l1
HAMMOND'S GREAT LEAP.
One Hundred and Fifty-five Feet Down
From a Cliff into the Rio Grand.
San Antonio Cor. Philadelphia Times.
When the news of Professor Odium's
fatal leap from the parapet of the
Brooklyn bridge reached here we were
balking over the affair in the "Gold
Room." Sam Graham, ex-sergeant of
rangers, called attention to a parallel
incident which attracted a great deal
of attention on the frontier at the
time and gave the name of "Ham
mond's Leap" to a lofty canon wall
on the bank of the Rio Grande, about
six miles west where the alkaline waters
of the Pecos empty into it . The track
of the Southern Pacific railroad runs
Close to the river here, and as you whirl
tv the trainmen will point out the spot
where Kobert Hammond made a
sheer jump of 155 feet to the muddy
waters of the Rio Grande below. This
leap was made in the early summer of
loois, when tne ranroaa was m pro
cess of construction. The painted red
men from a safe hiding place on the Mex
ican side watched the busy scene with
wide opened eves, heard the "big thun
der" of the blasts with loud-beating
heart and stole back to the Santa
Rosas. The only animate beings that
did not seem to mind the noise and tu
mult were those pestiferous little var
mints, the vinegaroan, the devil horse,
the tarantula, the centipede, the sting
ing lizard, and the rattlesnake. They
remained and disputed the ground inch
by inch with the invaders. They
caused a great deal of trouble, and the
navvies feared and respected them. It
was a stinging lizard or scorpion that
caused Hammond's leap. Hammond
was a navvy, born in England, and at
the time he made the leap about 26
years of age. He was of rather slender
build, but wiry and muscular, and
Jack Harris, the contractor for whom
he worked, considered him his best
churn driller. Harris' camp was at
the head of a deep canon, about one
mile south of Vinegaroan. He was en
gaged in making a fill and two side
cuts, and worked gangs day and night.
Hammond worked in the day gang,
and the big wall tent he shared with
Bix or eight others was about 300
yards from the edge of the lofty wall,
against whose base the muddy waters
of the "great river" dashed and tum
bled. At this particular point the river
is quite deep. One night the sleeping
occupants of Harris's camp were
aroused by a series of startling yells,
which came from Hammond's tent.
Before they could collect their senses
and settle m their minds whether or
not the camp had been attacked by In
dians, Hammond dashed from the tent
and although held by his companions,
tore himself away, and yelling at every
jump, made giant bounds toward the
river. Te drillers and blasters in the
cut stopped their work and ran up on
the bank to see what was the matter.
They saw Hammond as he dashed
toward them and heard his ag
onized yells. .A cry of horror burst
from their lips as the yelling man
reached the brink of the precipice and
without a second's hesitation leaped
out and shot down like a plummet to
the boilingflood 155 feetJpelow. They
heard the loud splash made by his
body when it struck the water and
then, with blanched faces and hushed
voices, hurried down to the river level
to search for the poor fellow's man
gled body. What was their supprise
to meet the supposed dead man alive,
uninjured. He was shivering with cold
however, and the muddy water dripped
from his clothing.
"What was the matter?" cried the
group of searchers in chorus.
"One of them infernal stinging liz
ards got in my ear and nearly drove
me crazy," answered Hammond, "but
he popped out when I struck the wa
ter. By the way boys, what do you
think of that jump?"
"It ought to have killed you," said
one man.
"It didn't, though," cried Hammond
with a laugh. "I'll make it again for a
ten-dollar bill."
The next morning Jack Harris had
the distance measured, and the tape
line, held close to the cliff edge, marked
155 feet and a few inches when the
other end touched the water. Ham
mond did not appear to suffer from
his terrible flight through the air. He
worked for Harris until the latter's
contract was finished and then he
went into Mexico to work on the Mex
ican Central. He was in his under
clothes that night, and his feet were
protected by thin socks. He struct
water feet first, and described the sen
sation experienced as similar to that
if the feet had been smartly slapped
with a broad strap. While in the air
he felt no difficulty in breathing, and
the increased velocity as his body
neared the water was not perceptible.
Through London by Canal.
Ber.j. El!is Martin, in Harper's Magazine.
When a certain famous financier from
San Francisco visited London a few
years ago he was called on the morn
ing after his arrival by his English cor
respondent.who, finding him character
istically anxious to plunge at once in
to the business for which he had come,
proposed to start for "the city." "The
city," exclaimed our magnate; "why,
what do you call this place we'er in? I
was two or three hours riding through
what I should call a city last night be
fore I reached this hotel." But the
placid and precise Englishman went
on, statistically, to explain that
"the city" was still a long dis
tance away; that they could go there
inside a cab or outside a 'bus; by boat
down the river underground, beneath
the houses.by rail; or by rail, above the
roofs, through the borough all to the
astonishment expressed with naive
and native vehemence, of the San Fran
ciscan. I fear that the resources of
the Pacific slope language would have
been unduly taxed had he been told
that he might pass from end to end of
London on a canal; and I am sure his
visitor, as well as most Londoners,
would have felt equal surprise.
Yet it is true; an unheeded and al
most unknown river runs through the
heart of London, holdingits quiet, un-.
troubled course, while the busy city
has pushed its way all about and be
yond it.. It is not so many years
since pleasure boats plied uponit; and
even now chartered to commerce as it
is, a trip along its length is a delight
and a surprise, not only to the Lon
doner, who may not be adverse to the
novel form of amusement to be found
in. learning something of his own town
but even to the alien prowler by pro
fession, who prides himself on thor
oughly knowing his beloved prowling
place. The Regent's Canal is the last link
in the great canal chain of England.
By it the Mersey is married to the
Thames, and shakes hands with the
Humber; it connects the whole great
scheme of inland navigation with Lon
don and the sea. The Grand Junc
tion Canal, through which flows all the
traffic of the canals of the North, of
the midland counties and the West,
joins the Thames at Brentford, and,
entering it here, we may pass around
and through London, and come again
into the Thames at Limehouse. The
Regent's Canal proper reaches from
Paddington to Limehouse, a distance
of eight and one-half miles, in which
distance there are forty bridges or
more, and twelve locks, at short in
tervals, to enable it to make the de
scent of eighty-four feet. There are
many basins and docks, some deep
cuttings, and to pass through the
great ridge at Islington it was neces
sary to cut a tunnel, straight and
deep. The canal has a mean depth of
about six feet, is thirty-feet in width
at the bottom and forty-eight feet at
the surface, to allow three full-sized
barges to pass comfortably, these
barges being thirteen to fourteen feet
wide, and from sixty-five to seventy feet
long. The whole inland navigation of
the country once stopped at Padding
ton. This Canal, continuing the wa
ter communication of the interior of the
Thames and its docks at Limehouse,
was begun October 14, 1812, and
finally opened for traffic August 1,
1820. It received its name from "the
first gentleman in Europe," as he was
then regarded by a subservient nation.
There were fine doings at its formal
opening; an aquatic procession of
boats and barges flaunting with
streamers flags flying everywhere.
Liberty Above All.
Victor Hugo was wedded to liberty
from his cradle. His father was a
soldier of the First French Republic,
and it was another old soldier in the
same ranks who was to give the son
that watchword which was on his lips
so constantly through life. This was
Laborie, who, in 1804, was implicat
ed in Moreau's conspiracy against
Bonaparte. On the discovery of the
plot, he was proscribed, a price was
set upon his head, and it was the elder
Hugo who gave him shelter. During
this period of concealment, Laborie,
while talking with some generals who
had sworn not to betray him, turn
ed to the child Victor, and said, "Re
member liberty above all!" Who can
doubt that the sentence exercised a
determining influence on the life of the
boy?
Victor Hugo says, speaking of him
self in the third person, "The man who
to-day publishes this collection
Deeds and Words and who throws
open the door of his life to his contem
poraries in these volumes, has passed
through many errors. He has suffer
ed from the consequences of a complex
and solitary education given him by a
proscribed Republican. But the pa
triot was always strong within him.
He was for Napoleon in 1813, for the
Bourbons in 1814. He has always
acted in perfect good faith. He de
clares that never in all he has written
will any one find a line against hber-
"rn 1848, he had not made up his
mind as to the definite social form to
be adopted. Singularly enough, one
might almost say that at that time
liberty hid the Republic from his vis
ion. "He was a member of the Assembly.
One day at its meeting a brave man
came to him and said, 'With whom
are you in sympathy here?'
" 'With Kberty.'
'And what are you doing?
" 'I am waiting.'
"After June, 1849, he waited no
longer. At the moment when the hands
of all the conquerors were held out to
him to drag him into their ranks, he
saw a corpse on the field. Every one
cried
" 'It is the Republic!'
" 'He went to it and found that it
was liberty. Then he saw before him
a fall, defeat, ruin, proscription, and
he said, 'It is well.'
"From that day forward, the unkm
in his soul of the Republic with Liber
ty was complete. From that day for
ward, without truce, without relaxa
tion, obstinately, foot by foot, he
fought for the great cause. In 1851,
he received what he expected, twenty
years of exile." Youth's Companion.
The Latest Georgia Snake Story.
Mr. Ellis B. McGreen, an old and
well-known citizen of Bartow county,
was in town, and relaled to us the fol
lowing singular story: Mr. McGreen
and his son-in-law, James iJarnuer,
were on a tract of land belonging to
Mr. McGreen known as the slough
Jookingfor a sow and a litter of young
pigs that had not been seen for several
days. While walking over thegrouno,
wiuiich was of a damp, boggy nature,
Barmer suddenly sank to his waist.
Mr. McGreen was carrying an ax with
which be cut a sood sized sapling, and
passing one end of it to Barmer he
succeeded in pullinghimoutof the hole.
As Barmer'sfeetemergedfrora the mud
there was found hanging to the lower
hem of one of his pantaloon legs a
Large sized rattlesnake, his shakeship
had his fangs firmly hooked in the
heavy jeans and was cut in pieces be
fore he eoutd let go his hold. Another
snake reared his head from the aper
ture and was killed. The two men
then investigated the den, and found
and killed thirty-seven snakes. And
strangers still, some twenty feet from
the snake nest, and in the same hol
low, were found the sow and all the
pigs but two. They hadfallen through
the thin crust of ground covering the
aperture, and were unable to get out
without assistance. Rome Courier
THE FAEM AM) FIRESIDE.
, Notes for tne Housekeeper.
N. M. Writes to the N. Y. Tribune:
"Where one has to manage with a
small income and has good health, it
is a good plan to dispense with help,
and by economizing in other ways, buy
such articles as will contribute to the
comfort of the family and especially
such as will make the work easy a
Dover egg-beater, a carpet-sweeper, a
washer, a meat-chooper, a kerosene
stove with fixtures, a combination
baby high chair with rocker, a little
carriage, an adjustable gate that will
fit any door or window, so that you
can keep the babies very near you, and
yet not" in the same room where the
work is going on. A great saver of
time is to have a place for each thing
and each thing in place when not in
use. It is surprising how the little
two-hear-olds will remember where
each thing belongs, and how soon
they will learn that it is the
right way to pick up the 'blocks' be
fore asking for the 'animals,' and how
the younger c-nes will teach the older
ones, 'this is our drawer,' and 'that is
mamma's; we musn't open mamma's
drawer.' It is rather hard at first to
leave all your important duties to
show the babies how to pick up the
playthings, right away, when they are
through playing with them; but have
patience, they will learn and will know
no other way, and the first you know
they will do it of their own accord and
give you no more trouble. My two
oldest babies now pick up their blocks
and pile them in the boxes without be
ing told. At 10:30 every morningthey
have each a glass of warm milk and go
to bed for their nap, where they stay
until 1 o'clock. Sometimes they sleep
all the time, sometemes only part of it,
but they don't know any better than
to stay there, and they need the rest.
How much work can be crowded in
while they are asleep I need not men
tion here, as any one can try for her
self. At 5:30 the babies go to bed and
sleep from 6 p. m. to 6 a. m. The
evenings we spend very pleasantly.
Two Cheap Medicines.
One of the cheapest medicines that
mortals can use is sleep. It is a sov
ereign remedy for weakness; it cures
restlessness, uneasiness and irritabili
ty; it will remedy headache; it also
cures nervousness. When weary we
should rest; when'exhausted we should
sleep. To resort to stimulants is sui
cidal. What weary men need is sleep.
The lack of sleep causes neuralgia,
paralasis and insanity. Many a per
son dies for want of sleep, and the
point where many a sufferer turns his
feet from the very gates of death to
the open path of life is when he sinks
to sleep. Of almost every sick man it
may be said, as of Lazarus, "If he
sleeps he will do well." Another ex
cellent medicine is sunshine. The
world requires more of it morally and
physically. It is more soothing than
morphine, more potent than poppies.
It is good fpr liver complaint, neural
gia, for rheumatism, for melancholy
for everything. Make your rooms
sunny and cheerful; build your houses
so as to command the sunshine all day
long.
Princess Beatrice's Trossean.
From the London Truth.
Have you any curiosity about the
trosseau a princess has? I have seen
the sketches and materials of some of
Princess Beatrice's trosseau frocks,
which are being made by Redfern. One
is a very pretty brown and blue shot
tweed, with silk to match. The shirt
is of the latter and is arranged in wide
perpendicular pleats. The bodice and
tunic are of the tweed, the front of the
bodice being trimmed with folds of the
silk, arranged fichu-fashion. A pretty
little jacket to go with this gown is
made of the tweed, lined with peacock
colored satin and trimmed with the
shot-silk down the fronts, which are
straight, though the back fits tightly
to the figure.
Another nice frock is of grenat blank
et cloth, the long wide pleats on the
skirt being separated by folds of Otto
man silk in the same color. There is
also a vest of the Ottoman, the bodice
and scarf drapery being of the cloth.
A jacket is made to accompany this
frock, the material being the blanket
cloth. It faatens from the left shoul
der and is trimmed round all the out
lines with fine sable.
A gown of navy-blue cloth is cut out
in scallops, which fall over a trimming
of interlaced cardinal red braid- A simi
lar but narrower trimming edges the
tunic, which is quite short. The fronts
of the bodice are scalloped over a vest
of interlaced red braid and the sleeves
are finished at the cuffs to match.
The jacket corresponding with this is
of navy cloth, edged with one row of
cardinal braid. A revers, turned back
at the side or the chest, is lined with
red silk and a smaller revers, turned
back at the right side of the basque.
shows a similar lining. This is a very
effective little arrangement and one
quite new to my experience.
A cream-colored cloth is made over
a skirt of pale blue veiling, being quite
plain except for a narrow pleating
round the edge. The bodice of this
fastens diagonally from the left
shoulder by means of carved mother-of-pearl
buttons. The vest and cuffs
are pale blue.
Another cream-colored dress is of
Cairo cloth, with pleated skirt and
scarf-like tunic, made of cream-colored
satin. The bodice of this gown is
pleated and worn with a belt.
lace, we find the Marquise, which is ex
tremely popular, and comes in various
and attractive patterns.
Evening gloves are made with the
hand, as far as the wrist, of kid, while
the long arm consists of silk net, em
broidered with gold, silver or silk.
Morning dresses and elegant house
toilets are made dressy with profuse
use of ribbons in bows, knots, cas
cades, panels and floating loops and
ends. " ,
Matinees are still trimmed down the
front with full jabot of lace, or open
over a brocaded plastron, and are
edged on either side with full frills of
lace.
Red silk crepe is a favorite material
for trimming dark blue alpaca, and is
introduced in tiers of fans placed over
lapping each other down the left side.
White nuns' veiling is the favorite for
nice dresses foryounggirls. It is made
np with a jersey bodice, laced or but
toned behind. The skirt is trimmed
with rows of satin ribbon, and has a
tablier in front and sash ends behind
for slender figures, while those inclined
to stoutness need no overdress, but
wear a sash.
Seasonable Fashion Kotos.
Ottoman ribbons are largely used
for trimming dresses.
Parasols match the costumes with
which they are worn.
White cloth dresses are trimmed
with embroidery or braid.
Black and white striped silk and sat
in are very popular in Paris.
Black, gray and shades of brown are
the leading colors in hosiery.
Dividing the honors with Spanish
Better Crops From Sheltered Belts.
Last winter in Southern Ohio, and
indeed over a much larger section of
country, furnished an illustration of
the value of timber as a protection to
small grain, which the dullest farmer
or most casual observer could not
fail to notice. The only fields of wheat
showing life were those which felt the
protection of timber. Rich land, thor
ough preparation of soil and early
seeding which gave a start to the crop
so that it covered the ground in the
fall, and even top-dressing with fine
rich manure, all counted for nothing
during the terrible winter, for thou
sands of acres which had some or all
of these favorable conditions were to
tally killed. I rode during the last
wreek of April twenty miles through as
good a wheat-producing locality as
can be found in the Union, and did not
see a single field that promised five
bushels of wheat to the acre, except
in the protection of timber. Here and
there was a green velvety field, and in
every case, without exception, was the
border of timber on one or more sides
of it. Even neglected hedges, allowed
to grow to the height of ten feet, saved
a belt of wheat several rods in width.
Professor Townsend, of the Ohio uni
versity, states that in the prairie coun
tries it has been found that with one
sixth of the land devoted to timber
the remainder produced as much grain
as the whole did before the trees were
planted. I have raised timber belts of
soft maple and of locust on my farm,
and found that a double row, occupy
ing less than a rod in width of land,
can be grown from seed to furnish good
protection in five years, and I have cut
a cord of wood from thirty -fivo maple
trees; ten years old, and occupying but
four or five square rods of land. There
can be no question of the profit of these
timber belts; thev pay in the protec
tion they afford to grain, grass and
stock, and the timber when utilized will
pay again and often largely. When ar
ranged to protect the permanent pas
tures it is safe to estimate that the
stock can be turned out a week earlier
in spring than in an unprotected field,
and a week of pasture at this season
is worth much more than a week later.
I would urge every farmer whose land
is unprotected te start a shelter belt of
trees. Waldo Jr. Brown.
A Word of Advice.
Why are girls so injudicious in their
toleration of dissipated young men?
It is very often the case that a
thoroughly good girl will deliberately
marry a man who makes no secret of
his bad habits. What can she expect
but misery to ensue? A life-partnership
should not be entered into with
out at least as much caution as men
display in making business combina
tions for limited, periods. No man
selects his business partner from among
men who drink much liquor or have
other bad habits. As for mere man
ners and the ability to make one's self
agreeable, they have mot of themselves
influence enough among men to secure
a dollar's worth of credit or to justify
any one in believing their possessor on
oath. A girl who is not old enough or
shrewd enough to have learned what
are the standards by which men are
tested, would be far surer of a happy
life if she were to let her parents select
a husband in the prosiest manner im
aginable, than if she were to make her
own selection in the manner peculiar
to girls. A lile-partnerslnp is not
easily dissolved. Home Companion.
What a Baoy Can Do.
Babies are often called "helpless
little things," "powerless little crea
tures." and all that sort of nonsense.
In a few words we will prove to our
unprejudiced readers that babies are
neither "helpless" or "powerless," by
informing them of a few things that a
baby can do.
It can wear out a dollar pair of kid
shoes in twenty-four hours.
It can keep its father busy advertis
ing in the newspapers for a nurse.
It can occupy both sides of the larg
est size bed manufactured simultane
ously. It can make the author of its be
ing's wash bills foot up to $5 a week
and not be feeling at all well.
It can crowd to suffocation the
smoking car of a railroad train with
indignant passengers between two
stations.
It can cause its father to be insulted
by every second-class boarding-house
keeper in the city who "never takes
children," which in. nine eases out of
ten is very fortunate for the children.
It can make itself look like a fiend
just at the moment when mamma
wants to show "what a pretty baby
she has."
It can look its father innocently in
the face and five seconds later spoil the
only good coat that he has got in the
world.
It can make an old bachelor in the
room adjoining use language that, if
uttered on the street, would get him
into the penitentiary for two years.
It can go from the farthest end of
the room to the foot of the stairs in
the hall adjoining quicker than its
mother can just step into the closet
and out again.
It can go to sleep "like a little angel,"
and just as mamma and papa are
starting for the theater it can wake up,
and stay awake until the beginning of
the last act.
It can, in ten minutes, drive a man
frantically from his home and cause
him to seek the companionship of a
locomotive blowing off steam in order
that he may obtain the rest and qui
etude which his weary frame demands.
These are someof thefewthings that
a baby can do. But there are other
things as welL A baby can make the
commonest home thebrightestspoton
earth. It can lighten the burden of a
loving mother's life by addingtothem;
it can flatten its dirty little face against
a window pane in such a way that the
tired father can see it, as a picture, be
fore he rounds the corner. Yes, babies
are great institutions, particularly
one's own. Home Companion.
Manners of Hired Help.
H. P. writes to the N. Y. Tribune:
"Will you not give us a little talk up
on the relations of the employer and
the employed, especially those exist
ing in the household and on the farm,
where one is associated personally
with those in his or her employ.
Please tell us what you would con
sider the proper form of address due
the employer in such cases.
The Tribune answers: Our house
hold consists of two brothers past
thirty, one sister and myself past
twenty-five, and I think that a more for
mal title than the given name used by
the family is due us from our hired help.
Now is it unkind to insist upon having
Miss used before my sister's name and
my own, and Mr. before that of my
brothers? No well-bred person met
socially expects to use any other style
of address unless they are intimate
friends, and why shouditbe considered
a degrading thing for one in service to
place the suitable title before his em
plorer's name when addressing him or
her? Surely the utmost kindness
should be shown to those we employ,
and certainly no true-hearted person
wishes to make any one feel a degrad
ing sense of inferiority because of the
necessity of gaining a livelihood by
manual labor, but isn't it far easier to
keep their relations pleasant when
due respect is given to these outward
forms? Undue familiarity is never a
promoter of kindly feeling.
A Maine Farmer on Fences.
If I had my way, I wouldn't have a
fence on the farm. In the first place,
there are over 6 4,000 farmers in Maine.
Now, their farms have in the aggregate
over 42,000,000 rods of fence, or rising
131,000 miles. This is outside of or
namental fences, and does not include
some 2,000 miles or more of railroad
fencing. There are 11,000 rods of
highway fences, 16,000,000 rods of
partition fences and some 15,000,000
rods of division fences. Estimating
the cost of these fences at $1 per rod,
and that would, I think, be a fair es
timate, and the total cost of fences in
Maine is over $42,000,000. This is
nearly as much as all the farms and
their buildings are worth. It is more
than twice and a half the value of all
our live stock, and nearly as much as
the entire capital of the state invested
in manufactures. Why, what with
changes and repairs, the loss from
yearly decay, the cost of breaking
roads through snow-drifts caused by
road fences, and the interest on the
first cost, taxes, and you'll find that
ourfences cost us ahnally $6,000,000.
My idea is that fences ought to be con
fined exclusively to pastures. I would
abolish the rest. Road fences do more
damage than good,by causing the roads
to drift in the winter time. The only
possible use fencing a mowing field can
be is to enable the farmer to feed his
stock in it during the spring and fall.
Cistern Water;
B. writes: "If A. L. S. will use the
common chain pump in his cistern he
will have good water the year round.
I use rain-water from a tin roof, and
fill in early spring enough to last till
fall. I use a chain pump and the wa
ter is nice enough for a king. Water
needs air and the chain pump sup
plies." C. W. H. writes: After consid
erable experience in using well and cis
tern water, myself and family prefer the
cistern water though we have a splendid
well. My cistern is built on the north
side of the house, 18 feet deep, bricked
up and cemented. In the bottom is
built a chamber about 2 feet square and
four feet high of one thickness of brick
laid in cement, into which the pump
pipe passes so that all water
must pass through the brick before
using. I never allow any water to go
into the cistern till it has rained hard
for some time and until I have proved
it to be clear by taking a glass full of
is ana noiomg it up to the light. 1
turn the water off while it still runs a
good stream, as the water, that has
dripped over the shingles is liable to
taste of pine. The smoky look and
taste in rain water comes from the
smoke in the atmosphere and - from
the shingles. It takes quite a rain fall
to clear both. The water from my
cistern is clear as well water, very
cool and almost tasteless. After one
week's use no one would think of using
even spring water in preference to it.
A cistern properly managed will dis
count the doctor's bill 50 per cent."
This way of forming a new bed every
second year, as soon as the old rows
are mated, is decidedly preferable to
keeping the old beds in a half-productive
state. The old beds are spaded
up next year when the new one will
have filled the rows; the ruuners on the
new rows should be directed to fill up
the vacant spaces, when the next year
there will be a full crop. The year
after the same process is gone through
to form a new bed. New York Times.
The Nude In Art.
From a Letter in the San Francisco
Chronicle.
The exposition of the French Acad
emy at the Villa Medici this season
has caused quite a scandal. Doucet,
one of the pensioners, a quiet, gentle
manlike artist, a perfectly reputable
and excellent person, has painted for
this exposition, strange to say, a very
coarse picture, not lascivious, but
coarse. It is called the "Interior of a
Harem." The light is dim; three or
four indistinct forms of naked women
are seen sitting about in awkard posi
tions. There are no fine stuffs, no gor
geous decorations, no dazzling colors;
the whole attention is directed to the
entirely nude body of a robust woman
of the Rubens type, who lies sleeping
apparently on the front plane of the
gicture. Her face cannot be seen, as
er back is toward the speccator. As
a study of flesh, mere human flesh,
the picture is truly a marvelousswork
of art , but in every other respect is
not only unattractive, but absolutely
repulsive. After all that may be said,
in defense of nudity in art by artists,
most of us shrink from the sight of it
in modern art; we accept it with pleas
ure only in sculpture, especially an
cient sculpture. The Venus of Milo,
the Venus of the Capitol, the Apoxyo
menos of the Vatican, the Apollo Sau
roktonos, the Hermes of Olympia, are
such divine perfection of human devel
opment that the beholder forgets all
modern artificial rules of decorum
when looking at them. They are be
ings of a far-off age; exquisite forms
manifested in a strange marble exist
ence. But in painting the nude almost
always gives a shock to a sensitive
and refined nature. Titian's Venus,
Rubens' huge ruddy woman, with all
their exquisite execution and the beau
ty given them by their creators, they
are to say the least, most unattract
ive. .
Incongruous.
Many years ago, when Mr. Marcy
was Secretary of State, Mr. Buchanan
was sent to represent the United States
at the Court of St. James. It was, as
it still is, the custom for foreign minis
ters to appear at court receptions in
court dress. But Mr. Marcy, thinking
such a dress unbecoming the repre
sentatives of the Republic, had issued
a circular forbidding our ministers to
wear anything save a plain suit of
black. This order led to rather queer
consequences at the Court of the then
youthful Queen Victoriafor this was
in 1853.
Mr. Buchanan was warned by the
Lord Chamberlain that he would not
be received in that costume, and at the
same time, that an invitation of Her
Majesty was considered equivalent to
a command. Mr. Buchanan must
have felt himself in the dilema of the
Scottish chieftain:
' 'There is no flying hence nor tarryingthere."
He could not obey both the Queen
and Mr. Marcy. If he went in no other
dress than the conventional swallow
tail, he would not only offend Her
Majesty, but it wouldbe impossible to
distinguish him by his dress from the
lackeys and caterers in attendance.
The inventive genius of Mr. Buch
anan was equal to the emergency. He
dressed himself in the conventional
swallow-tail, but beneath it he buckled'
on a sword. The lackeys were not al
lowed to wear swords, and so it con
stituted a mark of distinction.
The young queen received him in her
gracious way, but without being able
to repress a brOad smile. After that
he was a decided court favorite, as a
well-bred and well-behaved bacheloi
deserved to be
Strawberrl es.
After a bed of strawberries has fruit
ed, the snace between the rows should
be spaded up and raked off so as to
furnish a place for the rooting of the
runners, from which a new bed may be
formed. By turning the runners, which
grow freely after fruiting is over, into
this mellow, clean space, a large num
ber of new plants will be secured, which
can be removed to a new Deo and
planted out to replace the old. one.
An Obliging- Piece of Furniture.
From the Cleveland Ohio) Plain Dealer.
In a family residing on Woodland
avenue a little girl was playing not
long ago with a playmate from a neigh
bor's family. They were playing at a
small centre table, and the little girls
noticed presently that when one of
them put her hand on the table it would
lift up and down, and they finally
called others of the family to witness
the strange behavior of the table.
After experimenting some time the
little girl climbed upon the table, say
ing, "Now, let's see if you can move."
To their astonishment the table be
gan to move along the floor with the
little girl on it. She jumped off, saying,
"Now, move yourself if you can." The
table started off, moving across the
floor, no one touching it "If you can
move so well, said the little girl s,
mother, "move into the next room
and kiss the baby in the crib there."
To their amazement the table started
off, moved across the floor, through
the door into the room where the babe
was sleeping in the crib, and tipped up
with its edge as close to the babe's
face as it could get. Now, upon what
philosophy can this behavior of the
table be explained? Without going
any further into the phenomena of
spiritualism, or discussing what are
put forward as higher manifestations,
how are these elementary raps and
movements to be satisfactorily ac
counted for? At all events there is a
field here for honest investigation.
A Boston man suffering from indi
gestion tried various kinds of exercise
to no purpose, but being at last pre
vailed upon to allow himself to be
tossed in a blanket every other morn
ing for a fortnight, recovered his health..
There used to be a report that old
John Jacob Astor, when too feeble to
stir around, was regularly subjected
to this treatment.