible. La Nature gives several preparations to render fabrics incombustible. That suitable for ball dresses and other light textures consists of pure sulphate of ammonia, 8 kilogrammes; pure car­ bonate of ammonia, 2.5 kilogrammes; boric acid, 3 kilogrammes; pure borax, 2 kilogrammes; starch, 2 kilogrammes, or dextrine, or gelatine; water, 100 kilogrammes. Cloths should be dipped in the solution at a temperature of about 84 degrees, till they have soaked it well up; then partly dried in the air, and afterward dried enough to be ironed like starched cloths. The quantity of starch, dextrine, or gela­ tine may be varied according to the degree of stiffness it is desired to give the goods. A quart of it will serve for sixteen yards of goods. A mixture ap­ plicable to canvas that is already painted, and to mounted scenery, to woodwork, furniture, curtains, bed clothes, cradles, doors, and windows, and which can be mixed with dyes, consists of sal-ammoniac, 15 kilo­ grammes; boric acid, 5 kilogrammes; glue, 50 kilogrammes; gelatine, 1-5 kilogrammes; water, 100 kilogrammes; with lime enough to give the proper consistency. It should be employed at a temperature of from 122 degrees to 140 degrees. The pieces may be dipped into or painted with it. In cases of decorations already painted it is enough to whitewash the backs of the canvas and the frames on which they are hung with the preparation. A mixture applicable to heavier can­ vases, cordage, wood, and carpentery; consists of sal-ammoniac, 15 kilo­ grammes; boric acid, 6 kilogrammes, borax, 5 kilogrammes; water, 100 kilo­ grammes. It is used at a temperature of 212 degrees. The immersion should continue fifteen or twenty minutes, after which the piece should be aired and then dried. Wanted It Roiling. A Land Speculation: Home-seeker (to real estate man)--And you say that the farm will just suit me. Beal Estate Man--Most assuredly." "I want the land to be rolling, you understand." *Yes; this land is rolling." Several weeks later: Home-seeker (to real estate man)- -You are a miser­ able fraud, and-- Real Estate Man--W'y, what's the matter?" "Matter! w'y, confound you, ten acres of my farm went into the river last night" "I'm sorry to hear it; but didn't you tell me that you wanted rolling land ?" "Yes, but--" "Well, then, you got it You didn't say which way you wanted the land to roll. Don't be in ft hurry. Draw up a chair and sit down a while."•--Arkan- saw Traveler. Ills Lost Request. Dying Umpire--Boys, what were them things tiiev hit me with? One of the i^-ys--Beer mugs. "I thought the / felt rather familiar; but boys!"--au anxious light in his eyes. "What is it, Jim?" "They wasn't loaded, was they?" "No, Jim?" "That's correct; it wouldn't be right to waste any of the stuff; bury me in Cincinnati."--Pittsburgh Dispatch. A NEOBO is suing the Athens (Ga.) Foundrv for damages because he let a piece of iron drop on his foot THE Japanese pake oheese from beans and peas. m A Pact and a Theery. _ & considering what he shall do In life and whether he shall do anything, it is comparatively seldom that a man considers prop?rly how the question should be influenced by h's relations to his friends. He usually takes into the account the material calls they are en­ titled to make upon him, and he not infrequently gives some thought to their hopes, ambitions, and wishes in his behalf. With the subtler question of how they will be affected by the de­ velopment of his character, there is not one man in a thousand who conoerns himself for a moment. 1/ fr.endship and kinship have any claims, however, or indeed if our rela­ tions to our fellows should ever be con­ sidered, it is certainly not only reason­ able but imperative that in deciding upon a course of life, a man should re­ flect upon the changes lil-.ely to result to himself from any given choice, and that is his relation to others especially. If he decides that he will pursue a course of business or of professional life, he is naturally justified in looking first and chiefly to the effects upon his own character, to the results he can effect, the good he can do, and those phases of the question which must directly and manifestly bear upon his attachment to his individual affairs. If he is sincere in his attachment to his friends he will also wish to consider how hiscourse will affect their character,their aims and their work. This may sound a little transcendental; but who of us is there who has not at some time felt secretly aggrieved by a friend's choice of direction in life; and such an irrita­ tion could have no logical foundation except a tacit assent to the very princi­ ple just laid down. If our friend was not bound to take into consideration the effects oi|his decision npon us, we should certainly have no right to complain whatever that decision might be. If a man may choose to go into a line of life which will narrow his sympa­ thies, emphasize his faults, and stint the growth of his virtues, he has not only committed the moral wrong which is patent in such a course, but he has robbed his friends of that share in his life to which they have a just claim. He has betrayed friendship not by the acts of hie life, but by what he becomes. What we speak of as the inevitable separations of circumstances are more often separations of character; and how­ ever inevitable they may be they could often be avoided by a little fore­ thought and will. Men cannot too often or to strongly impress upon their minds the fact that they do not stand alone; that universal brotherhood is not an ideal theory to be accepted or not as one chooses, but a practial, every-day fact, of which this matter of affecting the lives of our friends by our decisions is but one of an indefinite number of manifestations.--Boston Courier. Treatment of Liver Complaints. According to Murchison, a careful regulation of the diet will do more for one who is afflicted with a liver trouble than all medicine. The foods to b9 avoided are the fatty, the saccharine and the highly seasoned. Corn, oats, wheat, sago, rice, and potatoes consist largely of starch, which, in the process of digestion, is converted into sugar. In severe oases these and kindred substances must be given up. As most people would find it ex­ ceedingly difficult long to dispense with the Tise of wheat bread, gluten may be substituted for it; that is, bread made of wheat from which about two-thirds of the starch has been removed. The diet should absolutely exclude clear fat and sugar. The quantity of the food is a consider­ ation hardly second to the quality. Too much food, of whatever kind, must be strictly guarded against The liver is injuriously affected by alcoholic liquors generally. These beverages are to be rigidly prohibited, especially malt liquors, port wine and champagne. One would not have sup­ posed baer'to be worse than brandy, but it is much worse. Next to regulating the diet is secur­ ing an abundance of fresh air--sea air is especially helpful in liver difficulties --and a sufficiency of vigorous exercise. The action of the skin should be kept up by frequently bathing the body with warm water and soap. It is also beneficial to drink half a pint of cold water, or water with a little soda in it, on going to bed, and while dressing in the morning. Liver diseases are, however, so diffi­ cult and refractory that it is peculiarly necessary to call in the services of a good physician as soon as the complaint has declared itself. Too many persons are inclined at once to begin dosing, supposing that they are "bilious." The incautious and unwise use of medicine at such a time may fasten a chronic disease upon one who might have been permanently cured in a few days by proper treat­ ment.--Companion. The Good Priest Heard Him Finally. Father O'Halloran bad a telephone put into the parsonage, in connection with the church, the parochial school, etc. Patrick McFee, his reverence's handy man, was instructed *in the use of the instrument, and it was only the next day when Pat, dusting out the church, heard the chatter of the tele- Ehone bell. Taking down the receiver, e was pleased to hear Father O'Hal- loran's familiar voice, asking him some­ thing or other about his work. Pat, in essaying to answer, remembered that his reverence was a long way off, and Pat consequently hollered into the transmitter at the top of his voice. "I don't understand you, Patrick," said the telephone. Pat tried again, with no better success. On his third trial, he came near splitting the telephone; but again came Father O'Halloran's voice, "I can't hear what you're saying Patrick." Pat had by this time lost something of his patience, and as he stood gathering breath for a'fourth blast, he couldn't refrain from solilo­ quizing in a low tone, "Ah! may the devil fly away wid the ould fool." But Pat dropped the telephone like a hot potato and fell to liis knees in dismay, when he heard Father O'Halloran's voice once again, "Now, I hear you perfectly, Patrick."--Boston Tran­ script. A Handsome Lobster. The fishing smack Laurel lately brought from Block Island a lobster a trifle under average size, of a deep, rich, navy-blue color. The under side was ivory white, making a very taking combioation. Old fishermen, who have handled tons of lobsters, say that they never saw a lobster like this one in beauty of color.--Chicago Herald. A MAN at Americus, Ga., went to bed thinking so intently of a mulberry tree that he was to transplant in the morn­ ing that he got up in his sleep and transplanted the tree, and want back to bed without waking up. PITH chi|d netfer fatrik4» A® act to amend--sewing bu|t<SJNL A SPANKING team--a pair *<•' wet nurses. . , S!;.r DivoBo* ir^he marriage. *. - . * v>- WHEN it above t\ "CONVICTION is the conscience of the mind,' and an abstraction of a jury. ONE of the anomalies of life is the usnf sr; he exacts invest from &itcipaL THE reason figurls won't lie is be­ cause they always stand for something. IF a vixenish 'wife ever takes back her words, it ip fa ordee that she may use them again with redoubled ©fleet Texas Siftings. Si j LAWYERS used to be known aft men of the robe. Many of them *arfe men of the robe still with the e omitted.-- Texas Si/tings. SCENE : Grammar class. Dialogue between teacher and Johnnie.. Teacher: "What is the future qf "he drinks'?'* Johnnie: "fie is drunk." T "BRIDGET, did you get the flowers that I am to wear to-night in my hair?" "Yes, um, but " "But what?" 'I've mislaid the hair, mum." SOME very old dinner customs still survive. The Bomans used t© recline at their banquets, and the habit of lying at public dinners still prevails. "WHAT is a paradbx?" asked the professor of his college class, and the brightest student of them all stood up and answered: "A woman trying to play whist." MRS. BROWN--How elegantly dress fits you! What a pity the material is so cheap! Mrs. Jones--The goads in your dress are really superb. What a pity it doesn't fit you!--Harper's Bazar. "O, ELLA," said Clara, '% tbinlr Lily and her beau have qnureled." "Why," replied Ella, "what makes you think so?" "Well, her parlor has been brilliantly lit every evening lately." New York Sun. HARK! What's that? That? That'a a brass band. What are thev out for to-night, I wonder? Out to get the air, of course. And, by the way, I should think from the sound that they hadnt found it yet.--Lowell Citizen. A GENTLEMAN at table being requested to carve a dish before him, which chanced to be a loin of mutton, took up tho carving knife, asking: "Shall I cut it saddlewise ?" "You had better cut it bridle wise," replied one of the guests, "for then we all may get a 'bit' in our mouths. THE boy said he thought his parents intended to move, but he had not heard anything said about it. He was asked for the reason of his opinion, and replied that he had noticed that his father had begun to empty his ashes upon the cellar floor, and they generally moved soon after that: _ STUMPS, • the farmer, has married a city girl who is trying to learn country ways. She has heard her husband say that he must buy a dog and responds: "Oh, yes, do, Chawles,. buy a setter dog. He can be a watch dog at night and set on eggs all day; for I can't mako the hens set, though I've held 'em an hour at a time." ADVANTAGE OP TSE 8HX. F "Ton men ore feo lucky," a fair maiden sai<^ Discussing the question ot dress ; ' , "You're ne'er burdened with petticoats, or shawls. •» Which to us an a sonroe of distress." "Yes, I know," said the youth, who waiting bad been > • t An argument ready to seize} ' 1 ' "What you've said Is all true, yet thefce's on* point you miSB-- Your pants never bag at the knees," --Champion City Timet. THE village of Podunk-on-the-Sein^ was in a white heat of excitement A terrible crime had been committed. One of the oldest inhabitants, Pierre Magruder, by profession a spring poet, had been found dead in his bed. All the evidence pointed to the fact that he had breathed his last. O'Hooligan, the detective, had been summoned from Paree. "Ah," he mattered, as he glanced over the rejected MS. on the table, "there can be no doubt the village editor was the assassin ; and, truly, the provocation was great!"--Tid-Bits. Freemont's Wooley Hdrie. An old story is thus recalled by, the Philndelphia Record: It seems that after Lieut Fremont had first an­ nounced his discoveries in the great West, a Philadelphia showman of a speculative turn, undertook to exploit Fremont's discoveries, and at the same time make a little money for himself. So he came to Washington, and, hiring a shop on the avenue, proceeded to ex­ hibit "Lieut Freemont's wooley horse, captured by the gallant explorde in the very heart of the Rocky mountains at the risk of his life." Of coarse,"it was only an ordinary, every-day horse, with patches of wool stuck on. But it took, and the showman began to make money on it. One fine day, Senator Benton, Fremont's father-in-law, heard of the humbug, and started out, vow­ ing to drive it out of town before even­ ing. Taking a brother senator with him he marched at once on the enemy's shop. The showman, who was stand­ ing outside the door, and who knew him perfectly well, had the impudence to go right on with his lecture. He even went so far as to say to the crowd: "Here is Lieut Fremont's father-in-law, Senator Benton. Won't you walk in, Senator, and take your friend with you? It won't cost you a cent" "Come inside," said Benton, sternly, handing him $1 and striding in with his friend, "where is the animal ?" "Here lie is," said the showman, be­ ginning at the beginning of his lecture again. "Stop!" said Benton, in a tone that had often made the Senate chamber ring, "if you don't take that fraud out of this town before dark I'll make you wish you had never been born." The impudence of the man was frightened out of him by Benton's se­ verity and earnnstnoss. "I'll go," he said, and went that evening. A Considerate Son. The children are getting more pra^ cocious every day. On returning home from his o'Hca Ool. Yorger found his ten-vear-old boy Tommy in the front yard playing marbles with p strange boy of about liis own age. , "Bill," said Tommy, "allow me to in­ troduce you to my father; > You two gentlemen ought to know each other.* --Texas Siftings. . " TWAS ONLY a little bit of rail-ery. Pray don't take a fence," she said, when he made an ineffectual attempt to grasp her arm and clutched the paling mr> stead.--Detroit Free Press. PEOPLE will not patronize base ball unless the umpire gives them frequent opportunities to abus ̂ hiqu-- nah News.