"fQULOW ME 'OME." 3Phefe wa s no one like 'im, 'orse or. foot - Nor any o' the guns*I knew; U 'An* because it was so, why, o' course, 'e wftrit an'died, , Which is just what the best men do. Bo It's knock out your pipes and follow me! 'An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow* i t ni e!. • • - •. >'•. | Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin'-- j " : Follow me--follow me 'ome! *In mare she neighs the 'ole da^ long, She paws the'ole night through, 'An' she won't take her feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, Which is just what a beast would do. *1b girl she goes with a bombardier, V Before 'er month is through; 'In' the banns are up in church, for she's t got the beggar hooked, | Which is just what a girl would do ll ̂ ,;!v •' •. . . " . iiWe fought 'bout a dog--last week it < • , were-- ; No more than a round or two; "[But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I j 'adn't now, ! Which is just what a nian can't do. •|*B was all that I 'ad in the way of a \ /friend, "": > h An' I've 'ad to find one new; 'iBut l'd give my pa!y ah' stripe for to get, | ' tffe.'beggar back, ' , •"'! " ; | Which it's just too late to do; it's knOek. out your pipes an' follow j .nie, -- v". " : . • ; 'An1 it's ̂ finish off your swipes an' follow • me. " •' • i '>Oh, 'ark to the fifes a erawlin'l •f. Follow nie--follow me 'ome! Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best > men go. Take *im. away! :An' the gun wheels ~ turnuf slow. "" Take 'im away! There's more from the i place 'e come. Take Im away, with the limber an' the arum..,, <s For it's "Three rounds bfank"an' follow I" me, •An' it's "Thirteen rank" an' follow me; Oh. passin' the love o' woman, •| Follow me--follow me 'ome! --'Rudyard Kipling, in Pall Mall Gazette. RILEY AND PIATT. ri When James Whitcomb Riley was »ot so widely known as he is now he .visited Donn Piatt at his Ohio coun ter place. Mac-o-chee. Mr. Riley was then passing through the final stage of his evolutionfrom a newspaper man to a poet, and a handful of his pathetic .verses had gone straggling through the press. The best of these, "The Old Swimmin' Hole and 'Leven More Poems, by Benjamin F. Johnson of (Boone," had been gathered into a little volume, thin almost as the back of an ordinary book and not larger than a man's hand, printed at the poet's own expense. One of the most characteris tic of these, telling of that * * pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock When the frost is on the.punkin and the fodder's in the sho^k^ Is a parQdy on Piatt's most beautiful and widely known poem, the same (which a Maine Yankee has made practi cal with: "When the crop is on the market and | the cash in the sock," and which Rudyard Kipling has imi tated at the antipodes in "Mandaiay," "When the mist was on the rice fields I an' the sun was droppin' slow." Although this limited edition met with astonishing success, being ex hausted within a fortnight, Riley's pro ductions up to that time were so few and fragmentary that it required the keenest literary discernment on the •part of Donn Piatt to detect in them the budding genius of America's sweet est and truest singer of the songs of the hearts of the people, and it requir ed, too, it may be, the kindliness of Donn Piatt to seek him out and encour age him and invite him to spend a cou ple of weeks at. his home. They owed their personal acquaint ance to Laura Ream, an Indianapolis writer, well known to both. Miss Ream sent: to Col. Piatt a copy of Mr. Riley's little book, and to his letter of thanks he added: "I have long admired Riley's verses as they appeared in print. I wish that next time you visit •is you would bring him along. There is no man I care more to see. Please Invite him for us. I shall feel honored by the visit." The young writer of dialect verses, unknown to fame, bashful as a child aud as warm-hearted and impulsive as a woman, found at Mac-o-chee delights that he had hardly dared hope for. ®onn Piatt, infinite in resource and Illimitable in versatility, the terror of snobs and a free lance to frauds, had is him, too, the delicacy of sentiment and the chivalric graces of tempera ment to enchant the youngwpoet. Riley told me, speaking of that visit of years ago: "I cannot imagine two men more different in every respect than Piatt as his writings had led me to picture !him and the man as I found him. He won my heart quickly and completely." t And Mac-o-chee in iUelf is an in spiration. Its tall, gray towers and sharp Flemish gables, nestling in among smoothly rounded, wooded hills, and the winding little valley cut into two graceful slopes by the sparkling stream that seems to sing always of that time long ago when the lovers' •trysted on its banks-- "When the bloom was on the alder and i the tassel on the corn"-- make up a vision and a charm as beau tiful as any dreamer'-s phantasy. Another guest at the house when Riley was there was a society belle of New York. In the afternoon of the <lay of his arrival these two were walk ing together t»n the lawn, and Riley, overcome by an, exuberant sense of . youth and freedom and delight, sud denly threw his hat into the air and turned a series of somersaults. Re turning with flushed face and laughing eyes, and noting his fair companion's Took of astonishment and her evident hesitation as to whether it were safe to remain or necessary to sacrifice her dig- nity by taking to her heels, he exclaim ed: "Why, young woman, don't you, .too, feel like doing that?" Laura Ream tells of a walk with him one morning along a shaded road'. Their delightful conversation was broke, i in Upon by a farmer driving some sheep 0 that stopped at their approach and seemed about to take fright. Riley promptly took in the situation, and bid ding Miss Ream follow him, ran to the jrtde of the road aud climbed upon the fence. Sis good fnteptlon was lost, however, for an old bell-wether in lead of the Sock, startled by Riley's quick movement, gave a bleat of terror and, In spite of the cries and gesticulations of the drover, broke back, followed, sheep-like, by the whole herd, and away they went down the road and were; sooa lost from sight in a cloud of dust. The farmer stood,, helplessly calling them, putting into his voice a pathetic plead ing that might have stopped a stone rolling down hill, but the sheep did not heed him. , "I assure you, sir,said Riley earnest ly. approaching him, "that we are sorry to have caused you this annoyance. We ought " ' "Ya-as," drawled the farmer, "it's purty bad. I've druv them dog-goned sheep twelve mile this mornin', an' here they go scootin' clean back to where they come from;*' Mr. Riley did not wait to hear more. Jumping the fence, he started at his best run on k detour through the fields, hoping to head off the fleeing sheep. Leaping a ditch, his hat flew off and went sailing out of reach. He did not stop to regain it. Reaching a high fence, he placed his hands upon the top rail, leaped over like a gymnast that he is, and went oa at a speed that drew from the farmer an exclamation of ad miration": "Gosh, he's gettin' tnere,, but you jest bet them sheep's makln for their, medder faster'n any man kin run."; , : _ '.. '"•'v <- ' \ Riley was now out in Piatt's pasture, that stretches far along the road. About him on all sides were grazing horses that looked up at him; in wide- eyed wonder. Slackening ins speed to a walk he held out his hand'to one. call ing it by name, and the gentle animal came to him. Grasping its mane, lie flung himself upon its back, and, with out saddle, bridle or spur, went tear ing across the sward at the highest speed of the trained thoroughbred. He was soon out of sight, and Miss Ream sat down in the comforting shade of a cottonwood to await his re turn or the Intelligence that his neck was broken. The farmer climbed on the fehce near by and, cutting off-a splinter, leisurely remarked: "Guess I can't do no good, nohow--might as well stay here." And he went to whittling. "Who might that feller be?" he asked in a moment, jerking his thumb in the direction in which Riley had so strange ly gone. „ "The gentleman's name is Riley," Miss Ream replied, "and he is a poet" "A poet! Gosh, I thought he must be one of them 'ere circus fellers." In a half hour the two saw a cloud of dust moving up the road, and soon after the sheep were distinguished; they passed by and Riley appeared, hatless, and covered with dust aud perspiration. "I am sorry to have delayed you," he said to the farmer, who interrupted and silenced him with his profuse thanks. But Mr. Riley did not spend all his time rollicking about. Col. Piatt's re sources as a host were too great aud varied for it to be desirable to be long from his side even in one who loved the freedom of the fields as Riley did. But Donn Piatt, too, was fond of the open air. There was not a nook or knoll from the stony peak of Bald Knob to the level plain of Mad river that in his rambles as boy and man fee had not learned to know and love; there was scarce a rock or aged tree upon the hills or in the glen but was famed throughout the countryside in quaint legends told by him. He was the only one who could point out the exact spot not more than a mile from Mac-o-chee, where Simon Kenton, the intrepid' pio neer, was tied by Indians to the stake for torture and was saved' by the time ly arrival and recognition of Girty, the renegade, who had been his friend in youth, the spot having been visited of ten by Piatt when a boy, in company wtih Kenton himself, who lived out his ripe old. age within a few inile^ of Piatt's boyhood home. It was Piatt alone who knew the tree beneath which in the Logan expedition the fiery Hugh McGary slew the captive Moluntha, chief of the Mac-o-chees, splitting his head with an ax grasped from the hands of the Grenadier squaw. It was lie who gave to song and story the beautiful legend of "Squaw's Rock," wherein a young Indian mother with her babe upon her breast croui hirsjj be side the stone, awaiting her lover hus band's return from the battle, is shot through the heart by the white in vaders, her body rolling into the creek, where ever since the waters have lun red and the lightning-scarred rock when the wind is blowing gives forth a sound as of a weeping child. Col. Piatt and Riley took long walks together in the woods and. along the stream. .Under the inspiration of na ture Riley became his true poetical sslf, and, stimulated by sympathy of his companion, talked without reserve of his hopes and^ambition. Once he said: "If I could butreproduce in words that indefinable song which bubbles from the lips of childhood I should have a rhythm sweeter than that of any bird and a philosophy of content truer than any creed." "You would have the music sweet enough, undoubtedly," Piatt replied, "but the philosophy would be sadly at fault Content born of the careless ness and ignorance of childhood is like wild flowers that spring into lifo in the shade of the forest When the sun shine filters through they wither. Youth is intoxicated with hope and its future is a bright world of the ideal. Later on the ideal is crowded out by the commonplace, the hopes become a hollow mockery, and manhood is apt to feed on the poison of despair. Seek -that philosophy, my boy, which helps men to be content with life as it actual ly Is, an existence in which toil and poverty and disappointment blend with the pleasures, a campaign that lias Its defeats as Well as its victories." Again, when Riley complained of the meager pay received for his work, Piatt said: "Nothing pays so poorly as the pen in this country. To attempt to make a living by it is to break one's heart before dying of starvation. But one able to write anything that will benefit mankind must also-be capable of a higher motive than mere gain. Sticli to it till you starve, then the thousands of dollars that would have made you comfortable in life will be cheerfully contributed by a greatful people for a mighty monument over your poor body. That is fame." Now that Riley's books are selling at the rate of 30,000 a year, lie may.possl bly take a different-view of this matter. No one rejoiced more in liis»steady at tainment of success; than did " Donn Piatt. A year or two before his death he wrote to-Miss Ream : "I ani grati fied to see that Whitcomb is getting his recognition from the dudes of literature. They turned up their noses at him for aj long time. Tell him for me to deal less] with that Indiana dialect. A little is; good, abut he has too much genius for( that. He is superior to . Dickens in prose, for hi? pathos is general and his humor is quite as good. He has writ-: ten more touclilngly beautiful things than Burns from the same standpoint; but, bless the boy! he must not permit himself to think of either the one or the; other." Mr. Riley did some notable work at Mac-o-chee. It was here that he wrote, anipng much else, that tender tribute to. Colonel Piatt, first published at the time of his death and contained in Mr. Riley's volumes since issued, the first stanza of which is now familiar to all Who admire either of the two men: Donn Piatt, of Mac-o-chee, Not the one of history, . . - Who, with flaming tongue and pen, Scathes the vanities of men; Not the ooejvhose biting wit Cuts pretense and etches it v; On the brazen brow that dares Filch the laurel that it wears; Not the Donn Piatt whose praise Echoes in the noisy ways • ; ,\ Of the factions, Onward led By the statesman, but, instead, Giye the simple man to me-r-", Donn Piatt, of-Mac-o-chee! . •'«' CHARLES GRANT.MILLER. "; -• A. Scientific Enthusiast. It is a common error to think of sci ence as opposed to all the poetry of life, and scientists as the most cold and matter-of-fact men. In reality the true scientist is almost always a poet at heart; and the greater he is, the more certain is he to be a pure enthusiast, and of a deeply reverent spirit Kep ler, exclaiming in the moment of his great discovery, "O, God, I think They thoughts after Thee!" is a type of this. Professor Farrar, who occupied the chair of natural philosophy at Harvard University, two-thirds of a century ago, was a man possessed of this enthu siasm for his work, and beloved by his pupils, whom he inspired with some thing of his own spirit. One day the class entered the lecture room and found 4the professor walking backward and forward, with kindled eye and working face, holding a ball in his hand. Presently he stopped and confronted the class, and exclaimed, suiting the action to the word: "I toss this ball into the air; the earth rises up to meet it and the stars bow down to do it reverence!" Probably no member of the class who heard these words ever forgot their absolutely accurate lesson; that action and reaction are equal; that the apple which falls to the earth, at the same time draws the earth to itself in the exact ratio of their relative weight and disturbs even the course of the planets and stars. Still less could they forget the grandeur and unity so vivid ly expressed in that brief-imagery. Some Shooting. The Early County, Ga., News "tells the following: "Uncle Buck Anthony is decidedly the best shot in this sec tion. He can take a lock of cotton with one seed in it, stick a pin through the seed into a board, stand off forty yards with an ordinary Winchester rifle, pick every particle of the lint off the seed and never touch it" ,We wish that our old friend, Esquire Marion Berry, was alive so that he could give "Uncle Buck" a few lessons in rifle shooting. The Squire, at the age of 70 years, got our gunsmith, Mr. Jesse Lamb, to make him a rifle that carried ISO bullets to the pound of lead. He once bored a hole in a gate post with a small gimlet and stepped off 100 yards to show the boys how well he could shoot "off-hand." The first shot he fired went through the gimlet hole without scraping either side, and for 129 straight shots he put every bullet through the same hole, rubbing it so slick with lead that it looked as if some one had been swabbing it out with a greasy rag. The Squire had great con- fidence in his rifle and with a litle prac tice he got so he could clip the wingai off a bumble bee in the air at 100 yards without touching its body. The Squire got so that he could shoot at a board at the distance of 200 yaids and after the first bullet went through the board he would bet 10 to 1 that he could shoot 1,000 more bullets through the same hole. Mixed Metaphors. The following choice bits of journal ism are credited»to a Tennessee news paper. Perhaps it is better not to specify more particularly. We will not enter into a controversy with the slimy, hissing wolf who tries to spit venom from his forked tongue on the editor of the . The way to treat such crawling vermin is to just let them bellow. Miss Jennie Harlow, who lias been visiting frineds in our midst, has re turned home. We are always glad to see her welcome presence. She comes like a ray of sunshine to sweeten ye editor's cup of gloom. Come again, Miss Jennie. These pension vampires are sucking the lilfel>lood from the ship of state. The'pale hand of death stalked into our rmdst last week, and fastened its cruel eyes on little Mary Pudley. B California Jury Reform. The new jury law in California, un der which three-fourths of the jury in civil cases can return a verdict, seems to be working satisfactorily.* The law has been under trial some months and has gained in popularity constantly, and it is agreed very generally that ver dicts so rendered are as equitable as under the old majority rule. The con stitutiou drafted for the new State of Utah provides for the three-fourths ver dict in that State.--Springfield Repub lican. ' v . | Constables Must Abstain. Londoil publicans, must not supply liquor to the police constables unless by authority of a superior officer. A woman was summoned before the. po lice court for serving at the saA> time a sergeant and a constable wliile on duty and pleaded that the sergeant gave the needed permission. A man may assume a virtue though he hath it not, but it Is different with au overcoat • ,DICK.ROCK, HUNTER. • Tlie Kan V.rho Captur& Auimalfc for Austin Corbin's Great Ustate. The Northwest has DO more noted hunter and guide or shrewder trapper than R. W. Rock (Dick Rock), of Hen ry Lake, in Idaho. He \vae in Boz6- -man recently, bringing in a herd of elks and deer for Charles Baches, that place, who intfrnds to turn a portion of his Gallatin valley ranch into a park for the raising of these animals; Mr. Rock is six feet tall, bronzed and muscular, wearing the sombrero of the West, and 'with a mustache and goateo which are strikingly Western.. Mr. Rock's ranch at Henry Lake is high up on the slope of the continental di vide of the Rockies, the lake itself be ing a beautiful sheet of clear mountain water, three miles long and two wide, the summer nights seldom passing without a frost, and the winters seeing from eight to twelve feet of snow <on the level in the mountains adjacent to his home. In such a section of coun try all travel must be done upon snow- shoes, and Mr. Rock is one of the most expert walkers in the West, using a ten-foot ski entirely in his moun.ta'in work. ; V; • He has been at Henry Lake for s^ven years, his early boyhood days being spent in the backwoods of New Hamp shire, Vermont and Maine, where his first work was with guns and traps, and he has followed this life ever since, haying lived for some years in Wisconsin and the Dakotas,' and then !n the early days" of this country: lie came to Montana. His present home is only-six miles from the Montana line. In Idaho, 120 miles from Bozeman, and this place is his market for furs and where he purchases his supplies. It is not, however, the fame which it, his as a guide, nor thtTbunning he dis plays in the manipulation of his traps, which is so remarkable in this man, but the fact that he has, perhaps, cap tured more wild animals alive than any other man in this country, and the Interesting part of his life is in the manner in which he does this. His record In the last seven years alone has been 312 elk,41 deer, 25 moose, 16 antelope, 3 buffalo, 14 bear cubs, be sides mountain sheep, wildcats and va rious smaller animals. In 1891 he ship ped three car loads of elk to the famous park of Austin Corbin. He lias elk which are broken to drive, his herd numbering sixty-five at this time, with two btiffalo, one moose and numerous other animals, which lie keeps in an eighty-acre pasture which is surounded by an eight-foot barbed-wire fence, topped off with a large pole. He makes his captures in February, March and April, when the snow is at its deepest and a light crust morning and night makes it easy snowshoeing, while the game breaks through and is captured with comparative' ease. He has four large dogs, one a 104- pound half shepherd and half mastiff, and the. other three half shepherd and half Newfoundland. Fastening two of these to a sled eight inches high, eight feet long, two and one-lialf feet wide, and on four-and-one-half-inch wide runners, he skims over^these snow-cov ered mouutain ridges at the rate of five to seven'miles an hour. He says dogs are the strongest animals living for their size, a ninety-pound dog hauling a load of from 300 to 500 pounds with ease and making light of a hill which would be a hard climb for a loaded team. The Eskimos have small, poorly fed dogs and need a number for a sled, While Mr. Rock loads two large elk upon a sled and two dogs will haul them to his ranch, whether he be twen ty miles away from home. Upon corralling game he ties each animal securely with ropes, which he always carries on his sleds, and then laying two elk upon a sled, with their heads together in the middle of the sled, one's head lying on the other ani mal's shoulders, he lashes them firmly to the dog sled and starts for home. When he has no game he rides upon a sled, but uses his long snowshoeS when the sleds are loaded. When starting out for game Mr. Rock takes a sack with a little flour, pre viously salted; a small sack of sugar and a small skillet, his only food while out being this mixture cooked into a sort of mush and eaten with sugar on It. He never eats meat of any kind. He sleeps in a snowbank, without bed ding, or before a camp-fire, where he freezes upon one side while warming the other. He always takes a man out with him when he is capturiug game in the spring time, but has never found a man who could stand over two to four trips of this rough life, with scant rations, no bed and continuous marching through and over these snow-covered mountains Mr. Rock was married four years ago. His wife handles the wild ani mals with great skill, being an expert upon snowshoes aud a ready shot with a rifle.--St. Paul Dispatch. Paul Jones' Tomb. C. P. Dargan, of Darlington, S. C., writes to the New Y'ork Sun: I saw in Wednesday's issue of the Sun a sugges tion under head of "A Name for the Kearsarge's Sister," that it be named Paul Jones. The gallant Paul Jones died of dropsy of the heart In 1795, and there is no memorial stone, inscription or other evidence to show where his bones are resting in the metropolis of France. Is it not shame to American pat- AFTER THE HUNT. Kow tlie Buffaloes Were Divided Up Among the Indians. - No man was_ in haste to claim his game the moment It fell, because his arrows had some peculiarity In their decoration by which they could be iden- -tified, and later his bullets were mark ed, The Omahas were expert hunters, and many a man could^ boast of hay ing sent an arrow clean through one buffalo to lodge in a second beyond. The flaying and cutting up of the an imal takes place upon the field,; and the meat, aud pelts are packed upon the' ponies In charge of the boys. The method of skinning and dividing the buffalo, elk and deer Is according to fixed rules; there are twelve cuts, four specified ones, with the hide, belong ing to the slayer of the animal. The first man who comes to assist in the cutting up of the game is entitled to his choice Of two of the remaining pieces, with the exception, of "the breast," which is always the property of tlie, last to give his services. This disposition of the-pieces gives opportu nities to the poor and the luckless to obtain provision for; themselves and their families. If a hunter has bor rowed a horse or weapon, half of his shf^re must go to the owner. Women never go upon the hunting- field unless to assist a childless hus band in taking care of the game. After the laden ponies have reached the camp, the duties of the women begin in the preservation of the meat. They cut the hindquarters into thin slices,. and hang them up on frames to dry; the muscle over t he ribs is cut in strips* dried and braided; aod when the meat is well cured pemmican is made. The drying or tanning of the skins then re quires attetion; the summer pelts are used for moccasins, clothing, and tent- covers; for robes and for bedding only the winter skins are used. For the lat ter purpose the hide of the bull is pre ferred because of its weight and the animal is cut and flayed differently from the others.--Century. Electric Snow. The story of a most remarkable snow storm, says the New York Tribune, is told by Lieut. John P. Finley, one of the best-informed meteorologists in the country, who encountered the storm in making an ascent- of Pike's Peak. He says the.storm could be described as a "s&ower of cold fire." In reality it was so charged with electricity as to present a scene more easily imagined than described. At first the flakes only discharged their tiny lights on coming in contact with the hair of the mule on which the lieutenant was mounted. Present ly they began coming thicker and faster each flake emitting its spark as it sank into drifts of the snow, or settled on the clothing of the lieutenant or the hair of the mule. As the storm increased in fury and the flakes became smaller, each of the icy particles appeared as a trailing blaze of ghostly white light, and the noise produced by the constant electric explosions conveyed the impression of Nature's power which Lieutenant Fin- ley will niver forget When the storm was at its height and each flake of snow was like a drop of fire, electric sparks were sha ken in stBeams from the Lieutenant's finger-tips, as. well as from his ears, beard and nose, and a wave of his arms was like the sweep of flaming sword-blades through the air, every point of snow touched giving out its little snap and flash of light. This phenomenon, though rare, Ls by no means new to meteorologists, it having been recorded several times be fore. It has by some observers been treated as a sort of phosphorescence, but in the case above cited each flake appears to have been charged with static electricity. THE HATLESS MAN. Why la He More £mbaitMied ^Than Woman? ^ "Nothing makM"3rman madder," con tinued the philosopher whose sayings the Washington Po§t records, "than to lose his hat. To have it blown from his head In the street is hitter embar- rassntent; to lose" it ̂ accidentally is a severe misfortune, and to have it stolen is the deepest, blackest outrage' th&t one can suffer. That i^s one crime which a man can never forgive. The theft of almost any other persctoal be longing may possibly be condoned or eventually forgotten. The loss of an umbrella is often exasperating, but at the worst it only exposes a man to the pelting rain, but *take away a man's headgear and you strike him a vital blow. . . '•> "I don't know Why it is that a man is so sensitive about having his head cov ered. A woman will go bareheaded with perfect self-possession. Of course she has more hair than a man, but then she will drape a shawl or handkerchief over her head and feel perfectly com fortable. But remove a man's hat and you rob him at the same time of all confidence and self-respect. He feels utterly helpless and exposed to scorn and contumely, as well as the sun and wind. He is conscious of his ludicrous state and imagines that everybody is laughing at him, which stirs his wrath to the boiling point. "Occasionally you may see. a man rush out of doors bareheaded in a mo ment of great excitement, but as soon as he comes to his senses the first thing he will seek is some kind of head cov ering. The merest apology for a cap or hat will suffice, but without it he feels lost. Possibly this sentiment is a relic of the barbaric days, when all mankind went helmeted, and without cranial protection they felt at the mercy of their enemies. At any rate the habit of hat wearing has become second na ture. "Who steals my purse steals trash, But he who filches from me my old liat Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed!" Inland. When the blue dawns of summer morn ings change To brooding warmth of Sunrise, spread ing bright; And long, sweet shadows down the levels range, And all the crags and uplands laugh in light, • I long then for the music of the sea Breaking against its shore, with songa for me. » When the. tired glory of the drowsy noon Shuts inward half the light that thrills •.my heart; •' ' / }•• '". And brings to dreamy eyes the sleep too • • soon .O. v <• That folds me. from the Outward world a p a r t , f ' _ * . _ ' • • " In that strange hour I hear the rhyth- mip sweep Of strong incoming tides, so. cool, so deep. In rose-gray twilight, when the niists of dew -. .. . . Half veil the white star-blossoms of the sky, And the clear wind comes, slowly breath ing through My curtain fold, with tuneless melody, I listen till I catch the tone divine Of sea songs, far away, but always mine. --Madeline S. Bridges. A P R O U D R E C O R D . New Zealand's Wonderful Develop ment in Half a Century. It is only fifty-five years since the sovereignty of Queen Victoria was pro claimed over the island of New Zea land and cannibal feasts were held within a short distance of the site of what is now an important city. To day it is inhabited by 728,000 persons, of whom all but 50,000 are whites. It is crossed from end to end with rail roads and telegraphs, and the income of Its population is over $135,000,000 a year, half of which comes from farms and mines. There are $90,000,000 of money on deposit in the colonies, and the value of manufactures produced in the year amounts to $45,000,000. New Zealand has 1,200 churches and chap els, 77 per cent of th<» population can read and write. In the consumption of drink New Zealand is the eleventh in the list, coming after Switzerland, and the sixteenth in the consumption of to bacco, coming after France. In tlie last fifty years gold to the value of has been sent out of the country. The average total wealth at the end of 1894 was estimated at $750,- 000,000; the public debts at $200,000,- 000, of which $75,000,000 was spent in railways, and 3 per cent in the interest The wealth of the United Kingdom is $1,235 per head, and that of New Zea land comes next, with $1,100. Clerical Horsemen. One of the most noted figures in Rot ten Row is the Archbishop of Canter bury, who in point of residence ranks immediately after the royal family, be fore even the lord chancellor, his wife, however, having no official status or precedence. The archbishop rides With a very light hand and never uses the whip. His favorite mount is a mare called Serena, for which he paid $1,500, and he has taught her all kinds of tricks, which his grace delights in" show ing off to his friends. The funniest thing is to see her trot all alone from her stable to the entrance of the Lam beth palace as soon as she sees tho primate waiting there for her. The Bishop of London, whose salary is $50,- 000 a year, with two furnished pal aces in lieu of the archbishop's $75,000 and three palaces, rides a white horse, and is likewise a conspicuous and* no table figure in the row. riotism that her greatest jnaval hero, so much honored in life, should be so nuch neglected, if not entirely forgot ten, in death? lot entire! - f -- ctiresses. Ages of Act! An uugallant French newspaper writer has been makifig public the ages of celebrated actresses with the pur pose of showing that theyiall put for ward the year of their birth in order to appear younger. Comparing the rec ords of the conservatoire with the dates given by the actresses themselves, he finds that Mile. Reichemberg, who takes off oile year from her age, to Mme. Bernhart, who de4pcts six years, there is In almost all cases, and with actors as well, a considerable margin. Slow in Honoring Dr. Rusli. Eleven years ago a fund to erect a monument to Dr. Rush, the only phy sician who signed the Declaration of Independence, was stalled in Washing ton. Only $3,094.39 has been contrib uted of the $20,000 needed. A Spendthrift Town. J. M. Davis, of Greensburg, Kan., who was a member of the dual State Legislature during the memorable ses sion of 1893, in an interview stated that the population Iff that town had dwin dled from 2,500 five years ago to 125. The bonded indebtedness of the city Incurred in the establishment of water works, electric lighting and other In ternal improvements is $45,000. Farm ers have bought up the majority of the houses for a song and moved them away, and the handful of people that still remain refuse to pay taxes. The Outstanding bonds are worthless.--Wi chita (Kan.) dispatch to New York World. y The Royal Word. The queen's word, in the matter of titles, is absolute law. Were she to address a bystander inadvertently as "Duke," a duke he would remain unless she revoked the honor. There are sev eral cases on record in which titles were conferred by a sudden Impulse of the sovereign in a colloquial moment titles which are extant to this day. There is thus a real significance in the phrase that the monarch Is the fountain of honor. WherUhe fountain §prihkles the citizen, he retains the .gracious moisture, aud often bequeaths it to his posterity. , The 'hMin who says to his wife, "Give me the baby, dear, and I will tiy and put it to sleep," is greater than lie who taketli a city. When a boy away from home writes to his father, the words;of affection.are very near to the words asking for more money. ' Adversity is not without Comfort-- your enemy may be in harder lucV. than you. - , The blossom may smell very aweet and yet the fruit be bitter. Turning the Tables. The extent to which lawyers can ex ercise their Imagination when pleading in behalf of their clients is almost be yond belief; but sometimes the tables are turned in a very uuexpected fash ion. o On one occasion, says the Florida Times-Union, Mr. Swan was engaged in presenting the case of a woman who petitioned the court to grant her a judi cial separation from her husband, a workingman, and urged that as she was in extreme poverty, she was entitled to alimony according to her husband's means. . With a voice broken in its pathos the lawyer dilated on the imperative neces sity of the case, declaring that his cli ent was utterly destitute, not having a mattress to lie upon, and not possess ing the means to purchase a crust of bread. When the evidence had been heard the judge, who well knew the counsel's unlimited powers of exaggeration, turn ed to the appellant and addressed to her a few questions. ^ Have you, then, no occupation?" Yes, my lord; I am a nurse," was the incautious reply. And wh1|e are you employed?" I am at Mr. Swan's," she unwittingly rejoined, pointing to her counsel. It was with the greatest difficulty that the judge refrained from joining in the shout of laughter with which this ad mission was hailed. A New Explosive. A Bridgeport inventor says he has discovered an explosive which will blow an invading army into cats' meat as soon as it is dropped among them. He hasigone to Cuba to try It upon Gen. Campos and his peninsular myrmidons, and if news from that island were not so habitually untrustworthy it would now be waited with Increased.interest So many destructive agents of warfare are reported in this period that If all their claims "were realized war would become impossible and another mode of settling internecine and International difficulties would hj^ve to be devised. But many of them thunder in tlie Index, exploding with more smoke than car nage, and effecting no revolutionary change in military methods. The Bridgeport fulminant may be in this category, but its pretensions remain to be tested. Up to His Business. Mr. Magnet--I want to get a steward for my yacht. Have yiu had any ex-' periene<V? Apll'lcant--Yes, sir. I have been a bar keeper for three years--Detroit Free Press. ° Mutual. She--I've haul no use; for you since you lost your mustache. - He--And Pre had no use for the mus tache since I lost you.--Iloxbury Ga zette. Goldenrod. The spirit of the golden autumn tide Is in thee, happy dancing goldenrod! When I first see thy yellow bloom beside The hot-white dusty road, or see thee hide Thy plumy flower where hawthorns bend and nod, I seem to feel the glad September air, To see the haze o'erhang the distant hills, To hear the cricket from its leafy lair, To taste the purple grape and ripened pear, And a great gladness all my sp:-it fills. Herald of a gorgeous flowery host, The aster and the flaming cardinal flower, Of all the autumn blooms thou seemest most To call me from the vanity and boast Of men, to seek a glorious pulsing hour Where reddening foliage is overhead, And fragrant winds sing of a bounte ous God, Where brown leaves rustle to the rabbit's tread; O swaying autumn flcwer, well is it said, A nation's blossom is the yellow golden rod! --Karl Bulile. Earth-Bound. » Seek who will for starry love, , Mysteries of the milky way, O'er the secret spectrum pose, Gathered from the distant ray. 1 Heedless I Of the sky, Give me what the grasses say Whispering down the summer day. Search who lists the unfathomed deep Far below the laughing waves,,' ->ij Wistful what the ages keep <i- Safely ?iid in ocean caves. Naught care I What they bear, Tell me what the bubbles hymn Dancing on the billow's brim. Turn who longs the dusty scroll, Record of a vanished age, Seek what fired the hero's soul, Nerved his arm or dulled his rage. What I prize Never lies, Give me but the faithful chart Of my comrade's loving heart. f --Samuel Miuturn Peck, in Boston Tran script. Love's Birtli-Hour. What was the day when, sweet, I loved thee first? The day when my heart trembled at thy tone Almost as much as would my lips have done Could they have slaked at thine their new-born thirst? When did this passion into flower burst, As a bud into a rose, beneath the sun? W7hen felt I first my body and soul as one? Life with thee bless'd, without thee, emp ty, and ciirs'd? Who notes Love's birth-hour then ? In sooth, not I; - • Though love, like all things, hath its birth and growth, And love at first sight is a short-lived thing; Nor shall I know the hour when Love must die. Tor that will be my death-hour, too, and both Will pass to where is no remembering. --Philip Bourke Marston. Life and Sons:. H* If life were caught by a clarionet, And a wild heart, throbbing in the reed, Should thrill its joy aud trill its fret And utter its love in love's own deed; Then would this breathing clarionet, Type what I would that I might be, For none of the poets ever yet Has wholly lived his minstrelsy, Or wholly sung his true, true thought Of utterly bodied forth his life, Or made what God made when He wrought One perfect self of man and Wife; Or lived and sung, that Life and Song Might each express the other's all, Careless if life or art were long, Since both were one, to stand or fall; So that the wonder struck the crowd, Who shouted it about the land: His song was only a living aloud-- ' His work was a singing with his hand I --Sidney Lanier. The Kurds ought to know all about cheese-making. •" • The Legend of White Violets. Twin violets grew together in a Wood. Each told the other secrets of the skies; On each shone down the light of angel eyes, Dyeing their petals in a purple flood. And then some ruthless hand tore them apart; ' ; it'* Took one and left tlie other there alone. Pale grew they then--as when light has gone-- • As lovers grow who live not heart to heart. --Vanity. The reison -vhy many New York schoolmarms don't marry is ' because Hhey do not like to give up^75f posi- tions fo^§g|lUdes. ] Every dog has his day, and Sunday^ belongs to the growler.