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dernized :he reve- AMERICANS IN GERMANY, got him down, and were actually daub-: ing his face when he said: "Stop! This,' will do. I could beat you all,, but we, must not keep these grandees waiting) a n y l o n g e r . " v . . / ' A basin of water and a towel were; brought in, and the great Prime Minis-j ter washed his face,, hid the basin, and; then received the two lords. Dr. Battle, an eminent London phy-( sician, used to amuse himself by gaz-. lng at the "Punch and Judy" show. He; was such a successful mimic of Punch that he once saved a patient's life by' imitating that character. The patient) was suffering from a swelling in the throat; and the Doctor, turning his wig, appeared, at the bedside with the! face and voice off Punch. The man' laughed so heartily that the swelling broke,-and a complete cure followed?-1-- Man is the only animal who can laugh. He, therefore, relishes a little nonsense. AGAIN. i < iCotne, gently breathing o'er the eager land, IWith fresh green grass that springs to v . . V : k i s s t h y f e e t . . iWtth little brooks that sparkle in the sand, (April's faint shining, clouds both soft and fleet, " - -- All the fair things that do thine advent , greet, Flowers with their blue eyes still by - snowdrifts wet, South winds and flying showers; all, all, how sweet, 1 Let ine forget! 6pill from thy whife hands till the tender h- buds, An opal mist in every gray old tree; o . Pour from thine urn the rushing silver floods ' * - ---S&at- loaPr-and-danee, and struggle tobe ;' free; /v'"v Coax the pink May blooms to look up at thee, Fearless of stormy wind or frosts that fret; 4 Enchantress, bring not back the past to me,' Let-me forget! Alas! when all thy spells but hide a sting, When the wild blossoms in each fragile • bell . .. - ... •„ 1 :i_s 'A lurking drop, of,bitter hdney bring, r When, Tiills and forests • one worn story \ tell, , When through the birds' .new warble ; ^ ' sounds a knell. . -- J - . When grief and sweetness are in all * things met. When winds repeat those voices loved too Well, s. • Can I forget? • Poor pangs of earth! I know there comes a day,. Not far nor late, when God's restoring Spring Shall set aside these miracles of clay, * And his serene immortal Summer bring, Wherein I shall not pine for anything, Not mortal live, nor loss, nor weak regret, But at his feet my grateful rapture sing, And so forget! ,, •--Rose Terry Cooke. WEYANDS WIFE. r,. H Y s h o u l d I waste any more thought on Isabel R e e c e ? " s a i d Vance Weyand, as he sat smoking in his study one night "A f t e r promising to mar­ ry me, she chose a man who had more money. I'll take a run over to see Malvern to-morrow; he'll cheer me up. Tell him that I mean to marry again, and speedily." He found on reaching Malvern house the next day that he had come too late. His dearest friend was dead. Vance stood at the window trying to realize What this intelligence might mean to him, when the door opened to admit a girl dressed in deepest mourn­ ing--the eyes passionate, intense; the face pale as death, the small head car­ ried proudly, even'in the face of her woe. Could this perfect woman be the fif­ teen-year-old Margery whom he dimly remembered seeing long before? She came to him, one small hand clasped tightly in the other. "Darcey," he managed to articulate, and that was all. "Didn't you know? He is dead."p He was unable to answer her. Step­ ping forward, she laid her hand lightly on his arm. "Do you hear? He is dead--dead- dead!" and she turned and walked quickly from the room.* Days passed, and Vance Weyland stayed on in the little village where Margery lived, forgetting his own story at Darcey's death in an effort to allevi­ ate the sufferings of the lonely, stricken Bister; and in time the light (tejturned to the girl's eyes and the colofSo the beautiful lips. \ They were friends, firm, steadfast friends, and the bond which united them was love'for the dead man. When the time came that he must leave her, Vance went to bid farewell to Mar­ gery. He found her walking by the river. "Margery, I have come to say good- by. I must go to-morrow," lie said quietly. "Going? So soon?" she asked, with a startled look. - _ "I regret it, but it is necessary that I should do so." A dull paleness overspread the regu­ lar features of the girl, but she said nothing. "I have been thinking," continued her companion presently, "what lonely lives yours and mine must of necessity be, and I have thought--forgive me if I should not--that we might add to each other's happiness if you would consent to be my wife. It is true, we do not love each other in a romantic way; but our tastes are alike and we agree in essential points. If you give your­ self to me I thick I can make you at least content, and I am not afraid to trust my happines in your hands." Still she was silent, but pallor gave place to a calm brightness which grew into radiance. She stole a sly glance at his face. It was turned from her, and filled with a strange unrest She ,;knew that his mind had returned to his old love, and she grew suddenly grave. So long she remained silent that he looked around in surprise. "You do not answer. My words have not offended you?" "I am not offended." "Will you be my wife?" "Yes." "And soon? Remember my lonely life." "If you desire it." Thank you, Margie; you have made .y , me very happy." . . -- He stooped and quietly kissed her. So they were married, and life passed for many weeks in quietness and peace. December had come, with chill winds and heavy snows; Christmas was ap- ffproaching. Vance was returning home from a neighboring city, thinking of his life as it now was, and as it might have been, and he felt that though he had once thought existence worthless with­ out that which he deemed necessary to his happiness, he would not exchange what he possessed for the realization of the dream of his younger days. For he loved Margery as he had never dreamed he could love woman again. At that moment his wife was stand­ ing, tall and motionless, in the brightly lighted drawingrroom, facing a beau­ tiful woman whose dark cy&S, large and; lustrous, looked defiance into hers. : "He Is your husband ?"'sbe was say-} lng. "He Is my- husband," assented Mar­ gery, with a half sob in her throat "Your husband, but my lover. Re- meihber that." It was I he loved, not you; fj$r that I could almost forgive him for marrying you." ; . • Margery did not move. The white, lips grew white', but a great scorn' burned in her eyes; she felt- the truth of her guest's statement; but that she should have put it into words! , • At that moment Vance entered the' room. The snow outside had deadened the sound of his approach. Margery! did not know that he had returned, until with a sudden" movement the; woman before her leaned forward, and vVance" in soft, dulcet tones fell from her lips. „ "~j "Isabel!" °\ He changed color and glanced at Mar-( gery. From her face he gathered a fair idea of what had passed. He was about to speak when Isabel interrupted him.^ "The doctors tell me I have not long to live and I have come to make my. peace with you, Vance. I could not go leaving you in the belief that I was entirely heartless. I want to ask----", "All is forgiven and forgotten, Mrs. Weston. Pray do not disturb yourself. I trust that your physicians are mis­ taken; however." • • Vance's tone was kind but. cold. She looked at Him keenly. "You forgive me!, That is almost more than I had hoped." .> Her slender white hand moved rest­ lessly toward him, and he was com­ pelled to tike it Margery inwardly Winced, but gave uo outward sign of distress. She did not seo what her husband saw, that Mrs. Weston was exceedingly ill. Vance made a slight attempt to re­ move the fingers which he held, but their clasp tightened in his; there was a slight swaying of the lithe body, and Isabel Weston was lying in his arms, her beautiful face 011 his breast utter­ ly unconscious. He placed her on a sofa. In a few minutes she recovered and insisted on returning to her father's house. When Vance re-entered the drawing-room, after having placed Isabel in her carriage, he found Mar­ gery standing at the window, her face pressed closely against the panes. He took her cold hand in liis,. and led her unresistingly to the fire. She obediently raised her eyes to his face, but dropped them quickly. "I have a confession which I must--" "No, no, no!" she interrupted. "I can bear no more. Have I not seen and heard enough. Is not my burden suffi­ ciently heavy that you seek to add to it? It was cruel of you, and yet I, too, was to blame. I should not have mar­ ried you, knowing as I did, that you still care for her; but I was foolish enough to think you would forget--how foolish I never before realized. She said--oh. she should not!--that you were my husband, but her lover; and you--you " His clasp tightened on the slender fingers as with an angry sob she tried to wrench them from him; a steady light came into his eyes and a firm line about his lips. "Margery, you cannot believe that I am dishonorable enough to cherish love for a woman-JKho, until a few weeks ago,' was the wife of another man? The day on which I married you saw the burial of my past love, and a new one succeeded it--a love stronger, purer, than I gave to Isabel Reece--a love which is given to a woman who I know loves me, and whom, thank heav­ en,,no other man can call his wife. You are mine, and I claim my own." Still she was silent and unresponsive. "Margery," he went on, in a pained voice, which yet contained a great de­ termination. "you must trust me.' "Oh, Vance, if I only might! But it has followed me always--this thought that you " A sound of hurried footsteps; the door was burst open, and a servant stood breathless on the threshold. "Mrs. Weston's carriage, sir. There was an accident and Mrs. Weston is dead, I think. They are bringing her here." In a few minutes Isabel was again upon the sofa from which she had so lately risen. The black eyes opened. Vance bent over her with a murmured thanksgiving that her life had been spared for a short time. She lifted one slender hand to his face. "Poor Vance," she whispered. "You loved me then, you love her now. I knew it when you spoke to me so cold­ ly. My vanity led me astray--it was only a boyish fancy, soon forgotten- it was best so. They say I did not love Terence, but ah! it was death to me to see him die! His beautiful face so white and cold--the--ah, the pain is here!" Her hand was pressed against her heart. "They told me I could not live; I shall see him soon. You said you had for " Her sentence was never finished. She had gone to him. The tears were streaming down Mar­ gery's cheeks, and Vance's, eyes were moist "Margery, my darling, you see how it is. Are you willing to trust me now?" One steady, searching glance, and their lips met in a long, solemn kiss. The clock in the neighboring church chimed the midnight hour, and they knelt hand in hand, united in heart, by the side of the quiet form of Isabel Weston, and the cold dawn of morn­ ing found them still keeping a silent watch beside tlTe one who had en­ countered death as they entered upon a new life of happiness and loVe.--Yan­ kee Blade. RULES OF THE ROAD AT SEA. Tho Color and Position of Lights at • Night Tellof a VeSBel'e Course. : Ensign John M. Ellicott, In St NIch olas, has a paper entitled "What the Lights Tell." This Is a description of the system of signaling at night En­ sign Ellicott writes as follows of the "Rules of the Road :*' Presently there flashes out of the gloom ahead a small bright speck; then it Is gone; then it shows again; and one of the lookouts who has craned his neck forward in the intensity of his gaze cries out: "Light ho!" In an instant the officer of the deck is by hisjside, glasses in hand, inquiring: "Where away ?" - Then,.be, too, sees it, and by it-Is in­ formed of another vessel's presence near him on the dark ocean. Then comes an anxious time when with strong glasses he strives to tell the color of that faint light; for he is as yet informed only of the other vessel's Whereabouts at the moment and knows not which way\ she is going, nor what manner of vessel she may be. This last is what the light next reveals, for if it be white it is the masthead light of a steamer; but if it be red or green, the absence of a white light reveals a sail­ ing vessel. It is for the red and green, lights, commonly known as the side lights, that the officer of the deck most intently watches, for by them be can tell which way the vessel is going. If her red light shows, he knows that her port, side is toward him and she is crossing to his left; if it is her green light her starboard side is toward him, and she is crossing to his right; but if both the red and green are showing, she is heading straight in his direction. Thus he learns by these running lights where the other vessel is, what she is, and in what direction she is going; and he knows in plenty of--time whether she is on his track, or whether she is crossing it in one direction or the oth­ er. All that is not enough, however, to avoid collision; for both he and the offi­ cer on the other vessel must know ex­ actly what to do, and what the other is going to do. He must know, ^o to speak, on just what track to switch, and On just what track the other vessel will switch to avoid him. This is set­ tled by fixed rules, which are the same the world over, and are known to all men who follow the sea. They are called the "Rules of the ItoasL" The rules of the road say that when two vessels are coming bows on^rnat is to say, 011 the same track--each ves­ sel shall turn off to the right far enough to avoid the other; that when two ves­ sels are crossing--that is, when their tracks would cross t>ach other--the one which has the other on the starboard (right) hand must turn to starboard (the right), and go behind the other vessel, while the latter keeps on her track of course; and that a steam-vessel must always get out of the way of a sailing vessel, a vessel at anchor or dis­ abled, or a vessel with another in tow. Thus the lights tell, in the darkest night, which way the ships are going, and What kind of ships they are; while the rules of the road tell, both for night and day, in which direction the ships must turn to keep out of each other's way. If a vessel has another vessel in tow, she carries two mast­ head lights instead of one; and when a vessel is at anchor she has no side lights or masthead light, but a single white light made fast to a stay where it can be seen from all around her. On "The Banks." On a clear day there is no danger from the big steamers; in the first place, the steamer herself can keep a sharp lookout, and, secondly, as the cod are lethargic in clea* weather, it is not a busy time with the fiahermen, and they would as lief sc.} a steamer turn up as not. At four in the afternoon the lines or tanti are laid out The schooner is the hub of a wheel, so to speak, and tho tanti radiate from it like spokes. A six-story schooner usually has lines enough to carry 12,000 hooks. The lines are lifted at four in the morning and the cod taken off. The collisions occur chiefly in the night when the fishermen are snatching a few winks prior to 4 a. m. They have the proper lights burn­ ing at the mast and a watch on deck, but if it is very dark-with fog or rain, the steamer is on top of them before they know it; if they have time to cut the cable well and good; they lose the cable and their lines, but escape death. If not the cry "Tout le monde sur le pont!" is hardly uttered when they are literally wiped out by a huge mass of iron and steel careening along at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. If they should be lucky enough to get off with their bows stove and a man or two killed by the impact boats from neighboring schooners soon arrive and ask, "Was she British or American?" "God knows," is the reply of the agitated men; "all we know is we saw the flash of a monster and heard voices blas­ pheming in a foreign tongue."--New foundland Correspondence New York Evening Post. t your Shak- A Close Resemblance. "There are some points ab<fj writings that much resemble speare," said the editor. . "Do you think so?" cried the delight­ ed author, who had brought his con­ tribution in with his own hand. "Yes," the editor continued, "ydu em­ ploy almost the same punctuation marks."--Rockland Tribune. Unutterable. "Do you not sometimes have soulful yearnings which you long to convey in words but cannot?" asked the senti­ mental girl. "Yes, indeed," replied the young man. "I was once dreadfully anxious to send home for money and I didn't have the price of a. telegram."--Washington Star. If you want to please a man recom mend that he'do something he has long wanted to do. BURIED . , , TREASURE. Little Dutch Maiden Finds the Hoard of Heer Baron Graafe. She followed a lizard that jumped across the path and scurried away, among the ferns, and failing to find his hiding place,, she sat. herself down on the moss, and leaned against one of tlio huge blocks of stone that were scat­ tered about, and conned over to herself the wonderful stories she had heard her Grootmoeder tell of buried treas­ ure, and of Heer Baron Graafe, who had lived in the castle, ana the beauti­ ful lady whom he had so illy treated that she died; aud of the gold and silver he had wrung from the peasants, and hoarded and burled in iron chests in the woods. How he suddenly disap: peared, and no one ever saw or heard of him afterward. How people had searched and dug for the treasure, but, no one had been able to find it It was the belief in the village among the peasants that the treasure could only be found at suuset by a maid who had suffered a great misfortune. $ * <• « <1 $ Perhaps it was buried just beneath where she sat! Mounting the ruined hall, she seated herself upon a loose stone, and be­ thought her of a lucky rhyme in vogue among the children and which they al­ ways repeated whenever they happen­ ed to lose anything: "Een- ah, twee-ali, drie-ali, Graaclit, Vijf-ah, zes-ah, zev'n-ah, Maacht!" Nobody knew in the least what it meant, but that did not matter at all. It was lucky, and that was sufficient While repeating the lucky rhyme she beat time to it with her little sabots upon the stone; and when she came to the final word "Maacht," she gave such a kick that off flew the sabot down among the weeds below. Slipping down from the spot where she had been sit­ ting, she parted the thick bushes with her hands, carefully avoiding the net­ tles, and pushed her way axuong the thick ferns to the spot where she could see the point of the white sabot gleam­ ing. The branches, springing back, almost blinded her; and, putting out her hands to keep them away, she sud­ denly felt the ground crumbling under her feet She clung to the ferns and weeds to save herself, but the effort was useless, and down she went, with the stones and loose earth rattling and falling all about her. One stone struck her on the head. She saw for a moment the green leaves and the patch of gold­ en sky .above her; ttoen all grew dark before her eyes, and she knew 110 more. When little Melaatij opened her eyes again, the light was but faintly shining through the trees, for it was well-nigh nightfall. For a moment she did not realize where she was or what had happened. But finally the pain in her head and her bruised knees became so bad that she remembered her fall, and attempted to rise, catching at a sort of projection which jutted out from the steep bank above her; but to her horror It moved loosely, as if it would fall. She had barely time to roll to one side ere the whole mass fell outward, and seemed to crumble away. Tho shape of it was square, and so remained; and when she touched it she realized that) it was iron, but so rusted that it was like flakes of rotten wood. There were some rags in the square shape, and she gingerly poked them about until what seemed to be hun­ dreds of buttons began to run out of the discolored mass in a stream. She stooped and picked some of them up, and examined them closely. They seemed to her to be like money, but such queer money--the like of it she had never seen before, and it was so brown and black, too! She put some of them into her pocket.--St Nicholas. Different Classes of Touts Men "Who Go to the Famous Universities. There are at the, Gerxna'n universi­ ties more students from America than, from any other foreign country except Russia. The Russians, however, have only a short distance to come. It is only a question of crossing over the line to reach, for instance, the Univer­ sity of Koenigsburg, and in nearly ev­ ery case it is a shorter trip for their young men than to go to Moscow or St Petersburg. With the Americans, how­ ever, the case is quite a different one, according to the Berlin correspondent of the Philadelphia Telegram. They, many of them, cross their own conti-' nent then sail over a wide ocean and pass by -England and France in order to reach the universities of Germany. This movement from the one country to the other must rest upon some very good ground, or else it is a mistake, and probably if the matter were care­ fully examined there would be found to be traces of both. <' The Americans who come to the Ger­ man universities would seem to be of three kinds. They are, first, those who come for the curiosity of it They have read concerning German student life, and have heard of it from their friends, and find it -'to be so' unlike such life as it is at home that they persuade their parents to let them come abroad for a longer or shorter period. These per­ sons, and there are quite §, number of them catalogued at the German univer­ sities, are usually not more than tour­ ists,, and as they go again before they come to have any knowledge of the German language they can scarcely be considered as students at all. Second, ,there are students who are attracted to Germany because both the life and tho Instruction are cheap, and it is actually possible for those whose branches rest outside of the labora­ tories, which are not always very cheap, to cross the ocean, live in a little froom as the German students do, and work in free libraries at a less expendi­ ture than it would require at an Amer­ ican university. Students who are thus limited in their resources will nat­ urally contlaue to come to Germany in preference to remaining at home un­ til such time as we become wise enough to enlarge the opportunities for cheap university instruction in America. The third class is of those who come out of the simple motive of being in­ structed in a way that they cannot be elsewhere; those who come in the hon­ est belief that they can secure in Ger­ many instruction which, in subject or method, is in some respect superior to that which is to be found at home or in other countries. With the latter V:lass it is alone necessary to engage ourselves. Whether or not the proposition, as we have announced it, that there is better university instruction in Germany than elsewhere, is true or uot, there are other matters to be considered in send­ ing young men away from home which many think should be regarded In forming a right estimate of this sub­ ject. Admiring many features of the German university system, as I natu­ rally must I believe, if I may speak in the first person, that the proposition is in general to be denied. I cannot think that it is in general an advantage to a boy or a young man to come into such a center of social and political ma­ terialism as Germany has got to be. Our universities in America, subsisting usually on the voluntary gifts of indi­ viduals rather than at the cost of the state, are, in many cases, not what they ought to be, iiud for some branch­ es of study it is undoubtedly still nec­ essary to go to Germany. Tliero are some branches of scholarship which are either not at all or at least very in­ adequately represented both at home and likewise in England and France. Whether Germany has this superiority or not is a question which ought to be investigated into in every individual case, and we ought to all go to Avork unitedly to bring about a state of things where this promiscuous expor­ tation of young men shall at once be brought to an end. ahead, while back and fbitth, almost Incessantly,: paces a fourth man, an officer, who; like the others, is contin­ ually gazing ahead or glancing at the compass. He is the officer of the deck. On him rests the responsibility of avold- lngall other vesfeels which may cross hwffcessel's track or be approaching her ujlaiit Upon his quickness-aaid judg­ ment depends the safety of the ship. In the daytime he has seen one, two, #r perhaps a dozen ships around him dur­ ing a single hour, and he well knows that just as many may be around Mm during any hour of the night. H$w, then, is he to kn6w where they are," and how to keep out of their way ? Their lights will tell. When you face towards the ship's bow the side at your right hand is call­ ed the starboard side, and the side at your left hand is called the port side. On her starboard side a ship carries at night a green light, and it Is so shut in by two sides of a box that it cannot be seen from the port side or from behind. On her port side she carries a red light, and it is so shut in that it cannot be seen from the starboard side or from behind. If the ship is a steamship she carries a big white light at her foremast-head, but if she is a Sailing vessel she does not This white masthead light can be seen from all round except from behind. So long, then, as the officer of the deck sees no lights, he. feels sure that there are no vessels near him, and paces his Watch in security.--St Nicholas. Swine Raising. Feed a little salt to the hogs as well as to the cattle. Nothing can make up for a stunted growth during the first three or four months, says Coleman's World. Feed liberally, and give them as much milk as can be obtained. The Y'orkshire hog makes splendid bacon with desirable alternate streaks of fat and lean. It Is a good hog to keep for the family supply of pork products. With swine one must be both a good breeder and a good feeder to suc­ ceed. Corn, clover and milk make the best and most wholesome pork. An advantage of swine raising is quick returns and large profit in proportion to outlay. With swine and poultry both on the farm, not much need go to waste that has any food value. Hogs will consume more different kinds of provender in unattractive condition than any other stock. A Little Nonsense. Dean Swift used to amuse Jdtuself by, harnessing his servants with cords and driving them up and downstairs and through the rooms of the deanery. Faraday played marbles and ball with little boys, and took part in charades, playing once the "learned pig." W'illiam Pitt delighted to romp with children. He was once playing with his niece and nephews, who were try­ ing t6 blacken his face with burnt cork A servant announced that two members of the Cabinet desired to see him on business. "Let them wait In the other room," said Pitt catching up a pillow i and belaboring the girl and boys. They Pius IX.'s Coins Valuable. On the withdrawal of the Italian sil­ ver coinage from France and Belgium the pieces with the effigy of Pius IX., which had previously been looked at with a good deal of suspicion on account; of their being refused by the Govern­ ment departments, became absolutely valueless save as old metal. Even at the Roman Catholic churches they would not have his holluess' effigy when it was put iu the plate. All of a sud­ den, however, the discredited coins are being eagerly sought for, and their price has been going up in the most extraordi­ nary manner. As much as 15 louis, or £12, is being asked by one Parisian dealer for a fine specimen of a Papal 5-franc piece. It seems that the de­ mand comes from Belgium, where the Catholic party has been celebrating its successes at the last election by having brooches and other keepsakes made from the Papal coins, and more espe­ cially the 5-franc pieces. The rage, it is thought, will soon subside. This is, It is said, the only known case but one of a coin belonging to the modern met­ ric system becoming enhanced in value as a curiosity. The other instance was a coin of Napoleon I., with the inscrip­ tion "Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine," of which there are only five known specimens, and which are worth about £00 apiece.--London News. Sent Back to France. The National Library of France is made the recipient of the large, number of French books which are refused at the post offices of other European states, nearly every one of which exercises a censorship over foreign publications. WHAT THE LIGHTS TELL. Considering the opportunities the Lord has for finding people out, we don't see where he gets any angels. A man's theories as to how his wife should behave toward him were found­ ed on a basis for his own protection. The Signals Displayed by Ships at Night, and What They Mean. A railroad train cannot turn to the right or left at will, for it is bound by the iron tracks to go the way they lead, and the trains coming toward it are cuided in another set of tracks to pass safely by. Therefore the engineer may rush his train along over the guiding tracks, through the brightness of day or the darkness of night, with no fear sa>ve for the most unforeseen and infre­ quent accidents. On the sea, however, a ship can go whichever way she is turned, anil other ships may meet her coming from any direction. The broad ocean, then, may be looked upon as covered with an enormous network pf tracks crossing one another in all di­ rections, where a ship may be switched from one track to another at will. In the daytime ships can be seen from each other, and be turned aside to pass in safety; for not only can they be seen, but the direction in which they are go­ ing is known. Still, even in the day­ time certain rules must be followed to insure perfect safety. How, then, do ships, pursuing so many intersect­ ing tracks, pass the others safely in spite of the darkness of the night? Imagine yourself on the bridge of a big ship. It is really a bridge, you know, high above the deck, extending from side to side near the bow, and projecting a little beyond the sides so that from each end a man can see straight ahead without rigging or masts to interfere. It is night, and very dark. Even the ship Is only a long, dark shadow uuder your feet. Over the sky may be a pall of cloud, and you peer away into the darkness, but cannot even tell where,,sea and sky come to­ gether. I All Is inky blackness above and below. Spreading outward from the bow of the ship is a foaming, phospho­ rescent wave, which tells how rapidly she is rushing onward over'the unseen waters and into the dangers of the im­ penetrable. Ill the middle of the bridge stands a man holding a wheel and gaz­ ing at a compass lit up'by a little lamp. With that wheel he turns the rudder to keep the ship steadily pointed in the same direction as the compass. That direction is her track. Other ships may be on that track; other ships may1 be crossing that track in the darkness. How are they to be avoided? - Ou each side of the' b'rfdge stands a man peering continually into the gloom GREECE'S RAPED PROGRESS. Her New Railroads, Canals, Drainage Works and Other Signs of Life. What has Greece to show now for her blanket mortgage? Sixty years ago not a mile of wagon road, says a writer; in tho Review of Reviews, to-day above 2,000 miles built (often over rnoun- ains)) at a cost of $10,000,000. Twen­ ty-five years ago five miles of rail con­ necting Athens with her seaport, now some 600 miles of railway in op­ eration--connecting the capital with most of the Peloponnese, and opening up a good part of Acarnania and Thes- saly, while the Piraeus-Larissa Rail­ way, which is to open up the rest of central and northern Greece, and ul­ timately direct communication with Europe, is almost ready for the rails, and would be running now but for un­ lucky financiering. The English builders--now ousted-- have done some daring engineering, especially in tunneling Mount Othrys. The Corinth Canal, which Perlander dreamed of and Nero began, has been finished, so giving a short and safe waterway from the Adriatic to the Aegean. Lake Kopals has been drain­ ed, not only uncovering prehistoric cities, but reclaiming 60,000 acres of rich alluvial soil. The Greek merchant marine counts (1893) 116 steamers of 83,508 net tonnage, and 944 sailing ves­ sels aggregating a burden of 250,000 tons. Much of the carrying tradeQ)f the Levant and nearly all of that on the Danube is in Greek bottoms. With a sea line--In proportion to area--seven times as great as France's aud twelve times as great as England's, Greece maintains sixty-nine lighthouses and Is building as many, more. Her steam fac­ tories are worth $6,000,000. ® With an area of some 16,000,000 acres --largely mountain--she has 5,500,600 in field and forest and 5,000,000 in pas­ ture. The acreage in currants and vine­ yards has increased a hundred fold and more since independence. The agricul­ tural produce foots up $21,000,000 a year. Still the country Imports bread- stuffs to the value of $6,000,000 annu­ ally, which Thessaly could readily pro^ duco and may be expected1^ produce when the railway opens up that great wheat field. This saving alone would nearly pay the interest on the foreign debt. " Here's a Strange Coincidence. Two New York men who registered at the Great Northern yesterday after­ noon will have occasion to remember for some time the strange coincidence of their meeting and of their trip. Strangers to each other, they soon made an acquaintance on the train. Yester­ day morning one asked the other his destination. "Chicago," the one ad­ dressed replied. The one who had asked the question was also coming here. When they arrived at the station it was agreed they should go to tho Great Northern together. As they stepped up to the desk in the hotel of­ fice one of them took the pen and wrote the name "C. S. Sherwood, New York." Then he laid the pen on the counter and stepped aside for his fribnd to reg­ ister. The latter glanced at the book and, bowing slightly, thanked him. "Will you register?" asked the clerk. "My friend has saved me the trou­ ble," the man replied. "That's my name, not yours, that I have written," the first gentleman said. "Well, that's queer," was the re­ sponse, and the second man, taking the pen, wrote "C. S. Sherwood, New York." "That is my name, too, and here is my card. I thought you were registering for me."--Chicago Tribune. Leased for 0,099 Years. The most curious legal document on file among the court records of America is a lease of 9,999 years, which may be found transcribed In tho Hebron, Conn., land records, Vol. IX., page 264. On May 25, 1795, according to the above record, the trustees of the "Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in For­ eign Parts" leased thirty acres of land near the above named place to one S. W. Chase and his heirs "during the full term therein stated, viz., 9,999 years." The tenure is held on condition that the said "Chase or his legal heirs shalf pay to John Sutton and J. T. Peters, church wardens of said society, or their successors in office, one grain of pure silver or other silver, gold equiva­ lent (If demanded), on St. John's Day of each ensuing year." There are many curious and whimsi­ cal tenures held in Great Britain, France and Germany, but it is doubtful if the records of America can produce anything equal to this long-lived land lease, which will not terminate until after the lapse of 9,899 years from the 25th of next month.--St Louis Republic. A Grand Old Man. Dr. Martineau, one of the very great­ est figures in the English religious world, enters upon his ninety-first year Sunday. ~v There is such a thing as an indefin­ able lie that can't be nailed, that a great many people are fond of telling. Blow up, ye west Winds, keen or bland, Our bark of fan^y shall not veer Until o'er Egypt's jdunes of sand We sbe the Pharos rear. Now, amid wafts of myrrh and nard, . We voyage the; mighty stream that , tlirids j * •• . Where the unsleepjnp: sphinx keeps guard ; Beside her pyraniids. Or listen vainly,, rapture-mute, In dreams of eitl afar withdrawn For Memnon's accents like a flute. Vibrating dowu the dawn. And now our footsteps reverently Upon that sacred soil are set Where rise o'er sad Gethsemane The slopes of Olivet. From old Damascus garden-bowers We watch the sunset rose-flush fall, And'lounge through long unfettered^hours 'Mid the prone shrines of Baal. All life shall wear a richer dye, ,«? Of doubts and narrow passions shorn, When we have qu^Ted, my soul and I, These golden sprmgs of morn! --Clinton Scollard in the Congregational- ist Carnations. Pink and white, white and pink. They bend in tlie summer breeze, Where the emerald grass grows ankle deep In the shade of the orchard trees. The pink they caught from a maiden's cheek As she answered her lover "Yes," And the white from the snowy drifts that peeped O'er the top of her ball-room dress. White and pink, pink and white, In their garden bed they grow, And those that are still of a stainless hue Were not kissed by the sun, I know. For had they been they would blush as red As the tint in a maiden's cheek When she waits at dusk by the meadow bars For the man that she loves to speak. Pink and white, white and pink-- How they carry me back alway, Down the shadow-grown path of vanished youth To the light of a dying day. •,<•>[•!"t\ For the pink they caught from my sweet- ». heart's cheek When she blushingly answered "Yes," And the white from the snowy drifts that peeped O'er the top of her ball-room dress. --Hyder Ali in Chicago Journal. Grass and Flowers. The land is beautiful with grass and flow­ ers ; With zones of glory summer rings the world; The children gambol, with the dancing hours; Smoothly they journey as the one cloud curled High up the blue, their feet the grass and flowers'0' Caress, as though they fell soft as tho showers. Now wherefore, flowers, will each benig­ nant eye Shut sweet beneath the children's feet; and, grass, Why bear ye the children's weight with­ out a cry? Listen! from the flowers- and grass*a voice: Alas! Cannot we let them tread us merrily, Sinco we so long, so long, on them shall lie? --John Vance Cheney in Harper's Magar* zine. Sweetheart, Good-By. The dew is on the summer rose, The summer moonlight sadly glows; And softly, too, the night wind blows, And echoes sigh for sigh. Ofttimes good-night with smile and bow I've said, while laughter lit thy brow; But comes a sadder parting now, Sweetheart, good-by. Good-by! If we should never meet Thy smile hath made the past so sweet Fair memory's lamp shall light my feet Where e'er my pathway lie. But now, when fortune bids me stray From all that makes the present gay, Alas! how hard it is to say, Sweetheart, good-by! Good-by, sweetheart, with eyes of blue, Whose glance can shame the morning dew, And teach the stars to shine more true, For thee I'd gladly die. You are my dream asleep or wake, For thee my heart would rather break Than live in bliss for other's sake; .Sweetheart, good-by. --Samuel Minturn Peck in Boston Trav- script. Roundel. My sweetest love, what time the night Hushes the roaring of the street, A n d D i a n s h o w s h e r l i g h t -- My svt!>t\ I sit me down and take a sheet Of paper, and I try to write A dainty love-song trim and neat; My sweet! I try until the dawn is bright, But still the verse is incomplete, Love can't be told in black and white, My sweet! Japanese Origin of Decoration. Decoration Day, in fact and custom, though not in name, has been a Japan­ ese institution for many centuries past As early as 1S57 our first envoy, Town- send Harris, whose journals and biog­ raphy are to be published in Boston in a few weeks hence, planted flowers on the graves of the tombs of the four United States marines byried at Shi- moda. Noue more than young Japan­ ese, who know only^||Mj^p)(Jernized country, will be surj3e»««:the reve­ lations of old Japan.~«Mflprk Sun. v Orient-Bound. We re Orient-bound, my soul and I, The straining sails are wide unfurled! We seek, beneath a stainless sky, The morning of the world. Velocity The highest ^projectile fire gun Is something 1