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IbJLV JR'ffWMP| , VKKE. \ AMD OVINE *A«fl Art*™ p*(Hitnp thence to f»l* Travails WW throes and n«onics of the life, D '«Ir M( to b« joined to Guinevere and tlrnkinf as be rode: * * • *SlwIl I not lift her from this land of beasts gftD tlM throne and side by side witii meT Wb«*b«^pJnesH to ifipn a lonely King, •raw With waste dreams? for, saving I j o f s « l m , : . , Tolwr toat ia the fairest un ler heavffL I mm a* nothing in the mighty worl#,/ l" be •Sir Latincelot went Ambassador at first To fetch her, and she watched him from ber yalis; • rumor mns sbs took him for the King, So Ox«d h^r face on him. * * The sun of May descended on their King, Th»y gazed o;j all earth's beauty in tht-ir Queen, , Railed Inoi iise and there passed along the hymns • A voice as of the waters while the two Swore at the shrine of Christ a dtathlrss lov^ i And Arthur sa d, 'Behoid thy doom is mine,' J To Whom thw Queen replied with drooping eyes, : 'Let chance what will, I love thee to the death. " \ j K,- ra. *Qoeen Guinevere had fled the court and sat There in the holy house at A lmesbury Weeping, none with her save a little maid. • * A murmuring whisper through the nunnery ran. Then on a sudden cry, "Tho King!' she tat Stiff stricken, listening, but when armed feet Rang coming, prone from off her seat she fell And groveled with her face asaiu^t the floor. Sh<> made her fact- a darkross from the King, And in the darkness Lear.l l.is armed feet Pause ov her; then came silence, then a voice; Denouncing judgment, but though changed, the KineX Tear not thou Shalt be guarded till my death, Thou hast, not made mv life so sweet to me That I. the Kinp, should preatly care to live, Fr>r thou i:as; spoil ed the purpose of my life, And all is pa «e<1, tho sin is finned, and I Lo. I forcivo tli o as eternal Go,I Forgives: do thou for thine own soul the rest I*" LOVED IN VAIN. r BTB.H.U "How do you like her, Jud?" • "" Young Doctor Gilbmithe looked up at •bin cousin a second before answering. "If she were worth a hundred thousand I /would maray her to-morrow. Sue is a girl ; who, ten years from now, will do honor to even a Gilbraithe." Alice was 6ilent, and outside the. open door, in the hall, Carmie had come all mi­ sheard in her slippered feet, but not un- , hearing, and stood silent also. She was not vain, so felt a strange deligbt in this - man's words, crael and bear; less as they were; but she was prond and sensitive and ;her eyes flushed, and something of the i superb power that Jutlsou Gali>r:'.ithe pro­ phesied for ten years hence thrilled her as : Bhe stood there; then, nothing bat a girl, . she shivered as she thought how easily she co.uld have been won by this hand­ some, careless man had she been wealthy --won, but not loved; and she creptqnietly away, wondering if she couid ever be anything to be piond of--anything but a poor, paid governess. „ i'V-Wi'"- f x saying that you love a>«. Had yon so then, the girl Carmie would 'have believed with a faith tho ^ oninn ha3 not. I am glad you didn't s iy this then, even if you cared for me; you did me a greater service, for, after hearing your opinion of me I crept away, and after the first outbreak I de­ termined to make my life worth living, even if it might never be 'worthy a Gal. braithe;' and the words that wounded so cruelly at first proved the incentive and watchword to something better than I then dnred dream. Years ago I should have considered vonr offer to me to-night the best of all. and wonld have thought myself avenged^ but now I am only sorry that any one should suffer through caring for me." * The sweet, earnest voice was silent; the waves moaned and sobbed on the sands below like some doomed, homeless soul, and the music floated out to them wild and sweet--dying in a crash and wail of anguish. "Is there no hope, if you have forgiven my foolish, mercenary words? Oh, Carmie, let me live for vou, and prove my love by Chat!" She turned with a face as white as his in the moonlight, and a look of pain in her grave eves; then, very softly, with a world of saddened tenderness in her voice, "I am engaged to marrv Philip Leicester; we have cared for each other a long time." And then Leicester's tall form came upon the terrace. He took Carniie's hand upon his arm, and drew ^her (.oft shawl around her wilh a proud air of possession; while Carmie, ever thoughtful for this strong man's passion and the sorrow that had settled like darkness upon him, led Philip down the steps and away under the great calm stars and the moonlight to walk in the glory ot perfect love together. "Thirty to-day! Once I should have considered myself old at this age, with the best of my life passed. »nd little before me : to enjoy; but now I am very happy, thank­ ful, and content." Carmie Brownell was looking across the blue 6e& waters, ber hands resting upon the railing of the balcony, her calm, sweet 5 face grave and thoughtful. The climbing ivy and the rose threw flut­ tering leaf shadow-s and sunshiue upon her tall, lithe form; and people on the beach below turned to look at the unconscious figure a second time. "Who is she, Leicester?" * "Miss Brownell." "Is that all there is to say of her?" "No; I might talk a day or two of her, uidyou would be as little acquainted." "You are unusoallv reticent. She must have incurred your lordship's displeasure, " and you. punish by ignoring her." "We are good friends; but I knew that your questions were prompted by idle curi­ osity. and thought I would wait until you met her. She has won a fair fame and considerable wealth, I believe, by untiring patience aud labor. She 'has triumphed over every obstacle, met trouble and disap­ pointment that would have crushed a woman less brave, and now, from it all she brings, instead of a cynical, selfish nature, one so thoroughly pure that men are made belter for her living." "She is wealthy, famous, bat still un­ married*" "Yes; even an old maid, if you like. : Bat no one ever thinks of that." Philip Leicester frowned, and there was a ring of displeasure in his sweet, strong J voice. It angered him to hear thin cool questioning, even from a friend. Doctor Gaibraithe, at his side, handsome, fascinating, worldly-wise, and a trifle ® worldly-wild, turned again to look at the white-robed figure. - They sauntered back an hoar later, just as Miss Brownell tightened the reins over her high-stepping blacks. Those are magnificent animals, by Jove!* exclaimed Gaibraithe. "Yes; she handles them perfectly, too." And Philip's dark eyes flashed, and a wonderful light swept over his face, with the smile and bow he gave Carmie Brownell; ' while she gave a glance at both, but a smile to only one, as she dashed by. And the second time that day the fastidi- ous Judson Gaibraithe turned to look at a woman. He had quite forgotten her, however, - until he saw her that evening in a little crowd in the large drawing-room. Philip Leicester was one of the crowd, and Galbraiihe made his "way toward them to be introduced. She rose, smiling, gracious, thoroughly a lady, with no pretence to girlishness. There were valley lilies at her belt, valley lilies in the soft lace at her throat, and valley lilies in the loose, low-coiled hair, i Her eyes were clear, brave, tender; her face one that changed with every thought, but was ever pure and true. The summer passed, as all summers have a way of doing, and one night, when the season was almost ended, Carmie Brownell stood upon the terrace in the moonlight, listening to (he roar and moan of the waters. J udson Gaibraithe found ber there/look-* ing like some still, restful picture; but she turned with her old smile as he asked, • *Did you come to escape the crowd?" "No; for had the crowd been here I should have stayed, I love the sea so much. I never dance, you know, and shall not be missed." "I missed you, and searched ' until I found you--dreaming." "Perhaps I am given to dreaming; but to-night I was thinking of my past life." "Yonr past, like your present, is good to femember." He spoke with a shade of bitterness; for what did hers make his own careless, worldly one appear? "I was only thinking of the starting point Shall we return?" "Not unless you wish it; for I have wanted to see you alone, but have not been . able to do so. You must know what it is I hfivc to tell, for no man cun be with vou Without learning to love and respect vou. My life is not worthy to offer; but you" can make me what'you will. Oh, Carmie, love yon. I love you! Will you say that you car© for me and will be my "wife?" His fi«-e was pale with the great passion which thrilled his soul,his eyes were burn­ ing and bright as they searched her face for one tender look, and his hands closed ttpon hers with a tierce, o'ermastering grasp; but she was looking away from his face, beyond the line of harbor lights « ,lheIlTvery 8ea itKelf' RS answered, filowljr, is it myself or mv hundred thou- •sand that you vou id marry?" All tho scorn and subdued feelings of those twelve years rang out in the clear proud voice. ' •Yourself! What do I care for your • wealth? Come to me penniless; bat for , Vottr love, 1 will work for both; Onlv tell «u« I c.m, dearest." "Wait until I repeat your words of twelve yca.'s Let me show you how well I *ci»em!ter. You said of Carmie lirowuell, t poor aud friendless girl, 'Were she worth Hero Worship. ; There would not be any fieri) worship in the world if it were not for women. Of course there would not be any re­ ligion. Men are utterly irreligious, and, being accustomed to take care of themselves in this world, they seem to be pretty confident of their ability to do the same in the next. They don't object to take care of women in this world, bat they display an titter in­ difference as to their future beyond the grave, and women, consequently, have a dim idea that some religion is advisa­ ble, if not indispensable. It is, how­ ever, the women that make heroes out of men and heroines out of women. All the time men, for instance, hurrahed for Grant; but they disputed his laurels, criticised his strategy, fought about his tactics, and tempered every­ thing with a reservation. But the women--they simply worshiped him and never disputed anything. It does not take much in a woman's eyes to make a man a hero. A rather vague conception of what is heroic is some­ times noticable, but--bless them--they are so queer and so enthusiastic that it doesn't matter a button what a man has done to make himself talked about. "He's committed a murder!" "Poor man!" "He's tun away with another man's wife." "How cunning!" . "He's robbed a bank." "Do let me see him!" That's the way they talk. Men can only make a heroine out of ballet girl who has no talent. If an actress is bright, clever, and agreeable, the women spoil her. It isn't the men. An actress who is an artist does not care half as much for the adulation of men as for the worship of women. The idol of the dudes, the idol of men without brains, is never more than a curiosity to women. They do not even envy her, even if she be of world-wide notoriety. The woman on the stage who has style, and self-respect, and brains gets more ardent admiration from her sisters than men are capable of, and it pleases her, keeps up her self-respect, and develops her brains. And where women admire, you will always find the men whose characters and tastes stand highest. But women's taste in men is different. They don't understand the sex, and are apt to be misled into admiring unde­ serving men. But still they can make them heroes, even if other men deny everything about them. Patti always liked to capture the female part of her audiences. She never spoke about the flowers and jewels even Kings and Princes sent to her; but she never missed once the corsage bouquet torn from the bosom of one of her own sex in the auditorium and thrown impul­ sively at her feefc--San Francisco Chronicafe Little Tot. The old people had talked it over for a long time. After the boys went to the city to grow np with the noisy place, they had Mary left to make the old home bright and joyous. Then the young minister came; when he went away to answer a call from Iowa he took Mary with him. Then the old folks were all alone. A lonely house on the farm where visitors are few and visits far between is indeed a place of desolation. The old gentleman made confidants of the cows and horses, and they turned their great ,big soft eyes toward him> as he told them all about his troubles. And the old lady, she told her troubles to the house-dog and the chickens. By the lamplight, across the table, and upon the porch at twi­ light they talked about it. They were lonesome and wanted company. They wanted little feet to trample up and down the old stair*, and to and fro across the bare, painted floors. Silver flecked the two old heads and wrinkles seamed the cheeks; but the old, old hearts wanted the music of a fresh youhg voice to echo through the rooms whose walls had encompassed no young face for years and years. And so little Tot was brought home from an orphan asylnm. They laid a little tin plate for her and told her to eat. But Tot couldu't eat. They tucked her up in a pretty white bed, and told her to sleep. But Tot couldn't sleep. All night long she lay awake with her great blue eyes wide open, watching the moonlight sifting through the curtains, painting wavering, sifting pictures back of the bed. In the morning Tot's eyes were heavy and red. She had not slept wink all night long. The two old peo­ ple showered their wealth of love upon the little orphan, and told her to play and be happy. But Tot didn't play; and Tot wasn't happy. Day after day her face grew more and more thm and white. Her little limbs were scarcely strong enough to drag her small body about. After a few more weeks had passed they buried Tot under the apple-tree in the garden, and cried over her grave as though she was of their own flesh and blood, and the old folks are alone once more.--Detroit Free Press. He Knew What He Was Abort. "How could you expose yourself in that manner?" said a sympathizing friend to a man who had had both legs and an arm blown off by fooling with a dynamite bomb. "Whist," replied the wounded man, in a whisper, "I know my business. If »ullu I recover I can get a lucrative engage- hnndred thousand I would many her to- I ment in a dime museum. You see it I worth it now, and you coma | was worth the rwk."-Teeaa Sifting* MtlNKflW HABITS. Sober Moa Ara Wanted Sow In All Slndt of Boilaeu--The Drinker an Ofejwt of Dis­ trust. The other day a reporter overheard a saloon-keeper objecting to a bar-keeper because he was addicted to drinking the beverages which he sold, and the absurdity of the proposition made quite an impression not only upon tne reporter, but others who heard the same' conversation. The business of the bar-keeper is to "make men drunk," and objecting to a bar­ keeper because he himself did what he was hired to nake other men do was as funny as a refusal of a physician to take his own medicine. Still the refusal to employ this bar-keeper because he drank is one of the signs of the times, and shows that the saloon-keeper is simply taking the same precautions in his own business that the average man assumes in other vocations. No matter how skilled *n employe may be, or how popular, the fact that he is dissipated is a constant menace to his employer, for there is ho telling how soon he may turn up too drunk for business, and as a general rule he generally takes the most unfavorable time for his? debauch, choosing the hour when his services are in particular demand. It is true of a bar-tender the same as a railway employe, and for that reason the saloon­ keeper, in a business point of view, no more wants a drunken employe that does the man who may be conscien­ tiously opposed to the traffic. Twenty-five years ago a wave of in­ temperance swept over the country, following close upon the heels of the war, and really a part of the demoraliz­ ing influence of that struggle, and from the chief of a division to one in the most menial capacity a spree was as common as pay-day, and # it excited about as little criticism as any other or­ dinary circumstance in connection with his daily or weekly duties. The re­ porter remembers that his employers, as well as the loremen of the various departments, not counting the ordinary employes, thought no more of a debauch than if it was the simplest aDd most or­ dinary circumstance of their daily t uty, and there was a general looking forward from one week to another for the means to be spent in dissipation, as if to drink was the chief aim, and for that matter the chief end of man. A drunk excited no comment in those days, either, for it was not regarded as it is now, and as it should be, as disgraceful and humilat- ing. Now, the chances are that if an employe, no matter what may be his position, or how valuable may be his services, indulges in a debauch, he finds his place taken by a sober man, and whether it be a railway, or even a saloon itself, soberness is enforced as a con­ dition of continued employment. It is the same in all departments of labor, even in a brewery, aud this shows what sparked and radical change there has been in public opinion within the time mentioned. It is no more noticeable in one than the other, although it may be more particularly enforced in some de­ partments than in others. And public opinion has even gone farther and put the seal of condemnation upon the sale of intoxicants, so that, no matter how the vender of liquors may demean him­ self, he "is a saloon-keeper" is always spoken in a tone of contempt for the business, and try it in what way he may, he cannot get above the prejudice of his calling. It is thrown up to his family, and-they are made to feel it in more ways than one, but always in a way that makes them loathe the very name, and to always refer to it as a humilating fact of which they are heartily ashamed. In the olden days to which reference was made, it was part of the glory of the fireman that he could be depended upon to "paint her red" upon the slight­ est provocation, a$d his debauches were as frequent as the fires which ^ he was supposed to extinguish. Of recent years this dissi­ pation has been tabooed among fire­ men, and with each year the line has been more closely drawn, until recently not only has an order been issued that the first oflense of drunkenness will be followed by dismissal, but firemen have been prohibited from entering a saloon while on duty, which is practically an embargo, as they are on duty the entire time, with the single exception of one night off m every seven, so that, were they so disposed, there is but little op­ portunity for them to indulge in the aeverage, which always degrades and downs a man, handle it as tenderly and gingerly as he may. With the majority of the members this order is accepted as the correct thing, and it meets with their hearty approval. It was, as one of them remarked to a reporter: "A driver or a pipe-man should never in­ dulge in intoxicants, for often he has to think quickly and act instantly, and a mistake, were his brain befuddled with drink, would not only endanger him­ self but his associates. Were a drunken man to fall from a ladder, he would not only carry himself down, but whoever else might be on the ladder with him, and if be is driving there is the same necessity for a clear head, for it some­ times takes quick judgment to avoid a collision that might result fatally to a citizen, if not the other members* of the company who are dependent upon him to steer clear of danger in rapid runs. A fellow may think he can drink and it will never hurt him, but some day he is called out on a run at a time when, owing to his befuddled condition, he should not be entrusted with the lines, and then an accident results. If it is known that he drinks there is never the confidence in his judgment which there would be were he entirely sober, and whether he gives cause or not, his associates are always uneasy for fear that something will occur." This fireman but sounded the ob­ jection to a drunken man in all the de­ partments of life where there is action and responsibility, and every day the sentiment has additional growth that the man who drinks, sooner or later will be responsible for some mishap that ends in misfortune to himself, if not injury to his comrades, and the crippling of life and limb. A drunken foreman would not now be tolerated in any factory; a drunken train-dispatcher has-become a relic of the past; so also a drunken engineer. A man is consid­ ered to have degraded himself if he drinks, and in every department he is being pushed to the rear to make room for the workman who may not* be so competent, but who is always sober. This is not the cry of a fanatic, but simply a plain business fact, and the man dependent upon a salary is a fool if he does not respect the drift and gov' ern himself accordingly. He would raise an outcry at once did he think that an associate was trying to under mine his situation, and BO the greater fool he, that he paves the way himself for his successor, by yielding to a habit that, in the present temper of public opinion, degrades him individually, puts a stigma upon his family, a-nrl im poreruhe* them by removing from him the possibility of providing for their needs. Twenty years ago a man could drink and the world would smile; ten years ago, the same thing, and the world disoreetly ignored it; but now it is met with oontempt and derision, and the earliest opportunity is seized to crowd the dissipant to the rear, and supplant him with one who comes sober to his task, and who for that reason can be depended upon for a clear brain and a Bteady nerve. Lee at Fredericksburg. In the Century, Maj. J. Horace X*oy gives some of his reminiscences of Gen. Lee. From his article we quote as follows: "Ascending the heights, I soon reached what was called the headquar­ ters battery of Gen. Lee. . Afar across the valley and river in the gray light of the early morning could be seen the white porches of my home, Chatham, made historio by Federal army corre­ spondents, as tne 'Lacy House.' The porches were filled with officers and gayly-dressed women, and from half a score of brass bands rang out across the valley 'Yankee Doodle,' and 'Hail, Columbia!' The commanding officer of the battery asked me if I would permit him to Scatter the unbidden guests at my home. At his request I asked Gen. Lee to authorize the fire of the heavy guns, which would have laid Chatham in the dust, With a smile' he refused, and, asking me to walk with him, we withdrew a short distance. He then motioned me to sit by him on the trunk of a large tree. "Looking across at Qhatham through his field-glass he said, 'Major, I never permit the unnecessary effusion of blood. "War is terrible enough, at its best, to a Christian man; I hope yet to see you and your dear family happy in your old home. Do you know I love Chatham better than any place in the world except Arlington! I courted and won my dear wife under the shade of those trees. By the way, not long since I was riding out with my stall', and, observing how your grand old trees had been cut down by those peo- jle, I saw that a magnificent tulip pop- ar at the head of the ravine, north of the house, was still standing, and, with somewhat Of your rhetoric, I said to Venable and Taylor: "Thereis nothing in vegetable nature so grand as a tree. Grappling with its roots the granite foundations of the everlasting hills, it reaches its sturdy and gnarled trunk on high, spreads its branches to the heavens, casts its shadow on the sward, and the birds build their nests and sing amid its umbrageous foliage. Behold, the monarch stripped of attendants and guards awes the vandal by the simple majesty of his sublime isolation" Pock­ eting my field-glass, and riding on, I heard mingled with laughter a request from the young gentlemen that I Vould bring my glass to bear once more on the monarch of the forest. I looked, and even while I had been talking the ax of the vandal was laid to the root, and the monarch had fallen.' "Then, moved by emotion unusual to his calm and equable nature, he con­ tinued, 4I had three hundred acres of woodland at Arlington. Serving the United States Government for many years on the frontier, I marked with my own hand each tree that was to be used for timber or fuel. They tell me all my trees are gone--yours are all gone'; then rising from the log, with a fire and a passion rarely witnessed in him, and with all the majesty of his sublime presence, he said: 'Major, they have our trees; they;, shall never have the land P "Three years after the close of the war I was a visitor at the homo of Gen. Lee, then President of Wasliington and Lee University. After dinner the General retired, and I was invited to see Mrs. Lee in her chamber. She was a great sufferer and confirmed in­ valid, incapable of motion save in a roller-chair, which it was the chief de­ light of him who had so long directed great armies to move from room to room, bending over her with the grace of a Sidney and the devotion of a youth­ ful lover. I told Mrs. Lee the story which I have so imperfectly attempted to reproduce. Need I tell any woman who reads these pages that the tears streamed down that patient, furrowed face, or that a light and joy from be­ yond the stars beamed through those tears, as she knew that the thoughts of her great husband wandered far away from the clash of arms to the memories of their youthful love and courtship under the shade of her ancestral oaks, for Chatham was originally the property of a near relative. As I concluded the sentence, 'They shall never have the land,' hearing a slight noise, I turned and saw the General, who had silently entered, in dressing-gown and slippers. The great buck-shot drops slowly rolled down that face, whose calm was never broken by the earthquake shock of bat­ tle. Slowly and silently he retired, and I could but feel the deepest com­ punction that words of mine should have sent another pang through that great heart." Seasonable Articles. A writer in the Boston Globe proffers couple of columns of advice as to what one should eat, drink, and wear in hot weather in order to keep cool. He recommends that fruit, especially berries, be eaten plentfnlly of in July and August, and asks, "Did you ever stop to think that if fruit was not especially intended to form the staple of our summer diet, it would not have been ordered to ripen in such profusion just at this particular time of the year ? Nature understands her business. She sends us neither raspberries, blue­ berries, blackberries, nor peaches in Januarv and February. But how she does snower them on us in July and August!" The argument sounds well, yet nature supplies us with ice in the winter when we have little deed of it to cool our drinks. Why doesn't she grow it in the heated months, when our systems de­ mand it most?--Texas Sifting8. "All Vegetables" The peculiar use of the words are often the source of misunderstanding and great amusement. A young lady student at a Boston conservatory was accosted by an old lady, when the fol­ lowing conversation opsued: "Good even', miss." "Good evening, madam." "Will you be so kind as to tell me where is the consairvat'ry ?" "Certainly, madam. Sphere is the building" (indicating it). A "An' will they let anybody see 'em?" "See whom?" "Och, the flowers, to be sure!" "Flowers? There are no flowers there." "Oh, is that so? Perhaps tHey find it more profitable to raise vegetables." WHO in the same given time can pro­ duce more than many others, has vigor; who can produce more and better, has talents; who can prodooe w else oan, has genius. ' T' * v.-V'/;-, *7" Doubtless every man who engages in business is entitled to a fair profit on the articles which he chooses to sell, and if competition is the soul of trade, a fair profit may stand at least as its heart. So, too, in trade and in profes­ sion, it must be regarded as just that he whose name is a guarantee of superiority of manufacturer or whose skill or judgment in any specialty is recognized as pre-eminent, whether he be lawyer, doctor, grocer, pianomaker, dry goods dealer, or what not. There can be no complaint on that score, and the additional price is always paid with­ out question. There is, however, one branch of trade in which the charging of excessive prices has reached a point that finds no warrant on the basis of a name or special skill, and the submission of the public to what is little better than mere extortion in this trade is one of the curious phases of modern life. Drugs, proprietary medicines and fancy articles of many sorts that go to make up the stock of the apothecary store constitute the goods concerned with this trade, and people pay every day for them amounts absurdly in advance of their possible cost to the dealer. A dollar is demanded for what at the very outside, counting shop rent, bottle, at­ tendance, name, skill, and minor ex­ penses of every sort, is worth not more than a quarter of that sum, and the price is paid, as has been said, without question. . As an example, a simple prescription of bromide of potassium and chloral was filled the other day at an up-town store. The prescription called for an ounce bottle of the mixture, so that the quantity of each of these inexpensive drugs was quite small. The price de­ manded was forty cents, vet the widest estimate could not make the actual cost more than something between fifteen and twenty cents. In another instance, one dollar was demanded for a quart of battery mixture, the in­ gredients of wfiich--bi-cliromate of potash, sulphuric acid and water--no one needs to be told are inexpensive. Moreover, in this case, when the buyer, a physician, asked for physicians' rates, the price was immediately lowered to fifty cents, and even at that figure it is fair to sufipose that the druggist was not losing money. The very fact that medicines are constantly -compounded for the personal ,use of physicians at a rate from 50 to 60 per cent, lower than that demanded of the ordinary customer is evidence enough of the wide margin of excessive profit left to the dealer. It is with no hope that reform is possible in this direction that these facts are given. As long as the public will pay those "fancy" prices, they will be demanded. To the rich the matter is of little consequence, and the poor are powerless to effect any change. Upon the latter class, however, the ex­ tortion bears most heavily, and it is a grevious fact that it seems possible to do nothing in their behalf.--New York Commercial Advertiaer. Ostrich Feathers. Ostrich chicken feathers are useless until they are a year old; they are rarely cut before. At twelve months they are cut off; the stumps dry, and alter a few weeks the bird sheds them, or they may be drawn out without pain and with ease. The feathers then take six months to grow before they can again be cut. Three pluckings are ob­ tained in two years' time. The process of plucking continues for many years, but it requires the greatest care to pre­ vent the feathers deteriorating. The feathers from the wild bird are the longest and finest, but rarely more than three on one bird are sufficiently per­ fect to render them fit for commerce. Hence the necessity of the farm. A male bird turns black at about the age of eighteen months. The black, and black-and-white feathers are pulled from different parts of the body; the white feathers come from one row only in the wing; tail-feathers are never as white as those in the wing, and are usually bleached for "tips." So little is known about the habits of the ostrich that people are surprised to find how the health of the bird affects its feath- i. In many of the best feathers is what appears to be a line running across the feather. This maybe is not caused by the packing-string' being too tightly tied, but by a day's illness. So delicate are the feathers and so inti­ mately and so wonderfully connected with the organization or the bird that a day's dyspepsia from overfeeding or underfeeding will leave this mark. A delicate bird has its feathers more or less marked throughout. Ostriches are not camped out for breeding until the male bird is 4 and the hen 3 years of age. They lay from ten to fifteen eggs and incubate forty-two days. The male bird is a pattern husband and father; if accident should overtake his mate it is most usual for him to continue the sit­ ting, and he has frequently been known to bring off the brood successfully, "mothering" them with the greatest care until they can peck, which is not until three days after hatching. The nest of the ostrich is always in the sand, and is scratched out by the male bird; the hen forms a perfect wall of sand round her with her wings before the eggs are hatched. The ostrich knows no fear, and is a most formidable and dangerous opponent. Their cry, which answers to cock-crowing, is a deep bellow that can be heard for a couple of miles, and is called "broom­ ing. " The depression in ostrich farm­ ing has been Caused by an overstocked market. Naturally those in climates suited to the bird imported them from the Cape. When the steed was stolen the Cape Government locked the stable door; but alas! the £100 premium on every bird exported was too late a measure to prevent thriving farms growing in Australia and India, and it is with chargrin bordering on despair that the Cape farmers find the retail trade gleaning the profits. * No Trouble. "Do you have much trouble in get­ ting your children to take medicine ?" said Mrs. Green, addressing Mrs. Black. "None at all." "How do you manage it?" "Well, for instance, when I want my boy to take castor oil, I pour the oil into a glass and say, 'Here, Tom, drink this, but you needn't ask for any more.' Then he drinks it with apparent relish, believing that I am not anxious for him to take it He always asks for more. Oh, no, it is no trouble to get my chil­ dren to take medicine."--Arkansaw Traveler. POETRY should be alterative; modern playwrights have converted it into a sedative, which they administer in such unreasonable quantities, that, like an overdose of opium, it makes one sick. PEOPLE of mean capacities alw-ays despise and ridicule more what is above the reach of their own intellect than that that is below its standatqL Belles ef&eCenfMency. In one of .the new cases in the north or Hisiorical*Hall at the National Mu­ seum are displayed two huge punch bowls and two large urns of Ohiiyt ware profusely decorated. A card informs the visitor that these articles were taken from the executive mansion of the late Confederacy after the fall of Richmond, in April, 1865. Gradually a collection of relics and reminders of the late Confederacy is accumulating in the Museum. In the same case with Mr. Davis' punchbowl are three copies of the great seal of the Confederates States of America. The die for this seal was made by, Wyon, of the Royal Mint of England. In the center is an equestrian figure of a soldier, sur­ rounded by a wreath, and around the border is the inscription, "The Confed- ate States of America, 22 February, 1862. Deo Vince." A large collection of Confederate money of various denominations and shin-plaster currency issued by States tinder the Confederacy appears in the case. Tax receipts and certificates of Confederate bonds revive memories of Confederate financiering. Lying with a heap of Confederate notes are two bills, one for goods, another for board, which give an idea of the extent to which this currency had depreciated ip the early days of 1865. The bill for goods is a long one, and amounts in all to $16,699.75. Among the items are a barrel of potatoes at $200: eleven pairs of socks, $132; keg of sugar, at $2,- 487.50, with $10 additional to pay for the keg; 10 pounds black pepper, $350, and 40 yards of flannel, $1,000. The hotel bill contained, among Other items, $135 for three days' board for the chil­ dren of the man to whom the bill was made out, and contained a credit of $448, on account of 28 pounds of butter furnished to the hotel. Near at hand lie two or three packs of playing cards, with illuminated backs, printed in En­ gland for the Confederate trade. They are ornamented with colored dovioes, in which the Confederate flag and other emblems calculated to ap­ peal to a patriotic card-player in the South are conspicuous. In another case near by among the collection of autographs, is the manuscript of a treaty effected August 12, 1861, by Al­ bert Pike, Commissioner on the part of the Confederate States, with the Indian Nation west of Arkansas. It is signed by Gen. Pike and the chiefs, tied with red, white, and blue ribbons, and sealed with a very liberal supply of wax. Another relic is a general order issued December 25, 1861, at Yorktown, by Maj. Gen. Magruder, through' Ass't. Adjt. Gen. Henrv Bryan. This order said: "The Major General command­ ing desires to announce to the Army of the Peninsula that the troops will win­ ter where they now are. If the enemy attack we will defeat him, and after the victory we will have better quarters at Fortress Monroe and Newport News." Among the autographs is a letter written by "Stonewall" Jackson to Gen. Lee, in January, 1862. In the letter, Gen. Jackson, mentioning a suggested movement upon Philadel­ phia, said such a movement would re­ quire well-disciplined and well-armed troops. Near Gen. Magruder's order, breathing such confidence, appears an evidence of the hard times in Rich­ mond, in 1863. It is a bill foi; $410 for a suit of clothes purchased August 14, 1863. The coat and pants are put down at $375, and the vest at $35. There is also a Provost Marshal's pass for a citizen of Lynchburg to visit Richmond. It was issued July 10, 1863, on a printed blank, and binds the holder, "upon honor, not to communicate in writing, or verbally, any fact ascer­ tained, which, if known to the enemy, might be injurious to the Confederate States of America." Another relic is an act of the Confederate Congress, "regulating fees of Marshals and for other purposes," approved April 19, 1862. It is written upon a large sheet of blue-tinted, ruled paper, and bears the signature of T. S. Bocock, Speaker of the House of Representatives, and Robert T. Hunter, President pro tern. of the Senate. It is signed, as ap­ proved, by Jefferson Davis. Bloody Work. "There, I think that will fix him," said the editor of a Dakota paper to the foreman. "Here is what I say: 'The miserable, cowardly, sneaking whelp who makes a sickening and disgusting effort to edit the daub known to the half dozen or so who are aware it is published here as the Corktown Morgue, printed another batch of base and silly lies about us last week. We take this occasion to give the above- mentioned howling idiot notice that we shall shoot him on sight. We have stood all of it we propose to. We shall go armed, and the lunk-headed, over­ grown calf had better keep out of our sight if he values his miserable, worth­ less life.'" "Hold on," said the foreman, looking out the window, "better get out your gun, he's coming now." "Why, good morning, Major, come in." said the blood-thirsty journalist, laying down the manuscript. "I was reading over one of my editorials in which I call upon Congress to quit tariff tinkering and get down to the crying needs of the country. It's dis­ gusting the way it neglects business, isn't it?" "It is for a fact, I propose to refer to it myself this week. Well, I can't stop now." "Oh, don't be in a hurry, sorry we can't do anything for you to-day. Well, good morning, Major." " "Good morning."--EstellineBell. That Way Himself. At a railroad lunch counter; «, stran­ ger, indignant to see a fellow traveler charged $4.50 for a ham sandwich, which he pays without protest, exclaims, "What barefaced robbery!" "That's so," the traveler assented calfaly. "Why, he has charged you $4.50 for a sandwich that isn't worth more than 5 cents." "I know it," said the other, tranquilly handing out $2 for a 5-cent cigar and receiving no change back. "There's more extortion!" fairly screamed the stranger. "It looks like it," returned the other, with the same exasperating impertur­ bability. "Are you going to stand it?" "Oh, ves, I suppose so." "But how in the name of heaven can you submit to such outrageous charges ?" "I know it is outrageous, but it don't astonish me at all," said the traveler, 'movipg towards the train about to start, "I am a little in that way of doing business myself." "How's that?" "I'm a plumber." That settled it.-->Texc.8 Sifting8. AN Irish sporting paper recently de­ scribed a particular thrush or black­ bird whose vocation bom morning to night. . mi nm wan. COMMOH SCENTS--onions at a «boat&» ing-house. « THE oldest verse IA uni-verse. ^ ' WAST to be in the cabinet--spiritual* istic medium. , t NOBODY can say, Mrs. Brown,' that I did not bring my son up as a Christian, It is not my fault that he is now little better than an acrostic." FISH are so plenty in some parts of Canada that in order to tell a first-class lie, the sportsman has to swear ba didn't catch any.--Texas Siftings. "WHAT would a woman do without her looking-glass?" is asked. Use an­ other's. You can't stick a woman as easy as you think.--Singhampton Re­ publican. , 15?: "TAKE my card to Miss Smawkins. %' will wait here." - "The missus has gcik out." "Very well; I will wait." "IH send down her father, sir." "On second thought, I won't wait." THE teacher had grown eloquent ia picturing to his little pupils the beau­ ties of heaven, and asked, "What kind of little boys go to heaven?" "Dead ones," shouted a lovely 4-year-old. HUSBAND (returning from the fun­ eral)--The minister, in his funeral ser­ mon, seemed to be very much over­ come. If I am not mistaken he was affected to tears. Wife--Yes; the de­ ceased, poor man, was worth $100,000.- 000.--New York Times. SNOBLY--Aw--aw--it must be very unpleasant for you Americans to be governed by people--aw--whom you wouldn't ask to dinner? American Belle--Wellf> not more so, perhaps, than for you in England to be governed by people who wouldn't ask you to dinner. "YES," said the old man, "my sans are very ambitious, and they are get­ ting along well. One is the captain of a tow-boat, and the other is a phvsician, and each is trying his best to s<je which can make the most money." "Ah," said the listener; "a sort of heal a$d tow match, as it were." WIFE--John, dear, I notice that yovr brother James never makes a friendly call upon us unless he is intoxicated. Husband--No, my dear, he doesn't. James reminds me of the moon. Wife--Reminds you of the moon ? Hus­ band--Yes, dear; he never gets round till he's full.--New York World. HIGHWAYMEN in Boston universally complain that the business there is a dismal failure. No true-bred Boston- ian would ever give a cent to a plebeian robber who would say, "Your money or your life!" and before the highwaymen can ejaculate, "Your pecuniary assets or your existence!" his intended victim is away out of sight.--Somerville Journal. A LITTLE green apple hung up In a tree, Singing M> hnnie, come Johnnie, Johnnie 1" And it was as modest as modest could be. Singing Johnnie, come Johnnie, Johnnie 1" And Johnnie he came, In his sweet childish way, And et up that fruit as bis own lawful prev-- The onge a in heaven are singing to-day "Here's 'Johnnie I Here's Johnnie t Hare's Johnnie I" ;• . --^Wa thing to a Critic. YOUNG FEATHERLY--Of Shakespeafefa' plavs I think I prefer "Richelieu." Miss Clara--Er--but Shakespeare did not write "Richelieu," Mr. Featherly. Young Featherly (with an amused smile)--Ah! I see, Miss Clara. You are one of the few left who believe that Bacon wrote Shakespeare's plays. 2 wonder if the question will ever be satisfactorily settled. -- New Yo§h -"'i Times. BROWN VS. GRAY. My hair is getting swiftly gray, . Which makes me somewhat Ea'V||||i| And I must go and dye, they Bay,.* ' To hide marks of Time's ravage, , Yet, oh, the lotions tried by me I v And still I must keep trying, * Or show a scalp from dark hair I cannot keep from dyeing. X mind the "barberous" remark, . > Amid much tiresome talking: "My mixture of oquil'a bark Will hide tracks of Time's walk{M|>|9 Y e t , o h , t h e l o t i o n s t r i e d b y m e t ^ , And still I must keep trying, <1 •? * Or show a scalp from dark hairs wife I cannot keep from dyeingl & LaMoille. 0." ..ij Fat People and Fluids. The question whether water is fatten­ ing or otherwise has l>een much dis­ cussed. Formerly it was generally asserted that the victims of obesity should mortify the flesh and reduoe the fat by abstaining as much as possible from liquids and remaining in a con­ tinual state of thirst. Latterly the opposite has been affirmed and I am told that a reduction of weights is one of the results claimed by "the hot water cure," provided always the water is taken as hot as possible, painfully hot, and in great quantities. Experiments have been made in Paris by Dr. Debove which controvert both these doctrines. These experi­ ments indicate that provided the same amount of solid food is taken, large quantities of water make a man neithex thinner nor fatter. They were carefully made on a friend who took weighed quantities of food daily, and while these remained equal doubling the quantity of water had no measurable effect on the weight of the body. Still, it is quite possible that the old theory of thirst cure and the new theory of hot water cure may both be correct. Both violate the natural conditions of health. Scalding hot water, like tea or coffee or grog of similar temperature, unques­ tionably injures the teeth, the stomach, and other organs concerned in the early stages of digestion, and it is very prob­ able that deficiency of liquid impedes the latter stages, Avhereby the chyme, by the aid of the digesting fluids, be­ comes converted into chyle and blood. A fat man may become thinner by injuring his health. "Banting" is dan­ gerous, asmany who have fairly tried it caD prove. The difficultlproblem is to re­ duce the fat without reducing the strength at the same time. A skillful trainer will undertake to bring any man down to his "fighting weight," i. e. to me best condition for violent exertion; but as soon as discipline of the trainer is relaxed the obesity, when constitu­ tional, returns, and a long continuance of high training is murderous. Per­ haps the old prescription, "Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open," when followed with judicious limitation, is the best. Eat less, sleep less, and walk more, are Bafe injunctions, provided they are obeyed in moderation. Dr. Debove's conclusions apply to water, not to other beverages. The fat man who uses malt liquors as a daily beverage deserves to be buried under cross roads at midnight, according to the ancient modes of degarding the wilful perpetrators of felo de «e.-- Gentleman's Magazine. U WHEN young Dobbs' uncle remarked that truth is stranger than fiction, young D. instantly responded, "Now I under­ stand why I never feel so much at home with truth •M-Jrdffi mitti yrhftt •*% ^ I (III ; '"I :! 1 r, Tj, * iia i. . ' .'J?5 .. it.L ..ft. '5 . . .,-JSt J-aLjA