TlfK RIGHT SORT OF A tillll. Just fair enough to be pretty, Just gentle enough .to be sweet; Just saucy enough to be witty, Just dainty enough to be neat. Just tall enough to be graceful, Just slight enough for a fay; . J ust dressy enough to be tasteful Just merry enough to be gay. Just tears enough to be tender, Just sighs enough to be sad, Just soft enough to remember Your heart tho' the cadence may glad. Just meek enough for submission, Just bold enough to be brave; Just pridj enough for ambition, Just thoughtful enough to be grave. A tongue that can talk without harming, J uat mischief enough to tease; Manners pleasant enough to bo charming That put you at once at your ease. Generous enough and kind-hearted, Pure as the angels above; Oh, from her may I never be parted, for sue is the maiden I love. BOTH IN EEEOB. "Your fare, please?" The daintily-attired lady addressed glanced up in surprise to the familiar face, whose brown eyes had a mirthful gleam as they met her own. "Mr. Carroll!" "Conductor of Number Four, and very much at your service.Miss Hamil ton," said the young man, doffing his cap with a bow that would havegraced a. drawing-room. "You are surely jesting?" There was something in this that -roused the warm and hasty temper of our hero. "It isn't likely to be much of a jest to me. What a pity it is that I should be reduced by the misfortune of a friend to such a necessity as this!" "That depends on how you look at it," said the lady icily, "you know my father's position " "Certainly," interrupted the young nun; "and now that you know mine, our little romance, which was very pleasant while it lasted, will have to end. I suppose?" "Very well; let it be so." The car, which had only a few in it when this conversation commenced, was now nearly full, and Arthur Car TOll turned away to attend to the duties of his office. But as he passed around to collect his fare, his eyes rested more than once on the partly averted face, which looked strangely pale in the dim twi light. A feeling of yearning tenderness swept over him, and passing by the place she sat, he said hurriedly: "Ida Miss Hamilton, I fear I have spoken too harshly; if you will suffer me to explain " "There is nothing to explain," said Ida, rising to her feet. "I think I un derstand you fully. Please stop the cat", I get out here." Arthur mechanically gavethe signal. The silken robe swept past him with a fair:? rustle, leaving upon the air the perfume of the rose upon her breast. With a dazed, bewildered feeling, the young man watched the erect and grace ful figure, which never vouchsafed him a srlance. until it disaianeared. "Can it be possible for me to be so -deceived in her?" he thought. "I would have staked my life on Ida's love for me, and that it was for me alone. But what am I to think now? Before the dawning of another day I will know." As Arthur stood upon the steps of Mr. Hamilton's stately mansion he saw that there was no light from any part of it except the library. "I fear Ida is not at home," he thought. But she was, so the servant said wrho answered the bell, ne gave the man his name and errand, who returned almost immediately, saying: "Miss Hamilton is busy and begs to be excused." 'It is better so," muttered the young -man, as he descended into the street, rhe scarcely knew how. "Had I seen her I might have been fool enough to let her know how baseless her appre hensions were." Passing swiftly along Arthur turned into a by-street, where the houses were few and scattered, and, pausing in front of a wooden building, he went in. Ascending the stairs, he found him self in a plain neatly furnished room, where a young man sat, about his own age, his arm in a sling and a plaster -on one of his temples. "How do you find yourself to-night, old fellow?" "So nearly recovered that Ishall re sume my duties to-morrow." respond ed John Ainslie with a smile; "which, 3l think, you will be glad to learn." "Well, I don't know. I'm glad to have you up again, but I've enjoyed the excitement and novelty on the whole, especially the astonishment among such of my acquaintances as I chanced to meet. It has certainly given me a revelation in one direction, which, however unexpected and pain :ul, will prevent my making a lifelong mistake. I don't want you to do so until you are strongenough, but if you think you are able to go back, I be ilieve I will leave town for a few weeks." Arthur put his resolution into effect early the following morning, telling no one of his design or destination. In .f net . he scarcely knew or cared whither 1he went, his sole motive in going at all being to escape from the wounded and bitter feeling at his heart, and which at times seemed more than he could bear. He had been gone about two months when he received a letter from John Ainslie, on the envelope of which were various postmarks, obtained in follow ing his erratic movements. It was as follows: "Friend Arthur I have been thinking a aood deal lately about what you told me in regard to Miss Hamilton and wondering if you knew of her father's failure, and which occurred, as I have learned since, the 'day I was hurt and you so kindly took my .place. It seems that Mr. Hamilton lost everything; even his house was attached SkMA fl.ll liia hpa.llt.iful furnit:ir maM tv aim. tion. His daughter Ida, I'm told supports them both by teaching, her father being a a good deal broken in body and mind since misfortune. She teaches in a school a few miles out, but was in town yesterday, and getting on my car in leaving the boat I chanced to see her. She was dressed very plainly, and so altered that I should not have known her but for her beautiful hair and eyes. It seems to be the general im pression that you broke your engagement on account of her father's loss of fortune, and knowing how farfromthe truth that is; and believing that you were entirely igno rant of the fact at the time you left town, I thought I would write and tell you of it. Your friend truly, John Ainslie." Arthur was not long in reaching town after reading this. He went di rectly to his rooms, finding on his desk a small package and a letter. "The letter came the day you left," said the landlady, "and the package a few days after; but as you left no di rections about sending anything I kept them for you." The package contained some letters and a ring, whose costly diamond sparkled like a dew-drop as it fell up on the desk. How well he remembered placing it upon the small white hand, and all the slowing hope that made his heart beat so high! By the date of the letter Arthur saw that it was written tl.a morning after his attempt to see the writer. It ran as follows: "Mr. Carroll. Owing to an unfortunate blunder, the servant did not give me the right name when you called last evening. "I have been thinking that perhaps I was too hasty in the conclusions I drew from what you said at the last interview, and which occurred at a time when I was feel ing wounded and humiliated by my altered circumstances, and so more prone to take offence. "I infer that you have also met with r verses, but if you think any change in your outward surroundings could make auy change in me you do me a great wrong. "If there is anything to explain I shall be glad to see or hear from you. Failing to do so, I will return the letters and the ring you gave me, glad to know, ere it was too late, how worthless was the love you pro fessed to feel for Ida Hamilton." The writer of the above letter sat alone in the rustic school house to which she had been confined many weary months, with but brief seasons for rest and relaxation. There had been a dull, throbbing pain in her temples all day, making the shuffle of little feet on the bare floor the murmur of childish voices almost unendurable. But they had vanished now, and she sat alone in the gathering twilight, alone with her troubled thoughts and mournful recollections. Never had life seemed so wearisome to her, so void of all joy and brightness. The hardest thing to bear was the consciousness that, in spite of his un worthiness, her thoughts would turn with regretful tenderness to him who had obtained too strong ahold on her heart and life to be easily dislodged. "I would never have forsaken him thus," she murmured through her fast falling tears.- "When misfortune came, I would have clung all the more closely to him." Hearing a step upon the threshold, Ida raised her head and the object of her thoughts stpod before her. "Nay, do not turn away from me," he cried, as the bewildered girl shrank from that eagerly extended hand. "I have only just received the letter you wrote to me so many weeks ago. Nor did I know until recently of your father's failure and the consequent charge in your circumstances." "It was all occasioned by my own stupid blunder," said Arthur,afterthe mutual explanations that followed, after the two were uitting together in loving and happy converse. "Oh, no," smiled Ida: "Icannotlet you take the blame. We were both in error." m HUNDRED YEAES AGO. LONGFELLOW'S SONGS. The Inspiring Source of Some of the Poet'! Best-Known Verses. I was once invited by Mr. Longfellow, says Hezekiah Butterworth in Good Cheer, to spend an evening at his home in Cambridge. He wished to interest me in the writings of a young author to whom he thought I might prove helpful. My influence could be but small in the matter, but I was glad to have him consider it worth offering me an interview, and during the evening I asked him about the origin of some of his poems that had been set to music. His reply was substantially as fol lows: "My 'Psalm of life' was written at Cambridge one summer morning in 1838. I regarded it as an expression of personal feeling, and did not publish it for a long time. "I was once riding in London," he said, "when a laborer approached the carriage and asked me if I were the author of the 'r'salm of Lille. 1 re plied that I was. He asked me if I would shake hands with him. No com pliment ever nleased me more than the grasp of that man's hand." The "Footsteps ot Angels has refer ence to a domestic affliction. Mr. Long fellow's first wife, a lady of great lovli- ness ot character, died at Kotterdam in 1835. The being beauteous That unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love mc, And is uow a saint in heaven. "Excelsior" was written on a late autumn evening in 1841. The poet had just been reading a letter from Charles Sumner. "The Bridge" was written at aperiod of dejection, and has reference to the old bridge over the Charles river that connected Boston and Cambridge. The old Brighton furnace is gone, and a new bridge has taken the place of the old, but the clocks strike "the hour" as then, and the water Scenery is now much the same as it was then. Day and night the incessant pro cession of travelers goes over the bridge, their faces now bright with the sun rise, now vanishing into the midnight darkness. It is delightful to linger there on summer evenings and recall the poet's experience and his immortal rhe People of the United State at the Close of the Revolutionary War Striking i Contrasts With the Present. The second volume of John Bach McMaster's "History of the people of bhe United States from the Revolu tion to the Civil War," is even more , interesting than the first volume. No such vivid presentation of the life of : our ancestors at the beginning of this :entury has ever before been made or ' sven attempted. Heis never weary of contrasting the j past and the present of American life, 1 and many are the striking compa risons ' which ". is enabled to make in the pro- ?ress of his work. Here is an example ; which is particularly interesting: "On : the resignation of Samuel Osgood in 1791 the office of postmaster-general ' was bestowed on Timothy Pickering. Ho insignificant was the place and so j light the duties that officer was to 1 perform that Washington did not ' think him worthy of a cabinet seat. I Yet there is now no other department j of government in which the people take so lively an interest as in that over I which the postmaster-general presides. ; The number of men that care whether j the Indians get their blankets and ; their rations on the frontier, whether : one company or two are stationed at - Port Dodge, whether there is a fleet of j iiinboats in the Mediterranean sea i is extremely small. But the sun never sets without millions upon millions of : our citizens intrusting to the mails let ters and postal-cards, money-orders and packages, in the safe and speedy delivery of which they are deeply con cerned. The grow; h of the postoffice in the last ninety years is indeed amaz ing. In 1792 there were 26-4 post offices in the country, now there are 49,000. The yearly revenue which they yielded then was $25,000; now it is far'above 45,000,000. More time was then consumed in carrying letters ninety miles than now suffices to carry them 1,000. The iostage required to send a letter from New York to Sa vannah was precisely eighteen times as much as will now send one far beyond the Rocky mountains, into regions of which our ancestors had never heard." This passage is a very good example of Mr. McMaster's style. It will be seen at a glance that all the informa tion might have been given with one half the number of words. Wecan al so see hdw the contrast has been heightened by rhetorical devices, but the passage attracts our attention, it interests us, we read it, and we proba bly remember it, when if put in a more condensed and statistical form it would leave no impression. Mr. McMaster has a good deal to n.v at different times about the dim- culties of travel and communication in ! the early vears of the republic. This i made negotiations with foreign go vern- ments peculiarly difficult. At the j time the British treaty of 1794 wras ; under discussion Monroe was minister at Paris. The proposed treaty was i naturally most distasteful to the I French government and Monroe was ! informed that "the moment the treaty I was approved, that moment the di j rectory considered the alliance with 1 America at an end. The next day he ; dispatched the news to the secretary ! of state. The letter was stiil upon j the sea when Washington proclaimed i the treaty thesupremelaw of theland, j and sent a copy to the house." Trav el at home w-as done by the stage coach. This "was little better than a huge covered box mounted on springs. I It had neither glass windows nor doors nor steps nor closed sides. The roof was upheld by eight posts which rose from the body of the vehicle, and the body was commonly breast-high, in this uncomfortable conveyence a man might travel some four or five miles an hour. With the exception of some parts of New England, the wayside accommodation which the trav eler found was miserably bad. Strangers were put together in the same room and the same bed. The bed clothes were changed not for new arrivals but at stated times. All sort's of extortions were practiced tip on travelers. The genealoeist who studies the history of American fami lies has frequent occasion to note the compactness of those families up to about fifty years ago. For many gen erations the members of a family, with very few exceptions, will be found to have lived and died in about the same place, spreading somewhat in t he man ner of a thrifty plant which slowly in creases its area rather than that of an animal which roamed freely about. Many of these families which are the most widely scattered lived, previous to the introduction of the railroad, to gether in the sameportion of the same state. We have given us many facts of interest concerning the early history of the steamboat. Fulton's Hudson river success was by no means thefirst occasion upon which American waters were navigated by steam-propelled vessels. The idea had been working in the minds of a few men for a number of years. As early as 1787 a rudeplan of a steamboat had been presented to the constitutional convention. In 1789 a boat was constructed which traveled a mile in seven minutes and a half. A few months later a steam boat began to run regularly as a ferry in Philadelphia. Agriculture, at the beginning of the century, was a simple matter. "Agri culture as we now know it can scarcely be said to have existed. The plow was little used. The hoe was the imple ment of husbandry. Made at the plantation smithy, the blade was in formed and clumsy; the handle was a sapling with the bark left on." In Vir ginia horses were driven overthegrain in the open field to thresh it, and it was ground with a rude pestle and mortar. "For a hundred years the farms, of precisely the same size, had been kept in the same families and cultivated with the same kind of im plements in the same way. Year after year the same crops were raised in the same succession. When a patch of land became exhausted it was suffered to lie fallow." On the subject of amusements Mr. McMaster has much matter of in terest. Here is a picture of gay life at Louisville: "The favorite pastime was billiards, and every morning num bers of young women, escorted by the young men, gathered about the one billiard ta' le in the town. If a Stran ger of note put up at the only tavern, and gave out that he was come to stay some time, he was sure to be called on, as the phrase was, to sign for a ball. When the night came the garrison at Fort Jefferson would fur nish the music, and the managers would choose the dances. The first was generally a minuet, and, till his number was called, no man knew with whom he was to dance. This over, each was at liberty to choose his own partner for the first 'volunteer.' " With New Y'ork peoplethe battery was a favorite place of resort for amuse ment. There were other places of pop ular outdoor resort in hot weather without the city. New York seems to have been as uncomfortable in the summer time as it is now. In Fhila delnliia the assembly and the theater provided for amusement lovers. "The assembly-room was at Oeller's tavern and made one of the sights of the town. The length was sixty feet . The walls were papered in the French frshion and adorned with Pantheon figures, festoons and pilas ters, and groups of antique drawings. Across one end was a fine music gal lery. The rides of the assembly were framed and hung upon the wall. The managers had entire control. With out their leave no ladv could quit her place in the dance nor dance out of iier set, nor could sue compiam u mej placed strangers or brides at the head of the dance. The ladies were to rank in sets and draw for places as they en tered the room. Those w ho led might call the dances alternately. When each set had danced a country dance a cotillion might be had if eight ladies wished it. Gentlemen could not come into the room in boots, colored stock ings, or undress." One of Mr. McMaster's long chap ters is devoted exclusively to the sub ject of the ordinary life of town and country, and is a rich storehouse of in formation concerning this very essen tia! part of history. The matter of dress is treated in highly interesting fashion. "Dress became every season more and more hideous, more and more uncomfortable, more and more devoid of good sense and good taste. Use and beauty censed to becombined. The pantaloons of a beau went up to his arm-pits; tc get into them was a morning s work, ana wnen m to sit down was impossible. His hat was too small to contain his handkerchief, and was not expected to stay on his head. His hair was brushed from the crown of his head toward his forehead, and looked, as a satirist of that day truly said, as if he had been fighting an old- fashioned hurrieanebaekward. About his neck was a spotted linen necker chief; the skirts of his green coat were cut away to a mathematical point be hind; his favorite drink was brandy, and his favorite talk of the last French play. Even these ab surdities were not enough, and when 1880 began fashion was more extrava gant still. Then a beau was defined as anything put into a pair of pantaloons with a binding seived around the top and called a vest. The skirts of the coat should be pared away to the width of a hat-band, and if he was doomed to pass his time in the house he wouldrequireaheavy pairof round toed jack-boots, with a tassel before and behind. Women were thought worse than the men. To de ter n i in e t he s ty 1 e of t h eir d ress , fash io n , decency, and health, the statement was, ran a race. Decency lost her spirits, health was bribed by a quack doctor, so fashion won." Thetheaters sought to provide for all t astes. We read of an occasion when the perform ance consisted of the "Beaux Strat agem," the "Federal Bow-Wow." a comic opera called the "Poor Soldier," a hornpipe, slack-rope tumbling, and the pantomime of the "Death ofCapt. Cook," all in one evening. "In the theaters at the north it often happened that the moment a well-dressed man entered the pit he at once became a mark for the wit and insolence of the men in the gallery; They would begin by calling on him to doff his hat in mark of inferiority, for the cus tom of wearing hats in the theater was universal. If he obeyed he was loudly hissed and troubled no more. If he refused abuse, oaths, and indecent remarks were poured out upon him. He was spit at, pelted with pears, apples, sticks, stones, empty bottles till he left the house. As the blades in the gallery were poor marksmen the neighbors of the man aimed at were the chief suf ferers. On one occasion the orchestra was put to flight and some instru ments broken." In New England the puritan sabbath still had a strong hold, although it was rapidly under going modification. "Pious men com plained that the war had been a great demoralizer. Instead of awakening the community to a lively sense of the goodness of God the license of war made men weary of religious restraint. The treaty of peace had not been signed, the enemy was still in theland, when delegates to the general court of Massachusetts boldly said the sab bath was too long. Country members demanded a sabbath of thirty-six hours; town members would give but eighteen, and had their way. The ef fect was soon apparent. Levity, pro faneness, idle amusements, and sabbath-breaking increased in the towns with fearful rapidity. What, the sober-minded cried out, is to become of this nation? Be fore the war nobody swore, nobody used cards. Now every lad is pro ficient in swearing and knows much of cards. Then apprentices and young folks kept the sabbath, and, till after sundown, never left their homes but to go to meeting. Now they go out on the sabbath more than any other day in the week. Now the barber-shops are open, and men of fashion must needs be shaved on the Lord's day. They ride on horseback; they take their pleasures in chaises and hacks. How much better, they say, is this than sitting for two hours in a church hearing about hell? Who would not rather ride with a fine young woman in a heck than hear about the devil from Adams's fall? Equally interest ing passages might be multiplied in definitely from these pages, but enough have already been given to show how different is the conception of Mr. Mc Master's work from that of ordinary histories and to convince our hearers that the book is well worth reading from first to last. Beginning about where the work of Bancroft leaves off, it carries on the narrative of our for tunes well into the national period, and has the fascination of a romance. Railway Stations in England. From "iinglish and American Railways," in Harper's for August. In the management of stations the English and American termini are about on a par, but their minor and country station are incomparably better managed than ours. The bar and refreshment counter is a promi nent feature of every station of note and has been wrought toa degree of importance that is wholly unknown under similar conditions in America. It is a great convenience to travelers, and conduces to much drinking, and to eating that is of a character quite as favorable to dyspepsia as anything known in America. The country stations look for the most part like comfortable homes of favored and stalwart station-masters. There is generally some space about them that can be used as a garden, and this, however small, is frequently kept gay with flowers. Two of the great companies offer rewards for the best-kept stations and signal-boxes, and on these lines flowery stations are naturally most common, but on the ! other lines you may often see attempts to get rid of the inherent hideousness that clings to a railway. The usual garden is a narrow strip between the j platform for passengers and the in- ' closing railing. It is enacted by Par liament that no post, rail or other ob stacle shall come nearer than six feet from the edge of the platform, and this makes it necessary to inclose quite a : wi'le space. Between the six feet of platform and the fence is the j station-master's garden. The flowers that he grows differ according to i the soil of the district. In a rich clay be will have standard rose trees as the principal feature; in a warm, light soil his strong point may ; be the chrysanthemums tied back : against the palings. But as his object is to have plenty of color all the year round, you will generally find that the main part of the border is filled with fresh plants in each season, such as the gardener uses for his spring and summer beds. In the spring there are ! double daises, red and white, that blossom from February till June, blue forgen-me-nots (Myosotis dtssitiflora) that keeps gay almost as long, pan Bias, wall-flowers and the yellow alys- j sum and white iberis hardy crucifer- 1 ous plants that grow in big clumps against the edging of tile or ornamen tal stone, breaking the stiffness of the line, and bringing a mass of flowers in early spring. In May or early June, ! when all danger of frost is over, he will plant geraniums, calceolarias lo- 1 belias and such like tender peren nials, and his sweet peas, convol vuli, nemophila, and other annuals j will come into blossom. But the gay- est time of all is in late summer and early autumn, for then his garden is full of dahlias, nasturtiums trained up the fence, China ; asters, marigolds (French and African), phloxes, and all the gaudy flowers that come into blos som after the kindly influence of a few warm months. These and many oth er plants are to be found in most of the gardens; but as all gardening that is done lovingly shows individuality, you will notice as you travel that each j station has some particular flower by which you can remember it the roses at Halton Junction, the dahlias at ; Milcote. There has beennothingmore welcome in American railroad manage ment than the imitation of our Eng lish brethren in their treatment of their stations, and nothingis regarded j with a more lively or sympathetic in terest than the horticultural ambitions and struggles of the station-masters on some of our leading lines. Miscellaneous Matters. ! In order to prevent their books from being stopped at the Russian frontier, ; or even wholly confiscated, German I authors are now obliged to submit all ! their proof sheets to the red pencil of the arbitrary Russian censor. Nathaniel Ropes, one of Cincinnati's pioneer merchants and manufacturers, who was a native of Salem, in this State, died a few days ago in his nine j ty-seconrl year. He went to Ohio in ! 1819 and settled on a farm, besides 1 conducting business for Boston capita lists. One of his sons is living at the I old homestead in Salem. Trow's Directory of New York City for the present year contains the names and addresses of 310,746 per sons and increase of 10,717 over last year. The ga:n of population is esti mated at not less than 50,000 per an ; nam, and the population of the city is not far either way from 1,500,000. I Men about to be hanged almost in i variably eat a hearty breakfast on the last morning, and those who use to bacco always top off with a final cigar. A Philadelphia reporter, whose ex perience embraces 21 executions, has observed that the doomed men are al ways careful about their attire, and specially anxious about being well shaved. The son of a naturalized citizen who came to this country with his father before he was of age becomes a citizen with all the privileges of a naturalized citizen when he reaches the age of 21 years, and without any legal process or form. His father's citizenship con fers the privilege upon the son under these circumstances when he becomes of age. Alluding to the late Chicago news paper, "Enterprise," the Philadelphia Bulletin says that "it is true that American journalism is developing the most dangerous kind of 'enterprise;' that its calling is being degraded; and that the papers thrive as common carriers for vicious gossij). But the patrons of such stuff are primarily to blame. While so many of ourreform ers are busy pursuing the press, it is high time that some one should try a hand at purifying the public." Another scandal, and a very ugly one it is, is the latest Washington society sensation. A very showy marriage; a muehtnlked of belle, nieceof Gen. Sher man, who gavethe bride away, has ap plied for a divorce from her husband, a gay young man. The man of the world files countercharges if the tenth either alleges is true, societ y has plenty to go on in the way of gossip. Maiden name, Mary Francis Hoyt. Man of the world, James R. Raymond. The great bridge across the Frith of Forth, Scotland, has now been in course of construction for two years and a half, and the most difficult part of the undertaking has been ac complished, that of building the piers. These are of granite, and extend as much as 48 feet below the bed of the river and 90 feet below high water. They will be carried up 160 feet higher before the bridge is completed. All but one of these are either completed or are making good progress. The bridge when completed (live years hence, ac cording to the estimate,) will be over a mile and a half long (8,091 feet), and its two main spans will be 1,710 feet each. The height of the rails above high water will be 150 feet. The esti mated cost of the bridge is $8,000, 000. Two thousand men are employ ed in its construction. Snake Story. "I'll tell you a sight I saw in Hin doostan," said a truthful traveler. "It sounds wild, but it's as true as that I exist. The railroad from Bombay to Calcutta is only second in length to that crossing the American continent, and stretches in a line across a level plain 2,200 miles long. The train hands are all Englishmen. One day I was riding on the engine when far ahead there seemed something on the track like low, brown, undulating waves. The engineer looked through his field glass and said it was snakes. This was their migrating and breed ing season, when they were peculiarly vicious. He had seen them twice in fifteen years out there. They were the cobra de capella, a poisonous reptile that opens its mouth 2 1-2 inches when excited. They are four or five feet long when full grown. Down-their side is a folded fin that projects hall an inch when they are angry. We j were running 25 miles an hour, and raised the speed to 40 and dashed in to the mass. They were crawling four or five feet deep on each other, and covered the track for half a mileJ Ugh! It sickens me yet when I recall their crunching under the wheels. We ran over them in patches for an hour. The wheels got so covered with grease and blood they slid alongthe rails, and we just had to stop in a clear place and wait for those ahead to pass. They clogged the wheels, and pretty soon began crawling up the train. We had to shut ourselves into the engine room and wait for them to crawl off. Not a brakoman or passenger dared stir. And there we waited four hours. When I say there must have been a million it is with no idea how man; there were." An English mastiff, the largest dog of the kind ever exhibited, sold not long ago for the sum of $1,500. How Cadets Keep Their Trousers Clean. In its account of the exhibition evo lutions of the West Point embryo offi cers, the New Y'ork Times says: It is a constant source of wonder to civil ians here how the cadets manage to keep their starched leg-gear so spotless ly clean. A cadet comes out to guard mount, runs around the barracks for an hour or two, sits on dusty benches, and then walks into the recitation room with his white trousers as free from dirt and creases as though they had just come from the ironing-board. "Why," said one lady recently, as she saw the cadets marching to dinner, "my boy wouldn't be fit to be seen after he had worn such trousers five minutes." As it is a punishable of fense' to wear dirty trousers, the cadets are somewhat careful, and each one changes four or five times a day if necessary. Three pairs a day is con sidered economical. Every cadet has anywhere from thirty to fifty pairs of white trousers, and he is allowed fourteen pairs in each week's wash. The cadet adjutant, who is called upon at times to make a little more display of himself than his comrades in the ranks, is permitted to send eighteen pairs to the washerwom an every week, and he doesn't have to worry about the wash-bill either. There is a curious etiquette amongthe cadets as to the disposal of their white trousers when they leave the academy. If a young man is at all popular, some of his comrades bequeath him their trousers as a token of respect and re membrance. The shortest cadet in the graduating class has an accumulation of one hundred and twenty pairs which have come to him in this way, and he has to hang them all up in his room. As the trousers seldom wear out, ex cept at the bottom of the legs, they are sent to the commissary's depart ment to be treated after a fashion cus tomary in families where growing boys overbalance a limited income. The littlest fellow in the corps at pgesent is Jose Victor Zavala,f rom Guatemala, who is very popular for his patience and his peculiarities. As a mark of their regard, the entire first class are talking of giving him their white trous ers next week. Should they really do so, the little South American will have to find pegs for nearly one thousand pairs of trousers.