Small ami Early.
When Dorothy and I took ten, we bat upon
the floor.
No matt r how much tea I drank, she always
iruve me more;
Our table was the scarlet box In which her
ten-set came.
Our guestb. an nrrnlesg. one-eyed doll, a wood
en horse gone lame.
She poured out nothing, very fust,—the tea
pot tipped on hi.’ h.—
And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by
my dull eye.
She added rich (pretended) cream—it seemed
a willful waste.
For though she overflowed the cup, it did not
change the taste.
She asked, “'lake ml'k?” or “Sugar?” and
though 1 answered. “No,”
She put them In, and told me that I “must
take it so!”
8he’<) say. “Another cup. Papa?” and I, “No,
thank you. Ma'am,*'
But then 1 had to take It—her courtesy was
sham.
Still, being neither green, nor black, nor En-
giish-breakfasi tea.
It did not wive her guests the “nerves”—
whatever those may be.
Though often 1 upset my cup, she only mind
ed when
I would mistake the empty cups for those
she’ll tilled again
She tasted my cup gingerly, for fear I’d burn
my tongue:
Indeed she really hurt my pride—she made
me feel so yeung.
1 must have drank some two-score cups, and
Dorothy sixteen.
Allowing only useful time to pour them, in
between.
We stirred with massive pewter spoons, and
sipped in courtly ease.
With all the ceremony of the stately Japan
ese.
At length she put the cups away. “Good
night, Papa/’^she said;
winriTUH rttrtvn, and Dbrothy *.«_> bed.
—Tudor Jenks, in St. Nicholas.
AUNT CILIA'S NIECES.
It win that pleasantest time of all
the year, when apple-trees were in
bloom and the meadows were starred
over with dandelions, and Livia Lay-
ton sat in the window of tue cottage
Mitring, with her exquisite profile out-
dined like a cameo against the darkness
of the. inner room.
Somehow Livia Layton was always
doing pretty things. Doubtless there
were disagreeable services to be per
formed at Sycamore cottage as well as
elsewhere, but if any one did them it
was not Livia. Old Aunt Cecilia Ram
say had been sick and died there, but
Livia had kept well away from the
invalid's chamber.
•‘I never could endure sick people,”
said Livia, with ashudder. “The very
sight of medicine makes me ill; and
thé air is always so stifling, and inva
lids groan so, and make themselves so
disagreeable.”
“But, Livia, they can’t help it,” said
downright Patty, who had worked like
a beaver.
“Well, then, they ought to," assert
ed the beauty.
And her systematic avoidance of
life’s unpleasautness was all the easier,
because, as she herself remarked,
Patty seemed to take to such things so
naturally.
Here she sat, the blonde-haired,
blue-eyed elder sister, stitching in the
pink reflections of the apple-trees, cool
aud beatific, while Patty fudged up
from the village, her face unbecoming
ly flushed and her poor little patched
boots covered with dust.
“Dear me.” said Livid, critically sur-
Wi iu^gBtu* newcomer “bow liiqridly
hot and dusty you look! ( Did you get
the French rolls?”
“Yes.”
“And my note paper and postage
stamps?”
“Yes."
“And the toilet soap and coffee? I
will not drink that miserable stuff they
keep here any longer!” protested my
lady.
“I have got them all,” said Patty,
putting her parcels on the table and
stretching out her wearied arms to rest
the muscles, “ami a letter from the
postofliee, too!”
“For me?"
“Yes, for you. Livia, why does Mr.
Valiquet keep writing to you every
quarter just the same as he did when
Aunt Cilly was alive?”
“I suppose he wnnts to be sure we
are not dying of starvation,” Livia re
torted, with a short laugh.
“We are no business of his!”
“He was Aunt Cilly’s nephew. We
are her nieces.”
‘•But it’s on the other side of the
familv. We are no relation at all to
him.’1
“And it’s no great loss to lis, I im
agine,” said Livia, with a toss of the
fair head. “A haughty, supercilious
fellow, who has never taken the trouble
to come up here and see us!’’
“Why should lie, Livia? Oh, Livia,”
exclaimed Patty, “what is that?”
For an oblong slip of paper had
fallen out of the letter.
Livia made a snatch at it, but she
was too late. It was already ill Patty’s
hand. She was looking blankly at it.
“A check,’’ she cried. “For $100!
Livia, why is Paul Valiquet sending
you money?”
Livia laughed discordantly.
“Oli yor iroose!” allC_cried. “It’s
for Aunt Cilly’s board and lodging and
medical expenses.”
“But Aunt Cilly is dead and buried
long ago. Oh, L;via, you don’t mean
that—that he don’t know it?”
“I do mean it.” said Livia, coldly.
“I was told to notify him; it somehow
■ lipped my mind. Aunt Cilly surely
made trouble enough when she was
alive, without being an extra care
after sho was dead. And what did you
suppose wo acre living on? Did you
want to see me going out as hired help,
or to take a place at general house
work yourself? I never saw any one
so unreasonable in my life!”
“But, Livia, that was a falsehood —
is a falsehood!” protested iudignant
Patty.
“Who has told any falsehoods?’’
“To go on receiving money for the
use of a woman who is dead, from a
man who is a stranger to us—don’t you
call that a falsehood?”
“He need nt have been a stranger if
he had behaved himself as he ought.”
“Give mo the cheek, Livia. Let mo
send it back!” pleaded Fitly.
“I shall do nothing of the kind. Mr.
Valiquet will never miss the money.
He’s as rich as Croesus, and he is used
to paving the sum once a quarter. Let
him keep ou!”
Patty’s cheeks flamed, her eyes
glittered.
“Livia!” she cried; “I never could
have believed this of von.’’
Livia laughed and shrugged her shoul
ders. She had most aggrevating ways
■ with her—this augei-faced young
beauty, with the hair of gold aud the
eyes like melting blue jewels.
“It stings me to the very heart," said
Patty, breathlessly, “to thiuk that all
these months 1 have been living on
charity. But 1 will do so no longer.
I should be afraid that Aunt Cilly’s
ghost would rise up and tinuut me. II
you are going to keep up Ibis tissue of
deceit von must do it by yourself."
“Then," said calm Livia, “there
will be the more for me to speud.
Much obliged to you, 1 am sure, Douna
Quixota!”
•
•
»
•
•
“Yes,” said Mr. Valiquet. dolling his
hat to the tall, lovely girl who was so
like a pure Bermuda lily, “1 suppose I
ought to have been down long ago to
see mV good old aunt. But we city
people get involved in a perfect net of
business absorptious. 1 chanced to be
passing through
Wilmerding, ten
miles up the road, so 1 decided to make
a detour. Sue is as well as usual, 1
trust?”
“Oh, quite!” faltered Livia, growing
hot and cold by turns.
“May 1 see l er?”
“1—I shouldn’t line to disturb her,’’
stammered Livia, the chill drops oi
sweat dropping out on her brow, as
she thought of poor old Aunt Cilly
lying in the shadow of the churchyard
wall.
“No? Well, I’m sorry; but never
mind. 1 dare say you understand her
condition a deal better than I do. And
vou are the young indy who has been
her guardian angel? Oh, you need
not blush. Mr. Balfour, the banker,
has told me how faithful a nurse you
are. We are both Aunt Cilly s rela
tives. Does that not consilium a sort
of kinship between ns?”
He held out his hand with a frank
smile?"
Livia’s heart beat high with exulta
tion as she gave him her own in return.
“And your sister! You have a sister? ’
Livia hesitated.
Ill such a network of treachery it
was impossible to escape without a lie.
“Mv sister has left us, ’ she mur
mured. "She resented living on the
money you send us quarterly!"
"As if it were not my duty to send
it, your privilege to receive it!" he
cried. “Of all false pride that is the
falsest!'
“I endeavored Io convince her of
that, but—”
“And she has gone away and left you
with all the care of t is infirm old
lady on your hands?”
Livia’s eyelashes gradually sunk; her
head drooped; but she uttered no word
of disclaimer.
All this was a kind of tableau and
Livia had a deal of theatrical element
about her.
“I never saw such a Madonna face
in my life,” thought Paul Valiquet.
“And she is mv cousin, too, in a cer
tain way. Why did Aunt Cecilia never
tell me what a superb creature she
was?”
As lie pondered he looked up at the
porch roof, which had settled a little
to one side. He observed a blind flap
ping tiingeless in .the wind.
•■Tilings un'iii to I*»» out of ropuir,”
said he. "I believe I hud better pro
long my stay a day or two and give a
little personal supervision to (lie place.
You can tell me, I suppose, what needs
doing?”
“I shall be so glad”' said Livia, "to
be of use in any way.”
If ever a man was dangerously near
the pitfall of love at first sight it was
Mr. Valiquet that night.
Livia’s heart throbbed; she was a
keen observer, and sho fell somehow
that the supreme moment of her life
was drawing nigh.
Paul Valiquet went back to the inn,
after promising to call early the next
dav.
From Sycamore cottage to the Fal
mouth hotel was a mile by the high
road. Across the mountain spur, past
the little stone church, one could
economize half the distance—"for
them,” as the old wood-cutter grum
bled, "ns liked to go past dead folks a-
niglits.”
Mr. Valiquet entertained no super
stitions on the subject; but ho was a
little startled when, in the light of the
rising May moon, he saw a slight
figure close by the wall and heard
something like a sob.
He paused. Just then the church
door opened. Out came the grizzle-
bearded sexton with a lantern in his
hand.
“Who is that, my man?” whispered
Valiquet, motioning his hand toward
the white, shadowy thing tiiat seemed
a part of the quivering moonlight.
“Miss Cilly Ramsay’s niece,” the sex
ton answered, in au undertone. “Not
the pretty one—the brown complected
one. She «ns powerful fond of the
old lady. She often comes here be
tween daylight aud dark, and brings
appleblows and wild lilies and the
like. ’
“Miss Ramsay’s niece! But who is
buried there?"
“Why, Miss Cilly herself, to bo sure
—six good months ago. It were when
the leaves fell, in November.”
“Miss Ramsav dead! My good friend,
you must be mistaken. '
“We’s all liable to mistakes,” slow
ly said the sexton, "but I’m right this
time sure, squire, for 1 dug the grave
and lowered down the coffin myself.
Come, Miss Patty, dear,” he said, rais
ing his voice, "I’m going homo now,
and I’d be loath to leave you here in
this gloaming all by yourself.”
“Are you Miss Pattv Dayton?” said
Paul advancing to meet the slight
figure that flitted among the graves.
"I am Paul Valiquet, and until this
moment I have been in utter ignor
ance of my aunt's death.”
Patty hung her head.
"Until to-day," sho murmured, “I
thought you knew it all. My aister—”
"I know," said Paul, compressing
Ids lips. "I have just come from there.
And you—can 1 see you safe to your
home? Is it far?”
“1 am boarding with the sexton's
wife,” hastily answered Patty. "When
I found it out—that you were kept in
ignorance, you know—I could not stay
with Livia any longer. I tench in the
kindergarten, and earn a little for my
self. Please don't trouble to como out
of vour way, Mr. Valiquet."
Siio glided on in advance. Valiquet
could not follow her against her will.
But, walking behind with the sex-
ton, he soon learned all—Patty’s devo
tion, her fidelity to the poor invalid,
and Livia’s utter lieartlossness.
As yet, however no one knew of the
crowning fraud by which the elder
sister had managed still to receive
Auut Cilly'a quarterly allowance and
expend it for her own use and behoof.
And Mr. Valiquet kept the secret.
He returned uo mote to Sycamore
cottage, greatly to fair Livia’s per
plexity. but he often came down to the
sexton's dwelling. And one day lie
asked Patty Layton to be his wife.
‘•But it can’t be possible,” said Patty
“that you love me. If it were Livia,
now------ ’’
"But it isn’t Livia!" declared Paul.
“Darling, do you think 1 can't see that
white soul of yours shining through
its casket like a pearl? It is you that
I love—your own sweet self!’
“I dunuo," said lhesexton, “whether
folks kuow in the next world what sgo-
in’ on in this: but if they do I'm cer
tain that old Miss Ramsey is glad up
in heaven that Miss Patty is married
to Squire Valiquet. Au' as for we
down below—me an' Deborah—we’re
glad that Miss Livia lias got come up
with as she deserves."— Saturday
Hight.
Distribution of Seeii.
Mr. Darwin found that the small
portions of earth attaching to the feet
of migrating birds contained seed.
Nine grains of earth on the leg of a
woodcock contained a seed of tee toad
rush. From six and a half ounces of
earth rolled into a ball and adhering
to the leg of a wounded partridge he
raised eighty-two separate plants of
live species.
Migrating birds often
frequent the edges of ponds ere their
departure, and in six and three-quarter
ounces of such mud lie raised under
glass 537 plants.
Seeds furnished
with crowns, hooks, or prickles readily
stick to the plumage of birds, which
all such birds, and especially such
wanderers as the albatross, might
curry long distances.
Apply these
facts to the case of the Azores. Mr.
Wallace fouud that the most of the
plants of the Azorean flora are well
adapted to be carried by tl e methods
just suggested—forty-live of the 439
Dowering plants belonging to genera
that have either pappus or winged
seeds, sixty-live to such as have minute
seeds, thirty to those with fleshy fruits
which are greedily eaten by birds,
some have hispid seeds, and eighty-
four are glumaceous plants well suited
to conveyance by winds and currents.
The only trees and shrubs of this iso
lated group are bearers of small berries,
such as the Portugal laurel, laurn-
stinus, and elder, while those with
heavy berries, which could not be con
veyed by the means suggested—oaks,
chestnuts, hazels, apple,
beeches,
alders, firs—are absent, common as
they are in Europe. The character of
the flora is that of the southwestern
peninsula of Europe, am) if we assume
that one-half of its species is indigen
ous the other introduced by European
settlers, there is still a rich and varied
flora which Mr. Wallace this'ks has
been recently carried over nine bun»
miles of ocean by the means just in
dicated. There is probably no better
example of ocean migration than
teat offered by the Azores, aud it is be
lieved that the phneomena in question
are still in progress, and that 990 miles
do not form the limit of the distance to
which this same ocean carriage of
plants extends. — Edinburg It. eii'.eo.
Mr. Carroll's Portrait.
An Indian Horae Race.
,
From an article, written and illus
trated by Frederic Remington in the
tentury, we quote the following. "An
elderly Indian of great dignity of pres
ence steps into the ring, and with a
graceful movemeut throws his long
red blauket to the ground aud drops
on Ids knees before it. to receive the
wagers of such as desire to make them.
Men walk up and throw in silver dol
lars aud every sori of personal proper
ty imaginable. A Winchester rille and
a large nickel-pfihdiir^Uolt's revolver
are laid on the grass near me by a
cowboy and an Indian, ami then each
goes away. It was a wager, and I
thought they might well have confi
dence in their stakeholder—mother
earth. Two ponies, tied head aud
head were led aside and left, horse
against horse. No excitement seemed
to prevail. Near me a little half-Mex-
i icon Comanche boy began to disrobe
until he stood clad only in shirt and
breech-cloth. His father addressed
some whispered admonition and then
led up a*roan pony, prancing with im
patience aud evidently fully couseious
of the work cut out for him that day.
With a bound the little fellow landed
on the nock of the pony only half-way
up; but his toes caught on the upper
muscles of the pony's leg, and like a
monkey he clniubarfl^up .aud was in
his seat. The p.^y'was as bare as a
wild horse, except for a bridle, and
loped away with his graceful little
cider sitting like a rock. No, not like
a rock, but limp and unconcerned,
and as full of the motion of the horse
as the horse's tail or any other part of
him.
“A Kiowa, with loose hair and great
coarse face broke away from the group
aud galloped up the prairie until he
stopped at what was to be the starting-
point, at the usual distance of ‘two
arrow flights amj a pitch.' He was
followed by half a dozen ponies at an
easy lope, bearing their half-naked
jockeys. The Indian spectators sat
about on their ponies as unmoved iu
countenance as oysters, being natu
ral gamblers, and stoical as such should
be, while the cowboys whispered among
themselves.
" ‘That’s the bay stallion there,'said
one man to me, as he pointed to a
racer, 'and lie's never been beaten. It's
his walk-over, and I’ve got mv gun up
ou hint with an Injun.’
“It was to be a flying start, and they
jockeyed a good deal and could not
seem to get off. But presently a puff
of smoke came from the rifle held aloft
by the Kiowa starter, and his horse
reared. The report reached us, and
with a scurry the live ponies came
away from the scratch, followed by n
cloud of dust. The quirts flew through
the air nt every jump. The ponies
bunched and pattered away ata name
less rate, for the quarter-race pony is
quick of stride. Nearer and nearer
they came, the riders lying low on
their horses’ necks, whipping and
ky-yi-yi-ing. The dust in their wake
swept backward and upward, and
with a rush tbeyame over the scratch,
with the roan peuj ahead, and my lit
tle Iu'.- Hi felMPl holding 4is quirt
aloft, and his l.|llb eyes snapping with
the nervous excitement of the great
event. He bail beaten the invincible
bay stallion, the pride of th is Comanche
tribe, and as he rode back to his father
his face had the settled calm which
nothing could penetrate, and which
befitted his dignity asa young runner."
The School Girl.
The school-girl in all her phases is
just now verv much in the public eye
and heart. Everybody is Interested in
her, from the fond mother who gives
herself no end of worry about the as-
sension robe—which.|in the vernacular,
we call graduating dress—in which het
daughter is to take her flight into that
larger world that lies beyond the con-
fines of school, to the proud young
lover who hopes to see his heroine win
nil the honors and glories of her class.
Some tender soul lias said that a
cluster of school-girls is a most pathetic
sight and a wonderful mystery. Their
soi rows aro all before them and their
romance, too. Soon they are to scatter
out of their happy world to go
through the real novel that is not
measured by three volumes. There
are two things that surely we should
never forget in thinking of these weak
and thoughtloss little women. First,
that it is unfair to the girl ever to ex
pect education to give her the mind o!
a boy, for the nature of her mind is as
different as a young willow wand from
a sapling oak; and secondly, that she
is the woman of the future, and her
worth to the world will not be measured
by the amount of her learning, which,
because of few years and delicacy ol
frame, has its limits, but that her
worth will be measured by her beauty
of character, which is capable of de-
ri.li ji
-—<» - t . ii >■ mid depth and
height beyond our mortal r< ekoning.
—Detroit Free Hess.
All Terryville, says the Hartford
Times, is laughing over the adventures
of Mike Carroll, a popular village
character, in a traveling photograph
gallery. Mr. Carroll is a ma., «Itli a
fascinating brogue which escaped the
notice of the revenue officer when the
owner imported it from Cork. He is
of noylly proportions and was an
athTelfc^ his younger days; always
good-humored when soberaud exceed
ingly humorous at all other times. A
portable photograph gallery was put
together iu the village anil the villag
ers became enthusiastic. Mike, after
imbibing freely, visited the gallery.
A contract was flnallv made and Mike
sat down for his photo.
“Now keep perfectly still," said the
man with the camera.
“Keep still, is it?" said Mine. “Nay-
thur you nor the likes o' you can make
me keep still.”
"But I can't take a good picture un
less you sit still."
“Well, it’s me that’s payin’ for the
picture, isn’t it?” asked Mike, “an’ if
it is I’ll sit whichever way I like, an
say whatever 1 plase, too.”
By way of emphasis, Mike rose from
his seat and sat down again with all
his combined force aud weight. The
chair was on casters and Mike in ris
ing moved it away. As he sat down
he grazed the edgo and went to the
floor. Certain fastenings of the frail
structure gave way, anil in the jar two
corners of the building tumbled in
Inventor Ellison's Queer Pillow.
upon Miko just ns the photographer
caught the scene. There was a great
Not long ago 1 called at Edison’s
demand for the photographs at 76 home, expecting to see him. He wasn’t
cents each.
there and Mrs. Edison told me she
hadn't seen him for three days. I
The Boat Ilalseil Itself.
soon found that he was at his old tricks
Speaking of remarkable incidents, I —working night and day in his labora
can tell you one that I have seen tory, having his meals sent to hint and
equaled, although it occurred more sleeping on the floor with his clothes
than half a century ago. The steam on and a stick of wood under his head
boat Charleston was on a trip from (or a pillow. When working he never
Louisville to St. Louis with a big cargo leaves Ids laboratory, and he seems to
of salt in barrels. When just below think that by keeping his clothes on
Grand Tower, on the Mississippi, she he can better preserve the nervous
came in contact with a sudden obstruc tension after he lias started to work,
tion. While they were preparing to Then he perseveres until lie has ac
put her afloat again, after being at the complished his purpose. His time he
bottom of the river a day ami a night, regards as very ■Valuable, and this is
she popped up with surprising sudden the reason lie doesn’t want to come
ness with her deck to the top of the here until it is necessary. His deaf
water. The salt in the barrels stored ness mis not improved any, remaining
on her melted when it came in contact about the same.
with the water, and the buoyancy of
the barrels raised the boat to the sur
face.— St. Louis (¡lobe Democrat.
X Home Institution.
Mrs. llighfeather—Has the Browning
cult reached your town yet, Mr. Bas
com?
Mr. Bascom—No. he han't yet; but
we re got a yoiiug boss by the name of
Fetlock that’ll bent him to shucks, 1'11
bet.— Burlington Free Tress.
Paper Pulp Out of Nnwduat.
A mill has been established at Otta
wa, Out., which makes paper pulp out
of sawdust. The paper, made wholly
from sawdust, is sa d to form nn ad
mirable sheathing Ilia is lit for build
ing nfter being lai red vid dried. A
belter qunlity of paper is made by
using oue-fo.'th waste paper.
The
mill lias n capacity for converting
about 13,000 tola of sawdust into pulp
anuuallv.
ONE OF LINCOLN’S STORIES-
I Tliwt Proved » l>aiiip»*r to a Clerical Gen-
tlrm in*« Aspiration« to Office.
Speaking of Gen. Harrison's ability
to say au absolute and unmistakable
“no' to certain persistent applications
to office, a well known western sena
tor recently remarked that President
Liuculn, albeit an exceedingly patient
chief magistrate, possessed the same
emphatic quality, says a Washington
eorrespomleiit of the New York Tri
bune. His negations were frequently
expressed iu a tuanuer which was pe
culiarly his own.
“A large aud influential delegation,”
continued the senator, “had persist
ently importuned Mr. Lincoln to have
the rank of chaplain general created
iu the army, having, of course, a rev
erend peg ready to occupy the propos
ed ecclesiastical hole. Upon tlie last
appearance of thedelegation President
Lincoln, tinding it impossible to con
vince them of tne absurdity of creating
the rank referred to, took another tack
and inquired with apparent anxiety as
to the qualifications of their particular
candidate. The deputation enlarged
Considerably upon Ins well-known
piety and ardent devotion to the cause
of religion, painting iu the most glow
ing colors this 'Boanerges of thegreat
and glowing west,’ as they graphically
described him. Now. the fact of the
matter was that President Lincoln had
heard some rather alarming accounts
concerning the reverend gentleman,
whose amusements and accomplish
ments were somewhat secular in their
character; indeed, he hud been assur
ed that this worthy representative ol
the church militant had not, on sever
al occasions, disdained the frequent
potation in the beer saloons of his na
tive town.
“•Well,” remarked the president, in
reply to their eulogiums, "I have heard
statements made about the reverend
candidate whom you are urging upon
me which recall a little incident that
happened the other dav. I was walk
ing along a street here in Washington
which was not much frequented. It
had been raining, and there was a
good deal of mud near the curbstones,
and three or four boys wero carrying
the unenticing mixture on pieces o<
board and in old tin pans to a bigger
boy on the sidewalk, who was laying
off the mud by means of a wooden
dauber which he had made, in a sort
of regular plan of figure, comprising
squares, parallelograms, angles and
circles of various sizes. They were
all working like beavers and didn’t
notice my arrival until I was standing
right over them, but finally their work
seemed to be complete and they all
stood round admiring it. “Well, my
little man," f finally inquired, “what
have you been making here?" The
dirty little urchin looked at mo for a
moment, with an expression of with
ering scorn u|*in his grimy face, and
then cried out: "Why, doncher see, or
are you a blind man, nnyway? See
here," he continued, pointiug to the
different figures with his niud-dnuber,
“this is a church why, hero’s the win-
.low., t,w
tl... a ' «pic, I.er«'« tlie or-
gin, here's the pews, here’s the people,
aud here's tlie pulpit, too," he finally
concluded.
“•“But where in the world’s the
parson, mv little man?” I ventured to
inquire. The boy looked at me for a
second with inexpressible contempt,
and then replied, with n bitter empha
sis impossible to describe: “Why he’s
the ornery, snivelin' cuss that’s snoop
in’ 'round a-tryiu’ to marry my mother;
there an’t mean enough mud in the
whole blamed street to make him!”’
“That deputation.” pursued the sen
ator, “filed out, one by one, from Lin
coln’s preseuce iu a silence that could
be felt."_____________________
Saved By the Irish.
“1 paid a visit to Ireland a few vears
ago,” remarked Judge Noonau of the
Planters' House news-stand, “and in
going up through Galway I had to
make use of a jaunting car. The driv
er. a thorough specimen of the peasan
try, full of uative wit and shrewduess,
had in some way discovered that 1 was
from America aud after eying me keen
ly for a time, asked: 'It’s from Ameri
ca yez are?’
“1 acknowledged that such was the
ease, and after a short silence, he asked
again: 'How are theOirish gettiu' along
over thaire?’
•• 'Bad,' said I. ‘very bad. They are
by far the worst citizens we have.
They are much worse there than at
home even.'
“He regarded mo with a queer twin
kle in his eye, and queried: “Do you
know phwat 1 think would become of
vour counthry if it wasn’t for the
Oirisli ?'
•• 'Well, I had not thought,’ I re
plied. 'but I am curious to know your
opinion.’
"lie leaned over, and, lowering his
voice almost to a whisper, he said: '1
thiuk it would be for riut.’ ”— St. Louis
Novel Statistics.
Here is something for the Statistical
society, says the London Figaro. It
has been calculated by a most devoted
amateur of statistics that if the late
M. Ciievreul, who lately died at the
age of 103, had never cut his nails they
would have obtained the 9th ult., the
day of his decease, to the length of 203
inches. This calculation is founded
on the fact which, according to physi
ologists, may be safely accepted as
correct—that the nails of the average
mortal grow every year to the extent
of an inch and two-thirds. Strange to
say, however, the nail on tho middle
finger grows a little more quickly than
the others, and annually adds close on,
two inches in its length. Il therefore
follows, states the statistician, that M.
0'ievreul in the course of his protract
ed life must have grown in all on his
ten digits no less than 56 yards 1 foot
of finger nail. Having thus intimated
a new path along which the inveterate
statistician mav ride his pel hobby, I
will leave him to extend this interest
ing inquiry as he may think best.
R. H. ROSA,
DEALER IN
B andon , O regon .
Cedar Flooring, Ceiling and Rustic
Manufactured to order.
Order« Promptly Filled For All KI im I« of
Rough Lumber.
SALOON,
BANDON, COOS COUNTY, OREGON,
ROUT. WALKER, Prop.
jh'’» Lewi»' eta itand.
Headquarters or Seafaiers, 8te*mLiat
Men and Travelers.
I.atmt San Francinco and County Papera.
Billiards.
How Large Was Ancient Rome?
After carefully examining all the
data we have, all the statements of the
various ancient writers who allude to
it, and all the facts which seem to beat-
on the question, I am convinced that
in estimating the number at 4,000.000
I am rather understating than over
stating it. It is much more probable
that it was larger than that it was
smaller. De Quincy also estimates
the inhabitants of Romo nt 4,000,000.
I will only cite one fact and then leave
this question. The Circus Maximus
was constructed to hold 250,000, or,
according to Victor, at a later period,
probably 385,000 spectators. Taking
the smaller number, then, it would be
one in sixteen of all the inhabitants if
there were 4.000,000. But as one-half
Shipping
the population was composed of slaves,
who must be struck out of the specta
Have on hand and are receiving by
tors, when the circus was built there
would be accommodation then for one
every vessel
in eight of tho total population, ex
cluding slaves. Reducing again the
number one-half by striking out the
women, there would be room for one
in 4. Again, striking out the young
children and the old men and the sick
Of standard brands and guaranteed
and impotent, you would have accom
purity and strength.
modation for nearly the whole popula
tion. Is it possible to believe that the
Romans constructed a circus to hold
tho entire population of Rome capnble
of going to it?—for such must have
been the case were thero only 4.000,- Dry
and Clothing
000 of inhabitants. But suppose there
were only 1,000,000 inhabitants, it is
olain from the mere figures that it Of latest tries and patterns, and from ths
would never have been possible to
leading manufacturers.
half fill the circus. — Blackwood's Mag-
azine.
Geo. M. Dyer & Son,
BANDON, OREGON,
General
Merchants
and Forwarding.
Groceries & Provisions
Goods
Culinary Maxims.
Beauty will buy no beef.
A good stomach is the best sauce.
Inquire not whnt is in another's pot.
Better half an egg thau an empty
■hell.
Better some of the pudding than no
pie.
He that dines and leaves lays the
cloth twice.
Make not your sauce till you have
caught your fish.
He fasts enough whoso wife scolds
at dinner time.
He who depends on auotber dines
ill and sups worse.
He deserves not the sweet who will
not taste of the sour.
He who would have hare for break
fast must hunt over night.
When a man can not have what lie
loves he must love what be has.—
Lucullus in Table Talk.
Boots and Shoes, and Rubber
Goods,
Of all sixes and kinds always tn .took
and on the way.
GENTLEMEN’S FURNISHING GOODS
OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS.
Ocean and River Wharfage and W
ehous