I ft L VAN SLYKE, ILLINOIS. IN AN OLD GARDES, i wn riot where lilies grew, j SUtclv «nd lovelr and I>ure AS trttfii, In the Old. dea<i <\nys xvh<»n the garden knew 1%* beauty that blesses the time of youth. iRMitftM Ofn> to ' l ie crumbling fill, 4bd briars climb -Khcre the rose once bloomed, Bat a dump of me hold* its tenure 8till, And remembers the beauty ttl&t fkt* has doomed Mo«s gtows thick on the path where trod * 4 Tire feet of youth in the days gone by, < And the feet of those who were Hearing God, j And the timo to lay work dowu and die. I wonder if evi-r, on moonlit night a, Ghostly footfalls, through mold mid mof% Come and go wher«> the old delights » Of life arsd loving gave place to , .... 5 Lover* have wnJVod here, hand in Here, by this dying tree, was told t | A Story sweeter to understand > " Than the tftio* of all poets, voung or Old. Where i* 'lie lover who told hi* love? . , Where is theitisideu whose lips he kissBdf |f; , Ah! but the grave grass grows ahove ~ ». !• ® . t; Th°se who no longer are mourned or missed. * « , W*. Focr old garden of dead delights, V > iSv' ^ St Hituited I know you are night and day; ^ . The gull from the sea, in its landward flightB, Hints of tho fleet years that flew away. wW-V' Ever »nd «ver while nottins sproad • ? Over the Wds where the lilies grow. Ton t hink of the past and long since dead, And the beauty and brightness that once yon knew. ,<i •; Your beart is truer than hearts of man* iS#;' ,p ' O poor old garden, for men forget; - « They bury their d*>ad and go on again, For life lm« room for but brief regrptf Bat you mourn forever for lost df-lights; You grieve for the beauty that could not last; And 1 share your sorrows on lonesome nights, When my heart remembers its happy past. --Lippiiicott'a Ma'jatine. THE LUCKY LOCKET. W Cherry Fanning, or Wild Cherry, as 1 ^vw s^e was familiarly called by those who ! Vfr 4'"> knew her, -was truly a child of uu- I T, r-Asf fortune. But if a beggar in raps can l>e V£ ' called pretty, this was the ease with f" herself. She was about 15 years of e f • Bf?e when the events herein described if\ { "ti V transpired. The poor girl had a dis- > * * tinct recollection of a better home than jiV » t the one she now occupied--if. indeed, / v.,' her present place of residence coud be jT W: called a home. For many years she g | : " had beeu living with an uncle and aunt. /" - The former was an old man and a cripple, having entirely lost the use of his lower limbs by that fearful malady. f>f inflammatory rheumatism. He was e lJfi' naturally kiud-liearted, but bodily suf- iC '• T aQd mental anguish had rendered • kim ifr^able and sometimes harsh, gjhv. ij ̂ His wife was a woman of energy and !>,!./ great patience, and never murmured at f>v 'Wr e ^^peDsations of Providence, aud 's<v ' *or R long time she had toiled in- if I/. cessantly for the support of the family, |c:f ; assisted by Cherry. But death came. I*" ,'4$*' Mr. Norton, her husband, was taken f* 4 ^ away, and from that moment the wife I^Yr I Yv jsank rapidly herself, until she was no %; longer able to toil. Cherry could ac- /^mplish but little, for she was a deli- | * <cate creature, and much of her time was ^ ]; [ , consumed in attending to her aunt. ^ <3 >eath appeared to be sitting near the &».. t couch o£ the invalid, and starvation was ^ ^ " « t a r i n g t h e f o u n g g i r l i n t h e f a c e . Cherry was also a timid creature, and 14"' very easily discouraged. Site would give '^r .up in despair anything she might un- ^ t (dertake if the slightest opposition was offered her. She never would listen to je rude jests of tier poverty-stricken neighbors, so she could find " no com- uiiotiahip with them. 8he would fly >m their presence when possible to !o «o, and hence she gained the title of "Wild Cherry." ** 11 Printer afternoon, and i-i ' ~ , -'the attic where nhe dwelt was foodless * :»t>d fireless. The aunt lay shivering in her bed, beneath the scanty covering, whiie the poor girl sat in one corner watching her, benumbed with the cold herself. Tears had gathered in her eyes. She appeared to be thinking deeply: and at length, rising, she ap proached the couch. ,A£. fe-J ' She beat over her oust and vhia- ^.^.pered: f;> ; "I going out now, and. with '£-t \ -Heaven's help, I will have some money ' ' ' when I return." The lips of the invalid moved, but no sound escaped them. This did not ap pear to stnice Cherry as anything re- ' inarka'e. and taking her hat and draw-' ing a thin shawl around her, she left the I fefV' .apartment. The wind seemed to cat her to the very soul, as she swiftly sped Along the sieety street. Beaching some "large square, she •paused aud gazed up and down. She appeared to be examining the faces of E-.1it-S.-S She ptteteded ** once to flalt ft moue>~lMular, and after a tedious delî r ih* wai ftd&tBMed by the curt words, •Wall, tffatitdo you want?" *SM«xl«iided4he locket, which wu r«oeived and closely examined bythe ewnbroker. Then he asked, "Well, W mitoh do you wanton ihis? ; "Ten shillings, if it is worth so fnuch," she answered, timidly. "Worth so much! We'll see--wall lee. Wait a few moments." The pawnbroker whispered ft few words to a boy who was in attendance, and the lad immediately left the build ing. In about live minutes he re turned, and, pointing to Cherry, said, •That's the gal." The poor creature almost sank upon Ihe floor when she was seized, and rec ognized the same officer who had so rudely assaulted her in the street a few moments before. *1 thought so; come along," he said; ftnd after a few whispered words be tween the pawnbroker and the man of law. she was dragged in the street, she knew not whither. She offered no roiistanoe--that wfts utterly useless. Soon she was taken into another building, and some words of explana tion passed between the officer and an other in attendance. She was briefly questioned; but she was so bewildered that her replies were not intelligible. Then she was led away, and in a mo ment afterwards she found herself in a dark apartment and an iron-grated door had closed upon her. She bank, sob bing and almost senseless, upon the cold stone floor, for she knew she was in a station-house, although why she had bee a thrown there t>he could not imagine. S;owly the night pkssed on\ and she shuddered with horror as she listened to a thousand strange soundk There were rattling of cnains, banging of j heavy door.s, human shrieks, groans and ; curses, and her very blood seemed to j turn to ice. | At length the morning dawned, and ! still she waited. After a time, her cell* ; door was opened, and she was led into i the police court. Here she was again j questioned with regard to the jewel. She told her story itl such a simple manner that it could not well be doubted, and the Magistrate said: "I think she sj eaks the truth, for she agrees with her aunt. She can go." The ribbon containing the locket was again placed around her neck, aud she flew from the spot as she would have done from a pestilence. Soon she entered her own apartment, and approached the bed. Her aunt appeared to be sleeping, but her face was so very pale it attracted the atten tion of Cherry. She touched the brow --it was cold and clammy. She uttered a wild crv, and fell seneless on the floor. The truth had forced itself home--her only earthly protector was dead. It was a long time before Oherry re turned to consciousness; but when she did so,, she slowly arose ond took her seat upon the foot of the couch. Here die watched, weeping at first; but, after a time, she could no more weep. Her eyes appeared to be balls of fire, burn ing into her brain. Darkness came on. The wind howled fearfully, but still Cherry sat by the cold corpse. She left the apartment, and reached the street. Swiftly she speed along, heeding not the cutting blast or those she met, until Bhe stood upon a barge at the river's bank. Here she istood for a short time, gazing down into the dark waters; then she uttered a wild shriek, sprang "forward, and in a moment was plunged into the dark stream.' But her movements had been watched. Two sailers were near her and a small boat was close at hand. Into this they sprang, and seizing the girl, they drew her from the river and placed her once more upon the wharf. She had not lost her consciousness, and turning away, she ran up the street with all her speed. Now her clothing began to freeze upon her, and soon her limbs were so fettered by the ice that she was unable to move, and with a groan she fell in the street. An officer was passing at that moment, and seeing her condition he lifted her in his arms and bore her to a station-house near at hand. The icy masses were cut from her body, and she was wrapped in warmed blankets. Still, she re mained unconscious. In doing thi3, the officers discovered the jewel, and again the impression seemed to prevail that she had stolen it Others believed that it was a family memento, still .re tained in poverty, and that the poor WM13 ̂ pc 'AH--: ij; I the passers-by, as if endeavoring to read ! child had seen better days, •there what hearts were charitable and ' what were closed to the appeals of suf fering humanity. It was some time be fore ahe could bring her conrage to act upon the resolution she had formed; but .at length she did so. Timidly shi? extended her hand, and npon the first application she received -* three penny piece. An expression of delight passed over her face as she glanced at the money. If people were so generous, it would be but a short time before she would have sufficient for her immediate necessities and she • could return home. Alas ! poor Cherry knew little of this world, and the bright anticipations she ^momentarily indulged in could not be realized. Her hand was extended many - times, but hundreds and even thousands passed her by unnoticed; and so for two hours she stood, shivering,with cold, ex pecting relief and receiving none. Presently she was approached by a vpolice officer. He caught her roughly *>y the arm and exclaimed: "Move on, yon little thief! If I catch -you hanging round here #gain, I'll look you up." Poor Cherry was absolutely stricken dumb with terror. For an instant it seemed as if she was riveted to the spot; and theu she fled down the street at a rapid rate, not venturing to look back natil she had reached the Stairs leading up to the wretched attic where she re The next morning the papers con tained a full account of t£e affair, so far as was known. Cherry had become conscious, but she was very ill and, as yet, unable to speak so that no informa tion could be gained from her. The locket was fully described, with the exception of«two initials marked upon it. These were omitted in order that any pretended owner calling lor it should furnish the description in its. identification. The locket was of blue enameled gold, and contained the like ness of a man. Under one side of it there was a single small wreath formed of precious gems. It was the intrinsic value of the jewel, in the possession of so poor a girl, which excited the sus picion of theft, and had caused her ar rest. Presently a sailor entered the station- house and inquired for Cherry. He ap peared to be deeply agitated, and when he gazed npon the faee of the poor creature he exclaimed: "My God, lit tle did I think I should return to Eng land just in time to save my child from a watery grave!" "Your child!" echoed" those who heard his words. "Yes; I drew her from the water last night; bat little did I think at the time that it was my Cherry." Such was really the fact The sailor named the initials marked uvon the locket,and it was his ownlikeuess that it sided. Here * he paused, and looked i contained. He had given itto his daugh- fearfully around, as if she had been pursued. She soon became satisfied, Jhowever, that such was not the case, jMld she became mortv calui. She glanced at the com sto] M re ceived and exclaimed: ' "It i$ but little towards buying food ,aad fuel. Whi# shall I do?" She remained silent and thoughtful :Jor a short time; aud theu she drew jfrom her bosom a locket, which was attached to a faded blue ribbon. .gazed upon the jewel for some mo- jnents, and then bite said: "How can I, sell this? It was the last gift of my fa ther when he want to sea seven years jago. He iuid tub that it was worn by my dear mother before she died, and that X must never part with it. Oh, bow £%§ve treasured it! But I must part it now, in order to save my poor aooi I can take it to a pawn broker^ aod before the year is out I may be able to get it again, and so not iMe it altogether" OV8TEB-PLANT1NO. g 8tw tlM KatiVM Are Br»d on th« ftltttf ' 9t i-iriwapealHi Bagr. When.the Gtkesapeake oysterman Das put away^he tonfs and dredge, tied up irn boftt and ludanoed hi* books in the spring, he immediately turns his atten tion toward laying out new parks or re habilitating the old ones, says the Philadelphia Times. The close of the season for oysters in the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries is from April 15 to Sept 15, and there is a vast amount of work to be performed ere the tong- man or the dredger can again hoist sail on his pungy or canoe and offer his cargo for sale on the city markets. It has long beei a matter gf concern among the authorities regarding the de pletion of the oyster crop in Chesapeake waters by overdredging, or through other sources of destruction. But the enactment'of wise laws from time to time and the rigid enforcement of the same have in a measure checked the wanton annihilation of the oyster parks, and thus, while many new ones have been laid out, the old ones have had time to recuperate. The law prohibits the taking of oys ters on Sunday or at night, and during the close season not more than five bushels per day are permitted to be taken, and no oysters in the shell are allowed to be sold outside the boundary of the State of Maryland. A park consists of five acres of marine territory, which may be selected by any native first taking out a license for the same, at any convenient point, so as not to interfere with or obstruct naviga tion. The place usually selected is in the quiescent waters of some cove or creek, and, if for tonging purposes, in shallow waters and upon as bard a bot tom as it is possible to secure. Owir-z to the remarkable fecundity of the oys- ster two or three years is "sufficient to afford a paying park. The sandy bot tom is first covered with several loads of oyster-shells, which are spread about evenly, to which the spat may adhere ift the process of generation. SS/thtt finished ' how^Ameticans g his ri^itarm SIm! <KiS and thir'vGewngfc bully went down tt If a pile-driver had hit him. Hail he turned his attention to the other students. Biff! Biff 1 Bang! Down they went in one, two, three or der. At every blow a student was felled, and within the ten seconds' limit there was a wild rush for the door, and this gave the second American an op portunity to enjoy himself by taking a hand in the gymnastic exercises. One minute after the festivities began the little garden c ntained only three peo ple. One of them was a bar-keeper who was too badly scared to move, and the others were two Americans who were seated'at at able aqd cftUiug; "Noch,zweibeer!" ft,. ,$ . *V ter seven years before, on leaving Lon don. His long absence was accounted for. He had been taken prisoner in the China seas, sold to the Dyaks of Borneo, but had at length escaped. His vessel had arrived only in the evening before. Poor Cherry knew her father, and her recovery was rapid. The aunt was placed to rest; Jack Fanning gave up sea voyages for his child's sake,and then she was settled in a comfortable and She j happy, home. She blesses the pau per's jewel which was the means of re storing to her a dear father and of sav ing her life. • la It Worth tbe Cost? - If yon want Jo commit suicide with the guaranty that you will go to heaven, go to Africa as a missionary. Five Kansas missionaries went to Africa not lung ago. All died within a few months after reaching there. A KOBTHERX clime--an Arotic bear skinning r.p the North Pole. • weeds and the accumulation of foreign substances, and clay pipes, old shoes, and pieces of cham have been taken up to which adhered from fifty to sixty young fry all the way from the size of a 3-cent piece to a silver quarter. This raking also has a tendency to break up the density and compactness of the oysters and affords them greater facility to attaiu their natural shapes--the elongated shell, known in oyster par lance as the "cat's tongue," deriving this abnormal shape from the fact that compression prevents ita expanding properly during its growth, and many curious freaks in shape of shell are in the museums, caused by negligence and failure to relieve this density at the pjfcfper time. The spawn of the female is reputed to produce over 1,000,000 young, and it is during this period that the oyster has a very thin, dark appearance. It is said that if all the spat should mature the creeks and coves would be one vast mine of oyster shells several feet in thick ness. But from the time this spat as cends to the surface until it finally in creases in size and weight and settles down to the bottom again, it has to en counter many difficulties, for, float-; ing about aimlessly on the surface like a great roll of white ribbon, a great part of it is destroyed by storm or by adhering to overhanging tree limb?, or being eaten up by fish; and even after it has found a resting place on the old parks and developed into the tiny oys ter it is still pursued by its relentless enemies, the starfish and periwinkle, the latter boring through the tender shell and sucking out the oyster. In mid-8ii mmer this spat may be seen drifting about fur out on the waters of the Delaware and Chesapeake bays,and has frequently been the object of great curiosity among excursionists. An old native of Boaring Point, who was preparing to go out to his park, was asked what he thought of the reports concerning the depletion of the oyster in the Chesapeake Bay, removed his pipe from his mouth, and, with a smile, said: "If the authorities enforce the law as as they have been doing and the people give more intelligent attention to the cultivation of the oyster it will be very many years yet before the tongs or dredge fail to take up an oyster in these waters. Why, bless you, I've no doubt there are beds >to-day where this drift spat has settled that have existed for years in spots under the waters of the bay that we know nothing of." The Vi»nk»e'» Duel With a German. Prof. A. F. Yan Laer was making a vacation tour through Europe at one time, aud went to Berlin to visit a young New York friend who was studying art there. One evening the two Americans, in the course of a stroll about the town, dropped into a beer-garden. Taking seats at a small table, they 'vere soon busily discussing art matters over two foaming mugs. A crowd of German students had taken complete possession of the place. They were boisterous, and just drunk enough to be quarrel some. They were loudly discussing a recent duel, and one fellow whose scarred face showed that he had faced an adversary on the "field of honor," as serted with great vehemence that the Germans were tbe bravest race on earth, and that they should be willing to demonstrate this upon all occasions. Instead of fighting each other, they would better cross swords with foreign ers--the Englishman, the Frenchman and the American. There were always plenty of foreign tourists in Germany, he argued, to furnish antagonists for the brave Teutons, and he, for one, pro posed thereafter to challenge them in* stead of his own countrymen. By fol lowing that course, Germany would soon gain a reputation for national "bravery that would be world-wide. As the harangue proceeded, attention was directed to the two young Amer icans, aud the latter soon became con vinced that they were to be forced into a duel. The Germans suddenly crowded about the table where Van Laer and his companion sat quietly sipping' their beer, and the ringleader of the gang bent over the table and blew a puff of cigar smoke full in Van Laer's face. The American smiled as he finished his mug of beer and remarked to his brother-artist: "Jack, I want you to second me for jnst ten minutes. Go over to that door and stand there. Let no one pass you either way. If any one tries to get out, knock him down." By this time Ithe students, who had been fooled by Van Laer's apparent good humor, set up a derisive chorus in Ger man. "A coward! a coward!" they cried. "He will not resent ao. insult. Why does he not fight? Let us have a duel! A duel! A duel!" Then Van Laer arose, still smiling. "Gentlemen, you want a fight You shall have it. As the challenged -party I have the choice of weapons. I select those that nature gave me, and I pto- The Adult Afffe The adult age is the period of physi cal and mental maturity; the rire fruit for which blade and stock, bud and flower have been the preparation. It is the period of achievement. The bodily tissues are consolidated, and tlie differ ent. organs fully developed in size and function. But the adult age has its own peculiar drawbacks and perils. Even of those persons who come to it with the best of prospects,--their native vigor preserved bv a virtuous and well-guarded youth, there are many who do not live out half their days, or who prepare for them selves a feeble and painful old age. One peril which besets adult life is inordinate or misdirected ambition. The resulting unwholesome feverishness is well exemplified in the base of the professional politician. The mental and physical strain incident to hotly contested eleotions, the alternate hope and despair, the unseasonable labor and exposure, all tend'to break down those who engage in them. Those who have watched public events for any consider able length of time have seen many strong men killed by such excitements, labors and disappointments. Still more dangerous, because more JGr generally engaged, in, are the undue tU6 umliiHnnd nf fha KnQinoaa wnt>1ri The old parka are carefully gone over with a light rake in order to remove the ambitions of the business world. Men whe are eager to be rich take upon themselves incessant anxieties, and sub mit to ruinously close confinement At the same time they have many tempta tions to high living, and the results are seen in the great number of the picked men of the race who die suddenly of apoplexy or heart failure. In short, the danger of the adult age, especially in the highly artificial con ditions under which a large part of the race now live, is excess. This ex cess, or over-stimulation, it may be of the brain, the stomach, the animal pas sions ; or it may run to amusements, or even to gymnastic sports. Whatever direction it takes, the end is nearly the same -- premature enfeeblemeut or death. Something should be said, also, of those whose lives are shortened by do mestic labors and worries. The rearing of children, the care of the sick, the conduct of the household, the pressure of sooial duties, tbe demands of fashion, the endless attempt to make a scanty income go as far as possible--these are among the causes which bring naturally strong women too early to the grave. Tbe moral is obvious. Hard work is not to be avoided; perhaps it is best that it cannot be, but those who wish for health and long life should aim to live as far as possible simply and naturally, and especially to avoid rivalty and woriy.--Youth's Compan ion. ' In Bit Pooknti Jeremiah Mason, the celebrated law yer, possessed to a marked degree the instinct for the weak point He was once cross-examining a wit ness who had previously testified to having heard Mr. Mason's'client make a certain statement, and it was upon the evidence of that statement that the ad versary's case was based. Several questions were asked by Mr. Mason, all of which the witness an swered with more or less hesitation. Then he was asked to repeat once more th6 statement he had heard made. Without hesitation, he gave it, word for word as he had given it in the direct examination. A third time Mr. Mason led the wit ness around to this statement, and again it was repeated verbatim. Then, without warning, he walked to the witness stand, and pointing straight at the witness, said in his high, nasal, perfectly unimpassioned voice: "Let's see that paper you've got in your waist-coat pocket" Taken completely by surprise, the witness mechanically took a paper from the pocket indicated, and handed it to Mr. Mason. There was profound atillness in the court-room, as the lawyer slowly read in his cold, calm voice, the exact words of the witness in regard to the state ment, and called attention to the fact that they were in the handwriting of the lawyer on the othet side. He then gathered up his papers trith great de liberation, remarked that "there seemed to be no further need of his services," and left the court-room. "Mr. Mason, how under the sun did you kuow that paper was theie?" asked a brother lawyer. "Well," replied Mr. Mason,"1 thought he gave that part of his testimony more as if he'd learned it, than as if he'd heard it. And I noticed, every time he repeated it, he put his hand to his waist coat pocket, and then let it fall again when he got through." It was a simple explanation, but a very shrewd conclusion. -- Youth's Companion. Curious Taste or m Cow. On Saturday of last week, we were strolling around taking in some of many places frequented by us during our earlier aud better days, prominent among which was a spring at which we were inclined to linger. While there a cow came rushing up, and, as if nearly famished, she ignored the fresh, spark ling spring water and sought eagerly water that had been standing in wash- tubs since the previous Monday, and the oldest and most highly perfumed she seemed to relish most We tried to drive her away but failed, so we de cided to allow her to slack her apparent thirst, and by careful estimate drank thir teen gallons of soap-suds and two gal lons of bluing water. --Harlem Sentinel. Poverty In Xteljr. The working clasaos of Italy are very poorly fed. The -consumption of meat is very scant, except on feast days, and but little wine is drunk. Living is al most entirely confined to cereals (wheat, maize, rice), with vegetables and other green kerbs cooked with bacon. The food in general is very deficient in nitrogen ions qualities, the bulk of which is derived from vegetable rather than from animal food. MARY NAVARRO. When She Arises MMIMOW She Spemls the Day- Mary Andewon's day begins early. Bhe is up with the lark in the motaiqg, and, drained in heavy apparel Mid thick boots, goes swinging along theroad with hor husband by her side for a constitu tional before breakfast, or she may vary it by a gallop on horseback or a drive in a wagon, but she begins her day by taking exercise, and after breakfast she plays tennis or croquet or visits or reads or writes letters, as the case may be. After luncheon there is another walk or ride and then an hour or so of painting or writing.' Just at present both Mr. and Mrs. Navarro are busily engaged in a new home at Wells. They have taken the lease of a place for seven years and are ransacking all England for antique furniture and pretty fixings. After an early dinner there is a gathering in the little drawing- room aud perhaps some game is played for an hour or so. By 10 o'clock the room is in darkness, and the next day the happy couple begin again to ride and walk and visit or receive friends. Oc casionally they go to London to see some new production at the theaters, for Mrs Navarro has not lost her inter est in the stage to the extent that she can not enjoy a good play. Sometimes she comes down to London for dinner, but not often. If she aocepted all the invitations she receives she would dine six nights a week from her own home. Her life just now is one long, restful holiday. She is enjoying every mo ment of it, as well she may. Her health is perfect. She is happy in her hus band's love, and her bank account is ample. She need give no thought for the morrow. All is peace and pleasure. "And you may say that we are both still Americans," says Mr. Navarcp, as he bids me good-by. "There is no more loyal American in the world than my wife. She would fight for the stars and stripes. In a little while, perhaps, she will go to America for a visit It will always be home to us!"--Philadelphia jPrea*. . Bow Fishes Breathe. The severe frost of last winter froze many rivers and lakes in England that are usualh open all the year round, and a gentleman who found small fishes dead wrote to Nature to ask, "How is it with the fish in countries like Siberia? Do they desert those parts of the rivers which are frozen over, or are the cur rents more rapid, so as to transfer air beneath the ice from unfrozen parts, or, as in some glacier streams, are fish alto gether absent?" Any one who has caught fish through ice three feet thick on Maine ponds will understand that fish live very comforta bly so long as any part of the pond re mains liquid. The -waters of Siberia are likely to be abundantly stocked with fish, which will be found in the best condition when their house is sealed with frost. It is not necessary to suppose that air is carried under the ice from open places in the brooks. There is air enough in the water at all times to an swer the purposes of the fish. The presence of air is best discovered by al-* lowing the water slowly to become warm in a vessel of tin or iron. The air, which is held in the water very much as water is held in a sponge, is expanded by the heat, and may be seen gathering in small bubbles attached to the surface of the vessel. This must be a matter of common observation. It is this air that supplies the fishes with breath. It may be thought by Bome persons that fishes breathe water, for the writer hita heard this statement; made; but Such a view is not correct. The fish has no power to decompose water and get the needed oxygen from that source. As he is constituted he needs very little air. He is furnished with but lit tle blood, and this is sufficiently oxidized by coming in contact with air in the water forced through his gillsr which are his breathing apparatus. The effect of the air is seen when the fish is taken from the water. The gills suddenly redden. This is due to the rapid oxidation of the blood. The fish is killed by the excess of air. In the water he gets only the proportion that he needs. Altogether the fish must be very oomfortable under the ice- during our hard winter. A PROVERB says hunger is the best cook. That may be so, it got anything to cool# Street Car Etiquette Bafael Joseffy, the pianist, is reputed to be one of the highest livers in town* As is usual with people who indulge in choice dishes, his disposition is merry. Mr. Joseffy boarded a Six Avenue car last night. Trouble was not ou this mind. When a lady, a gentleman, a boy and a pug in arms boarded tbe car he felt so exuberant that he immediately arose and offered the lady his seat The lady accepted the maestro'* offer and sank down with the dearpngin her arms. "She was tired, poor thing," mused Mr. Joseffy. \ The car proceeded a few blocks when a person sitting next to the woman arose to go out Mr. Joseffy essayed to occupy the vacant seat The woman, however, had seized the coat of her escort and given it to him. "A mistake," muttered Mr. Joseffy, "she forgot ̂ that 1 had given her my seat." Five blocks farther on the woman's vis-a-vis arose and signaled the oonduo- tor to stop the car. "At last," thought the pianist, and he moved towards the seat Before he reached the coveted space the woman he had befriended touched the boy with her arm, and he sat down where Mr. Joseffy had thought to seat himself. Joseffy did some very hard thinking, but, of course, he said nothing. At 34th street the person beside the boy arose. The woman leaned over to wards Joseffy. "There is a seat," ahe said, beaming at him. "I beg pardon, madam," answered the artist, "I get off at 35th street. Give the seat to the pug."--New York World. ' J,'- - ,vVyj *F«r God's here f Joe Oolson stood at the holtom.of the «Mt bendisg over a littlerquivering faeanofhumanity. The Iftbil glimmer of light thai came down from far above us onlv seemed to make the surround ings of that scene more hideou* and ghastly. "It's Christie, boys," said Joe hu&lily,* stooping down and looking into the bruised childish face; "she's dead!" Dead! What a thrill of horror crept through the darkness of the mine and wrapped every heart in chill and un speakable awe! Christie was old Dick Graham's grand4 daughter, and Dick worked in- the Prince Regent for years, until a stroke of paralysis had incapacitated him for manual labor. The old man had buried his son, then his son's wifet and aU that had been left to his declining years was Christie--Christie, who now lay dead before us! -• - An5 old Diok loved Christie--aye, loved her with a lovo so simple and touching that one was in doubt whether to cry or laugh when seeing them to gether. But now she was dead and we must take her home to him. There was not a man among us who did not shrink from the duty. » Joe Colson took the limp form in his strong arms and stepped into the cars. Up, up we rose from the blackness and silence beneath us and found the earth green and blossoming in the smi'e of a May sun. But the glare blinded Otir eye? when we thought how the light bad gone out of old Dick Graham's life forever. Slowly, sadly, we moved along the road to Graham's cottage. "There's some things I can't under stand, boys, an' this is one of 'em," said Joe Colson who carried Christie; "there'tf lots of old folks all 'round us, jest hangin' on to the edge of life an' are anxious to die; but no, they live, an' this little one is the first to go." Old Graham was not to be seen around his cottage as we drew near it and we paused at the gate. "Boys," said Joe sadly, "I allow I'd rather cut off my right hand than take poor little Christie to the old man. Many and many a time I've heard Dick say that he wondered what would be come of her when he was gone first! Go in ahead of us, Tom, an' break it to the old man. You know how better than any of the rest of us." With faltering steps I approached the cottage door. No answer came to my knook, so I pushed my wuy softly into the cottage. A little clock ticked away on the mantal and the sound seemed only to make more hideous tbe death like silence that filled the room. A nameless iear came over me. Old Graham was not to be seen and I called his name. There was no answer. A sheet of paper on the table attracted my attention and I started to examine it --but I drew back in horror, for there, upon the floor,lay Dick Graham, motion less and rigid--he was dead. When the boys came in with little Christie, we discovered that old Dick, must have been dead for some time. On the table he had scrawled the feeble words: "Take care of Christie," and then had falleu to the floor. "It's God's hand," said Joe, reveren tly, as we laid Christie and her grand father side by side. There are times in a man's career when some dread event awakens every seuse to the awful responsibility that underlies all life. And not one of us who took Christie home that afternoon but felt a still, small voice whisper in our hearts and urge us on to better and nobler things. --Free Pres*. , t . - Brand New : Bight in the midst of the boslestpart of the day, right in the thick of the busiest crowd, a man stopped in front of the Tacoma Building and took out his gold watoh. Instantly another man sprang forward, fastened on the watch with a fierce and nervons grasp, stooped for the spring which should carry him into safety somewhere in the crowd-- then paused, halted, turned full on the geutleman and slowly lifted his hand to his eyes. The frightful, savage fac» had changed swiftly to a sad and ghostly one. The fiery eyes of a highwayman had grown soft and mild as a child's. "No," he said with pathetic sadness-- "no, I am starving, but I caunot steal," and he loosened his grasp on the watch and stood there, held and helpless. The gentleman had seized his wrist at the first attack, and had swiftly formed a plan to oapture or kill tbe bold robber. But the changed situation disarmed him. "Are you hungry?" he asked, still holding the wrist A crowd had pressed about them. A dozen men had seen the thief's revulsion from bad, and as he said so sadly, "I am starving, but I cannot steal, a dozen hauds went to trouser pockets and a little fund of silver was laid in tbe timorous, unwilling palm of the outcast "Gentlemen, you have done a great deal for me," he said, weakly. "I do ot belong on this level. You have saved me from far worse than death. I thank you." And he turned away so sadly that tears came into LaSulle street business men's eyes. It is a fearful thing to see a strong man in agony. "Do you know who he isl" asked an iusnrance adjuster late from the ele vator. "No," said the man who had started tbe subscription, "I don't know and I don't care. It is enough for me that a man was starved right up to the verge of crime here in Chicago and that his manliness could not be overcome. He tan have another lift ii he wants it. I am ashamed I ga<°e him so little. Three dollars is ----" "Three dollars is a good deal," said the insurance man. "That is his regular business. I saw him work the same thing in the Plankington House lobby, and again at the principal corner in St Paul. He's a verv smooth sharps Yon are gulled again. The victims looked down the street, but the man who could put crime be hind him even when hunger was gnaw ing at his vitals could put a crowd like that quite out of sight. He must have made about thirty dollars.---Chicago Herald. The Correct Tim* C\ Oh, bat he was a du del ions swell and when he went to call on a fashionable young woman on Cass avenue she was pleased beyond expression. At half- past 6 he started to go, "Must you go soon ?" she inquired. "But I assuah you, my deah Miss Fwawnoes," he entreated, "it is quite late." "Why, it is only half-past 8 o'clock 1" she urged. "Yaas, Miss Fwawnoes, by yoah time, but, don't you know, it is quite ahftah 12 by London time, weally, I must be going. So sowwy, dont you know, but what cawn't be euahed must be en- dushed, don't yon know. Good-night, Miss Fwawnoes. You'll be at the tea Heroie Llvm** Mom*. The heroism of life, ifcft atbi|; anohronicled msrtys&Mas of the heart, who shall remember? Greater than knightly dragon slayers old, is the man who overcomes an Uttlji&r pr * sets hi* foot upon it, and stft&ds and strong in virtue. Grander <Eenobia i» the woman Who struggles with the love that would wrong another or degrade her own aoul, and conquers. The young man, ardent and tender, who turns from the de*r love of woman, and buries deep in his heart the sweet in* stinctsof paternity, to devote himself to the care and support of aged parents or an unfortunate sister, and whose life Is long sacrificed, in manly cheerfulness and majestic spirt, is a hero of she rarest type. The young woman who resolutely stays with the father and mother in toe old home, while brothers and sisters go forth to homes of their own, who cheer fully lays on the altai; of filial duty that costliest of human sacrifices, the joy of loving and being loved--she jg ft heroine. I have known many such. <4 The husbapd who goes home;from everyday routine, and the perplexing cars.) Qt business with a cheerful smile and a loving word foj invalid wife; who brings not against her tne jgrevi&is fin of a long sickness, and reproaches her not for the cost and discomfort thereof; who see? in her languid ejJs something dearer than girlish laughter, in the sad face and faded cheeks that blossom into smiles and even blushes at his coming--something lovelier than the o!d time spring roses--he is a hero. I think I know some such. The wife who bears her part in the burden of life--even though it be the larger part--bravely, oheerfully, never dreaming that she is a heroine, muoh less a martyr; who bears with the faults of a husband, not altogether congenial, with a loving patience and a large charity, with noble decision hiding them from the world--wl^o makes no con fidants and asks no confidence, who re frains from brooding over shortcomings in sympathy and from seeking .perilous "affinities," who does not build high tragedy sorrows on the inevitable, nor feed an earthquake in every family jar; who sees her husband united with her indissolubly and eternally in their chil dren--she, the wife in very truth, in the inward as in the outward, is a heroine, though of rather an unfashionable type.--Grace Greenwood Battlefield Mummies. • J A sea-captain, who has recently re turned from a long oruise along Ihe South American coast, reports some very strange and interesting eights, especially in Peru. He visited the battlefield of Tarapaca, where the Chileans defeated the Peurvians with great slaughter, in November, 1879. The Peruvians lost 4,000 men, and were forced to leave them unburiedon the field. \ In almost any other oountry all these corpses would in a few weeks have been reduced to skeletons, either by wild beasts or by the action of the elements. Here, however, for more than a hun dred miles on either side of tbe battle field there is not a spear of grass, and as a natural result there are no wild anl> mals. The soil, moreover, is strongly im pregnated with nitrate of soda, aud this, in connection with the hot, dry atmos phere, has literally converted men and horses into perfect mummies. The captain visited the place first by moonlight, and, as may well, be im agined, was greatly impressed by the strange spectacle. To all appearance the battle might have been fought but a day or two before. The uniforms were still bright and the steel weapons untarnished. Inspection by daylight brought out ft still more curious phenomenon. The hair had continued to grow, both on the men and on the horses, for some time after death. Some of the soldiers' heads were covered with excessively longhair, while the horses' tails were long enough to trail for some distance on the grouno, Spanish Politeness. The Spanish lover has a very pretty way of saying, "I throw myself at your feet, senorita." Of course he does nothing of the kind. The Spanish hostess says to her friends, "Possess yourself of my house, it is all yours," but she does not expect them to take actual possession. The words are the flower of chivalry. But an accasionai visitor takes these polite people to ex plain the mistake. When General and Mrs. Grant were in Cuba they were In vited to dine at the palace of the Gov ernor General in Havana. In the even ing a ball was given wh^ch was attended by the beauty of the city. Among the eenoritas was one lady who stood con versing with the American General's wife. She was superbly dressed and carried a marvelous fan which had de scended to her from her great-grand mother. It was a costly affair of carv ing, _ lace, and diamonds. Mrs, Grant admired it, upon which the Spanish lady at once banded it to her with the usual remark: "It is yours, madam, with the greatest felicity. Do me the great favor to possess yourself of it," Mrs. Grant was delighted; she warmly thanked the lady and kept the fan, nor would the dismayed senorita, who had lost an hairloom permit the mistake '|p|M be announced.--Free Press. ' ? A Peculiar Plant. There is a curious plant, said to be ft native of Palestine, but which is found in some parts of England, called the Calvary clover, from certain peculiari ties of its growth. Tbe seed must be sown in the spring, superstitious people say on Good Friday, if one expects the plant to thrive. The leaves, which re semble the common trefoil, or three* leaved olover, show a deep red spott like freshly spilt blood, as soon as they appear above ground. This remains for several weeks, then gradually dies away. During tbe day the three leaf lets stand erect in the form of a cross, with head upright and arms are brought together, and the upper leaflet is bowed over them as if in prayer. In due tinift a small yellow flower appears, and after that a little spiral pod covered with" sharp thorns. As it ripens these thorn* interlace with one another and form ft globular head which bears a striking ie- semblance to a crown, of thorns. These peculiarities sufficiently explain the ' same of Calvary clover. " ̂ rt The Fattest of Lobsters, The largest lobster ever seen here was on exhibition in Capt E. F. Bram- hill's market last week. It was caught by Capt, John Condon, Wednesday morning of last week near Moose Point* on® mile from the city. In hauling up on© of Ms lobster traps the monster was on top of it, being usable to get in. The lobster measured more than three feet in length and weighofl twenty-three pounds. Captain Bramhill. who is an old fisherman, says he never saw ftnj- thing like It before.--Belfast Age. ' : . . . , . .. ....