Ms
E had four children and a baby
arms. The names and ages
the children were Respective
ly Anna Maria, aged 7; Minnie Kate,
ged 6; Albert, aged 4; Maud Har
riet, aged 3, and the baby, Sarah Ellen,
Just turned 1 year.
He himself rejoiced In the name of
Joseph Webber, and believed himself
to be about 8, but his mother was nev
er quite sure. They all lived at the top
of a narrow, tumble down house, and
Mrs. Webber always spoke of herself
as a "wldder." Her first husband had
died "In 'ole Hengland," the second
here. '
Mrs. Webber got her living by char
ing, and as long as she was sober al
ways managed to secure enough work,
hut she was an Improvident, thriftless
woman, and any extra money she
might secure either went for drink or
was spent on Indigestible food, such
as tinned salmon and pineapple or
shell fish, which often made the poor
baby 111 for weeks later. She took lit
tle Interest In her family, save now
and then for a fit of maudlin senti
ment over her orphans, but on the
other hand was seldom violent except
after an extra heavy bout of drinking,
when the children carefully kept out
oi the way, being taken In and given
shelter by kindly neighbors.
Her one Idea of responsibility was
to try to lock her family In before
starting off for her work, "to keep 'em
out of mischief," as she said, "for she
wasn't goln' to have her Jimmy's chil
dren, rest his sowl, brought up on the
streets an' kapin' low company!"
But Blnce Joe had been 5 years old
he had nearly always evaded this ma
ternal fort-thought, which was not dif
ficult, as his mother slept heavily, and
before she could open her eyes and
struggle to her feet in the morning
Illie Children were nil im nrwl nu-nv
taking with them enough money from
her purse to pay for their dinner. ;
In vain she swore and thrashed them
nt nights when she remembered.; it .
was np use, and the same little scene
was enacted every morning. The first
thing Joe did on ushering his little
irood into the open air was to take
hem to a covered passage leading into
i little blind alley; here they sat down ;
md shared the bread and "scrape," I
r sometimes the bread without the
scrape, which he had prepared. The 1
aoy had its milk, and then they fin
shed up their repast with a drink of
suier aias, never a wash.
1 After this the rin.i.
flay begau for Httl Mnthr
to get the girls to school, nnrt with tha
least amount of friction; that was al-
ujb me puzzling question. When
hey were vountrer thmnta niw,
wved him, but now they were long
egged and nimble and shrill, and he
ad to resort to bribes and cunning.
uigu yer time, ain't It, Minnl
te.' he remarked hinnriw
icular morning, as he wiped the ba-
vo mourn with his sleeve, "and I
now yer'll want to be punckshall and
'eat that riiu r .u,. . ...
t. , -wim hit reg lar
ftendance."
Mlnnlkite
, fut.ii UUU BlUUVU Ul
I"! With lone wtMro.)
i.- ..vtu ticcu eyes, uiiu
"en she slowly put out her tongue.
nppens to know," he continued,
weary patience, and duBtlng the
"y s head as he spoke, "that there's
noo law pest 'bout nhiiriiw.
t'?lnr"8BOn fr DOt Kin' t0 Bch001
AN hat nrlee. imnri i r-
a. with her head on one side.
tti R0 wLon 1 can" he replied,
uing on the win . .
I na you know I goes every time Mrs.
fiei as no washln' and can mind the
,iyr
'Well, ma sea hn'ii ,.un
loath nex' time the 'specter comes ar
i er Dut you. So now."
s
" 'YER JEST TRUSJ JOE.' "
Joe
"Well, sadly, "there'll be no one to
mind yer if she does."
"Yah! oo wantsmindln? Go and
put yer 'ead in a bag and keep it there!
Come along, Annermirla, let's go fer
a walk In the park. We'll 'ave a good
ole time, won't we?"
"Yer won't get a bit fer yer dinner
if yer do. But don't upset yerselves;
there'll be more for Albert an' Maudie,
'Arriet and me!"
"Yah! bury yerself!" was the polite
retort, as the young ladles disappeared
round the corner. But Joe did not
really feel uneasy, as he was con
vinced they, had no real intention of
stopping away from school.
"I won't let ma beat you. I'll bite
'er legs if she do!" a little voice said
by his side. He looked down grate
fully. It was Mauuie Harriet.
"Yer alius was a good little un,"
he said; then added, with precocious
knowledge, "but, then, they gen'rally
Is good when they's kiddles. It's when
they gets older they gets so rough. I
mind Mlnnlkite and Annermirla Jest
like lambs." ,
"Like me?" asked Albert, looking up
from his mud pies. "
"Now, you're Jest a fat puddin' 'ead.
Put yer cap on at once or I'll soon
mike yer mind!"
The baby began to whimper, and he
folded her close In his arms and kissed
the little shriveled face. "Shoo, go ter
sleep, Salrey Ellen," he whispered
softly, "It's a long time 'fore you'li
grow up and git rough and saucy."
Some hours later and the children
sat shivering at the top of the drafty
stairs for their mother to come home
and unlock the door.
"She's lite to-night," Anna Maria
said, leaning over the broken down
rail. But even as she spoke a heavy
step came up the stairs. The children
listened anxiously, and Joe at last ob
served: "She 'asn't 'ed much. Guess we'll
be 'er orphans to-night."
In a few moments a woman's heavy,
bloated face appeared, followed by an
unwie.ay body.
"Lite yter-night," she said, rather
thickly, feeling for her key. "O, well,
turn over noo leaf ter-morrer'
When she had lit a lamp on the ta
ble, she sat down on the one sound
chair and began to cry.
"Gimme me blby," she said at last;
"me little orphan biby me Jimmy's
chile." .1
She fell to kissing it, and it woke
with a feeble, peevish cry.
With an oath she pushed it from
her, and Joe Just caught It as it al
most fell from her lap.
"Take it," she said, "there'll be bet
ter company ter-morrer."
He walked up and down until -the
child slept again with its tiny head
against his neck, while the woman
Snored heavily in her chair. The early
winter light was Just filtering through
the unshuttered window when Joe
awoke and sat up. His mother had
not slept in the bed. He blinked his
eyes and looked towards the chair, but
It was empty. With a little cry he
sprang out of bed and rushed towards
the door, but she had oulwitted him
this time, and it was locked.
That morning went slowly by, while
the children fought and wrangled and
the baby wailed and would not be
comforted. Towards evening Joe was
leaning out of the window showing
the baby some sparrows fighting on
an opposite roof, when there was a
shrill scream behind him. He turned,
and, to his horror, saw Albert stand
ing shrieking, with a lighted newspa
per in his hand.
"Let go, yer fool!" he" shouted. The
child let go his hold, and the lighted
paper fluttered against some rotten
clothing hanging against the wall, and
the next moment the whole room
seemed full of smoke and flames. Joe
sprang to the door and kicked with all
-.8 might, but it would not yield to
his puny efforts, and the smoke stifled
him. There was no water in the
room, and the woodwork had already
caught and begun to crackle. He ran
to the window and gazed out. By the
side of the window on one side there
was about four feet of broken stone
ledge about a foot and a half wide;
on the other side It had crumbled
away.
"Git out of the winder on to this!"
he shouted to Mlnnlkite. She climbed
on to the stone work as, best she could
and clung to the side like a little rat
Anna Maria followed, and Albert hold
ing Maudie between them. There was
no room for more.
A crowd had gathered below, and a
man waa trying frantically to kick
down the stout oak door, which old
Ell Mathews, the only other then in
mate of the house, always locked when
he went out Joe watched him with
a sickening fear in his heart and mois
tened his Hps. The heat of the fire
inside was scorching him, and black
smoke came belching out above his
head.
I'm fallln'!" shouted Mlnnlkite.
shrill with agony. "I'm fallln'. O,
Joe! Joe!"
The crowd heard her, and. yelled
hoarsely: "Hold on! The ladders are
coming! Don't move! Hold the little
one up!"
Albert and Maudie crouched huddled
up tdgether on the ledge, and kept
their eyes fixed in almost despairing
trust on Joe's face. Their breath came
and went in quick, convulsive sobs.
"O, Joe! O Joe!"
"It's all right" he said steadily.
He had the baby in his arms, with a
shawl well wrapped oveR its head to
keep out the smoke. Next moment
there was a yell from the crowd be
low. "The hook an ladaer! Here It
comes!"
"O, Gawd!" said Joe, between his
closed teeth, "0, Gawd!" '
But even as he spoke there came a
blinding burst of smoke and flame, fol
lowed by one shrill scream of agony,
when he could see distinctly again the
whole ledge had broken away, and
disappeared Into the crowd below. He
drew In his breath. The baby's shawl
was already ablaze, and one of his legs
had been scorched black in the fire. He
clambered on to the sill while the
crowd shrieked to him in despair.
"O, Gawd." said Joe. "If yer can,
will yer ketch us? O, Gawd! O, Gawd!"
and he hugged the baby closer.
whispered, and Jumped,
But he with whom not "a sparrow
falls to the- ground without their
father," had given his angels charge
over them to keep them in all their
ways, and they brought them to him.
Chicago Tribune.
LIFE IN THE SEA.
The Cnrione Things that Thrive in
an Aquarium.
Mr. Spencer, the superintendent of
the New Yorkj Aquarium, a few days
ago was busying himself by picking
a lot of sand fleas from a dipper and
dropping them into a Jar of anemones.
As they fell Into the water they
straightened themselves out and then
slowly dropped to the bottom, kicking
as they fell. A few of them alighted
on the body of, an anemone, which
promptly closed up. One, unfortun
ately, found himself, when he had set
tled, on the tentacles of one of the
anemones. These began to serve the
purpose for which they were bestow
ed upon the anemone, and the flea, or
scud, suddenly found himself Inside
the capacious maw of the anemone,
and the life was soon squeezed out of
him. .
"All Is grist that comes to our mill,"
quoted Mr. Spencer. "These were on
a lot of mussels which came in a
little while agoI thought I would
save them. There Is life everywhere
in the water. Look at this!" He held
up a dozen mussels, held together by
what appeared to be a vegetable
growth. "That is an animal growth,
known as serturlaria," saftl he. "In
this bunch you will find all sorts of
animal life There are scuds, or sand
fleas, and rock crabs. Look!" He
held up one of the valves of a mussel
shell. On It was a sea anemone. "No
tice that reddish coating, part of
which has flaked off. Look at it
closely. Doesn't It look like lace
work? That Is the bryoza coral, the
lowest form of mollusk coral. You
will find life on nearly everything
that comes from the sea. Here's one
of the rock crabs." He took out of
the nest of mussels a little crab, about
the size of one's finger nail, and drop
ped It into a Jar of water. New York
Tribune. .
"LOST MONDAY."
Popular Fete in Belgium the Origin oi
Which la a Myaterjr.
The first Monday after Epiphany is
a fete day throughout Belgium? "Lost
Monday" it is called here; exactly why
no one seems able to explain. The
origin of the fete . is lost In the le
gends of the middle ages, but the mod
em acceptation of the day Is certainly
lost to no one here. Like Mardl Graft,
Lost Monday Is a day of general
merrymaking; every cafe and restau
rant In Brussels keeps "open house,"
and free fare . is on hand for all pa
trons of the establishment and as a
matter of fact for many others as
well who are not regular patrons.
On Black Monday, then, as it Is Iron
ically called by some of King Leo
pold's subjects not bverenchanted with
the day, the streets of Brussels are
given over to the people, and the ad
venturous foreigner who, Ignorant of
the country's customs, ventures out Is
apt to find that the Belgian populace
is no respecter of persons. On this
day the shopkeepers, sighing behind
their counters, find themselves com
pelled to hand over to their custom
ers' servants a forced contribution,
amounting to a certain percentage of
the year's purchases, while the bak
ers, too, have a contribution to offer
In the shape of cakes specially made
for the occasion, and offered as glfu
to their 'clientele.
In this manner, says the Brussels
correspondent, of the New York
Times, the unique fete Is perpetuated,
though the calendar does not note In
any particular manner the first Mon
day after Epiphany.
MAP OF SCANDINAVIA AND FINLAND.
ADED PORTION SHOWS THE
Wooden Menagerie
Of an Ohio Man.
"Menagerie Farm," near Columbus,
O., looks like a scene out of "Alice In
Wonderland." '
Hugh E. Jones is the owner and ope
rator of the farm, and for years he
has been hard at work with jackknlfe,
saw and plane fashioning strange and
wonderful creatures. Snakes that can
not crawl, giraffes that have never
looked behind them, wild boars with
legs they can not bend and tails Jthey
dare not move, elephants with no taste
for peanuts such are the animals to
been seen at Menagerie Farm.
Mr. Jones frankly admits he Is re
sponsible, but has no apologies to of
fer. Although he has come within
speaking distance of 80 years, he keeps
right on whittling, sawing and plan
ing, always adding animals to his
menageries. When he wants an ele
phant he does not correspond with
his agents over seas. He hunts up a
good thick stick for a body, a shapely
root for a trunk, a smaller one for a
tail, small straight sticks for tusks
and legs, some broad pieces for ears,
and, going into his "studio" in the
woodshed, soon turns out an elephant
that cannot be bribed with a barrel of
peanuts. To turn out a good, respec
table looking snake requires a little
more research, for roots shaped in
snake fashion are not found every
day. But once in band, Mr. Jones
can turn out of such a root a snake
with more real characteristics than
would be supposed. Mr. Jones read
ily makes wild boars when he has the
material. A body with no frills about
It, 'a coal-scuttle-shaped snout, legs like
a saw.-horse, a pair of fanlike ears, a
brace of wooden tusks and an apology
for a tall and there it is. Giraffes are
not hard, either; a little more root and
patience, and there the beast is, more
or less life-like.
But Mr. Jones has not confined him
self entirely to animals in his so-called
artistic career. Occasionally he carves
a man, and although he cannot be said
to have improved on the original de
sign, he has developed some points
that mlght(be desirable In the real ar
ticle. One of his men is "Oom Paul,"
mounted over the entrance; to Menag
erie Farm. He Is associated with the
American eagle and a plebian rooster
on lookout duty at the farm. t The gate
is plainly labeled with the' distance
to Columbus and Lockbourne, in ad
dition to other Information about the
postal service in that region.
Mr. Jones gets almost as much fun
out of his "farm" as do his visitors.
In shirt sleeves and overalls the old
man welcomes the visitors to Mon
igerie Farm and points out the differ
ent animals scattered about, over the
lawn, relating the peculiarities and
history of each. He allows tho little,
ones to ride the wild boar, but draws
the line at lotting them climb the neck
of the giraffe. Older persons are al
lowed to sit on the baby elephant's
back and fan themselves In the shade
of the trees.
Mr. JoneH was born on board his
father's -ship when about three miles
off Alexandria, Egypt, and ho had an
adventurous youth In the Holy Land.
That may not be responsible for Me
nagorta Farm, but the stories Mr.
Jones tall of those days are interest
ing. It Is forty years since he came
to America and set up his "farm" in
Ohio.-New York Tribune.
STATE CHURCH OF RUSSIA.
Obtaining a Strong Foothold in Vari
ous Part ot the Continent.
Russian orthodox churches In the
United States are not as scarce as many
people suppose. A new and handsome
edifice for the use of the. subjects of
the Czar who have taken up their
abodes here was dedicated in New
York recently, a fact which Indicates
SH.
AREA AFFECTED BY FAMINE.
the Importance of Russian church mis
sions in the East, an importance which
has arisen in comparatively recent
years and which has led to the provi
sion of a residence of the Russian
Bishop TIkhon In New York for a large
part of the ear. When Alaska was a
Russian possession the seat of the
bishop was at Sitka, but with the sale
of the territory to the United States
the Russian garlson and officials went
away and the orthodox church was left
with but a handful of native adherents.
The bishop moved his residence to San
Francisco, visiting from there the mis
sions along the coast and occasionally
coming to the east.
Russian emigration to this country,
while not large in members of the Rus
sian church, has, nevertheless, brought
to this country enough of them to form
churches in a number of eastern manu
facturing centers. These are in charge
of missionary priests sent out from
Russia, and Bishop Tikhori finds it nec
essary to spend as much time in the
east as the west. The church in New
York was therefore built, money being
subscribed In Rufesla for the purpose,
in order that the church might have
eastern headquarters. I
The building is of a distinctively Rus
sian style and of a character different
from any other in New York. The audi
torium Is almost square and very high,
extending Into a central dome 100 feet
or more above the floor. A sanctuary
screen from Russia is to be placed be
tween nave and chancel. The building
adjoining the church is, the residence
of the priest in charge and contains
apartments for the bishop.
MODESTY AND TITLES OF HONOR.
Few Entitled to Use "Esquire" En- '
glish View of Practice.
Can we not come to some working
agreement on the use of the sufllx
"esquire?" From dictionaries you may
make up a list of the people who are
entitled to It the eldest sous of
knights, and their eldest sons in per-
petual succession and so on to Justices
l of the peace and bachelors of law. But
j in modern practice it may be said that
! every one who wears a collar is ad
dressed as "esquire." Yet there Js a
curious modesty among Englishmen.
Scores of stamped and addressed en
velopes He upon our table every day
(in case of rejection), says the London
Chronicle. 'The superscription is in
variably plain John Smith or George
Robinson. There are two coursesopen
to us. We must write "esquire" after
John Smith's naked name, or we must
accept the hint and suppress a suffix
which current misuse has made value
less. v '
A correspondent writes: "I am one
of those persons who occasionally send
you contributions with an addressed
cover lu case of rejection; and though
I am legally entitled to one of the min
or titles of honor, I always address to
my 'naked name' and do not expect
you to add anything. I do this be
cause it Is unbecoming to brandish
one's self titles that others properly
give one, Thus I talk of the lord chan
cellor, but that dignitary signs him
self merely 'Ilalsbury,' C A barris
ter is by convention always 'learned'
as na officer is 'gallant;' but neither
would so describe himself on his enrdw.
I once tried to persuade a lord mayor
of London that he sliould not himself
use the word 'Lord,' though others
should so style him, and ) quoted tlm
example of the lord chancellor. I was
unsuccessful, but he was a little slink
en when I pointed out that his official
decrees were headed simply 'Jones,
mayor.' I have always doubted the
propriety of a clergyman styling him
self 'reverend;' and have been sure of
its impropriety ever since the court's
decided (In the case of the noncon
formist minister's tombstone) that
'reverend was not a title of honor, but
merely a laudatory epithet."
Some men find it easier to ralsi
whiskers thrn the price of a shave