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? Reconciled \ | By Eliza | The local train, which had been speeding out of town at the r twelve miles an hour, came suiRien-ly to a standstill with a violent coil at a level crossing in a country lane, and Reynolds, shaken out h.\a reverie, opened the windo-ijuSte prepared for an accident. But as the view from the window revealed only an impassive stretch of green, he settled back to eider a more important questii She was a friend and neigh* the Potters. There was a fairish chance that she might be see their house, since an invitatio see her at her own home had been forthcoming. That ten utes' tiff at the seaside at Easter where they met had not in the least detracted from her charm, though •had entirely demioliuhed his v come, and he would do much to near her for a week -- for that could endure the Potters. He was aroused again from speculations a moment or two later by a perturbation at the end of the train. Glancing out, he found the guard in excited conference witf some passengers a few compartments lower down. A number of them were pointing to something or someone in the train. It seemed to the young man that he himself was being indicated, and he caught the words' "Tall, slimmish young fellow in the grey Suit," a description of himself. A moment later the little guard came up to him. "I beg pardon, mister," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "but you have a bag there which looks as if it might have a musical instrument in it." "Why, yes," the young fellow swered in astonishment. "My banc jo." "A banjo! That's lucky tunes can you play? Can 'Rule, Britannia'?" "Great Scott! Why, yes, I think so. But what in the name of pa- "Ttien you're the man we want. This way, sir, please, and as quick as you can, if you don't mind. We can't move the train an inch till She hears 'Rule, Britannia.' " "But what--" "It's the only thing that will Ptart her' up. We've tried everything else. Pushing, pulling, everything. She sticks on the rails like a limpet to a rock. I wouldn' bother you, but we're five minutes late already. You'll be doing hofcly a great kindness if you'll along and grind out a good lively •Rule, Britannia.' " Reynolds caught up his bi and hurried after the oflici dering, as he went, which of them had gone insane, and whether the attack would prove to be a permanent softening of the brain or merely a temporary aberration. A number of passengers had left the train. They were gathered en masse around the portion of the level crossing which intersected 1 "Now, then, here comes Orphe and his loot!" cried a voice in 1 crowd. For a moment the young man stared about him with ewer-increasing fears for his own mental condition. Little by little a light broke in upon bis brain. A few yards only of line lay between the engine and the level crossing. Squarely in the middle of the track at the crossing stood tire obstruction, in full view. It was e small, antiquated pony-phaeton, drawn by -- or, rather, attached tt --a rotund white mare. The animal was neither standing, the usual and approved attitude ol her kind, nor prostrate, as will sometimes happen by accident! She was sitting upon her glossy-haunches, a calm, almost blase expression in her brown-green eyes. The carriage was occupied by two women. One of them, a stout, elderly, mai'den-aunt-looking person, was engaged in making voluble explanations to a delighted crowd. The other, a girl, in white, who leaned back among the cushi laughed, in evident enjoyment of the situation. At sight of the girl Reynolds drew back, with a little cry of astonishment under his breath. Then ran forward, lifting his hat. "Why, Miss Perry! I'm tremendously sorry to find you -- ahem! delayed in this way. What is trouble? Can I be of any a&sist- The pleasure which exuded from tho young man's face was not re fleeted in that of the girl.is. "How do you do, Mr. Reynolds?' ■ho said. "I'd no idea you wen in this part of the cotmtry. No so far as I am concerned, you cat be of no assistance, I think. If the train people want to try any periments, of course they are welcome to do it for the sake of getting the train in motion. Aunt Milly," she added, turning to companion, "you have heard speak of Mr. Reynolds? My J Miss Blithe -- Mr. Reynolds." Miss Milly grasped his hand a warmth which was in striking contrast to the chilly demeanor her niece. "So glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Reynolds, though I must say the circumstances are aot those I would generally li!:e to meet people under. Such nn embarrassing position! I wouldn't have it happen for the world. I thought of Elifea behaving this way on a railway, or I should have been afraid to drive her. You see, Eliza has not sat down for years now, and we thought she'd quite forgotten it. She is an old circus horse, as y@« may imagine, though I'd no idea erf that when I bought her. ft isn't Eliza's fault, really. She ttrinks sine's doing perfectly-right, yrsj know. They taught her t» *tt t.: the circus, and not to get up till she heard 'Rule, Britannia!' and she never will get up until she hears it." "Lady," cried the guard, elbowing up, "we are ten minutes late now!" "Ten minutes late? Hbw sorry I am! It is most unfortunate in ery way that Eliza should relapse just now, when she has not sat down for years. It is just like her renumbering about sitting down this morning when I am on my way to the station to take the train to London to see my old friend Amelia Lewes, intending to let my niece drive the phaeton home. But now I shall be afraid to let Barbara return alone; and Amelia leaves London for Liverpool at one, and would give the world to see her, I may never see Uer again I "1 am only going round the cur to the station," Reynolds suggested. "I am en route for the Potters.' It would give me great pleasure to see your niece saiely "There ir, no need in the world of anyone accompanying me!" said the young lady, with great decision. "Eliza would not hurt a fly. I really prefer driving alone." "That is like you, Barbara. You are always so brave," cried Miss Milly. "But remember, love, that I am older and more nervous, and since Mr. Reynolds so kindly offers, I accept for you, Barbara, and I insist on you availing youirself of his kindness." "You are perfectly right. Miss Blithe. It would not be safe, to say the least, for Miss Perry to attempt to return home alone. A«id, far from inconveniencing me, it would be a great pleasure," urged the young man. He seated himself on a fallen tree trunk and stripped the cover from his banjo, keeping his eyes fixed on a portion of tho landscape where it was impossible for them to encounter the eyes of Miss Milly's niece. A moment later a particularly vivacious "Rule, Britannia" enlivened the somnolent country a Sometihing in the exultant the melody caused Miss Barbara to gather in her pretty brows. Eliza, however, was unfeignedly pleased. At the first notes her ears twitched, assuming an upright attitude suggestive of earnest attention, At "Britons, never, never," she turned her head and regarded the player with what appeared to be unqualified approval. Slowly gathering her forces together, she rose in a dignified nranner at the first chorus, and drew the phaeton from the line. The spectators cheers. The guard shouted a warning, a general scramble for seals enoued, and Miss Milly had just time enough to ensconce the new protector in the phaeton, while she took the vacant place in the train. When the last carriage had round-view, 6with Miss^illy's handkerchief fluttering like a white moth from one of the rear windows, Miss Perry gathered the reins. "Do you mean," she saiid, addressing the empty air directly in front of the phaeton, "that you will continue to force yourself upon me the entire distance heme?" "I promised Miss Blithe to take vou home in safety, and, of course, I mean to fulfiill my promdse." -"But my aunt is gone now with a perfectly easy mind. A child of two could drive Eliza, and I really prefer going alone." "1 couldn't reconcile it with m;y conscience. You might meet with some accident, and then how could I face Miss Blithe? One never knows what will happen -- especially in driving ex-circus horses." "If you are determined to be so horrid', the best thing I can do is to get home as soon as possible," remarked the young lady. For some moments they drove on in silence. When tho voice came again from the left hand of the phaeton it had undergone a change. It was positively bumble. "Please don't be so hard on me," it pleaded. "The temptation was really too much -- a whole ride with you when I'd been trying for weeks s whip-hand side had apparently nothing to add, the left-hand resumed: "You don't know how about that affair at the seaside, and how I suffered after I cooled down. I admit it was all my fault, and 1 wrote to you begging you to forgive me. But you sent the letter back unopened. Isn't there something I can do to win back your good opinion? I'd do anything you say, nc matter what." "You might get out of the carriage and allow mo to go on alone. I should really appreciate that," said the whip-hand with instant readiness. 'Whatever the left-hand intended to say in reply was left unsaid, for at this point the phaeton stopped suddenly. Eliza was sitting down "I suppose I must accede to your demands," she said, "or I shall b here permanently." "Bo you invite me of your ow: free will to accompany you home?' "Yes, I supnose so." "Cordially?" "You never said it must be cor dial." "It must certainly be cordial." "Well, cordially, then." "I am entirely at your service,' he answered, opening the banjo-case Five minutes afterwards a rotund wthite mare jogged easily along charming country lane drawing pjhaetctn which contained a man wl latugbed and a girl wtho protested, albeit not wrat/hfully, that something or other was a mean advantage and detestably unfair.--London Answers. CATCHING WILD ELEPHANTS. letimes Fifty Are Captured at One Time. when the ,rld v elephant herds may have come iii winter l.o the Chitta-gong jungles. Ancient kings of Hind, writes Stephen French Whitman Everybody's Magazine, took in pitfalls, and used them in or as symbols of their rank and power in peace. The English, looking with Western eyes at the great, powerful, docile beasts, saw that they were good to bear the guns and stores of their army into places where men alone could not take them ; so they, too, began to trap them in stockades. The Indian Government made elephant department that grew the years. Men wero well paid study the ways of elephants, best methods of taking and keeping them. India was dotted with depots for training them, headquarters men like Petersen So.hib. This i the first great elephant catcher, duced the process of capturing' them but fifty at a coup--a herd Oiere idete. After a herd is trapped, tamed elephants have their part to play in tying up ti.oir wild brethren. The attack by the tame beasts is sudden, rough and disconcerting. They have been trained in many a dusty combat, and have learned how to conquer unscientific frenzy by system. Working in pairs, they drive at the huddled herd to break it up, to single out solitary victims and hold them until they are tied. Here are two tame elephants that have got one big, terrified beast between them. They shunt him dexterously from his fellows and wedge him against a tree, one on each of him. The nooscrs slip down the tame elephants' tails, and while the beasts with blunted tusks the breath out of their captiv men with trailing ropes dodge bravely among the massive, scuffling feet. White one may write loops are al>out the wild one's hind legs and fast to the tree trunk. At once the trained beasts draw apart, their drivers dashing dust derisively into the amazed, enraged prisoner's weeping eyes. Leavirig him to strain and bellow uselessly, the nooscrs mount; the drivers turn back into the melee for another. The clamorous work goes on and the herd is fettered, beast by beast, in the heart of Its own jungle. When the sun has set and the last great knot is tied, order comes from chaos with the clearing of the battle-cloud. They arc all safe, fettered and shamed, jungle kings naked and in bonds before these little folks with the master minds. The sahibs gather under the swing, ing gun-cases and the lighted lamp in the tent. Smoking sleepily, they listen to the report of Nur Ali, who Reynolds fell back upon the seat and howled. The situation soon proved too much for his companion also. They laughed together until Eliza cocked her ears in astonish- "Good old Eliza!" cried the young man when ho had partially recovered. "She kuiows a thing or two. She won't budge a. step until I play 'Rule, Britannia,' and 1 will never play a note of it until you invito me to accompany you the rest of the . take i advant- b you going "You age like that, suti-ely' "Won't I, though?' "But that is most unfair." "All is fair in war and»-^-" "Please play," she interrupted quickly. ivite me?" "I am not. I shall start Eliza The attempt to set Eliza in moon by alternate kindness and dis-pline was a failure. At the end of fifteen minutes Miss Barbara returned to her seat exhausted. "The tethered herd is in the best shape. The koomeriahs, the king's beasts, have all but stopped fighting against fate already. Because they are kingly beasts they may be taken to the river between the tame ones to bathe. Then men may be set beside them to fan them with palms all day, and sing to them and break them to the presence of men. All of the captives have had sugar-cane, as was ordered. In five days, then, when all the elephants have worn themselves out, it will be possible, Allah willing, to tie the new one our own beasts and start the march TRAINED TO POLITENESS. A woman tells of a monkey which she saw while in Paris, which so well trained in good manners that it was almost impossible to believe that he did not understand that said to him Tilt dr.pan Weekly Mail describes the animal's accomplish- , the monkey l the E e day, the creature stood low her to pass, and when she said ring !" he took oil his cap and bowed. e you going away ?" she ask-Where is your passport ?" Pulling off his cap, he took from the paper, opened it, and show- > her. Whe e one ob- -ed that her dress was dusty, the ikey took a brush from the table, and carefully brdshed her dress and then her shoes. When any one gave him food he ol-ays made a low how before taking . and then ate it slowly and daintily. He had been taught to eat spoou, and to use a knife and fork. He could lock and unlock a drawer, thread a needle, : a bottle, and polish his mas-shoes, /tie seemed to take great pleasure in gay company, md paid close attention to the conversation, ^looking in turn at each speaker as if ho understood what This remarkable monkey was never placed on exhibition. Ho died at an early age, of pneumonia. TARTAR STREET WIZARD, THE SHAMMAN IS A WONDERFUL PERFORMER.^_ Tricks Whieh Simple Minded Admirers Regard as Incomprehensible. ^ "Shamman' Na, Shamman Na" -- "the Shamman is corning, the Shamman is coining" -- is the exclamation 1 hear flying from one flat-roofed housetop to another, where the Tartar residents are taking the air and idling away the cool autumn afternoon, writes a correspondent. It is a singular little procession in the main thoroughfare below which has evoked the cry, and n promises to break the stupifyi monotony of post-prandial life in the Minisinsk townlet on which tl far Siberian mountains look dow Swaggering along in front are couple of dwarfed men, four-feet-ten or thereabouts in height, garbed a few dirty cotton rags, the refuse of some local Mongolian tolchok. Each has a rag knotted round the loins, leaving back and breast bare, cotton rags crossaied around ankles and feet, leaving the legs uncovered, and a third rag twisted about thi head, with the tatters hanging low onto the shoulders. One carries t ■side drum something like a big ginger jar, on which lie bangs away as ho marches along; the other has trumpet certainly not less tl eight feet long, with which he c< trives to imitate the braying of donkey, to the intense delight of the tag-rag and bobtai! of the neighboring villages and tchifliks who art hurrying up beside him. Following the dwarfs comes a nondescript creature, seemingly all head and legs, with no body or trim* tween, a strangely garbed bei scarcely human in appearance. 11 difficult, indeed, to believe at first that it can be a man at all. The head, shoulders, and half of the upper body have been Wrapped in a long roll of cloth to look like an enormous turban. The abdomen has been left naked, and the skin painted to resemble a human face, with eyes the size of saucers and a mouth stretching wide from side to side. A cummerban'd round the waist completes the get-up. The effect of the whole is that of a huge head borne along upon a couple of lanky legs without a body to unite them. By a peculiar twitching of the rib muscles the painted features are made to play in a most grotesque fashion, and the man ambles along in a sort of dancing measure, something between v Western jig and the Eastern cutchi-cutrhi wriggle, which is distinctly funny. This singular figure is followed by an ass, attired in Tartar kaftan and khalat. who walks upright on his hind legn and bows at intervals to right and left with all the gravity of a Turkish Miollah. Then come a couple of boys, from 12 to 13 years of-, ago, lithe and brown-skinned, win,/ glistening, clean-shaven crowns, and bare feet, absolutely naked save for a three-inch band taken round the loins. They have intelligent, good-natured faces, but seem sedate and quiet beyond their years. THE SHAMMAN. Behind the lads stalks a figure en-eloped in a long fur robe, the lhamman himself -- a wizard of rc-iown, it seems, among the Minis-insk Tartars, who are still votaries of the strange Old World cult which passes by the name of Shamman-The features of the Shamman overed, and he wears on hi3 head a flat, round fur cap, above hich is perched an eagle's skin, ith the wings extended on either side. On each shoulder is the head of a sacred Kissil Issik, or red fox, and from the fur cap and the upper part of his fur robe depend E long narrow cloth strips, reaching below the waist. To these aro attached a number of small bright metal knobs, buttons, rings, tiny bells, and similar ornaments. If there is one, there are 200 of these, dangling and clinking as the Shamman stalks along. He holds the Tiur, or sacred tambourine, in e hand, and the Orba, a loather-rercd mallet for beating it, in tho other. The rear of the procession is brought up by a sort of four-wheeled Arba cart of good si£e, completely covered, and in change of a couple of semi-nude attendants. The party, dwarfs, ass, Shamman, and boys, march on to the open space in front of the Ak Serai, or public hostlery, where strangers find shelter. Here the drummer, trumpeter, clown, and donkey, enter the Serni; the Arba, with its contents, is pushed up against the wall; the Shamman squats upon a little hillock of sand conveniently near, with his boy assistants on either side of him. The Tartar crowd who have followed form a half circle around, seated upon the bare earth, leaving a clear space in the center. Tho numbers increase rapidly as the eager townsfolk come up and Join the throng, so that by the time it is dUsk there are quite 500 to 600 people present, young and old, men, women and children. There aro elders in fur-lined caps and silk robes, m»;ch the worse for wear, workmen and traders in felt and homeepun garments. The Shamman rises and with a pointed stick traces in the sand a circle about thirty feet in diameter. The attendants in charge of the cart take from it six large lamps, light them and place them at regular intervals op the circumference. In the center they then put a heap of kindling wood, to wnich they set fire, and upon this they plant a big iron cauldron half full of water. The Shamman throws off his robes and headgear and tends revealed in the flare of the raokling wood fire, thin, brown-ikinned figure, nude save for the u,s-lal loin-cloth, and with a smooth, 'haven crown. Thin is scarcely the vord to apply to the wizard, for he looks a real living mummy. His dark, leathery skin is shrunk and shriveled, and folded, and paunched him, and the shape of his s ehi&i'h.- seen under tha enng integpment. His eyes s fixed in his head, and his seamed and worn face is apparently devoid of all expression whatever. Naked as he is, and without the possibility of concealing anything about near him, he stalks to the center of the lighted circle and begins a low, long chant in a subdued minor key. It is supposed to be in the sacrec jargon of the Shamman initiates. BIRDS TURNED INTO SERPENTS As he concludes his sing-song of the boys<--also, be it noted, naked and incapable of hiding anythi about him--takes a small basket the wizard, who receives it without turning, just holding out his r hand behind his back. From basket he takes, one after the er, seven eggs, counting them ai takes them, and drops them into the cauldron, from which a light steam is already beginning to : " Tho second boy brings him a small box, not more than four inches square, I should judge, from which tho Shamman takes something, which he throws into the cuuhl; Instantly there rises a strong n the sound pf a cock crowing is heard, and there fly out of the steaming pot over the fire sei fowls, one after another, flappi their wings and alighting on i grctind by the wizard's side. The two boys bring stout bamboos i fit together. The Shamman takes lour and inserts one in the other till he has a pole about twenty feet long, the lower end of which sticks into the ground grasping with one hand to hold it erect. With the other he grips the fowls one by one and flings them back into the cauldron. I can distinctly hear the splash in tho water as the birds seem to fall into the pot. Then a steam rises, the Shamman begins a gentle hissing between his closed teeth, and there glide out of the cauldron and on to the po'e he holds sciven snakes, which wriggle to the top and hang and twine and sway about there, keeping time to the wizard's gentle sibiiiation. They look like animated ribbons flapping about against the dusky background of sky. But the two naked lads come forward again, each with a pistol in his hand. They fire them at the serpents. and before the smoke has cleared away tho snakes are gone, and no trace of them is anywhere to be seen. The space all round the Sham-man is open, nothing can be hidden or concealed there. The disappearance of the akes is as absolute as the appear-ice of the fowls. The lads take the bamboos from their master, poke them into the cauldron and stir the water round and round to show that there is absolutely nothing in it. They turn the eauletron >ver, so that the liquid falls hissing >n to the fixe beneath, which it ex-inguishes. The cauldron is certainly quite empty. THE COTTAGE LADY. One of the finest familes of England in the last century was that of the famous Gurneys of Earlham, of whom was the beloved Elizabeth rry, another tho wife of Fowell Bux-on, and two other ministers among he Friends. All of them, brothers ind sisters alike, wero deeply interested in the great reforms of the day. There was another Gurney, however, hose life, in its brave and self-forgetful endurance, was tne most heroic of all. This was Anna Gurney of Keswick, known as the "Cottage Lady." Her story is told l Hare's "Gurneys of Earlham." When only a child, Anna Gurney had been stricken with paralysis, which left her so helplessly crippled that she never moved without chanical aid. Denied active life, she immediately turned to books, a studied so eagerly that her tut could scarcely keep pace with hi Greek and Latin came first, then Hebrew, then modern languages. With ndomitable energy she even tra"\ to Rome and Athens, an undertaking whose magnitude we, in these day-can scarcely conceive. On- her return, she threw herself eagerly into the life at home. She became the "providence" of tho wl became the "providence" of 1 whole countryside, looked after 1 poor and kept in touch with 1 children, who. wherever she we: were always attracted to her. Not content with this, she carri on a large missionary correspor encc, and helped her cousin, Fow Buxton, in his work. She was bright and so full of enthusiasm that no one in her presence could remember the affliction that she forgot. The body might be prisoned, but the soul knew the freedom of the universe. The cottage where she and a beloved cousin lived was a hous .11 the widest meaning of the word. But not yet had she dis. her work. She lived net and the frequent wrecks a her >uld walk i she bought l With life- saving appi danger had herself wheeled down to the beach and directed the rescue. Her knowledge of languages proved now to be an important part of her equipment; many a shipwrecked sailor felt courage come back to his heart at the sound of his mother tongue. Each one she helped as his need demanded, and sent back to his When at last her long life imprisonment was over, two thousand people followed to the grave but, the little worn-out body fishermen alone. It v and none denied them. ----f-- n now be rolled into that 4,000 laid to-only an inch in is proposed to use g paper where last-desired. • right, gether BRITAIN'S DEAD HEROES. WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO PERPETUATE THEIR MEMORY. The Guards' Monument -- Honors Paid the Great Duke of Wellington. At a time when, in so many parts of the United Kingdom, memorials of our soldiers who fell so bravely in South Africa are being unveiled, it may be interesting to review some of the monuments raised to the memory of our heroes of past generations, says London Tit-Bits. Of these, few are more interesting than the imposing monument, crowned with a figure holding a wreath of laureal in outstretched hand, which in Waterloo Place perpetuates the valor of 2,162 officers and men of tho Guards who gave their lives for their country in the Crimea half a century ago. It is appropriate that the very guns which, at Sebastopol, vomited death to the soldiers whose bravery they now symbolize. The great Duke of Wellington has been, perhaps, more honored in this way then any soldier who ever lived. 'The. very car on which his remains were borne through the crowded London streets to their last resting place in St. Paul's Cathedral was made from the guns he had captured at Waterloo and in the Peninsula. This historic car, which may be seen in the crypt of St. Paul's, is a colossal vehicle nearly six yards high, 16 feet long, lf> feet in width, and weighing nearly 12 tons; and, although it was built in the almost incredibly short period of three-weeks, its cost was LITTLE LESS THAN $250,000. The striking Achilles statue raised in Hyde Park to the memory of the "Iron Duke" by the women of England was also mado from the metal of captured guns; and so was the much abused equestrian statue ot Wellington which for so many years-wned the arch at Hyde Park rner, and which, some years ago, s removed to Aldershot; while tha stately obelisk which Ireland erected her greatest son in Phoenix Pari* s fashioned from the French gun» which mowed down our men at Wain pathetir contrast to such costly nd dignified monuments as these re some of tho memorials of bravo fficers who lie buried in the African' veldt. There is nothing to mark the place where tho bravo and ill-fated General Colley, who gave up Majuba Hill, fell, save a small mound of stones, roughl thrown together, with the words 'Colley fell" inscribed on the top-nost one; and his grave at Majuba, which is within sight of the famous and fatal hill, is outlined by a simple kerb, and at its head is a tiny ie cross, such as would bt ght scarcely worthy of tho simplest burgher; and Lieuts. Ceghill: and Melville, who died so gcallantlj! to save the colors at Isandlwana, lie at tho foot of a rocky eminence with only a plain cross to mark their resting place. General Gordon's grave is unknown and unmarked; but his memory iii preserved for centuries by some qf the most imposing monuments in England. Among them, St. Paul's Cathedral has its beautiful altar-tomb with the recumbent figure oi the hero; and at Gravesend there is a most effective and pibturesque- IN HONOR OF GORDON, in which ho is represented mounted) on a richly caparisoned camel, apparently looking wit h gravo eye* across a wide stretch of desert. Lord Raglan, whose name is so-imperishably associated with the Crimea, died just within sight of the crowning victory, and lies buried with his forefathers at Badminton, where a magnificent tablet, with a pendent wreath, the tribute of the men who had fought under him, records his brave deeds. Sir Henry Havelock, who, like Lord Raglan, died on the very eve of victory, and? without knowing the honors his valor had won, is buried at Lucknow, and over his grave a tall obelisk oi roughly-hewn stones has been erected; while another monument in Trafalgar Square serves to keep his memory green. Two plain slabs cover the remaint in Westminster Abbey of Sir James Outram, "The Bayard of India," and the equally gallant Sir Colin Campbell, Lord Clyde. Lord Napier of Magdala, the hero of Magdala and the brilliant Abyssinian campaign, lies in the crypt of St. Taul's, where a chaste and beautiful altar-tomb on pedestals, and a tablet with a medallion portrait, are not unworthy memorials of one of our bravest generals. Colonel Burnaby and Sir Herbert Stewart both rest amid the silence of the Soudan desert, where they fought such a good fight--tho memory of tho latter being preserved in St. Paul's by a tablet in three pan- . the of port i relief of the MIDGET SCREWS. Here are some interesting facts bout the minuteness of some of the crews made in a watch factory. It takes nearly 130,000 of a certain kind to weigh a pound. Under a microscope they appear in their true acter -- perfectly finished bolts. The pivot of the balance wheel is only one two-hundredth part of an inch in diameter, and the gauge with which pivots are classified measure* to the ten-thousandth part of a» inch. PLAN NOW FOR SUMMER TOURS No matter when you are going, if i the United States, write to Fred. P. Fox, care Lackawanna Railroad, Buffalo, N.Y., for rates and routes, cheap excursions during the-a Atlantic City, Boston New York. Excursion ratb» i effect *o «0» isawrts. Fla»